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elisysd · 1 year ago

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51. Heaven knows I should let go, it’s nothing that I don’t already know

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Bad Omens - 5SOS

She was not used to triple headers anymore. She had barely the time to rest when it was already time for Zandvoort. It was always a peculiar atmosphere. People were always very passionate there. She had arrived on Wednesday, to work a little on the side, away from the whole show that would start the next day. She wanted to work on a few documents about the next car sent by Maranello at the beginning of the week. She could have done it in her hotel room but she preferred to work in the atmosphere of the garage, surrounded by the smell of burned rubber and metal.

She sat on the floor and pulled out her laptop from her bag and started to read through the documents, taking notes and writing questions that were popping into her mind. She chewed on her pen. Some data from the testing were not correlating the data from the sim. And it was not as if the gap was minimal which worried her. For a moment she feared that they were going in the wrong direction in the development. A brief vision of a certain USB stick popped into her mind and she briefly regretted not having it near her… She promised herself she wouldn’t use it to work on the current car development but, after all, there was no wrong finding inspiration in a car that was performing really well for the next one. It was not cheating. It would not be the exact same anyway. And a lot of cars were getting inspiration from other teams for their development, there was nothing wrong with it.

As she was focusing on her screen, she heard footsteps coming in the garage. She looked up her laptop. It was weird. No one would come here unless there were mechanics that needed to set up the car and she had checked with her dad, they would only arrive during the afternoon. She stood still, listening to the sounds made by a person who clearly didn’t want to get caught as they seemed to move slowly and tried to stay as quiet as possible. She put her laptop on the side and got up to find herself almost face to face with a man in an elegant black suit.

“Julia? What are you doing here?” asked Carlos, clearly surprised to find her there and could she dare to say, a bit uncomfortable.

“I’m working. I could ask you the same thing.” she replied.

“I’m… going on a trip down memory lane.”

“Reminiscing on the times my dad was kicking your ass back then?” she smiled.

“He was not. We were equally talented teammates.” he scoffed.

“Sure… If you want a full trip to reminisce on your time as a driver, I can get my dad. I’m sure he still has a few videos of you both on tracks.” she was about to take out her phone when Carlos stopped her.

“No! I mean… you don’t need to bother him. So how does it feel for you to join the team?”

“Nice. I’m still getting used to everything.” she said, a bit defensively.

“It’s brave, you know. To stay on the side. To not help the team developing the current car when you could as you’re always near and in Maranello. To wait. I don’t know how you do it. I would sneak around, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. You’re definitely better than me. You follow the rules like your dad and you’re wise like your mom. They must be so proud of you. Their perfect daughter.” he said in a calm voice, slowly turning around her like a lion toying with its prey. She felt a shiver down her spine. “But anyway, I should get going. I have people to meet.”

“Carlos?” she called him out as he was leaving.

“Yes, Julia?”

“Remind me again how many championships you won?” she smiled

She saw a brief glimpse of anger in his eyes as he stared at her before finally leaving. She knew she shouldn’t have said that, that it would only irritate him more and it would come to bite her in the ass. But she hated what he implied, the implicit threats. She should have gone straight to her dad to tell him that Carlos was lurking in the garage but nothing had happened, it was all good and when she came to her room she was caught off guard by Martin standing in the middle of the bedroom, a huge teddy bear in his hands.

“If you don’t want to go to the fair, it’s the fair that comes to you. There is one a few kilometers away from the track and we went there with a few people from the team. I knew you would find that boring so I didn’t ask you but… yeah. I won that for you.” he explained, blushing as she was staring at him not knowing what to say.

“Oh well, that’s a nice gesture… thanks.” she awkwardly smiled.

“You don’t like it.”

“No! I do… it’s just… I don’t even know if I’m supposed to tell you anything.” she sighed.

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s about the car and data. It’s not matching. I’m trying to understand where the gap comes from but I fear we are making a huge mistake in the development. And Carlos was there for no reason and that worries me…”

“Hey, breathe Julia. I trust your judgment and I trust your skills. Whatever the problem is, you’ll find it, I know it. And as for Carlos… maybe he wanted to see Elijah? It wouldn’t be surprising, he is one of his sponsors.”

“I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this weekend.”

Martin forced her to sit on her bed as he got behind her and tried to appease her by applying slow massages on her neck and shoulders.

“You have to relax. Nothing bad will happen, you’ll see.”

She hoped he was right.

Ethan hated Zandvoort and what it meant for him. It was always a very tense weekend where every single one of his moves were scrutinized. Everywhere he was going, the shadow of his father was looming above him. He could see it in the eyes of the fans, in the eyes of the race stewards who were looking at him and of course in the sea of orange he was welcomed with anywhere he would go. He didn’t consider him as his own homerace, too much history, too much weight on his shoulders with the feeling he had to have a good result there. But still, he had a special helmet for his dad adding a gold lion, the five championships he had won with the years associated with them. It was simple but with a strong meaning, a way for him to embrace his lineage, hoping it would help him to make peace with it.

The qualifying had been great, far from the pole he had been on the week before, with a nice sixth place, behind his teammate. Kyle was on pole and able to race, making Ethan feel relieved. He knew how racing was Kyle’s everything and he hoped it would go well for him. On Sunday morning, when he arrived, he immediately found his dad and mom talking to Charles and Julia. Max had a hand on the girl’s shoulder and was laughing with the Ferrari team’s principal. He rolled his eyes. If only he could find a way to avoid them… but he knew it was useless and he was a better man than that. Or at least was trying. He straightened his posture, put a nice smile on his face and went to the group. He put his arm around his mom’s shoulders, kissing the side of her head as he shook Charles’ hand and winked at his dad. He didn’t want to ignore the brunette who was staring at him but he didn’t know how to act around her anymore. So he stared, in a very awkward way as he saw her blushing and looking at her feet.

“We have to go on a run as soon as you’re back in Monaco, Leclerc! It’s been so long.” said Max.

“Eager for me to beat your ass?” replied Charles with a smile.

“Julia? Care to join us, so you can be the referee.”

“I’m not sure I can keep up with you…” she grimaced.

“Enrico said you made great progress, I’m sure you could, Ju’.”

“Maybe Ethan can come. So you have company while you’re dad and I are fighting.” added Max.

“Dad… I hate running!” whined the blonde.

“You need to work on that cardio, son. It’s important.”

“Oh, don’t worry I’m sure Ethan’s cardio is doing more than okay. His girlfriend is taking good care of it.” Julia snorted, arching an eyebrow.

“Girlfriend? What do you mean?” said Max, caught a little off guard.

“She is talking about Sofia.” Ethan explained.

“Sofia? Are we talking about the same Sofia?” Max repeated.

“Because he is screwing more than one Sofia?”

“Sofia is my therapist.”

He saw Julia’s mouth open and close, before blushing of shame and for a moment he felt like an idiot for having played her. From the corner of his eyes he saw Charles and Max leaving and he quickly apologized to the girl.

“So… you’re seeing someone.” she said when they finally were alone.

“Yeah. It feels good. I’m starting to understand myself a bit more. She helps me feel more grounded, focus on my races. It’s nice.”

“I’m glad. I… I hope you’re not doing that for me? You don’t change for me, I mean.”

“I do that for me. I needed it. I do that for me, then for the sake of my family and the unresolved issues I have with dad… and you. I want to understand where and why we went wrong. So I can be better. I want to be a better man.”

“Don’t change too much, though. I like it when you’re a little asshole.” she smiled, nudging him in the shoulders.

When he got back to the hospitality, he was grinning. His interactions with Julia were still awkward but it started to go from weird awkward to nice awkward. They had still a long way to go before even considering being friends. Somehow, it was still hurting him. He missed her. A lot. Even if it was just her screaming at him, it was still something. He hated her indifference more than anything else and it had always been this way ever since they were kids. If back then he wanted nothing more than to make her frown, now he wanted her smile. But he would take everything she would give him.

He arrived in the hospitality, right on time for the pre-race meeting. He sat down next to Chloe who was already there, reading her notes. She smiled at him giving him a high five as he started to do the same. They went through the procedures and the strategy one last time and when they finally got out of the meeting room, Ethan wanted nothing more but the peace and quiet of his driver’s room. But when he opened the door, he didn’t think of finding Louis there, reading on his sofa.

“Louis? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to hang out with you before the race. There are too many people in the Ferrari’s hospitality.”

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

“Yeah, I told mom.” he shrugged.

In fact, even if Louis had indeed told his mom that he was going to find Ethan, Lyanna had not heard him and was now freaking out, in the arms of her husband who was on the verge of sending a search party for his son. Julia had tried to reach him but quickly stopped as he had left his phone in the hospitality.

“He can’t be far away.” tried to reason Martin who was rubbing her back to appease her.

“You don’t know my brother! The last time he ran away, we found him alone, sitting in the middle of the woods.” Julia harshly said.

“Is there a place he would like to be in the paddock? Maybe a quiet place?” Martin ignored her.

“He hates attending races… I know he said he was going more to see Ethan than to support dad.”she sighed.

“Maybe he is with him? Do you think he could have gone to Ethan, to wish him luck?”

“I mean…. Maybe? It’s a possibility that is worth trying.” she said, putting on her coat and walking towards the exit.

“Go, Ju’, we'll stay there in case he comes back.” her dad told her.

She ran to the Maserati hospitality as fast as she could, Martin following behind, but was stopped in her tracks by the security officer.

“I’m sorry miss but you don’t have the badge to enter.”

“I know but… I have reasons to think my brother is with Ethan and…”

“Sure. That’s a new one. Get the hell out of here.”

“But mister…”

“Julia? Is everything alright?”

“Chloe, oh my gosh I’ve never been so happy to see you! Have you seen Louis?” Julia asked.

“Well, no… but I can ask if Ethan saw him.”

“Please do.”

They waited a few minutes before Ethan arrived, Louis right next to him and Julia ran to her brother, not without glaring at the security officer. She hugged the young teen as he didn’t really understand where the sudden burst of affection was coming from.

“But I told mom!” he complained when Julia explained the whole family was freaking out.

“Next time make sure she listens to you, Louis.” Julia replied.

“How did you find me this fast, though?”

“Martin thought you would be with Ethan, since you like him…” Julia explained.

“Saint Martin coming to save the day once again…” Ethan commented with a half smile.

“I mean, Louis loves you. I just thought that if someone could at least help us out it would be you.”

“Next time he does something like that and tells me he warned someone, I’ll text you. To make sure.”

She smiled at him, running her hands in the hair of her brother as he was making an annoyed face.

“We should go… you have a race to focus on and so does Martin.” Julia finally said when the silence became too awkward.

As they were leaving, Ethan screamed at them to wait a moment and ran to the hospitality, before coming back to them, a Maserati’s cap between his hands which he put on Louis’ head.

“I need my number one fan to wear it so it brings me luck.” he smiled, hugging him.

Seeing Ethan acting all sweet and genuine around her brother never failed to make her feel fuzzy and warm inside. She joined her mom after Martin left her at the hospitality. She didn’t even remember if he had kissed her. She was surprised to not care that much.

“Ethan is great with your brother.” Lyanna said after Julia told her everything.

“He had always been.”

“You know, I saw how Louis changed around Ethan. He is more open towards people, more expressive, less in his own bubble. It’s great. I never thought I would see him like this. You know what Louis told me yesterday?”

Julia shook her head as her mom was clinging to her mug of tea.

“He said he wanted to go to university when he would be able to. He doesn’t feel ready for high school but he says he wants to study more outside, in the library. And he wants to take guitar classes. When I asked him why guitar, he said that Ethan told him it was the way to get girls. I laughed because he said it in such a casual tone, you should have heard him… Ethan helped him so much and I don’t think he knows it. I want to thank him. Would you be okay if I was inviting him for dinner, maybe when the season will be over?”

“No, of course not. You’re right, it’s a great idea. Louis will be happy.” she replied with a lump in her throat.

“What about you?”

“Mom… I think I made a huge mistake.”

Ethan felt calm in his car. The orange army of fans wasn’t phasing him anymore, his dad watching him wasn’t giving him any added pressure, really he was okay and ready to race. So when the lights went out he confidently maneuvered his car through to avoid any overtakes. In front, Elijah was already fighting with Kyle for the lead of the race, something the American was not ready to give up on so easily. As for Ethan he was following Chloe closely. The strategy was simple, since she was in front, he had to protect her until the team would tell him otherwise.

The laps went on one by one and for the first time in months Julia found the race boring. Each car was following each other without anything interesting happening. No crazy overtakes, no strategy mishaps, no scary move from anyone. Julia even had to admit that she got so bored that she had started drawing to take her mind off things. The more she was thinking about Martin and their relationship, the more she started to come to terms with the fact that she had jumped into it blindly and stupidly. It would never work out no matter how hard she would try. It had been sweet and lighthearted, it had helped her heal a little and get her confidence back. But that was it, they wouldn’t go further than that. It was doomed to fail from the very start, she had always known deep down. She had been too stubborn to admit it. She hadn’t been fair to Martin either and even less to her. Now, she had to find the courage to tell him.

“Fuck, Ferrari is ferrarying…” swore Lyana, making Julia jumped, not used to hear her mother swear.

