#what exactly happened? I Think You Have An Idea
Text
TO FEEL WHOLE AGAIN — BOOTHILL
synopsis: getting pregnant and left by yourself wasn’t in your plans in life at all, but you end up meeting a man who becomes more than just a friend who’s willing to help.
❥- pairings : boothill x fem!reader
❥- note : so sorry for any inactivity !! life has just been a wreck, but i’m here with a little idea I came up with the other night. i hope you all enjoy <3 reblogs are appreciated !!
content warnings : sfw, fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, pregnancy, abandonment, heavy angst, breakups, mentions of abortion (reader does not have one), mentions of alcohol, human!boothill, angst with happy ending, use of pet names (darling + lovely), fluff, very fluffy things.
You can recall the day you met Boothill like it was the back of your hand.
It was the day your life had begun a completely new journey, but also, the same day that your life had completely fallen apart within just twenty four hours. Every memory was ingrained in your brain like it was never meant to go away. How could things end up going right, but so wrong at the same time?
About seven months prior, you found yourself sitting inside of a bar with tears still staining your cheeks from the incident that had occurred just hours beforehand. Your heart had gleamed, but shattered just minutes after. You questioned why something like this had happened to you. You never wronged anybody. Sure, you weren’t the most perfect person to exist, but as humans, it’s in their nature to make mistakes. Yet, god had different plans for you and they weren’t exactly the most pleasing ones.
Just two days before that day, you had found out you were pregnant.
It came by total surprise. You and your boyfriend weren’t exactly trying for kids, but you both had been together for four years at that point. You noticed something was off about you when your period suddenly missed its usual day, and you were experiencing some very odd symptoms that were unusual. After some convincing from your friends, you decided to go out and purchase a pregnancy test which came back positive. You didn’t know what to feel. You were excited, nervous, emotional, but most of all, anxious. You didn’t know how to break the news to your boyfriend and you weren’t sure whether or not you wanted to keep it.
For a few days, you didn’t say anything to him. You weren’t the best with words and you didn’t want to dump something so sudden onto him either, but he eventually figured it out when he found you one morning throwing up your breakfast into the toilet.
He wasn’t angry or upset, but you knew something wasn’t right with him after he found out. He started to become somewhat distant and he avoided any conversation about the baby growing inside you. Then, that same day you ended up at the bar, you had woken up to him gone. All of his items and personal belongings had been cleaned out, and when you tried to get a hold of him, he just completely ghosted you. You didn’t understand. Was it you? Was it the baby? Why did he just up and leave you like that with zero hesitation? It was like your heart had been shattered into pieces and you didn’t know what to do. He left you alone and pregnant with his child.
Completely brokenhearted and confused, that’s how you ended up in the bar. No, you weren’t drinking any alcohol, but there was a part of you that wanted to head to the clinic and terminate the pregnancy all together. You couldn’t raise a baby on your own. You had seen many stories of mothers defying the odds and managing, but would you be able to? You loved your now ex boyfriend more than life itself. You didn’t think you could fall in love again, and what man would want a single mother as a girlfriend? Most of them would scurry away the second it’s brought up. It wasn’t their job to shame you for whatever choices you made.
The bar's atmosphere was buzzing with people chatting amongst themselves. Despite being around people, you still felt completely isolated inside of it. You kept thinking of the choices in your brain over and over again. It was consuming you, and you didn’t think you were in the right state of mind to make that decision right now.
You were brought out of your thoughts when the bartender placed a glass in front of you. It was filled with some kind of alcohol that looked like it could be a margarita or a martini. Your brows furrowed at the sight of the beverage. You didn’t order it. “U-Um.. sir, I didn’t order this.” you pushed the glass towards the man behind the bar who was cleaning some cups used earlier.
“I know, but that man over there did.” he pointed towards the other end of the bar.
You turned your attention to where he was motioning his hand. Your eyes widened a little at the sight of the man who sat a few seats away from you. He had a cowboy hat on top of his head, and very long hair that stretched past his chair. He was wearing a white button up shirt that exposed his chest just a little. He noticed you were staring at him and winked at you, then waved a little. It didn’t seem creepy or strange, but you didn’t know how to react. Despite feeling the way you did, you couldn’t help but think how handsome he was. He had a cunning smile and seemed like one of those cowboys you would have heard of in stories you heard when you were younger, but you knew you couldn’t accept his drink.
Soon enough, you turned away and just pushed your drink from your reach. You didn’t want to do anything stupid. If it came off as rude, then so be it. You weren’t about to fight with another man this evening.
You decided to check your phone. There was a small bit of hope that was in your heart. You hoped that maybe your ex reached out to you to fix things or maybe had something to say, but unfortunately, there was nothing. You had a few random notifications from friends, but otherwise, it was silence on the other end. God, you felt like an idiot. He was gone for good. Men who do that shit typically fall off the face of the earth and never come back again.
“Hey, sweetheart, mind if I take this spot next to ya?”
You practically jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice that spoke beside you. Your head snapped towards the sound, and you were a bit surprised to see that man who was sitting across the bar now standing next to you. His cologne filled your nose. It smelled of deep wood with a mix of pine.