“What is happening?” Julia asked, looking up from her drawing.

“They screwed up Elijah’s pitstop. He is now P15…”

“He is going to come back in front.” Julia commented, focusing more on the race.

It didn’t take long for him to regain his position, behind Martin this time. They were both aggressively fighting for the P3 and Julia was surprised to not hear any team’s orders asking them to bring both cars home safely. Elijah was pressuring Martin and Julia knew better than anyone how prone to mistake he could be under it. She hoped with everything she had that nothing would happen. The team didn’t need that after the comeback in the standings they had managed before the summer break.

Julia anxiously started to bite her nails until she heard the whole hospitality gasped before she saw the images. They both had crashed. On the replay, she could see Elijah going for the inside and overtaking Martin but as he drove past Martin, his rear slightly touched Martin’s front and as he tried to stay on the road he slipped and took Elijah with him in the gravel.

Both drivers were getting out of the car angry and Julia swore she had seen Elijah pushing Martin in the shoulder. For a moment she wondered if she should go to him, to comfort him but now Ethan was in the fight for a podium as well as Ludwig, Kyle and Chloe and she really wanted to watch her friends. Martin probably needed time to cool down.

When he had seen the Ferrari’s out, Ethan had smiled inside his helmet. Now he was in the fight for a new podium and nothing could stop him, this time he would stand on a step and he wouldn’t have any doubts of where he was supposed to be.

“You’re faster than Chloe, we are switching positions.”

“Copy.”

And indeed his teammate slowed down a little in the long straight line to let him pass, giving him full permission to go and catch Ludwig to take the P2. He managed to do so in the penultimate lap and when he finally crossed the line after Kyle he let out a scream of joy, quickly followed by his race engineer.

“Second P2 in a row, let’s fucking go!”

“You know what they say, Ethan. Never two without three.”

“No, next time I want a win. I’m tired of being second place.”

Julia was clapping her hands in front of the race results. She was so happy for her friends but most of all happy for Ethan. She knew how underpressure he must have felt during the weekend and seeing him achieving a podium in a race he was more than dreading, she was proud of him. Whatever his therapist was doing with him, it was working. She got out of the hospitality to face a journalist that cornered her and shoved his camera right to her face.

“And we are with Julia Leclerc, future member of Ferrari’s engineering team. We all saw the crash that happened today between your drivers. Is that a lack of communication between Martin and Elijah or a lack of communication inside the team? We were all surprised to notice no team orders.”

“Well… I mean.. I don’t know, that’s a question you should ask to their team principal.”

“We also saw a very nice battle towards the end, what did you think of it?”

“Of course, Kyle is an exceptional driver. It shouldn’t surprise anyone to see him win another race. He is the kind of guy who, when he starts on pole, nothing can stop him. But I’m really astonished by Ethan’s driving lately. It’s so calm and precise, he always had an amazing racing intelligence but I feel like he improved a lot on it. And his overtakes are one of the cleanest of the grid. It’s just a matter of time before he stands on the highest step of the podium. Truth be told, if I were a team principal I would try my best to sign him and give him the car he deserves because the car he is in currently is not made to fight for pole positions and podiums. That’s how talented he is.”

She didn’t know where it was coming from but she couldn’t have helped herself to spill her guts to the journalist. And it felt good. She smiles and thanked him before running to the podium's celebrations.

She made her way to the front right in time for the trophies to be given. Ludwig, Ethan and Kyle had a huge smile on their faces and when the champagne popped, she had never seen them being this happy to spread it. They were drenched and Julia was sure that the hug they were giving to one another would be on the front pages of newspapers.

When she came back to the hospitality to find her boyfriend, his race engineer told her that he had left straight after the meeting. He didn’t even bother to send her a text to tell her he was already back at the hotel. When she arrived in the room, he was scrolling on his phone, barely looking at her. She laid down next to him, trying to catch his attention.

“If I were a team principal I would try my best to sign him and give him the car he deserves because the car he is in currently is not made to fight for pole positions and podiums. That’s how talented he is.” he said in a bitter tone.

“Martin..”

“I don’t even want to talk about it, Julia.” he cut her.

“I’m sorry… he asked me about the race and…”

“No matter what it will always be him. You always come back to him. Always! When I’m right here. I could give you the world Julia, I want to but you don’t let me!”

“I’m trying! You said it was enough for you!” she argued.

“Maybe I lied! Maybe I was wrong! Maybe it’s not enough. Maybe I thought I could make you forget him, I could make you happier, I could be better than him. But I can’t fight against your feelings Julia! He is not physically there but he is everywhere!”

“What do you want me to say?” she asked.

“I don’t know? Fight for me! For once, stop running away and fight for something! Choose me.”

“You can’t ask me that! That’s not fair!”

“Because you’ve been fair with me? That’s rich coming from you.” he laughed, looking at her like a mad man.

“Do you think that I decided to still love Ethan? I can’t control it! And I’m tired of fighting it! I know I’m not fair, and maybe I never was. I know you didn’t deserve it, I know it was selfish to ask you to love me when I can barely look at myself in the mirror. That’s twisted and wrong. I know all of that! But you can’t ask me to choose you. I can’t lie to you. I can’t lie to myself. Not anymore.”

She was about to leave the room, when he called her out and what escaped his lips made her heart sink in her chest.

“I love you, Cecile!”

“Cecile?” she repeated in disbelief.

“I meant, Julia. Gosh, no… I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened, I…”

She let out an emotionless laugh.

“I don’t want to hear it. It’s useless. We know that this, whatever it is, will never work out. It was stupid to try and I’m sorry if I led you on. Truly. You deserve better. We both deserve better.” she said through the tears.

“So it’s over…”

“It never really started.” she stated, leaving this time for good.

Author's note: So Martin and Julia are over! Finally! And no it doesn't mean that she will run straight into Ethan's arms... you know me now.

What do you think will happen next? Let me know your theories, I love to read them.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

#writing #fiction #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc #f1 fic #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic

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audio-luddite · 6 months ago

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Sometimes I despair.

So much noise. Not just audible, but information noise. Random low quality crap is the average. Where is the good stuff?

I was cruising YouTube as that is how I am following the Tour de France this year. After the day finished I randomly put in a search item.

Turntables.

I kid you not I stopped counting at 30 clips of "The 10 best (or 5 best) turntables". All from different experts. Some were sorted by cost. 10 best under $2000, or under $500. Still a tsunami of opinion. Yet very little agreement or correlation or even good advice. When a I see a unit ranked well because it has a USB output, here comes the despair.

I imagine that some of these guys may actually know something. Take that to mean most know Sweet F*** All. The average is pulled way down. I may go Meta OCD and do a review of reviews. Which ones are worth looking at.

My turntable is really good (in my opinion) as it is pretty quiet and very steady. Is it high end? Yes because my system is high end. Is it audiophile grade? Yes because I consider myself an audiophile. I have absolutely no desire to upgrade it. It is mostly automatic as it can start a record with a push of a button if I want. All I must do is put the record on it and select the speed. And frankly my hand is a bit too shaky from time to time. Fully manual aint in my future.

Is it the best? I suspect there are a few better based on my needs and there is at least one prettier (Beogram 4000 series). Looks count too you know.

I made the mistake of clicking on one of those clips and this guy was all about belt drive turntables. Specifically he was calling out another site, or was it a printed magazine, that claimed belt drives actually remove surface noise from LPs. Yes they do not make things quieter he was correctly calling out Bullshit.

Belt drives are common as they are the easiest to build. Machine a pulley and buy a motor and you got it. There are many excellent belt drive turntables. Idler drives were popular for old broadcast stations. Very reliable and only one part to wear out that can be replaced. Also gobs of torque to spin up the disk. Direct drives are the hardest to engineer so only big companies do that.

I find it stupid that people slag on one type over the other as they can all work very well. I dislike that so many people go after direct drive for effects that I have never heard. I like to point out that the Lathes that cut the lacquers are direct drive. The Neumans even have a flex coupler to isolate vibration from the motor to the deck. I swear I think I have an LP or two that actually has lathe noise on it.

The main thing about turntables is weight. If the platter is heavy it is good. After that I like removable head shells for swapping cartridges. Those would be standard headshells like SME and Technics type. Dual and Thorens have proprietary designs that are removable, but I do not like the design. And I LOVE linear tangential tracking. If you don't have that you are compromised.

If you want a turntable look in ads for old ones. They can last for decades. (I know) They are also easy to fix for most brands and some still have factory support for 40 years.

#audiophile #high end audio #audioblr #turntables #direct drive turntable #tangential tracking turntable

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donnerpartyofone · 1 year ago

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ok not to make big assumptions about you because we are strangers but i genuinely think your brain works a lot like mine, but i am the exact opposite of you i did terribly at school because i hated authority and mindless memorizing - hear me out - and got by on my intuitive understanding of stuff. But in the same way that you do i cannot understand anything that someone else tries to explain to me for the love of god i am the most unteachable person on earth. People have tried SO HARD teachers and tutors and everything but if i do not understand something myself there is not one person one earth smart enough to get me to do that. Im also really academically successful & ive gotten prizes for my creative essays, but i think the difference is that i hated *hated* authority so bad that the anger drove me to reject "mindless memorizing" as something even worth doing at all ever & only ever followed my curiosity & interests in things (the sense of excitement you described). It takes time but ultimately the degree of understanding obtained is much deeper & more satisfying than the kind generally demonstrated by people who understand what is explained to them in school settings. Im assuming a lot here & keep in mind that im just some rando but i would like to suggest that you try just following your inner curiosity & stop deffering to other people when it comes to how to understand something. Do not look for teachers, just information that you find exciting, & see the people who "get it" not as teachers who are superior to you but as your equals who just happen to have been doing it for longer. People you can talk to & who just have information you can glean. Most of all abandon conscious efforts to do school stuff. Resist impulses to be a good student & learn facts by heart or whatever. You'll remember things if they're important. Do what feels good and excites that inner curiosity you feel and don't think about grades or results or people's opinions but just the joy of understanding for your own pleasure. You can and will understand math and quantum physics if it feels good to do so, I promise you.

i really appreciate you and i have so many different reactions to this, i want to try them out. one thing that i believe really deeply is that teachers and similar authorities are very reliant on the idea that there is a correlation between following the rules, and maturity and intelligence, when the very opposite is obviously true. the reality is that kids who try things out for themselves, who determine for themselves through experience whether a rule is fair or rational or productive, and who are not afraid to be judged by others in the course of their experimentation--those kids are certainly demonstrating a lot of maturity and intelligence. i mean yes of course there are kids who don't do the work or follow the rules for less admirable reasons, but the idea that obedience and conformity are symptoms of a well-developed mind is just an oppressive myth that is especially convenient for people who work with children. and like of course i judge myself for not having those rebellious qualities like ever, but it's complicated, i was suicidally depressed as a small child and very afraid of being in trouble or disappointing people, and i honestly think that one of the reasons i got so good at memorizing things and generally operating by rote is that it turned out to be an excellent survival mechanism for navigating the world of adults.

i also believe in the direct correlation between pleasure and aptitude. i mean i'm sure there are exceptions, like you might get really great at a job you hate if your very survival depends on keeping the job or performing it safely, but in general i think you get good at what you enjoy, and that cultivating whatever forms of joy you experience can ultimately enhance your powers. but i don't believe that it necessarily WILL. i certainly know people who are bad at and/or not smart about things they love, they just don't let their shortcomings stop them from doing whatever the thing is (and therefore they lead richer lives even if they're not accomplishing anything in the traditional sense). i think i'm more in that category. all the stories i told happened to be about school probably because i'm hung up on JUDGMENT or not being competitively good at anything, but the unspoken reality is that i'm a pretty self-directed person. i tend to approach things that i care about hobbyistically, in order to pursue whatever thrill got me interested in the first place, and SOMEtimes this leads to some cool outcomes, though not always. there's a lot of different kinds of things that i love, conceptually, and i go through all the steps of learning about them, practicing them, researching them, getting advice from other people, or even having somebody else do the thing with me when all else fails, but i just cannot seem to develop any competence these things. i think i've had all the opportunity in the world to grow in different areas, but i'm just a very limited, low potential person.

anyway i hope this doesn't come off like i'm trying to convince You Personally of something, you've already been completely fair about how you're just speculating and speaking from what rationally seems like similar experiences. i do appreciate what you're trying to say here and i know that there is truth to it in general. i'm just now using this message as a prompt to work out some of the other things i think about this general topic. the one thing i guess i have going for me, although it's a double-edged sword, is that i don't quit at things. part of this is for a not-good reason, i came up in this environment where the law was that if you are perceived as "negative" or defeatist or something, then you're basically a bad person and you're not worth dealing with and any misfortune that happens to you is your own fault. and then it's like, if you fail or just don't excel at something, then THAT is a symptom of the aforementioned Bad Person problems. like in that world, if you don't succeed, it necessarily means that you didn't even try, which is a fake idea and the subject of one of my favorite social media posts of all time. but anyway, even with this bad motivation for soldiering on, i do sometimes enjoy the benefits of persistence, one of which is just the sustaining belief that maybe something good will happen later on. even though i think i've had enough negative experiences trying to do something with myself that it would be rational of me to just stop trying, the stubborn inner belief that "anything is possible" keeps me getting out of bed every morning. even if i'm not getting anywhere, at least that makes me a less burdensome person.

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a-dragons-explanations · 1 year ago

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Well, this admittedly isn't the one I expected antikin to pop up out of nowhere on, so I suppose that's on me for not couching this in language meant to be understood by people not actively part of the community. @glaciatedglades Respectfully, you're kind of making assumptions both about what I mean by "draconic pride" here and about my upbringing. Partly that's on me for not being super clear about the former, because it's in a context where it's directed at people who know exactly what I mean (and if you don't it probably doesn't apply to you). So, let me clarify:

First off, to clarify what I mean by "draconic pride" (for interest's sake as much as relevance's, admittedly): when I talk about my experience at least of "draconic pride," I'm talking about something that's clearly correlated to other draconic instincts, and something that sometimes feels almost like an external force in how incongruent it is with the rest of my thought processes. The "dragon side" of my mind is... usually fairly integrated, for me, but every once in a while it consistently spits out a thought that my human brain has to sit back and just stare at it for a second about; this is one of those. The thing is that many dragons, my own species included, are apex predators, territorial, often very intelligent, and often either solitary or so sapient they have their own society. When those things combine, they tend to create a brain that likes to think it's the king of the world, and that's not helped by how mythologized dragons in this world are and how they're often viewed - majestic, powerful, awe- and terror-inspiring, etc. etc. (And as much as we often don't like to admit it, that does affect how we view ourselves.) Which leads to some funny instincts when you combine that with a human mind.

For me, it's so incongruent with how I view myself most of the time that it kind of just makes me want to roll my eyes and shove it back in its box - just another stupid instinct the brain spits out occasionally that you know isn't true, like anyone's does now and again - but for someone predisposed toward thinking the people around them are stupid and bad, like, say, via misanthropy, it can be real seductive and create a bit of a feedback loop. Which is not great.

That clarified: we can argue all day about whether that actually comes from someone's draconity or not, but in the end it doesn't really matter. Either way, the fact is that the arrogance-and-pride instinct is exceedingly common among draconic people, and regardless of whether the chicken or the egg came first on that, it's a fact that bears addressing.

...I don't really have anything to say about the last sentence or so other than politely observing that it's unnecessarily rude for the point you wanted to make.

Forgive me for showing my fangs a little here instead of being as delicate in phrasing as I usually am, but. Periodic reminder:

sweeping "humans suck, humans are evil, the world would be better off if humans disappeared/had never evolved" statements may be cathartic but they're thoroughly inaccurate (ie, the vast majority of uniquely bad effects of humans on the planet are a) extremely recent, like within the last couple centuries, b) the fault of an extremely small minority not the entire fucking species, and c) fixable)

hating being human isn't the same as hating humans. I get species dysphoria is a thing. I get that it's often hard to fit in as a nonhuman in human social groups and that can make it easy to slip into hating everyone around you. Please fight that instinct

villainizing people for traits they didn't choose, such as the species they were born into, is neither cute nor fair. No species is inherently good or bad

misanthropy is cathartic in short term vents or whatever but genuinely embracing it wholesale as a philosophy is liable to lead to you hating humans, human society, and being in a human body more and more over time and thus make your life worse by constantly reinforcing a thought pattern that makes you angry and upset

you are not immune to being part of human society (translation: just because you're nonhuman doesn't mean you're not included in statements about the effects of the human population on the world, ie "humans are killing the planet")

related, you are not better than humans for being nonhuman. looking at my fellow dragons in particular on this one. I get it, draconic pride is a thing, dragon brain probably says you're the supreme being and all else is beneath you especially anyone who annoys you. Mine does too. Please recognize that is an instinct you are supposed to FIGHT, not something that's TRUE AND THAT YOU SHOULD EMBRACE. Good fucking gods.

some nonhumans are also human (it's me, I'm some nonhumans) and you are making sweeping "humans suck, why would I ever want to be human, all humans do is kill the planet" statements in the presence of people included in those statements, which is insanely rude (and no, you don't get to "but you're different because you're nonhuman" me! you do not get to decide to ignore half of who I am because you don't like it, you do not get to decide I'm not "really" human, and also see the previous bullet point). this goes doubly if you're in a space like a DIscord server where people have expressly stated they're not comfortable being tacitly included in statements like that

saying "but I don't REALLY mean all humans, I just mean the specific ones at fault!" after the fact does not actually change anything if every other thing you say is constantly "humans humans humans" and not the group you're actually referring to, or at the very least doesn't change how it reads to everyone around you

#none of this bothering to defend the concept of draconity bc that's tbh kind of beside the point here lmao #although if you want to discuss the concept of nonhuman identity and how weird it is i'm down for that too #it's just like. kind of beside the point; whether or not it comes from draconity and whatever your feelings on draconity -#- the draconic pride thing is an observably real problem regardless #dragon chatter #through doubt you have unlocked sideblog #draconic pride #ooh new tag! that doesnt happen often these days

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sofeeyuhwang · 1 year ago

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Self Care 11/8

This week, self care has been a struggle. Despite continuous efforts of me trying to take care of myself, I’ve always found myself in a struggling mental and physical state.

From last week, my self care goal was trying to recover from a physical sickness. This week, I feel much better in terms of recovery. I still have a cough here and there, and still wake up congested for a little while. However, I am very happy that I am no longer in the state of physical deterioration like how I was last week.

However, it seems like mental and physical health are not correlated. Despite the physical improvement, I’ve been struggling to keep up with everything. Normally, I’d say I'm someone that deals with pressure and stress very well, as I’ve grown accustomed to living with constant stressors all the time. This week has been tough for me. The toughest it's ever been. Throughout childhood and highschool, I’ve always been incredibly optimistic to everyone as well as myself, so it's weird to feel this way now. How do I feel, you may ask. Well, I honestly dont know how to describe the feelings besides sadness, and lack of motivation to do anything.

It feels as if there’s a constant weight on me and my ability to be “free,” to be happy. I’ve encountered a substantial issue and I don't know how to resolve it or navigate through it. I think the more I think about it, the more I submerge in my own anxious thoughts.

That brings me to this week. I hope to start journaling in hopes of helping alleviate the mental stress that I have. I heard from a wonderful friend of mine that a journal helps organize internal thoughts, and that's what I feel like I need right now because there's a million thoughts going on in my head every minute. I hope that journaling and organizing my thoughts will help me, lead me towards the direction I need and provide me comfort to be myself, feel like myself again.

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donald4spiderman · 4 years ago

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The City

masterlist

Summary: Reader is thinking about moving to California. Spencer’s determined to get her to stay.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff (angst if you squint)

**Inspired by Ben’s poetic confession in Parks and Recreations, S3E14**

Here’s a draft i forgot to post

**not edited yet**

Spencer’s POV

As a profiler, I’ve mastered the observation and analysis of behavior— we all have.

Picking the minds of serial killers is second nature— so why is it so hard for me to figure out why (Y/N) is behaving so strangely?

In the recent months, her witty and charming energy has dwindled into a lethargic imitation. Whether she’d admit it or not— (Y/N) can be extremely enthusiastic about certain things— especially our job.

So, when I watch her drag her feet, inch by inch, into the BAU each morning, It’s hard to contain my concern.

I know Morgan has noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too. They’re probably just too scared to say anything. (Y/N) doesn’t enjoy people prying into her private life, so we all stay a comfortable distance away.

I watch her a lot... more than I’d like to admit. It’s hard to be unaware of her nervous behaviors— the nail biting, hair twisting, skin picking— I practically have enough data to make a correlation graph. I can tell when she’s upset, and it’s happening more than usual.

(Y/N) has always been kind to me. Even when I was at the peak of my stammering, slicked-back hair phase, she treated me with more respect than I deserved. I can only imagine how awkward I must’ve been (or, still am), and I thank her for not belittling me.

I guess I’m validating the Benjamin Franklin Effect when I say this— but I feel like I owe it to her to ask what’s wrong. Over the years I’ve built up (arguably) the closest friendship with her, so it only makes sense for me to bite the bullet for the team.

It’s partially due to the fact that I’ve developed a slight (if not major) crush over time, but who wouldn’t? A gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted women is kryptonite for any person. Our conversations are always stimulating, she gives the best advice, and she’s always there to comfort a team member.

So, it pains me to see her struggle through a paperwork day. I wish she would reach out to anyone for help, but it’s not in her nature.

“H-Hi.” I smile as I approach her desk. Her tired eyes look up at me, and she smiles back.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?

I rub the back of my neck nervously. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Morgan and Emily watching me struggle to form a sentence. They giggle as they watch.

“I-I was... um. D-do you want to get coffee with m-me? Not now! I mean— after work!” Morgan stumbles out of the bullpen, barely containing his laugh. I must sound pathetic.

(Y/N) nods hesitantly, “S-sure. I don’t know why you want to get coffee with me, but I’m free.”

“Really?” My surprise shocks her. “T-that’s gr-great! I can drive you!”

She chuckled, “I think I’d rather drive us. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive a mile without hitting a curb.”

I nod fervently. “Sounds good.”

As I make my way back to my desk, I send a glare in Emily’s direction as she continues to smirk at me.

(Y/N) grabs an empty table in the café, and we sit down, huddling close to our warm drinks. She orders a cinnamon latte, I order a black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar.

I place the drinks down. “Did you know that cinnamon is shown to reduce systolic blood pressure. It’s commonly used in South Asia and works by dilating blood vessel.”

She nods, “Surprisingly, I did know that. You’re gonna have to teach me something else, Doc.” I laugh in response, enjoying the relaxation that radiates off of her.

“I feel like we don’t get to, um, t-talk as much as I would like to.” My words get caught in my throat and she gives me a lopsided smile.

“Well, we don’t exactly have the most leisurely job.” She states, sipping her drink.

I bite my lip, she looks down. I convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me, because there’s no way (Y/N) would glance down to watch me pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I know... but you used to talk more.”

“I’ve been busy lately. Tired too.” She mumbles.

I mean forward slightly, my voice is a hushed whisper. “A-are you... okay?” I’m anticipating an defensive response, but all she does is sigh.

“I’m alright. I just... I’m getting tired of being here— in D.C.”

My eyes widen and my brows knit together. “W-What! Why?”

(Y/N) shrugs, “I don’t know. I just expected to feel... really, really attached to D.C when I first moved here. I love my job, and I love you guys— but nothing’s keeping me here.”

My face drops. My disappointment is adamant because she scrambles to reassure me.

“It’s not that I don’t absolutely love working with you guys. You’re my best friend, Spencer. But... I came to D.C to... I don’t know... settle down.” It comes out as more of a question rather a statement. “It’s sounds weird, right? Me, settling down?” She laughs. “I-I don’t mean a husband and a family necessarily. I moved here because I wanted to belong somewhere.”

“You don’t feel like you belong?”

“I feel... I feel like everything I have right now is temporary. It’s not the feeling I expected to have. I just want to have something permanent in my life for once.”

I remain silent, lacking the proper response.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” She pleaded.

I smile solemnly, “I won’t. I promise.”

In that moment, I make another promise. Not just to (Y/N), but to myself. I’m going to show her how many things she has here for her in D.C.

I’m going to prove how much I believe she belongs.

I started by bringing her coffee each morning— a cinnamon latte from the same café we went to.

The first time she seemed pleasantly surprised. I sped through the doors of the bullpen, my coat and slacks absolutely soaked due to the rainy D.C weather. She giggled at the sight of my hair plastered to my forehead. I was certain that I looked like a wet dog.

“Morning!” I greeted, placing down both cups of coffee on her desk so I could fix my hair. “I-uh-I got you coffee. A cinnamon latte, of course.”

(Y/N) smiles brightly, “You’re the best. Thanks, Reid. I definitely needed this.”

Hotch and Rossi are watching me curiously, pretending not to look up from their files. At this moment, I could care less.

“It’s n-nothing.” Suddenly I’m blushing furiously under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks, again.” She clears her throat, “Y-you’re a really good friend.”

She smiles. And I smile.

In the next three weeks, (Y/N) and I grow closer at a rate faster then ever. I try to do something small for her everyday. Finishing up a file for her; Bringing her coffee or water; Sitting next to her on the jet. It appears to be working— she looks much more relaxed and happy. Her sarcastic humor is back and she engages more with the team.

We’ve decided to hang out after today. I find myself enjoying every minute with her, even if all we do is talk, eat, and walk around aimlessly. I’m sure she’s tired of me, but my infatuation with her only grows.

Tonight, we’re sitting at the park, watching people on their late night jogs, dog walkers, babysitters. We finished eating Indian food at a local restaurant. Turns out we’re both regulars at the same place, it’s a shame we haven’t run into each other.

She’s sitting criss-cross on the bench, her elbow rested on top of her knee. “You know,” She starts, “D.C is pretty great. I don’t think I’ve felt this... content in a while.”

I smile, even if it’s too dark for her to see. “Th-thanks. D.C is a great place, despite averaging 39 inches of rain annually.”

She means her head back against the bench. “I still don’t know. I feel like I’m just waiting for something. I don’t even know what that something is... a sign maybe?”