Your words got caught in your throat. Was he doing this to make you uncomfortable? Part of you wanted to ignore him, but he wasn’t necessarily doing anything wrong. “N-No! Go ahead.. it’s empty anyway..” you replied, trying to avoid his eyes that were boring holes into your face.
The man plopped beside you, taking a swig of his glass that seemed to be filled with some kind of whisky. He was quiet, at first. You weren’t sure if striking up a conversation was in your cards tonight. You were honestly too lost in your thoughts, and somewhat a little nauseated. “So, uh, do ya come around here often? You’re quite the peach if I say so myself.” he placed his cheek against his fist which was resting against the table beside him.
“I don’t..” you replied, dryly.
He seemed a little discouraged by your sudden lack of enthusiasm. It wasn’t your intention, but really, you weren’t interested. “I see.. my name’s Boothill.” he said. “Yours?”
Your eyes flickered towards him then back at the soda can that your hand was wrapped around. This was starting to feel awkward or almost like a forced conversation. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but you wanted him to take the hint. “(Y/N)..” you looked at your cell phone to try and avoid him. “Look.. I-I appreciate the drink, but I’m not really interested in a relationship. I just don’t.. I..”
Before you were even able to finish your sentence, tears began to trickle down your cheeks. You didn’t even know you were holding them in until they began to slip from your eyes.
Boothill was taken back by your sudden tears. He immediately felt guilt wash over him. He didn’t mean to come off as a weirdo or forceful towards you. That’s the last thing he would ever do. “Hey.. I’m sorry, shit, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I-I can totally take the drink back and get out of your hair.” he stood up out of his chair to leave the bar.
You started to wipe your cheeks of any liquid that was on them. “N-No, it’s alright, it’s not you..” you shook your head. “I’ve just had a rough couple of hours.. believe me, it’s not you at all.”
The man was unsure of what to reply with. Regardless, he felt very bad for you. Not many people come into bars to weep. Most of the time, they come to do the opposite and use the drinks to numb any negative feelings they have. He didn’t want to pry by any means. “I see.. I’m still sorry, darlin’ I had no idea..” he paused for a moment thinking of what to say next. “If you wanna talk, I’m willing to listen, can’t guarantee I’m any good at advice, but I can be an open ear.”
You weren’t sure if venting your feelings to a complete stranger would make any difference in how you felt. It's not like he would care much anyway. He would probably look at you with that same look every other person had given you when you told them what your ex did.
However, you were completely wrong.
That day you told Boothill everything that had happened to you. He was completely blown away when you confessed that you were pregnant. He kept apologizing for the drink and was somewhat worried that you felt disrespected, but you didn’t take any offense. It’s not like he knew, nor were you even showing at that point.
Although he didn’t know you, he had a lot of sympathy for you. He told you that your boyfriend wasn’t a man, but a young boy who couldn’t take responsibility for his actions and he didn’t deserve you by any means. Boothill felt as if abandoning a woman and her child was the sickest thing you could ever do in this life, and you couldn’t help but agree. Especially after spending many years together.
It felt kind of nice to have someone listen. Even if he was some random person you didn’t know, there was at least somebody out there who was willing to give you the time of day.
You felt a little dull when you realized you would probably never see Boothill again, but you thanked him many times for his patience. He was even sweet enough to walk you back to your apartment which wasn’t very far from the bar at all. Typically, you weren’t so trusting when it came to men in general, but Boothill’s energy felt secure for some reason. You didn’t feel fear or unease around him. Your body would always give you signs someone wasn’t good, but you were calm and didn’t have a single issue.
For a little while, you wondered if keeping the child was the right option, but after a lot of conversations with your friends and family, and oddly enough, Boothill, you decided to go forward with the pregnancy.
You thought you would have to do it alone, but that changed almost instantly when you started receiving random items at your doorstep one morning.
You had a stable job, but you knew babies weren’t a walk in the park financially. Your parents offered to help pay for whatever was necessary, but you felt bad for making them do such a thing. It all started to shift when you discovered a package outside your apartment door. You had a box of different supplies. Baby shampoo, baby bottles, wipes, lotions. It was basic necessities for an infant and you were a bit confused how they showed up there. You questioned your parents but they denied ordering anything of the sorts, so you wondered who gifted it to you.
Your friends were also clueless. They had gifts in mind but they weren’t planning on purchasing anything that early on in your pregnancy. You hadn’t even planned on a baby shower or anything of the sorts.
It didn’t take long for more things to arrive. One morning, you saw that you had been given some baby toys. They were small and quite cute, but you still had yet to discover who was the one leaving them at your doorstep. You wondered if it was potentially your ex trying to somehow compensate you for deserting you, but would he really? He left you alone with the baby. It was clear enough that he wasn’t interested in helping to raise it, so why put in the effort to accommodate you? He could care less about you.
It all changed when you were leaving your apartment one afternoon. You had an appointment at the doctor’s office to check on how the baby was doing, and standing right beside your front door was not your ex, but Boothill.
At first, you didn’t notice him holding a box of items in his hand, but the realization soon took over that he was the one buying the gifts. You were taken by complete surprise. The two of you had hardly interacted much during that time period, so it did confuse you why he was helping you. He wasn’t obligated to just because you informed him of what your ex did. It wasn’t like you were begging him for money or assistance either. Boothill was just as surprised to see you there too. He usually would stop by when he knew you wouldn’t be around, but he knew sooner or later the truth would come out.