“A sign?” I laugh.

“Y-yeah... a sign. I’d usually make a pros and cons list and research the differences between the two places but... this decision feels too personal to look at it as just statistics.”

In this very moment, I decide to toss all my concerns, questions, what if’s, into the wind. This is my final move; my last resort; my Hail Mary.

My hands are trembling, and it takes me seconds to force the words out of my throat.

“W-well, besides the higher cost of living and considerably gloomy weather, D.C can be a p-pretty great place to reside. It has a busy political culture and is one of the most diverse states in the country.” I pause for a little longer than necessary.

“But, besides statistics and facts, if w-we look past objectivity, to me: D.C is where my friends are, and my friends are my family. Um... I like The City because it’s home to so many great people. A-and I know it’s hard to see the good in things considering how much violence we see on a daily basis, but certain people make me believe that things aren’t all that bad.”

(Y/N)‘a listening attentively, making me even more nervous than I thought possible. “D.C— The City— is beautiful. It’s charming. It’s a warm, cinnamon latte on a rainy day, o-or a late night walk in the park. To me, it’s home.” I catch her smirking a little bit, and I can only hope that she understands what I’m trying to say.

“Plus, The City is really good at her job. The City’s an excellent profiler. But, the city’s an even better friend, and an even better person. It doesn’t hurt that The City has great hair, and gorgeous eyes, and a perfect smile. And, she does this cute thing where she twists the ends of her hair, even if I keep telling her to stop. The City’s beautiful and definitely out of my league. She probably wants nothing to with me now, but I don’t care. I really like The City. And, even if she doesn’t like me back, she should stay, because there are so many people that like and love The City. ‘Cause who wouldn’t.”

(Y/N) is full on grinning right now, and it’s hard to stay patient when so much is on the line.

“Wow.” She giggles. “You really like The City.”

I chuckled awkwardly, “Y-yeah. I really do.”

“I mean, if you think The City’s so great, maybe I should stay. Plus, I’m sure The City likes you too.”

I feign confusion, “Really? I don’t know... The City can be kind of closed off sometimes.”

“Trust me— The City definitely likes you back. And I don’t think The City appreciates you saying that about her”

“Oh really?” I gasp. “Let’s ask her.”

I turn my head around, then proceed to look back at (Y/N) in the most dramatic fashion.

“Hey.” I laugh.

“Oh, Hi Dr. Reid!” She feigns surprise to match my frivolousness.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, b-but I really like you. And, a little birdy told me that you like me back.”

She laughs heartily, “Well, that little birdy is a pretty reliable source.”

Soon, her head is resting on my shoulder. My body’s stiff and the air is caught in my lungs, but I feel more content than I have in years. Somehow the weather is warmer, and the sun is brighter, and things just seem... better.

“This is a great city.” She mumbles, peering up at me in the most adorable fashion.

“Yeah,” I smile, “It really is.”

“Pawnee’s a really special town, I love living there. And, I look forward to the moments in my day where I get to hang out with the town, and talk to the town about stuff. The town has really nice blonde hair too. And, it’s read a shocking number of political biographies for a town, which I like.” - Ben Wyatt

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #dr reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #sub!spencer #bittersweet #criminal minds x reader #fluff #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader

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skaldish · 10 months ago

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I agree with the overall sentiment here—family influence is more than a DNA line and also includes all that has shaped us and continues to shape us—but I really do need to emphasize that the foods our forebears ate do correlate to which foods we want to eat and can eat now.

See, there's something my ancestors dealt with that's shaped my diet more than beef or dairy did. And that is famine.

I only know the very general idea of the Irish potato famine—it's something I intend to educate myself on when I have the time—but I do know that every time my body perceives food scarcity (like when I go too long without eating well), two things happen:

I no longer desire to eat anything but the smallest portion possible, just enough to take away the hunger, and only when that hunger becomes unbearable.

All foods suddenly look dangerous to eat, with the exception of a select few.

This will also kick in whenever I eat anything that disagrees with me for whatever reason, and quite a few arbitrary ingredients out there do: Certain additives, preservatives, emulsifiers, etc. I can't eat gluten because it's actively toxic to my system.

The Mexican dish I mentioned in this post? I have to throw it out. Entirely. Because something in it disagreed with me this time despite the fact I've made it before, and now I don't trust it enough to ever make it again.

And I know for certain this isn't just a "me" thing. My siblings deal with digestive issues. My mom deals with digestive issues. Her father dealt with digestive issues. And so on and so forth back to Ireland.

How many generations has it been? Five? Six? Well, apparently not enough to put distance between then and now. I have to actively work to stay on top of this.

I do not know the details of the Irish potato famine. But I do know what it did. Intimately.

See, the problem is that people mischaracterize genetics as a directive; that DNA is a prescription of who we are. But this is an interpretation based in early white colonial ideas of species taxonomy, and an incorrect interpretation at that.

No, what genetics actually represent is a history. It describes what came before us. We look different and have different physiologies not because we're different "types" of people, but because we've had different experiences that have shaped us all in different ways.

Humanity is a family, but that doesn't mean we're homogeneous. Defining us as such only feeds back into those deeply colonial ideas that family is a product of sameness as opposed to sharedness. It also erases the importance of the different experiences, worldviews, and landscapes that have shaped us, especially when those still echo within us in ways that are very real and very imminent.

So next time, maybe ask me what it is I actually think, before assuming you know what it is I think.

You know the problem with "adding the amount of spices that would make your ancestors happy" is that my ancestors are the type who'd take one look at my dish and say "Well the problem is that you've got no FUCKING BUTTER in there," and I have to reply, "Sir. This is a Mexican dish."

#replies #food

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mrsmaybank · 4 years ago

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Honey - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and the reader were very much in love during Reid’s brief stint in Pasadena. When he has to see her again on a case, he is super nervous.

a/n: first section is inspired by such great heights

C/W: Swearing

PASADENA - 2002

A note from the love of your life is a lovely way to wake up.

------

When you can understand everything but yourself, finding somebody who does is like seeing a comet; disappointingly rare. My shaky hands can only be stilled by the smile of my most incandescent--in every connotation--creature, and that is you. The universe always seems to know what it is doing even if humanity does not. The stars align and move in patterns we as it’s audience do not fully understand. I think we have watched the stars so much the universe has aligned us as a favor to our poor, overestimated souls. I am so grateful! Tolstoy noted that "We are asleep until we fall in love!” And I thank you for waking me up.

However I thought it best the favor not be returned this particular morning. You were up late last night, and looked too cute to disrupt. Do not kill me, I am getting coffee.

I love you and do not leave the bed.

-Spencer

------

Only Spencer Reid would write that on a sticky note, and only for you would he do so.

You heard the rattling of keys and a door being opened and shut as Spencer made his way back to your bedroom. The smile you saw on his face was the start of a story that ended on the upturn of your lips, revealing the two protagonists in a mad frenzy of love. As soon as he reached you, your lips pressed to his in a desperation to be impossibly closer.

“Hi.” he said.

I am thinking it's a sign

That the freckles in our eyes

Are mirror images

And when we kiss they're perfectly aligned

“Hey love.” you tucked a loose brown hair back behind his ear for a closer look at the face you adored. “Please get back in bed.”

He sighed but crawled in next to you, big nimble hands making their way across your torso to diminish the space in between you two. You nuzzled into his chest.

“Your note was beautiful.” you whispered into his ear.

A big, goofy grin spread along his face.

“I meant every word.” his voice so sweet, it sounded dipped in honey.

Honey is incredibly sticky.

-----

There had to have been a world where it all worked out.

In this world, my things never got old, and the ice cubes in my coffee never melted. I could listen to that song over and over again without draining the life out of it and I could like my hair style for more than three months.

Spencer had read to me the greatest works of the world. Words of the greatest thinkers, authors, and minds. He had an appreciation for them greater than those of the average passerby and I adored that, because so did I. Truly, our similarities are what connected us. Our minds were correlated perfectly when it came to subjectivity.

In accordance to human nature however, certain matters were never agreed upon. In particular, we argued about the future. The canyon of discrepancy so vast it tore us and our love in two. I didn’t think that was possible.

I wanted to write the book and watch the film as I lived my life and he and his arrogant over-practically thought that impossible. He thought himself an oneirocritic, but my dreams were not looking for critiques.

Like I said, Spencer read to me the greatest works of the world. And years would pass and the heartbreak and sorrow would fade, but I would always find it ironic how the last thing I ever heard in that honey soaked voice was a work of Confucius. “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.”

Spencer chose to go to Washington. He took his heart and a piece of mine with him.

-----

BAU JET - 2011

Seaver must’ve noticed my flinch when the sound of her name resonated through the jet. I’d never liked going to California, but this...this had never happened. “That name mean something to you Reid?” She smiled, “You look kind of horrified.”

I ran my hands through my hair in a futile attempt to ground myself. “No. I just...I used to know her.”

In between the fine lines of love and hate, fell a blurry midsection where feelings came before logic and screams and whispers sounded the same. She ruled over this midsection of chaotic emotional fury.

Morgan spoke, and I quickly realized I might be falling into a conversation I really did not want to be having. “How the hell d’you know her pretty boy?”

There was no point in lying on a plane completely occupied by profilers. My best option was to clumsily dodge any direct questions about just how well I knew her.

“I’m from the West coast.”

“So are over 50 million people. You mean to tell me you know all of them?” he laughed.

“The exact estimation is actually 53,492,270. And no, I’m not saying I know all of them, Morgan. I lived in Pasadena for a year after I graduated from Caltech.”

“Okay?” Morgan questioned my previous statements relevancy.

“She went to USC. We were in the same social circle.”

Morgan laughed again, “You had a social circle?”

Emily, next to us, was presumably combing through her file.

“You, ultimate three doctorate dorky dork, were in the same circle as a film major?” she asked. “

What the hell is ‘doctorate dorky dork’ supposed to mean?

“She double majored actually. Film and political science.”

Emily double checked the file, “And Reid’s right. Per usual.”

“Reid and Prentiss, Y/L/N has agreed to talk to us in her home. She lives in the Hills. When we land, you guys go talk to her.” Hotch stated.

“Why?” I said before I could stop myself. The team sat in confused silence in reaction to my bluntness, but Hotch, like always, was not having it.

“Because we have a serial killer that is reenacting the murders in her movie, Reid.” his tone was stern and swift, with a patronizing sarcasm I supposed I deserved.

“Sorry,” I got out, “I guess I just meant..why me?”

“Well, you know her don’t you?” Rossi asked.

I was not ready to divulge the personal details between me and this girl to my entire team, so I just pursed my lips and nodded.

“Right. Sorry.”

----

Life is not a spectacle or a feast; it is a predicament. George Santayana. I was in the biggest fucking predicament I’d ever encountered in my life.

Nothing could slow the incessant, double time pounding in my chest. I was showing symptoms of the beginning of a heart attack. Hopefully I would die and never have to face this.

Fuck, don’t think that.

Have the seats in these cars always been this uncomfortable? God, is California always this hot?

I looked at Emily for half a second, and instantly recognized that keeping quiet from her was proving to be dysfunctional. I could feel her eyes burning into my brain with every profiling skill she knew.

“What are you not saying Reid?”

I sighed. “Do I have to tell you?”

“Yeah. Unless you want me to just find out on my own. It’ll be a lot less delicate.”

Here goes nothing.

“I dated her. For two years. I was very much in love with her. It ended....abruptly. I haven’t spoken to her since, and now, nine years later, I am on my way to her house. I might have a heart attack.”

Emily's eyes widened, “Shit..” She laughed a little, “Reunited at last?.”

I answered with a glare. Hard no.

“Fine, sorry.” She said, masking a giggle with a cough.

I shifted in my seat and I could practically see the gears in Emily’s profiler cerebrum spin. She knew exactly the question to ask. “Is it nerves?”

I nodded my head, “I was a very different person back then.”

“Nothing like time and the bureau can change somebody.” she said. “But, hey..”She smiled again and my eyes widened when I realized what I’d revealed. “I asked you if you were nervous. I didn’t-”

“Emily..” I started.

“Are you nervous she won’t like you now? Do you still like her?” her mouth hung open, “Oh my god Reid!”

I shook my head, “No, I don’t still like her! I don’t even know her anymore! I just..I’d never loved somebody the way I loved her.”

Emily had figured me out at the same time I had. “And you still haven’t.”

Fuck.

“Correct.”

The car pulled into her driveway, and conversations from all those years ago started to replay in my head.

“When we get a house, can we paint our front door bright blue?”

“I want a lemon tree in the front yard.”

“Windows. Huge windows. It’s a must.”

All these things I’d promised her in our future home she’d gotten for herself. Good.

Fontaine said “Sadness flies away on the wings of time”, but the pain I felt from the loss of her was as prominent as ever.

Here goes nothing.

---

Thank you for reading!

a/n2 : this is completely unedited so if its sucks dick i am sorry :/ i just wanted to post it lol

A/n 3: the typos oh my fuck. I wanna Kick myself for letting this cute fic be up in that state for so long. Anyway, fixed! :)

#spencer reid #drspencerreid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you

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itsthestutterforme · 4 years ago

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Don't Pretend (Vincenzo)

Y/N is a very successful civil rights investigator and a friend of Cha-young. Cha-young called her when she needed help building their case against Babel. Chairman Han seo thinks she's a threat, but Jun woo thinks otherwise.

Pairings: Joon woo x reader (romantic), Cha young x reader (platonic), Vincenzo x reader (platonic)

I didn't even set foot in my apartment yet and Cha young called me for help. I love her and all but it seems like she's always in trouble with someone. She wants me to meet her at a theater because she wants me to meet someone.

She said it was urgent, so I didn't even stop by for food, so this person better be the President of South Korea or something.

I step out of my vehicle and walk through the entrance to see a swarm of reporters surrounding a group of people. One of those people was Cha young and I spin around on my heel, not in the mood for talking to reporters.

"Y/N!" Cha young calls. "Damn it," I say to myself before turning back around. "You didn't mention there would be reporters," "Surprise," she says.

I shake my head and she shrugs. I look to a random spot outside and say, "Oh my God, is that Jay Park and his new girlfriend? Look over there by the garden!" You point to a random couple that was walking past the garden.

"Jay Park! Where?" The swarm of reporters then went outside towards the garden. I roll my eyes and said, "They're like ants searching for food." I make my way towards the group and Cha young links her arm with mine.

"I missed you," she says and I grumble lowly. "Y/N, this is Vincenzo Cassano. Mr. Cassano, this is my colleague and close freind, Y/N," Cha young introduces.

"Seems like you're far from home, Cassano." I say in Italian, much to his surprise. He raises a brow at me and says, "I could say the same for you. The last I saw you, you were handling business in Siena."

"And you were handling business in Milano. Nice touch with the garden. It was beautiful," I compliment and he smiles. "Thank you, I try."

Cha young looks between me and Cassano and says, "You two know each other?" "Vaguely," I comment. "And who are they?" I add, motioning to the older woman, older man and two young men. "The enemy," Cha young says nonchalantly.

"For enemies, you seem awfully close," "Believe me, we're not," an older woman snaps. "Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm just making an observation." I snark. "Excuse me?" she steps closer to me and Cha young does the same.

"Careful, she hates being touched." Cassano states. "I'm heading back to my loft," I say before giving Cassano and Cha young a nod.

"Who are you?" The older woman asks but there was something about her that urked me. I give her a once over before walking back through the entrance.

"She's Y/N Y/L/N, a civil rights investigator and the top in her firm. Not only that, but she has correlations with mafias across three different continents. She has the resources to take us down," Han seo says and a small smile creeps on Joon woo's lips. "Why are you smiling?" Han seo asks.

"She's very accomplished," Jun woo answers. "And it's her accomplishments that scare me, brother." "Don't be. I'll handle her," "Handle her how? Like kill her?" "I don't want to, she seems interesting. But I will if she continues to be a threat to us."

I have to get back into the my workouts. I feel like I've put on a little weight while I was in Italy. It's not like I had any choice. Telling Nonna no is like kicking a puppy, no one can do it. Nonna offers you food, you always say yes. That's an unwritten rule that everyone follows.

My sneakers wrap around perfectly around my feet and I could barely feel the ground when I ran through the city park. I always make sure that it was light enough for things to be visible but early enough that there was only a handful of people in the park itself.

I was on my third and final loop when I saw the black van move across the street and park next to the sidewalk I was running on. I stopped to catch my breath for a moment before running in the other direction. I hear a door open and several footsteps run behind me.

I grab the nearest thick branch I could find and wait until they were close enough. I swing the branch as hard as I could, hitting three men in the face. They fell to the ground and I focus on the two guys rushing towards me at once. I duck around one and punched the other in the throat, leaving me with just the one man.

I bring up my guard and shuffle my feet but the man runs in back into the van and drives away. "You okay?" A voice asks from behind me and I feel a hand on my shoulder. I spin around and kick his leg out from under him. He falls to the ground and I apply pressure to his chest.

"Relax. I'm not the bag guy here." He strains. "Wait a minute, I know you. You're the-" "A friend of Cha young." He places his hand on my outter thigh and I say, "I wouldn't know if friend is a term I would use. She called you the enemy."

"She was referring to the rest of them," "What ever helps you sleep at night." I finally stand up from his chest and he takes a deep breath.

He stands up from the ground and that's when I notice that he was shirtless. My eyes softly scan the smooth, tanned skin of his pecks. My eyes snap up to meet his and he cocks his head teasingly.

"Speechless?" "I'll never give you that satisfaction," I snark as he steps closer to me so I have to look straight up just to meet his eyes.

The next thing I knew, I am washing off his touch and scent in the shower. Well trying to anyway. Halfway through my shower, he decided to join me and trail his hands down my hips.

I moan softly when he presses my body the cold tiled wall and kisses my neck. He hooks one of my legs around his waist and slowly trails his hand along my inner thigh.

My phone blades, scaring us both. I pull away from him and he says, "Just ignore it." "She's been calling me all day, she already knows that something is up." I walk out of the shower and dry my feet before wrapping a towel around my body.

I answer the phone and Cha young yells, "About time! Where have you been!" "I, uh, I went shopping. There was no food in my refridgerator or cabinets." I answer calmly.

"Don't you have a maid for that?" "I'm not lazy enough to have a maid, Cha young." "Well, you had me worried. I thought someone took you hostage or something." She finally says without yelling.

"You really think they are capable of that?" "They are capable of many things. Be careful, Y/L/N." Vincenzo says in Italian.

"Bene, ciao," I say before hanging up. I turn around to see Joon woo inches away from my face. "Did you enjoy the past few hours?" I ask. He steps closer to me and motions to the scratches on his chest from my nails.

"What do you think?" He says softly. There's just something about him speaking softly that makes my knees buckle. The worst part is, I think he knows that.

"Good, because that's the last time that'll happen." "Do you know how many times I've heard that? And how many crawled back to me?" He says cockily. "Yes, but I'm sure you'll be the one crawling." I say, tapping his chest before walking out of the bathroom.

My worst nightmare came true today. One of my closest friends was murdered last night by a rival mob leader. The boss says not to engage them and that he will handle it, and my anger dwindled down to sadness. I took a day to myself and cried my eyes out in my bed.

Goosebumps littered my body as cold chills rolled through. I wince as the cold, damp fabric of the t-shirt grazes over my warm back and I took it as a sign to hop in the shower. Squatting down on the shower floor, I duck my head under the scalding hot water. The water rakes through my hair and trails down my body when I hear the doorbell ring.

I dry myself and slide on some shorts and a sweatshirt Joon woo gifted me in attempt to see me again. It took Joon woo two weeks before realizing that I wasn't going back to him. After wards, he sent me flowers, teddy bears, sweatshirts and a 10k watch that looked like it costed a fortune.

I gave the teddy bears and flowers to random people in the street and the watch to Cha young and the look on Jun woo's face when he realized it was the gift he gave was aboslutely priceless. But I gladly kept the sweatshirts because they were too cute to give up. I walk down the stairs and wipe away my tears before opening the door.

Joon woo stands in the door way and he looked happy about something. But his smile soon falls when he sees that I've been crying. "You've been crying. What happened?" He tried reaching for my face but I slap his hand away. "Stop. Don't pretend like you care about me." I snap but he lunges forward to grab my face.

I take a few steps back and his hold on my face softens. "Of course, I care about you." He says, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs. He takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom. I sniffle and wipe away more of my tears. I always hated crying in front of people, it made me feel weak.

He grabbed the remote and sat on the bed. He pulled himself to the head of the bed and takes me with him. He pulls me between his legs and leans my back into his chest.

He searches through the channels and stopped at a cartoon before wrapping one arm along the clavicle of my neck. He wraps the other across my waist and says, "You don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"Why are you here, Joon woo?" I croak, wiping away my tears. "We won our settlement case and I wanted to celebrate with you." "We're literally enemies," "Isn't that how it always is? Enemies and polar opposites attracted to each other?" He asks and I look up to meet his gaze from behind.

He examines my face as he waits for a response. "I guess that is how it goes, isn't it " I lean on his shoulder and he presses the side of his face against my temple. "I lost my best friend today," I add with a sigh.

#vincenzo #joon woo x reader #kdramafans #kdrama fanfic #fluff

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hamliet · 4 years ago

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I feel like people confuse heroes with what we know here in America as cops lol

What’s so wrong with Hawks killing Twice is that he’s claiming to be a hero. Heroes don’t kill. And people keep comparing them to real life cops who kill when they deem it’s necessary, or whatever.

Now don’t get me wrong I don’t think cops should kill either, but that’s a different discussion. But the bottom line is you can’t call yourself a hero if you can’t find a way to save people without killing someone else, and Hawks is doing just that, and the other “heroes” are allowing it, which in my opinion makes them not *true* heroes.

Why people insist on forcing cop values onto fictional heroes is beyoooond me.

So I got this ask like two months ago (at least; it might’ve been longer) and wrote out a response, but decided not to post it because it is a complex answer. With the diskhorse now revived and rearing its ugly head, I decided to refine a bit of this and post my thoughts.

I don’t think a distinction between cops and heroes is really important, since as far as we have seen in BNHA... we aren’t really sure of the distinction, plus at least for me as an American, I can’t comment on Japan’s system (and there’s a major racism factor in the US).

We have seen heroes willing to kill in the manga (I mean, they were all trying to kill Tomura), though. This fits with this chapter’s (314) indication of a highly corrupt system.

I also completely agree with you: in general (look extreme situations exist, but BNHA thus far isn’t in one; it will likely have one towards the end with AFO) if you can’t find a way to save a life without it coming at the cost of another, that isn’t something heroic to be celebrated, and that’s a cheap-ass view of justice (also as a personal value). It’s a tragedy, not something to be admired or inspired by or to aim for, all of which are generally responses to heroism as a concept (within our world and within BNHA).

This idea--that killing is not heroic--is also reflected in the story for the most part: from chapter one, we are told a hero saves. We can thus conclude that someone who does not save is probably not intended to be seen as heroic in that moment (which is not the same as condemning them as a monster who cannot change). That is clearly a value of the story, so to uphold this, Twice’s death (since this is the scenario wherein this tends to be discussed) has to be wrong, thematically speaking.

On the correlation of cops/heroes... it is complicated.

In general, I think it’s poor analysis to directly correlate fiction (especially when the work is from another culture than one’s own) to real current events, and particularly when they are so raw, real, and painful. At the same time, I also get that it’s impossible for brains not to make connections and see familiar circumstances in them. However, this doesn’t mean that 1=1 but instead is a blurry reflection in a mirror: the arguments and logic are not entirely removed from the real world, even if not intended to be 1=1 equivalents (by equivalents I mean direct representations of a particular real life event/concept). Even if the author does not intend the reflection, it can still exist and be picked up on by readers, or by the fandom in their respective contexts/cultures. This is not “wrong” of fans; we.all do this.

So, to return to how Twice’s death is analyzed within the specific context of fandom, I’m reluctant to equate it to the real world, while at the same time indeed finding it almost impossible not to shiver at the way the arguments used by hero stans mimic rhetoric from the real world. Personally, I do find it disturbing how many people come to my inbox and make the same exact arguments as “blue lives matter�� folks. Of course it is fictional and therefore different, but it can trigger things especially given the current events in the US, where I live. I’m unsettled by said argument even with contextual and cultural changes taken into account, because on a “personal value” level, the arguments are just flat invalid, rooted in a very shallow understanding of justice, and prone to the whims of injustice. Additionally, many of the asks I’ve gotten do indeed draw on the real world “well it’s okay for real world cops/soldiers/etc” directly, which is partially why I think I’ve responded heatedly before, and why I think other meta writers have done the same.

That does not mean these fans inherently have a certain point of view (many don’t); I’m just saying that the similarities in arguments specifically around the morality of using lethal force against a potential criminal is hella yikes for me personally, and I know I’m not alone in this (and also know that people closer to these issues than myself might feel differently too; there are no monoliths). Anyways, I wish more hero fans would acknowledge this when justifying Twice’s death. It’s fair to discuss it within the realm of the series’ portrayal of morality, and the story has been odd with the framing around Twice’s death: the narrative hasn’t called Hawks out (yet), while also portraying Hawks unequivocally as in the wrong during the actual murder (look at the panels again. Horikoshi drew them that way for a reason).

But people often revert to real world justice arguments to vindicate Hawks, and... maybe don’t?

Is Hawks brainwashed? To an extent, yes. He’s not more or less culpable than Dabi or Shigaraki just because the law gives him a license to kill. We can discuss ideological motives and how they impact the degree to which a character will be held responsible in a story because, of course, it is not the real world and is for a message, but that’s for another day. He needs a chance to free himself, but you can’t say that he did not do something wrong by killing Twice. That doesn’t make him a monster.

Anyways I think the fandom ought to be more sensitive and self-aware of the arguments we are making, and where they come from.