With a flushed face, Boothill began to explain himself.
He told you that he just couldn’t let you go on that journey alone. He knew it wasn’t his responsibility to be buying you things or even being involved in your life like that, but at the same time, he couldn’t sleep at night knowing that you were all alone and there wasn’t anybody else to be there for you. He did apologize if it made you uncomfortable and he wouldn’t come around again if that was the case.
However, you told him the opposite. You were very thankful for what he had been doing for you. Not many men would step up and just go out of their way to buy things for a baby that wasn’t theirs. You told him you were very appreciative of what he had done, and he could come around as often as he liked. It was kind of lonely being by yourself all of the time. Your friends weren’t always the most available, and you lived on your own. It felt nice to know that somebody wanted to spend time with you. He was relieved that you weren’t weirded out or upset with his actions. He wanted to do the right thing.
Much to his surprise, you invited him to come to your ultrasound that day, and he was thrilled.
Your interactions grew over the course of a few months. You started seeing him everyday and he came around whenever you needed something. Boothill didn’t mind spending his days with you. It was a joy to watch your belly grow and to see your baby begin to become larger than it was before. His favorite moments were when he’d feel a small kick or movement. He loved kids. It was a guilty pleasure of his, and he honestly couldn’t wait to meet your baby girl. He made so many bets that it was going to be a girl and you thought he would somehow be wrong, but he was right the entire time.
Along with the baby's growth, there were also feelings between you and Boothill too. He was the first man in your life since your ex and he treated you so much better. He did everything for you, and the baby wasn’t even his. He would spend time helping you tidy up your house, holding your hair away from your face when you had morning sickness, making you tea, giving you massages whenever your body felt sore. Boothill did everything. He even offered at one point to do the entire nursery for you when your due date came closer, but you assured him that it wasn’t his duty to do so.
But, he planned on doing it anyway.
All of your friends told you to go for it. They said that Boothill was what you needed and they could tell he was into you too, but you were still unsure. If anything, he could be doing all of this just to somehow hurt you in the end or claim you “owed” him a relationship for doing everything for the baby. You knew that probably wasn’t the case, but you were still on the fence.
But, was he?
-
That afternoon, you had woken up from a nap to a knocking coming from your front door. You weren’t expecting any guests, but you had already assumed it was Boothill who was there to do his usual drop by to check in on you.
You unlocked the front door, pulling it open so he could enter. He was dressed in his usual outfit. A white button shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and those cowboy boots that you had made fun of a few times. Boothill was used to just entering your place at that point. “Afternoon, darlin’” he said, shutting the door behind him.
Your hair was a bit messy from your nap and you weren’t really dressed up. You wore an oversized t-shirt with a pair of shorts that sat just below your belly. It was a lot more comfortable than the regular pajamas you were used to wearing months ago, but alas, the growth of your body had made those a lot less comfortable these days. Boothill still thought you were gorgeous despite the messy look. “Hi..” you yawned. “Sorry, I’m fresh from a nap. I didn’t hear my alarm..”
“Not a problem, I was just stopping by to drop something off for you.” he replied, handing you a box that had your name on top of it.
Your eyes flickered from the box to the man who was staring down at you. You were used to him giving you random things for the baby here and there, so you were expecting something that was a necessity. “I’m curious, let me see.” you then began opening at the box to see what was inside of it.
After a few seconds, you pulled out a small blanket, but it wasn’t one that was from the store. It was actually homemade, and right in the center was the baby name you had picked out stitched into the fabric with baby pink lace. It was probably the most adorable thing you had ever received from him. It was so soft and you could already picture yourself swaddling your little girl in the blanket itself. The fact that it was homemade as well made it even more special than it already was.
You weren’t sure if it was the pregnancy emotions or not, but you could feel warm tears burning your eyes. It was truthfully making you feel so happy for this pregnancy, but most of all for Boothill. You couldn’t be more blessed with a man like him. “I-I.. I love it..” you sniffled, trying to hide your tears. “It’s so cute..”
Boothill was concerned with your sudden emotions. He didn’t mean to make you cry. If anything, he wanted to do something special for you since you were a special person in his life. “Ahh.. shit, I’m sorry, lovely, is it too much?” he asked, nodding his head.
You shook your head, laughing in the process to try and halt the tears slipping through your eyes. It was the furthest thing from too much. You adored it. You didn’t care if the stitching was a little crooked or if the pink was somewhat bright, it was cute. It had to be one of the best gifts you had ever gotten. “N-No! I love it! It’s something I wouldn’t have imagined you’d give me! Did you do it all on your own?” you looked up at him with an eyebrow raised.
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Haha.. yeah, that’s why it might seem a little messy. I got the idea though and figured why not? You need something to swaddle that little monster with!” he smiled, which made you smile as well.
Boothill was taken back when he suddenly felt your arms wrap around him. This was the first time you had ever initiated any sort of physical contact with him, and he wasn’t sure how to react to it. Your body felt warm and your belly was against his own abdomen. He could smell the scent of your shampoo lingering in your hair, and it almost intoxicated him from how delicious it smelled. He hesitated for a brief moment, then settled his own arms around your waist. It just felt.. so right to be hugging you. He had yearned for quite a while to feel your touch, and now that he had it, he wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip through his fingers.