#Anonymous #bnha 314 #bnha meta #kinda #hawks #takami keigo #lady nagant #mha 314

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kusundei · 3 months ago

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thinking. i dont know i feel very weird again. like that emptiness came back in full swing and its bothering me but i also feel upset. im upset because of myself which is how it always is but still. annoyed because i cant focus but im also not unfocused either? gonestly no i am pushing moreso unfocused i think. im njst out of it i am nowhere. the assembly definitely started it i think but thats just my fault? because i was the one who took it badly? i started overthinking over a small comment? its not like it made me upset it just made me rethink everything. why am i doing all of this why do i try why am i here. i wont say those things because those r so overwhelmingly selfish to admit and it just makes me think even more. what is wrong with me??? why cant i just??? do it? get a grip???? i let other people do those things bcuz i do not care. does not bother me. follow the beat of your own drum. maybe my issue is that there is no beat and there is no drum. do i care? of course i do. so much so that it bothers me. thats what it was. then i thought and was like well im doing the same thing arent i? not really. im doing the same thing in other aspects but it always leads back. i will not sacrifice it for the sake of benefit. which makes me weird. because why am i fhinking of it like that? i do it to myself. i am everything that i hate and whys that? i made myself that way. i am everything i hate to save others from my hatred i think. i can never hate anyone because nobody deserves that yet it becomes a whole thing when it is me. but now that im saying that im debating if i sound really dumb and im going to side with the fact that i just sound pretentious and victimy.

i dont know if i were to use that term i would be i am not. like that. and i do not have that. but it bothers me so much because i know if i explained it i know gow it sounds and i know. just makes it seem like i am. self diagnosing again? the thought has been put back into my mind and now eberything is correlated to that and its so annoying. because why did i do that. why did i start feeling like rhat and why all of a sudden? over what? nothing???? i meant it when i said that. saying the wrong thing. a tone shift. a bad look. odd body language. all of it contributed to it and genuinely if we were not taking a test i wouldve fled like i wanted to to just. calm myself down. not tweak. just calm down. because what the hell? and it was directed at sav originally why did it. spread. but then after a while truly jt just became a self hatred thing again. you all think i am dumb. you all hate me. i am stupid and this n this and this and it was just so overwhelming like what the hell is weong w me. i just keep getting reminded over and over again abt it and it bothers me more and more when i start being able to determine what feeling i actually am. feeling. im better than that. i should be anyway

i pick up the pieces of what they left and i know. they wont listen till i started ? ^_^. and i know.

:-(

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whosjunglejim4322 · 4 years ago

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Umbra | J. Seo (m)

》 Genre: vampire au! Smut, fluff, minor angst and mentions of violence, This story also features Yuta, Taeyong, Jaehyun, Jungwoo, Doyoung and Mark as his coven members

》 Warnings: spitting, dry humping, mentions of blood obvi, mentions of feeding, strong boy trying not to fuck you into oblivion, his eyes get black he's when he's hungry/horny, disgusting amount of fluff, omg sorta strength kink? Johnny is very in love w you and very protective cause some of his brothers are out of pocket, Jungwoo wants to b ur bestie lowkey, Yuta is a lil shit

Chapter 2

There are many things that Johnny loves about you. He could spend all his time showering you with professions of his adoration, and he'd never grow tired of it. Though, his concept of time and yours are slightly different.

He's patient, excessively so sometimes, in your humble opinion. But, he also never expected in his three hundred and forty five years of existence, to find someone who manages to warm his cold and stagnant heart in the way you have.

Now, anytime away from you is a bit bothersome.

It's just, he never knew humans like you existed. In his world, there are either those who lust after his kind and the benefits in which their heightened senses and skills provide, or those who see him as a complete moral abomination.

Even now, in a society that has to live in conjunction with vampires, there are still so many people who fear him. Well, they fear what they think he is. A creature of the night, a demon, something that is only greedy for strife and nothing more.

You were the first person who genuinely throttled him, curious and wide eyed, completely fascinated by him. And not in a way that made him feel like he was under a microscope, but in a way that made him feel as though he was something...to be admired.

Your heartbeat, even after a year, still flutters like the wings of dragonfly whenever he displays his strength; swinging you up into his arms like you're made of feathers and all things delicate.

At first, he thought you were scared, weary, perhaps, about his abnormalities. He couldn't find any other explanation for the way you seemed to shrink in his presence whenever he'd dip his head below your chin to grace your throat with his lips, cooling your hot skin.

It didn't make sense. Not until he realized there is a direct correlation to your change and scent, and these moments in which he can be himself around you.

You like it. You like that he's different, a complete opposite to what you'd find in the common world. If he thought he could be any more enamored, anymore breathless than he was before (no pun intended) he was wrong.

Even now, with you lying with your back against his hard chest, playing with his slim fingers, your voice is nothing but earnest. Curious, in your own little world that consists of just you and him.

He thinks, no he knows, that if he had a pulse it would be racing every time he's around you. Every time you ask him a question that would normally repulse anyone else, even when you place his cool palm against your blazing cheek, giddy about the difference in temperature. He can tell that you just want to know more about him, about how he exists in the world. He simply can't resist indulging you.

"So...everyone doesn't taste the same? I always just assumed that blood is, well, blood." He smiles to himself as you trace shapes into his palm, before flipping his hand over and grazing your fingertips over his protruding knuckles.

The feeling of your skin against his is so pleasant he almost gets distracted.

"Well, it depends, really," his free hand strokes up and down your arms, savoring the softness. "sometimes the difference is slight, like someone who's A or B negative, but other times it can be quite stark. It's about chemistry really."

He can already see your expression in his head, furrowed brows, lips pursed in a manner too cute for your own good. He absentmindedly pushes you further against his chest, reclining slightly against the pillows as to make it more comfortable for you. You hum in satisfaction.

"Chemistry? Like how you feel about the person?" He can't quite pinpoint what is laced within the lilt of your voice, he answers nonetheless, chuckling warmly.

The sound is like pure velvet, causing your skin to tingle. You shiver, and he pulls your blanket over you, worried his lack of body heat may be disturbing your comfort. He doesn't realize how wrong he is.

"It's more like, how that person has lived. Their natural...how do I say...essence? Yes, their essence sometimes can determine how desirable some ones blood is to us."

He doesn't miss the way your heartbeat falters in rythm. He grins, as you take both of his hands in yours and intertwine your fingers. He twists his wrist and brings your knuckles up to his lips, kissing your skin.

You shift underneath the covers, suddenly thankful for his cool temperature. You know that most of the vampires that exist in society use blood bags from the banks provided, but you still wonder...

"Am I...am I desirable to you? Like, my blood, or whatever." You wish you could say you usually aren't so bad at speaking when you're around him, but that would be a blatant lie.

It's the most endearing thing he's ever witnessed.

His hands are gone from yours and elsewhere in the blink of an eye, one strong arm locked around your torso as his free hand reaches down to cup your chin. He turns and lifts your head towards him, gently, and the look in his eyes has your breath stalling momentarily.

"Of course you are, silly," he says it as if it's the most obvious thing ever, leaning down to peck your nose. Butterflies swarm violently in your belly. "I desire you in every way there is to desire someone, it makes me want to keep you all to myself. No one else should be allowed to even think about you, or your blood, in that way."

He looks lost in thought for a second, pupils almost darkening the whole of his irises, before he seemingly brings himself out of his daze. You turn in his hold, adjusting your position so that you're practically lying on top of him, chests touching and your legs cradled between his hips. He holds you effortlessly in his arms.

"Well it wouldn't matter anyways, cause I'm all yours." His pearly teeth show from behind the pillowy surface of his lips, as he leans in to kiss you in a manner that has you reaching out to wrap your hand around the nape of his neck.

"Mhm, all mine." He murmurs, nose nudging against yours as he shifts back and forth from your top lip, and then your bottom, tongue exploring the surface of each.

Kissing you, is another experience entirely for him. He wonders if it feels for you as it does for him, like pure intoxication. It brings back memories, memories he didn't think could still be reachable in the depths of his mind.

A time where he was warm, where life thrummed through his veins like the rushing current of a river. You are springtime on his tongue, the rays of sunlight that once heated his skin, the smell of flora in the air that mingles with the fleeting breeze.

He almost whines when you depart from his mouth, yearning already heavy in the pit of his stomach.

You look almost nervous, suddenly finicking with the front of his shirt as you sit back on his lap. He can hear the acceleration of your heartbeat, can smell the anxiety that is almost as heady as your desire.

He reaches out to cup your cheek, something he often does as a comforting gesture. You smile softly, meeting his curious, tepid gaze.

"So...I have a question," your voice shakes and you huff. "I mean, I was just wondering," he senses your struggle, wrapping his arms around you and sitting up so that your chests are nearly touching again, his palms splayed against your lower back.

"You can ask me anything, sweetheart. You know that." His voice, as sweet as honey, calms your racing pulse for a moment. Until you actually say the words out loud, wincing as if preparing for a scolding.

"Well I know you have a family, of sorts, from what you've told me. And I know you've always been really...hesitant to tell me more about them? I mean I've never been over, to your home or met them,"

Understanding washes over him, hands rubbing your back soothingly as the glint in his irises provokes an odd sensation within your belly. Like he knew this conversation would have to be had one day.

He lets you finish speaking, though your voice has even more of a tremor than before, now.

"Sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, I understand if you don't want me over there."

Urgency calcifies in his chest, the sad lilt to your soft voice making him feel ill. The way you say it is as if you think he doesn't want you in his space, like he's keeping you away from there because of something other than rational reasoning, doesn't sit right with him.

He cups your jaw, firmly but gently.

"I want you with me as much as possible, never think that I don't want you. That is not at all why I haven't brought you over there," You have no choice but to believe him, when he's looking at you with such a passionate gaze far heavier than what you're used to in a normal setting, his words concise.

"I am...well I'm old, and so are they. I've spent a long time being alienated, far before we were even accepted in the new world. We've settled here since before you were born, so you won't remember what it was like when people were forced to live along side us."

You hate hearing the unusual grain of what seems to be dejection in his tone, though you listen fervently anyways, his hands still comforting you despite the fact that his eyes are the ones cast down. You want to kiss the furrow between his dark brows.

"I've accepted who I am, furthermore I've accepted who I want to be. I realized that, it would do me no good to be a monster if people were willing, even if begrudgingly, to accept our existence. But my brothers,"

Your stomach sinks at the way he says it, knowing without a doubt that this is the answer to your original question, that his stance had to be explained before he told you something like this.

"they don't feel the same way as me, so they are stuck in their ways beyond coercion. They live very different lives, they are what our kind refer to as nightcrawlers, it's sardonic inside joke for those of us that would rather not conform to the new age of mutual concurrency."

"They are still a bit resentful for the fact that they can't exactly give in to their natural instincts. They don't see the humans acceptance as welcoming, they see it as a mockery. Do you see where I'm coming from?"

You look a bit out of it, like maybe you're frightened and he's suddenly worried he's gone overboard, that he's scared you in a way that can't be fixed. His eyes are suddenly frantic.

But then you speak, and you don't sound vexed, nor unsettled. Your question is simple, your thighs tightening around his waist as if to draw yourself closer to his comfort, arms looping around his shoulders.

"Do they all feel that way?"

He smiles, muscles untensing as you play with his hair in the way you usually do. Your eyes never leave his, and he wonders how he got so lucky.

"The youngest, well the youngest in our years, they're a bit less malicious about it. They don't cross anyone unless someone crosses them, but they can be excessively territorial because of their youth."

The tension, despite talking about a topic so heavy, is light again. You feel a bit silly now, understanding why he might not want you in close proximity with his coven.

But, still, knowing that there are people, for lack of better term, that have been in his life unimaginably long; a completely different, solidified version of a family, it makes you more nosey than usual. Could they really be that different from him?

"And...you're sure that if I were to meet them, it would end badly?" His eyebrow twitches in an inquisitive manner, surprise coloring his sharp features.

"I- well I thought you were just curious, I didn't think you'd actually want to meet them. Especially after all of that,"

It's as if he's speaking to himself out loud, his pink tongue flicking out to wet his lips. You resist the urge to kiss him so suddenly.

"but I don't suppose so. It's already established that you're mine. If there's one rule we follow, it's that. They know how I feel about you, despite our differences."

The sturdiness to his voice when he speaks of you being his, has your belly filling with heat at an irrational rate, and you suddenly remember how it felt to see him before you actually got to know him.

He's incredibly intimidating on the surface, firm and stoic. You can't see how anyone would want to anger him.

"So then I'd be safe, meeting them. And I'd get to see if you guys really have furniture."

Despite not needing to, he swallows. It's hard impossible to say no to you, when you look at him like that and sound so genuinely interested at a prospect that would make any other person run for the hills, even cracking jokes.

You're soft, and too innocent for your own good. He should say no, but to risk seeing a pout form on your soft lips, or having to hear the disappointment in your voice, it's unbearable.

"You really want to meet them, don't you?" He can't fight his smile when your face lights up like that.

"Well, I think it's important. They're your family, one way or another." You're gentle when you speak, honest.

"You're safe with me, you have to know that. But they're...not used to being around humans that aren't just accessories. The last thing I want is for one of them to say something that makes you uncomfortable."

It's evident in the low timbre of his tone that he's serious, and any smart person might listen. But as he said, and as you believe wholeheartedly, you're safe with him. Safer than you'd ever be.

And, as wrong as it may be, you want to see what other vampires are like. You're really only used to Johnny, the exception, where as most modern vampires only come out when absolutely necessary. Meeting him, and falling in love with him, has given you a brand new sight towards the world. Is it that insane to want to meet his brothers that have been so close to him for so long?

"I'll be with you, so it won't matter. I'll bet they're not even that scary, no ones scarier than you."

Your triumphant, playful smile has him grinning from ear to ear, leaning down to capture your lips between his own. Even though you're wrong about them, he's weak. Too weak.

"Yeah? Afraid I'll eat you for breakfast?" His breath is suddenly against your earlobe and you shudder pleasantly, grasping onto his shoulders before regaining some sort of composure.

"I'm definitely dinner, breakfast is really overrated. Unless it's breakfast for dinner, that's way better for some reason?"

He's kissing you again, despite the fact that he's smiling too hard for his own good, swiftly flipping you over so that you're caged underneath his body. His weight is barely perceptible even with your chests touching, forearms holding himself up.

"You'll be the death of me, you know that?" He has a hard time speaking without strain due to the way his throat has suddenly tightened with need, your legs wrapping around his trim torso and pushing his hips further against yours.

"Not possible, unless I've suddenly charmed your heart into beating again." You tease, though his eyebrows remain furrowed in concentration as he kisses you between words, dangerously sensual. You smell too divine.

"Very possible, actually. If you only knew how you make me feel."

Your belly lurches at the desperation that flows from him, his aura downright fever inducing. Without thinking, your crotch nudges his, bucking with the slightest of movements. But it's enough, enough to have his jaw clenching and a habitual breath of restraint leaving his nose.

Five fingers grasp your chin, so he can kiss you, hard. His hips begin to roll as his teeth nibble your bottom lip, the fabric of his jeans an arousing juxtaposition to your soft lounge shorts, your lack of underwear making it all the more satisfying.

He's hard, too. Knowing his dick is just underneath, hard for you, it'll never not give you whiplash. It gets you drunk, knowing your effect on him is as overwhelming as his on you. You're whimpering against his tongue, rubbing yourself on his bulge.

"Mmm, fuck." He growls, capturing your wrists in his palms before your next breath, raising them above your head and making sure they're comfortable against the pillows.

He's inches away from your face now, and his expression alone is enough to have your walls pulsing around nothing, desire seeping into your chest and hardening your nipples, goosebumps forming across your skin.

He looks at you like he's hungry, nostrils flaring avariciously. He tries so very hard to fight the darkness that fills his sclera like ink, knowing how very monstrous and unlike himself it makes him appear.

But he hears the way it makes your heart race. He can practically taste the thrill that seeps from your pores, the unbridled arousal that drips from your cunt like syrup. Your neck cranes upwards to try and reach his lips, and he smirks before meeting you halfway.

"Do you want me to keep rubbing your pussy like this," he looks down between your bodies and purposely rolls his hips in an accentuated fashion. "or do you want my dick?"

His voice is brusque, but caring and accommodating as it always is, his plump lips quivering slightly from the way his mouth waters.

"Can I have your dick, please?" You return, his mouth quirking up into a sideways grin.

"Such good manners," he kisses you again, sloppily, the sounds lewd and causing you to shiver against his unwavering body. "how could I ever deny you?"

You blink, and cool air is breezing against your wet slit, the nakedness sending a wave of tingles through your nerve endings. Before you can look down, you feel his cock against your clit, smooth and rounded tip gathering wetness from your hole before circling it over your clit.

He uses one hand to keep your legs parted for his viewing, fingers softly gripping your flesh as he sits back on his haunches. You feel impatience crawling up your throat, toes already curling as your bud throbs and your walls ache.

He's so pretty, he is raven hair against olive skin, an onyx sky against shimmering stars. Your hands reach out for his hips, delicate but fierce in their strength. He rubs his shaft against your folds, before prodding at your entrance.

He always watches your expression when he first slides in, the way your mouth falls open and you are suddenly this beautiful, agonizingly worked up thing. He bites down on his bottom lip as his eyes flicker from your pussy, lovlier than a flower and welcoming him with a squeeze, to your face.

Your eyes are bleary as they stare back up at him, your breathing already erratic. His lip curls with the need to hiss, to ravage you. But he takes it slow, he loves watching you fall apart too much. And you're so wet around him, moaning his name like it's the only word you know.

"Johnnyyyy, oh - umph." He rocks into, gracefully and with a deliberate curl. You claw at the front of his tee shirt, pulling him down to your face.

He eagerly obliges, meeting your lips with a soft smack, the angle only pushing him deeper within your body. His pace has increased, the front of his thighs colliding with the back of yours. His mouth somehow remains steady, as if he's not fucking you like he is.

He's parting from you sooner than you'd like, but you know he likes to fuck you like this, able to see all of you and savor it. It's still the most incredible thing he'll ever witness or experience, he's sure of it.

He can't believe a creature like him could be so lucky, here with his manhood buried to the hilt inside of someone so breathtaking, so innately divine. Your essence is thick and wet, coating his shaft each time he pulls out.

"Such a pretty pussy, so fuckin' pretty baby." His voice is gruff, nose twitching and eyes black. You wrap your fingers around his strong, sturdy forearms as his hands grip the softness of your waist. His lips purse and a string of spit dribbles down your clit.

"Ungh, oh my- ohhhhh Johnny please please." You're not sure what your begging for, and it doesn't matter. Because he'll give you whatever it is you need before you know you need it, already hooking your legs over his broad shoulders, gripping your jaw and pushing it up so that he can mouth at your sensitive neck.

"Mmm, I got you baby, I'm right here," he takes your earlobe in his mouth before marking your throat, licking and sucking. "I can already feel your belly tensing sweetheart, gonna make a mess for me?"

All you can do is nod, eyes squeezed shut and hands exploring his firm abdomen while he pushes himself all the way into you; rocking his hips back and forth to make sure the tip of his cock is rubbing that sweet spot inside of you. Your clit is being stimulated in the process, and you know you're not going to last long.

He knows it too, and his thumb is suddenly on your swelling bud, rubbing you in circles faster than you can comprehend, but with just enough pressure to have your nails digging into his back with fervor. Having unbreakable skin must be a plus, in his case.

You're tensing more now, twitching even. Your energy is buzzing around him, electric. Your heart pounds like a drum, rattling against your ribcage and causing blood to thrum viciously throughout your veins. His thrusts become a bit more frantic, his senses completely overcome with you.

He's so lost in his own pleasure he doesn't even hear you cum. He feels you go limp underneath him, back arching off the bed and your walls spasming around his cock.

He realizes now that you're trying to shove your face in the pillows, a silent sob ripping through your body. He's pulling you to him, and you're suddenly in his lap, as he comforts you with a soothing coo.

When you move your face from the crook of his neck and he's met with your teary eyes and damp skin, he's thrown off the edge.

Your forehead is against his as he bites back a snarl of sorts, pumping into you from below with as much restraint as he can muster as to not overwhelm you since you've just cum as well.

He has to move his hands away from you for a quick second, opting for the bed sheets instead while you cling onto him and kiss his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. He feels selfish, but he also doesn't want to crush your hip bones in such a state.

Your breathing is still uneven, even after several minutes and once he's sure that he's in his right frame of mind, his arms are around you again.

Your body is sweetly ravaged by his mouth, lips leaving a wet trail over too much skin in such a short amount of time. You're still sensitive, wincing as his enthusiasm causes you to shift on his lap.

"Oh." He uses one arm to wrap around your middle, slowly pulling you off of his dick and lying you down against the comforter.

You whine at the loss of contact as he disappears, returning in a blur with a warm, damp cloth. He's in between your legs, wiping away your shared mess and muttering soft sorrys when he's just a smidge too rough. You're still embarrassed by his need to take care of you like this, bashfully looking away.

You don't realize he's gone and returned until the covers are being thrown over your body, his arms securing you to his solid chest and his lips against your ear.

"You need sleep, don't argue." He kisses the back of your head and you smile to yourself, snuggling further against his figure. You feel like you're being warmed from the inside out, despite how cool his skin is against yours.

"M'not gonna argue, you made me tired," The thump of your pulse and the shy lilt to your voice satisfies him, and he wishes that he could make love to you all over again.

"When will you take me to go meet the others?" Your speech is already slightly slurred with sleep, a yawn following. He sighs, kissing behind your ear.

"Give me until tomorrow night, I need to discuss a few things. Then we'll go, I promise."

He wishes that this could be a more exciting prospect for him, that in the back of his mind he weren't, for the first time in a long time, genuinely worried about how his brothers might react.

It's got nothing to do with his capability. Without question he will keep you safe, his strength is comparable to the eldest and he'd forge fire if it meant having you whole and in his arms.

But his coven, they're different than what he knows you're expecting. He knows that because of primal, and ancestral rules that they will not lay a hand on you.

If he's honest, it's more so what might come out of their mouths that worries him. He can't have them slip up and say something they're not supposed. It'll kill him if there's even one crease of worry or sadness etched onto your pretty face. He won't allow it.

But if it's important to you, it's important to him. You're here, asleep in his arms, and he's certain that if he had a soul, he would trade it if it meant another lifetime of your existence.

•

Johnny isn't next to you when you wake up, which isn't a particularly uncommon occurrence. It's just that normally he'd let you know beforehand, even shaking you awake sometimes just to mumble a be back soon in your ear, despite the fact that you're half asleep.

You reach over to your bedside table to grab your phone, clicking it on and feeling a bit less tense realizing he's left you a message. You smile.

Sorry I had to leave so early, sweetheart. I'm speaking with my brothers and getting some things taken care of. Don't worry. I love you and I'll see you soon. xx

He must be serious, about the way they behave. It's not that you don't believe him, you'd just rather see the positives, in whatever way you can. It's a little bit startling to think about today, if you're honest. Especially after such an all consuming night, the sun now too bright in your eyes, the scent of Johnny still on your sheets and clothes.

You feel anything but dark and dreary when you think of him. That's not to say he's not quite scary if you don't know him. Broad and towering, gaze low and piercing in a way that'll have you looking away nervously if he were to make eye contact with you.

But you can't imagine him as anything but what he is, beautiful and lively and kind, soft around the cold hard edges.

You stretch as you rise from your bed, joints popping as you pull yourself onto your feet. You wince slightly, realizing between your thighs is still fairly sore, ghosts of his touch lingering on your heated skin.

You and Johnny don't have sex incredibly often, at least not by normal human couple standards. It's pretty obvious why. His ability to control his strength, his desire, his thirst; in that state, as he has explained, it leaves him a little bit frayed.

It's not like you're not satisfied anyways, he's more than generous with his mouth and fingers, and despite the fact that he holds nearly half of his full vigor back when the two of you are intimate, it's still a little bit throttling for you afterwards.

The day is boring without him, quite frankly, but despite whatever you may think about it, you still respect his decision to plan ahead for your visit.

You do get it, it's not that. If anything, you just feel too safe with him. To the point where you sometimes feel invincible in his arms.

It almost makes up for the fact that you don't get to show him off as much as you'd like, as silly as it sounds. His kind can go out in the sun, but it's a bit bothersome after a while from what you've heard. He is almost a cliché in that department, most days either spent with him in doors or at night.

Sometimes, though, you wonder what it would be like if he were human. It wouldn't make a difference, you're sure of that, because he'll always be your Johnny. But the thought does venture into your mind every now and then, because of the way he speaks of his humanhood. As if he's trying not to admit how much he misses it.

You often wonder what he must have looked like when he could blush, with his vibrant smile on show, and dimples high on his soft cheeks.

A small, selfish part of you envies the people who might have gotten to witness him like that. Warm, a little uncoordinated maybe, eyes topaz in the sun. He must have been a sight to behold, throughout his human life.

Deep down, a part of you knows that, that is what this whole thing with his brothers boils down to. You're not just curious, you're madly in love with him. So much so that when he's away, it does feel uncomfortable. You never believed people when they spoke of love that way, you always thought it to be quite gross, actually.

And maybe you're just a silly little human with silly little feelings, to be so smitten after a year. But there's no going back now, he's a part of you, so of course you think about how much of him you've never gotten to see. Of course you want to meet any tangible part of his incomprehensible life, his family. Even if it's not conventional.

It leaves an odd pit in your stomach, thinking of him young and youthful, thinking of his mother and father and the life that they had created so many lifetimes ago.

You think of him at eighteen, maybe still plush in some areas not yet tainted by the work of adulthood. Had he ever been in love, back then? You swallow back the irrational bitterness you suddenly taste.

You think of him at twenty, and what he might have been passionate about. What life was even like for him. You think of his first kiss, and him at twenty four, a year before his life as what he is now, began.

Truthfully, you don't know a lot about him. It's a strange, sudden realization, but it's just never really mattered in all honesty. Because you know him, how he is now, which is all you'll ever get and is more than what you could've ever asked for.

You've always felt like it's different because his existence in itself has been so tremulous, and in a lot of ways very hard to talk about without it getting uncomfortable because of all that he has lost, or subsequently reminding him of what he is.