Your cheeks felt hot at the realization that you two were so close. There was so much going through your mind at the moment, and all you craved was him. His presence, his touch, his warmth, anything. It was all you wanted. “Boothill.. I want you there when she’s born..” you spoke, softly. “I want you by my side.. you deserve that more than anybody else.”
His eyes grew wide at your words. Sure, he knew he was going to visit when your baby was finally born, but in the room? During the birth? Oh, he could faint right about now. “Of course I’ll be there, sugar. You know I wouldn’t miss it.” he replied, smiling at the thought of your birth.
Boothill then crouched down to meet your belly. He hadn’t ever done that before while being with you. You felt his hands touch your stomach, seemingly searching for your little girl who was somewhere in there. It felt so natural for him to be doing this. You didn’t feel off or weirded out. You loved the way his fingers explored your skin, touching and grazing at the stretch marks that had formed within time, but what you loved the most, was him.
“Can’t wait to meet your little one.. she’ll be a peach, I know it.” he looked up at you with a grin.
“Our.. little one.”
Boothill paused when the words slipped from your lips. He thought he had misheard you for a second. “W-What..?” his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
You felt a little bashful having to repeat yourself. You weren’t sure what his reaction might be to you saying such a thing, but you couldn’t keep quiet anymore about your feelings. You wanted him involved in your daughter’s life so badly. It would kill you inside if that wasn’t the case. “O-Our.. baby, Boothill.” you said, avoiding his gaze that was fixed on you.
He stood up, still staring at your face with a serious expression. It was like his heart had completely blown up inside of his chest. It was like he was falling in love with you all over again at that very moment. He couldn’t feel more honored that you thought of him that way. “You’re serious..?” he questioned, looking into your eyes.
“Y-Yes.. god, yes, Boothill. I don’t care if she’s not technically yours.. in the end, I want you in her life, and mine too. I can’t imagine a life without you..” you whispered, intertwining your fingers with his.
He couldn’t hide his wide smile at your confession. All of the love he had swallowed down was now completely overflowing, and he didn’t mind whatsoever. You were so beautiful. He adored you so much, and he was more than happy to call you his girlfriend. He was also thrilled to have a daughter. He could care less if people would judge him for raising a child that wasn’t his. He was more of a father to her than any other man would be.
He suddenly pulled you close to him, pressing a kiss onto your lips. It was so passionate and loving. He couldn’t stop himself. It was like he was finally able to have what he wanted, and it felt amazing. “I love you so much, darling, you don’t even know how deep my love runs for you..” he pressed his forehead against your own. “I’d die for you and our little angel..”
A grin appeared on your face. This was all you ever wanted to hear. You didn’t think you would ever have the opportunity to hear him say such things, but you couldn’t be happier it was coming true. “I love you more, Boothill.” you then placed his hand on your belly. “And I know she does too..”
The both of you couldn’t be more excited at that moment. It was all perfect. You had everything you ever wanted. Neither of you imagined that this life would be in front of you now, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.
#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ official work !#boothill x reader#boothill x you#boothill x y/n#boothill fluff#boothill fanfiction#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#star rail x reader#star rail x you#hsr x reader#hsr x you#hsr x y/n#hsr fluff#star rail fluff#honkai star rail fluff#honkai star rail fanfiction#hsr fanfic
420 notes
·
View notes
Text
i feel like ive said exactly this in other words before but i think the most damaging thing is the idea mainstream society has that you have to Always from Birth feel Very Strongly like someone of another gender trapped in your birth genders body to be transgender. there can be no other way. it cant be that you simply want to be another gender. that being something else simply appeals to you, and not that it necessarily must be so. does that make sense. and i feel like this dissuades many, many people from chasing what could be the best thing to ever happen to them. and im not sure if its intentional but it very well could be. dissuade people from choosing to be trans, from choosing to be another gender, from having control over their lives and going against the grain of society. not to get tinfoil hatty. but also yes tinfoil hatty a little bit. make it feel Closed Off and like you could never be Actually Trans. youre not trans enough! sorry! Die! idk
281 notes
·
View notes
Note
lol you’re really slow if you believe that “transmisandry” is on the same level as transmisogyny. no one is denying that trans men face oppression because they are trans men, because they absolutely do! but a lot of the time, when you hear stories about trans men being assaulted or killed, it is purely because of misogyny; because they were perceived as a woman, if not for another outside reason. meanwhile, when a trans woman is killed, it is almost always because she is trans, not to mention that trans women have way more stigma against us compared to trans men. just look at who conservatives always blame for “gender ideology,” it’s ALWAYS a trans woman
"no one is–" yes they do. frequently people do exactly that. for example:
"trans men (mostly) get assaulted and killed because they are perceived as women." downplaying the role transness plays in the violence we experience is not much better than denying it happens at all. also calling me "slow" first thing in an ask is a bad idea if you want to seem reasonable.
First of all, people rarely ever admit that! People genuinely get pissed off at trans men for saying they are vulnerable to misogynistic violence while not being women. You are only admitting that trans men experience misogyny as an argument for why talking about anti-transmasculinity is BadWrong Actually.
Trans men are murdered and labeled women, trans men in abusive families and marriages aren't allowed to transition, so the vulnerability of trans men is never recognized. Woaaaah it's almost like.... the misogyny is intersecting with something..... being trans perhaps?
Second, "you only get murdered because people mistake you as a woman" is also an argument used against trans women, by people who are invested in ignoring the complexities of trans people's relationship with misogyny.
Thirdly, trans men do get assaulted and killed for being trans. Not that they always get enough police attention that the motivations or attackers will ever be known (very much the same case with trans women victims). Do you know any of their names? Do you talk about the violence done to them, ever? Not just Brandon Teena, but Ebeng Mayor? Myles Utz? Ahmed El-Tounsi? Gautam Ramachandra and Shaman Gupta? Zahair Martinez? Abhay Gondane? Ky Peterson? Jacob Williamson? Lourenzo Broken? Andrew Jonathan Blake-Newton? Camdyn Rider? Manoj? Do you ever think about them? Because I think the fact that we only talk about the violence against trans men when we are talking about how it barely ever happens and should be shoved aside to make space for the Real Issues says a lot.
Genuinely, what good do you think you are bringing to the world by sending me this ask?
271 notes
·
View notes
Note
Since you take requests, would I be able to ask for something with Mithrun and Kabru with like a reader that's kind of dense with social cues/hints (especially if they're romantic)?
(I had people confess their love to me, and I still didn't get it till they put it in very clear terms)
(it's probably the 'tism, but I digress. )
I think it's potentially an absolutely hellerious dynamic since Kabru always plays 5D chess with every social interaction. As for Mithrun, I think it's funny to think how the other canaries would just be repeatedly hitting their head on the wall because their captain won't say it straight and they just don't g e t i t.
Ps: I absolutely love how in-depth all of your understanding of characters and their personalities are, and I just hxfhxdvgudts.
This blog just brings me so much joy
Yaaa!!
“Iᴛ’s ᴀ Dᴀᴛᴇ” Kᴀʙʀᴜ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, Mɪᴛʜʀᴜɴ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
gn reader
5000 words ;P
Warning: reader is very oblivious. Like incomprehensibly oblivious (for the lolz)
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
♡ Kabru ♡
- Kabru has had little flings here and there throughout his life. He treated every partner with respect, of course, but Kabru wasn’t particularly looking for love. He doesn’t dislike the idea of love, it just hasn’t happened yet.
- So, when Kabru starts to genuinely fall in love with someone, it’s a new feeling. He’s observant enough to recognize what it is.
- Unfortunately, the person he’s falling in love with is you.
“He’s been unusually quiet lately,” Holm remarked. Who he was remarking that to remained to be seen. Mickbell didn’t care much. Kuro had other things to worry about. And Rin had already made the same observation three times earlier that day.
The first floor of the dungeon was always crowded, and Kabru’s ears were usually open for anything that could be of use. The leather armor merchant to his left had recently raised his prices. The cobbler to the right was in an argument with an older lady over the shape of a patch he’d made on her favorite boots. And Holm was concerned about Kabru’s recent lack of observations; as concerned as Holm could be.
“Is that really such a shock?” Kabru sent Holm a smile over his shoulder. “I’m not exactly a chatterbox.”
But he was aware of himself enough to know that his behavior lately had been odd. He was usually so good at hiding it, too, but the comfort of his friends seemed to lower his walls. Without realizing it, Kabru had spent their latest dungeon expedition sighing to himself, staring at walls, and missing the details of important things. On the third floor, they’d encountered thieves. His party always relied on him to clock the intentions of approaching adventurers— thieves tended to be overly familiar, friendly, and a bit too eager— but Kabru’s mind was elsewhere. The thieves attacked, and it had genuinely taken him by surprise. The fight wasn’t hard, but Kabru’s lack of preparation set off alarms in Rin and Holm’s heads.
“You’re not,” Rin agreed. Her brow furrowed and she got that cute little line on her forehead again. “However, you’ve really been out of it.”
“Have you been thinking about that person again?” Holm asked.
That person. That person? Kabru knew a lot of persons. The whole first level was filled to the brim with persons, half of them being his acquaintances. Kabru had zero desire to admit that he knew precisely who Holm was referring to, though, and decided to keep his gaze straight ahead as he weaved through the crowd.
When he didn’t respond, Mickbell laughed, “Yeah, he’s thinking of them alright.”
“Heat?” Kuro asked.
Mickbell scoffed from his place on Kuro’s shoulders, “Tall-men don’t go into heat! At least I don’t think so. But they catch feelings, like a cold. Kabru’s caught a cold.”
“Not sneezing,” Kuro mumbled.
“A feelings cold, I mean! The worst kind.”
That was one way to put it. Kabru couldn’t help but sigh as he led the party towards a quieter spot in the corner. Once they were out of the sea of people, he leaned against the stone wall and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have feelings, I’m simply curious,” he said.
Curious. Right. Mickbell sent him a scrunched up, narrow-eyed look that was reminiscent of constipation. Yet, Rin interjected before the half-foot could say something heinous. “What’re you curious about, particularly?” She asked.
“Good question,” Kabru folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head in thought.