Never things he'd admit out loud, but definitely something you've picked up on in his expression or the wistfulness in his voice. It doesn't matter, to you; the bad parts. He's yours, and somehow you two have found each other despite so many centuries vouching on never having met one another at all. You wish you could truly express to him how nothing would ever stray you away.

You've showered and eaten an inadequate dinner by the time Johnny shows up, presence barely perceptible until he's wrapping his strong arms around you from behind.

You're used to it by now, not even flinching anymore. You melt instantaneously, placing your hands over his that are resting around your waist.

"Hi." He whispers, lips against the shell of your ear. You shiver and let out a giggle, turning in his grasp to get a kiss. He's on your lips before you even have to lift yourself on your tippy toes.

"Mm, hi." You mumble, hands cupping his jaw. You hum as he pulls you closer, spinning you so that you're pressed against the counter, his hand on the small of your back blocking you from the hard edge.

"We could stay here, you know," he smiles against your mouth, half teasing and half serious. "a change of plan never hurt anybody."

The idea is actually tempting.

"But I just showered." You pout, and his hands are rubbing your sides, eyes contemplative.

"You're right, you shouldn't go over there smelling anymore enticing than you already do, anyways." He says it with a grit of his teeth, as if the mere thought bothers him.

You're too distracted by his face to really absorb what he's saying, smiling up at him, practically beaming. Before he can quirk his brow and boop your nose with the tip of his finger, you kiss him again.

It's chaste, but it's sincere.

"You're so cute when you're all disgruntled." You state, throwing your arms around his neck. He snorts, shaking his head and licking his heart shaped lips lips out of habit.

"I'm not disgruntled, I just want this to go well." He replies, broad shoulders slumping. You unhook your arms from around him to grasp his hands, large and welcoming in yours. He intertwines your fingers.

"It will. Because I'm with you." It's simple, and undeniable. He knows that, and accepts defeat when he sees how truly bright the gleam in your eye is. You're his own little sun.

During the drive to his home, Johnny takes this time to give you some much needed insight on the creatures you’ll be meeting. He gives you their names, some key characteristics so that you won’t be startled by their behavior, but he doesn’t give you their ages. He simply refers to the one named Yuta as the oldest, and Mark as the youngest.

“Youngest and oldest in vampire years or..?” You ask, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smile at your interest. You forget to focus for a moment, tracing the planes of his side profile with your eyes.

“Yuta was my age when he was changed, but he is, in our terms, the eldest. Mark is the youngest both in the factors.” His thumb strokes the back of your knuckles where your clasped hands rest on the center console, though it doesn’t soothe all the burning questions that you’ve decided need to stay in your head, for now.

You think of mark first, something about his youth, despite the fact that he is centuries older than you, seeming a little bit less intimidating. Almost abstract, in a way. As he describes the youngest, it’s easy to picture a boyish smile, innocence. Until he throws in the fact that the ones that get changed before the brain is fully developed, tend to be the ones with more of an unsteady grasp on their more potent emotions. You can guess what that means, and he suddenly regrets ever opening his mouth.

Johnny almost debates whether or not he should turn the car around and forget about this occasion all together, growing anxious at your monotone expression and the way you are chewing the skin of your bottom lip, and not realizing you are just lost in deep thought, not perturbed or uncomfortable.

Really, you are just trying to make out what his brothers may be like. Taeyong, Jaehyun, Jungwoo, Doyoung. For some reason, it’s the thought of meeting Yuta that seems the most daunting. Despite the fact that he is Johnny’s age, not technically but anyways - knowing that he has been around for so long has you wondering how a person like that even thinks.

Maybe you should've listened to your boyfriend. No, you're brave. But sometimes you are not very smart.

You are pulled for your reverie of sorts when your surroundings become darker, gloomier in the way that the trees seem to shield the road ahead from the sun, forming a canopy from above and casting misshapen shadows across the ground.

You don’t realize you’re clutching his hand tighter until Johnny turns to look at you with worried eyes, all the stars and every wish that he could ever grant you swirling in his chocolate irises.

“Are you alright? We can turn around and-”

You shake your head in defiance, determined. You aren’t going to back out now, not when you can already see the house from around the bend, pillars high and spiraling, a wide balcony peeking out from behind the trees.

“I’m perfectly fine, promise.” you give him a soft, reassuring smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes but he knows you’ll likely scowl at him if he keeps insisting on your indifference, so he takes the car just a little bit further, rounding a bend and stalling before cutting the engine.

The house is a lot more grand that you’d previously expected, the outside still kempt but not as pristine. Mostly, you thought that it would offensive to coin their home as something dark and menacing, not wanting to contribute to the cliché. But, it does in fact feel as though you are walking into a lair.

It’s beauty is undeniable, though, despite the lack of real warmth that it exudes. Upon entering, wide open space greets you, black marble flooring underneath your boots and a staircase straddling either side of the entryway. Above it is a balcony, hanging over the foyer from the second floor.

“So I was correct, about the furniture.” You murmur, pressed against his hard side with your arms wound around his forearm despite the fact that the house is seemingly empty. You know that it’s not, though. Any living being who walked into this house would be able to feel it, the static that seems to raise the hair on the back of your neck.

“You'll have to forgive our complacency when it comes to interior design,"

The voice seems to appear out of nowhere, melodic and smooth and echoing off of the walls in a way that makes the direction of the sound imperceptible. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see someone making their way down the left staircase, gliding more so than walking.

"So many years leave us comfortable, rather than fashionable."

Two figures float behind him, while three others descend down the opposite staircase. You could've sworn you'd only glanced at Johnny for half a second, before they suddenly materialized.

The man is suddenly right in front of you, and your eyes act as if they have no choice but to meet his, your breath stalling. It reminds you of the first time you saw Johnny, how shocking it was to be faced with such inhuman beauty.

"My name is Taeyong, it's lovely to meet you." The creature flashes a bright smile, something unreadable in his sharp eyes. His quaint lips are mischievous, or maybe you're just paranoid.

You don't have a chance to respond, already surrounded by a group that seem oddly eager to meet you despite what Johnny had warned, their gate an obvious contrast to your boyfriends.

They seem to sway effortlessly rather than stand perfectly still, their proximity closer than that of strangers. The energy around them feels unpredictable, and without thought your hand tightens around Johnny's.

"Wow, she smells good." A voice muses from the group, and you follow it to find a face that you somehow automatically know belongs to Mark. His face is youthful, eyes wide and full of glee and then a bit amused, due to what you can assume is from your boyfriend glaring at him sharply.

"No wonder he's so attached." The boy beside Mark, with dimples as deep as you've ever seen, hums to his friend.

"Please, don't be so crude, children. She is our guest." This voice is authoritative, the timbre low but the tone gentle like the stroke of a feather.

The group seems to make way for him without thought, and again, you're instantly struck with recognition simply by his presence alone.

He approaches you without caution, you blink and he's suddenly right there. His hair is longer than the others, curling around his prominent chin and framing his elegant features.

"It's a real pleasure to meet you, we've heard so much about the little human that's enamored our dear brother." You can't look away from his cunning face, his eyes are almost wild in excitement, plush lips stretching across his face to reveal a million wat smile.

He extends his hand towards you, with a bit more reserve now - and the first thing you notice are the sharp, glossy black nails that are more akin to claws, formed into stilettos at the tips of his delicate, slender fingers.

"Careful." Johnny mutters to his brother through his teeth, the man giggling in amusement as he gently takes your hand in his. You hadn't even realized you'd extended it back, his skin almost colder than Johnny's if possible.

"Tsk, so worried. For what reason? Look, I'm being as gentle as a hummingbird. Her hands are so soft."

Yuta. It's undeniable, he's too confident, bemused by this whole ordeal and even more so by the way his brother has stiffened beside you, pulling you back just a fraction of an inch.

The elder sighs wistfully, allowing your hand to drop from his. He meets your eyes once more, your skin buzzing oddly.

"My name is-"

"Yuta. I-I know, I mean I guessed."

It's the first word you've spoken to any them, and your voice is shakier than you'd like, throat dry. The mans lips twitch into a grin, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he clasps his hands together in a stunned manner.

"Wow, perceptive you are. So sure, despite appearing so meek."

You can't decipher his tone, worried that maybe you've messed up by interrupting him. He seems a bit perplexed, in a curious way. You're grateful for a new voice introducing themselves, directing your attention elsewhere.

"I'm Jungwoo," His voice is the most welcoming. "your skin is so pretty. Is that weird to say?" He mutters the last part to the slender, inquisitive man beside him, who's features are similar to that of a feline. He seems indifferent.

But, for the first time since you've arrived, you smile, an odd sense of relief flooding through your nervous system. You feel Johnny relax as well, and you glance up at him for just a moment, to see him already looking down at you.

"It's nice to meet you, Jungwoo," The jubilent vampire flashes you a smile. "all of you, really. Thankyou for welcoming me into your home."

"Of course, doll. Should we give her a tour?" Yuta speaks and Johnny responds almost a heartbeat after the elders suggestion.

"I can do that, give her some space." His voice is polite but firm, and Yuta giggles again, while the others back up a bit. Johnny readjusts his grip on your hand and begins moving towards the right staircase, turning his head to send the rest a look you can't see.

He leads you down the left corridor into a massive hallway, the walls a deep shade of plum, floors white marble instead of black like the ones downstairs.

Once you're out of view from the rest, he stills, turning towards you and rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

"I'm sorry about that, really." His eyes are apologetic and you snort, embracing his middle and kissing his chin.

"Sorry for what? I'm fine, they were fine."

He lets out a sigh, broad shoulders slumping as he does so. He believes you enough to not keep on, pressing his lips to your forehead before continuing his non informative tour.

"I wish they'd keep at least some of their thoughts to themselves," you're turning, brought down another lengthy hall with a massive picture window framing the north wall. Heavy burgundy curtains keep the sun from shining through the glass.

To the left is another set of stairs, small in comparison to the ones you've seen so far, framed with elegant railing. "this is my room, up here." He points to the door that sits right at the top of them, lonesome and heavy looking.

Your heartbeat is suddenly loud in your own ears, excitement bubbling in your belly at the prospect of being in a space that belongs to him. He senses this, and smiles to himself as he wraps his fingers around the doorknob and pushes it open.

Everything about his room is inherently Johnny. It's simple, but so very him.

The atmosphere is completely different to what the rest of the house provokes, the floors a deep cherry red, hardwood. A round, red rug sits in the middle of the room, a leather sectional nestled in the corner to the right. Beside it hangs rows of shelves with a multitude of books, more than you'd normally see lounging in some ones room. He's probably read them all three times over by now.

He has a television, which shouldn't make you giggle as it does. It's far bigger than necessary, taking up almost all the space on the eastern wall. There's a door almost adjacent to the one you entered from, which you presume is the bathroom.

"I love it, it's so comfortable in here." You muse, trotting towards the sectional and throwing yourself on the massive sofa. He chuckles, sauntering towards you and lifting your head so that he can place it atop his lap.

He can't lie to himself, it makes him ache in the most pleasant of ways to have you here, in a place that has been his only real peace since he's met you. Well, scratch that. You are his only safe haven.

"Yeah?" He replies, scratching your scalp lightly, studying the softness of your features as you gaze up at him, elated.

"Mhm, it feels like stepping into a different house entirely. Not that I have an issue with the interior design." You playfully mock his brother Taeyong’s earlier words, and laughter bubbles from your boyfriends throat.

"You don't think it's too melancholy? The house, I mean."

You shake your head indifferently, hair ruffling against the material of his jeans that are covering his thick thighs.

"To be honest it is quite....vampire-y, but it's elegant. And big. And knowing you live here makes it not seem so dark."

His hands are suddenly cupping the area just underneath your arms, effortlessly pulling you up so that you're straddling his lap. Your thighs find their place immediately, knees squeezing his torso.

"You're too good. Too pretty to be in a place like this." Despite his tone his eyes are formed into crescent moons from his smile, and you don't fight the urge to kiss him.

"Shush, or I'll battle you to the death." You mumble, his nose nudging your cheek as he tilts his head to move in a steady rythm with your mouth.

"Mm, think I beat you to it." He teases, and you can feel his smile. You're not in the frame of mind to scold him for that one.

Naturally, without even thinking, your body heats up fast from the way he kisses you. Even if he's trying to be chaste, it always ends up with a flame being fed by his tongue. His scent, the sensation of wholeness when you're surrounded by him.

Especially now, in the comfort of and quiet of his room when all you can hear is the smack of your mouths, steady and calculated. You're encapsulated by everything that belongs to the person you love.

A soft push to your shoulders has you humming in confusion, you're still not back on earth when you break apart to see the contrived, reluctant expression that twists his face.

"We can't - not here." He strains, very much so aware of way your hips are planted so firmly against his, the sweet scent of blood that rushes like a current through the area between your thighs.

You pout, and instinctually he's cupping your face between his palms, kissing it away. His fingertips graze the shell of your ear.

"Don't give me that look, you know why I'm saying no. If they thought you smelled good before, you'd be the finest of dining options if you walked down there wet."

Your body pulses with arousal, arousal that he can practically taste on the tip of his tongue. A petulant whine slips from your throat, while your palms graze his hardening length through his jeans, and his cock twitches.

Fuck. He really can't deny you, can he?

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