What was he curious about? You held so many secrets. You had this look in your eyes that drew him, a look that reminded him of a room in his mother’s house. She always told him to not go inside. Her rules only made him want to turn the knob even more. And when he finally did disobey her and go inside, all he saw were boxes full of ceramic unicorn miniatures. Still, the rush of satisfaction he’d felt at finally knowing what was in there couldn’t be matched. That’s what he wanted to do to you, open your door and take a peek.
Or, perhaps a ‘peek’ was an understatement. He wanted to meticulously inspect every inch of your mind with a microscope, to know the atoms unseen by the human eye, to be intimately acquainted with every molecule you possessed.
“He’s zoned out again,” Holm muttered, ripping Kabru out of his thoughts.
He looked up, eyes widening at the observation. Holm was right, he was zoned out again, staring at the dirt on the floor and contemplating you.
He forced a smile, “Don’t worry about me, really. I’m just preoccupied. It’s that person, I simply want to know their intentions.”
“Intentions for what?” Rin asked.
For everything. There was no simple answer.
“Oh hey,” Mickbell glanced over his shoulder. His voice was flat as he scanned the room, “There they are.”
Kabru followed Mickbell’s gaze, a straight line that led directly to you— all lines seemed to lead directly to you lately. His heart clenched in a way that was both unpleasant and addictive. Without realizing it, he pushed away from the wall and began striding toward where you stood.
“Wait,” Rin grabbed his arm as he passed. Kabru blinked, looking down at her and waiting for her to speak. She met his eyes and frowned, “I think you’re going to be disappointed. They’re not as mysterious as you think they are.”
Nonsense. You were incredibly mysterious. Kabru could tell you had secrets, layers. He dreamed of pulling them back one by one.
“They couldn’t disappoint me,” he sent Rin a smile that he hoped was reassuring— he knew it was, he’d practiced it in the mirror and on other people all the time.
“I think they will,” she argued.
“They won’t,” his smile faltered just the slightest. Rin didn’t usually get involved in Kabru’s… hobby. Did she know something he didn’t? He decided to not ask outright, accepting the challenge of figuring out the meaning behind her concern on his own.
Rin let go of his arm and Kabru was free to go. His mind switched elsewhere, onto you, and before he knew it he was already slipping through the crowd of bodies to reach you.
You were in front of the vegetable seller’s stand, inspecting a lumpy potato. Kabru knew the vegetable seller was cheating on his wife. Usually, he’d try to get more out of the man, digging deeper simply for the sake of knowing. Yet, you stood there, beautiful and mind-consuming. What did Rin mean by ‘I think you’re going to be disappointed’? Kabru was rarely disappointed with secrets.
“Hey,” he raised a hand as he neared. You looked up from the potato and returned his smile. There was that look in your eyes again, that closed door he desperately needed the key to.
He loved crowds. He loved the hundreds of voices. He loved listening to each one and assigning them meaning, picking apart their words, filing them away into neat little categories. Yet, the crowd might as well have disappeared. All he saw was you. All he wanted was you and your words and your thoughts and your fears and your goals and your likes and your dislikes and your intentions and your—
“Oh hey,” your voice cut through the wants like the slash of a sword, “Kapru.”
Kapru.
His brows furrowed and he plastered on a polite smile— also practiced in the mirror. “It’s Kabru.”
“Right, sorry,” you shrugged.
Were you playing with him? Were you sending your pawn out, a piece that you expected him to take for the sake of a larger, more powerful move? Was it bait?
“How are you?” He forced himself to ask, though he could hear the weakness in his voice. He desperately hoped you wouldn’t notice.
You only tilted your head in thought, “I’m fine. Just buying potatoes.”
“It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” Kabru said. It was a lie, you saw him last week. “My party and I are about to go back to the surface to restock. We could grab a drink if you wanted.”
“Why?” You asked.
Why? Why? Kabru couldn’t say why. He wouldn’t say why. ‘I want to take detailed notes on every word you say, every gesture, every breath’ wouldn’t be helpful to his cause in the least.
“Because we’re friends,” he slowly explained. Again, there was that hint of weakness lacing every syllable. He wanted to tear his voice box apart and reconstruct it in a way that wouldn’t falter every time he saw you.
But you didn’t seem to notice. “Alright,” you sent him a smile that made his heart clench.
Alright. Kabru’s smile relaxed, “Alright,” he echoed. “It’s a date.”
‘It’s a date’ was a common saying, of course. But it still held implications, it still held desires, it still signified something more— At least to him it did.
You remained unphased by it, though. Usually, when Kabru said that, there would be a laugh or blush or the widening of eyes. You gave him nothing of the sort. No flirtatious looks, no intention-laced smile, no flicker of recognition.
“See you then,” was all you said.
Rin was wrong. You couldn’t disappoint him. Opening your doors and peeking inside your mind would be so satisfying.
- You go on several dates with Kabru without realizing they’re dates.
- After one date when you make friends with the next table over and invite them to join your meal, introducing Kabru as ‘my friend’ and not ‘the man who is courting me’ or ‘my boyfriend’, he begins to wonder…
- Do you not realize that these are dates?
Kabru knew he had the tendency to stare, but he usually kept that urge locked away for the sake of masking. Always masking. Always aware of his surroundings and the people and the words and the looks.
He kept his staring urge hidden at first. Yet as time passed, as you went on more dates, he couldn’t help himself. He had to stare. He had to drink in every detail of your face, coveting it all as a desert wanderer would covet water.
And you didn’t seem to mind. You would give him this look sometimes, a look he couldn’t quite decipher. It was a mixture between affection and confusion and bashfulness. It was his favorite expression of yours and never failed to put butterflies in his stomach.
Kabru knew he was falling in love. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he’d never been truly in love before. At night when he forced himself into bed, he stared at the ceiling and mused on the future you had together. Neither of you had said anything to make the relationship official, but was that even needed? It was obvious that you were together— to him, at least.
Kabru held your hand as he led you through the crowded streets. Once you caught up to his side, he placed his palm on the small of your back. He wasn’t much for PDA, but it was a necessity when traversing the island together. He didn’t want to lose you in the crowd.
Once you were in a more quiet spot, he sent you a smile, “I have to ask, I’m too curious; What’s your favorite date that we’ve had together?”
You thought for a moment, “Hm… I would have to say last week. It was a Thursday. I like Thursdays anyway. I think it was the 7th? Yeah. June 7th, Thursday. That’s a good date, it’s a bit cool outside and all the flowers are blooming. But if I had to say which one was my favorite, I think it would be April 18th. I’m not sure that we spent that date together, though.”
…Okay.
Like the sunset rising over the mountains, it began to dawn on him.
Were you stupid?
No, you weren’t stupid. He had seen you in the dungeon before, how you fought and strategized and reacted. You couldn’t be stupid.
Then what? Were you playing hard to get? Were you teasing him? Was this a move on the board, your Knight piece pressing forward to continue the assault? Kabru needed to know.
He kept his hand on your back but his gaze straight ahead. “That’s nice,” he said. It wasn’t nice, actually. “What about when we hold hands? Do you enjoy that?”
You shrugged, “It helps us keep track of each other as we go through a crowd.”
“But I hold your hand even when we’re not around other people.”
The face you made betrayed your true thoughts. “Yeah, it seems like your hands are cold a lot. You really should start keeping gloves with you.”
“...Do you think I’m holding your hand because my fingers are cold?”
Another flash of confusion, another furrow of your brows. “Why else would you hold my hand?”
The sun rose completely over the mountains and the daytime, clear and bright, engulfed his world.
You had no clue.
- This stresses Kabru out immensely.
- He starts taking notes. He has a special little book just for you. A lot of the pages are filled with scribbles and question marks.
- He makes a plan on what to do. He’s going to up the ante, he’s going to make his feelings so clear that you can’t ignore them or be oblivious even if you tried.
- He starts getting more touchy. He kisses your forehead often. He kisses your knuckles. He’s around you all the time, every chance he gets. He tells you you’re beautiful. He says that he wants you to meet his mother. He talks about your future together.
- You say, “Oh, your mom? Cool. You think we’ll get along? I’m always up for making new friends.”
- “You want a future with me? Well, I’m free next Wednesday.”
“I like you,” Kabru was breathless and wide-eyed. His hair was a mess from how often he’d run his fingers through it. He was disheveled and hadn’t slept the entire night.
You glanced up from the book you were reading, “Oh? Cool, thanks.”
He sent you a look. “No, I mean I love you.”
“Yeah,” you flipped a page in the book, “love you too.”
“You do?” Hope bloomed and unfurled like a spring flower. Kabru felt his cheeks grow warm, a fire igniting within him.
“Yeah,” you said lightly, “I love all my friends, of course.”
That spring flower suddenly wilted. The fire was doused by a cold bucket of water in the form of your words. Kabru wanted to scream and bang his head against the wall.
“You don’t get it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, fingers tensing as he leaned forward, desperate. “I’m in love with you. This is really hard for me to say, but I think you need to hear it like this. I love you. I love you. I love you…” Somehow, his cheeks went even hotter. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed his embarrassment, “I-I… Sorry. I just need you like I need oxygen. I…”
You snorted, “You don’t need me to breathe, I’m a person not an organ. You’re breathing right now just fine.”
He was not breathing just fine, but that was beside the point.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Kabru said. He could hear how strained his voice sounded.
You watched as he walked away, rounding a corner and disappearing from sight. Then he screamed. It sounded like he also kicked something, a crate or box maybe.
How odd.
- When it finally gets through your head, he’s actually a bit satisfied by your embarrassment at it all. Yes, please do acknowledge your obliviousness. Please do apologize for treating his love confession so casually. When you do so, he feels as if he could melt from the relief.
- He still wants to bang his head on the wall, though.
- And he’s spent a lot of nights screaming into his pillow.
- Kabru continues to play 5d chess with you, just simply out of habit, but you’re playing Hungry Hungry Hippos the entire time. He still finds himself trying to pick apart your actions and responses, but he’s learned how to take things at face value when it comes to you. It’s a difficult adjustment, but one he’s willing to make.
- He starts to learn, take more notes, observe your behavior. For dates, he lays it out carefully. You two are going to do this specific thing. Why? Because he would like to see you happy, and hold your hand, and kiss you. Why? Because he loves you. Now you get it.
- You’re fascinating actually. Genuinely, he starts to adore how your brain works. He wants to pick it apart and hold the pieces up to a magnifying glass.
♡ Mithrun ♡
- He does not care.
- Be as oblivious as you want, that’s not going to stop Mithrun.
- The Canaries, however, are going insane.
“How’s it going with them?” Pattadol asked. Her hands were folded in front of her in that polite way, the way that told Mithrun that his second in command had something on her mind. Pattadol thought she was subtle. She was not.
And he knew precisely who she was referring to. Might as well give her an answer that’ll satisfy her curiosity, lest she keep asking questions.
“Fine,” he answered, “just fine.”
Yet, Pattadol’s brow furrowed. Not a good sign.
“Just fine?” She asked. Her voice went up a pitch. “It’s just fine? Really?”
“Really.”
She unlaced her fingers and spread out her hands as if gesturing to something, but all that surrounded them was Mithrun’s under-decorated living quarters. There was really nothing to gesture at besides the wooden cabinets and the bed. Mithrun waited, aware that she was picking through her piles of thoughts— probably thoughts mixed with screams of frustration— to find the right words.
Finally, Pattadol forced a shaken smile, “It’s clear to anyone that knows you that you’re in love with them, Captain.”
That was what she decided to say? It was a bit blunt for Pattadol’s usual style. Mithrun only shrugged, “Yeah, you’re right. It’s pretty obvious.”
“So why haven’t they noticed yet?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I want you to be happy for once!” Pattadol snapped, but she then took a deep breath, “Sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean to sound that way. This is hard for me, talking so openly about these things… But it’s so frustrating to watch.”
Mithrun could understand that. While he personally wasn’t frustrated by the circumstances, he knew that the Canaries couldn’t stand watching his interactions with you. It wasn’t a big deal in the long run, in his opinion. They’d get over it.
“Thank you,” he answered.
“Do you have any ideas on how we can do that?”
“Do what?”
Pattadol’s eye twitched ever so slightly. Her fingers tensed like claws, and Mithrun felt the corner of his lips turn up in a barely-there smirk. But genuinely, he wasn’t sure what she referred to. Did she mean the part about him being happy, or the part about you being oblivious? She should’ve been more clear.
“About…” she hesitated. Obviously she wasn’t sure what she meant either. She then nodded as if deciding, “About everything. About the obliviousness, your happiness, etcetera.”
He didn’t know what the etcetera referred to, but didn’t care to ask. “You don’t have to do anything,” Mithrun assured her as he leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. The wood creaked slightly from the movement. Everything on this boat creaked, as was the nature of boats, he guessed.
“I would like to do something,” Pattadol nodded, determined. “We all would.”
A shrug, “Alright. Then do something.”
- Pattadol, over-achiever and top student and certified Girl Who Cares Too Much, takes that as a challenge.
- Cithis only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.
- Fleki also only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.
- And Lycion also also joins because he thinks it’ll be funny (though he does care on some level. Not really about you, but about Mithrun. And it’s painful to watch.)
- Otta is forced to join.
- The attempts are weak at first, like dipping a toe into the water to see how cold it is. Mithrun only has so much patience for interference with his life, so they have to be smart and tread carefully.
- Pattadol gives Mithrun a hint. “There’s some pretty flowers growing beside the road over there. You should give one to them!”
- “What would they need a flower for?”
- Mithrun asks that on purpose. He knows precisely what he’s doing. Yes, people generally like receiving flowers, he knows that. But he also believes that flowers are useless gifts.
- “Then what present do you suggest?” Pattadol asks.
- Mithrun has an idea. He gets you soap. Everybody uses soap (hopefully) It’s a useful gift, and if he gives you the same kind he uses then he’ll get some weird sick flicker of pleasure from having his scent on you. (He wisely chooses to not say that part aloud.)
You held the little bar of soap in your hands as if it were an injured baby bird you found on the ground. Yet your feelings towards it were far from protective or empathetic. This soap said something. It had a mouth and it used it to scream.
You met Mithrun’s flat gaze, “Soap…”
He nodded, “Yeah. Soap. It’s a gift for you.”
For you?
Mithrun continued, “It’s the same kind I use. Smells the same.”
It felt as if you’d swallowed a handful of pebbles and they all had gotten stuck in your throat. “Do you… think I’m stinky?”
You cursed yourself for even asking that. What a useless question. Obviously, he thought you stank! He gave you soap! He was trying to tell you something, being subtle and polite for once! Usually Mithrun would just say it bluntly, but he’d been working on his desires lately. Perhaps he’d also decided to embrace societal expectations? You weren’t sure. But soap. Soap!
You didn’t notice how Mithrun tensed. You didn’t see him quickly blink several times and tilt his head. You didn’t see the slight widening of his good eye. “No, I—“
“I’ll go use this right now,” you interrupted, “I’ll go wash away my stench so you can finally stand to be near me.”
Despite the horror, you were a bit proud of yourself. You’d taken a hint, maybe you were getting less oblivious.
- In your defense, a bar of soap is a weird gift.
- Alright. Mithrun admits it, he needs help. He’s not so prideful anymore that he won’t admit that he doesn’t know what to do.
- Pattadol is really triumphant about that but does her best not to show it.
- Plan B: make it so obvious that you have no choice but to realize his feelings.
“This has to be the most physically uncomfortable I’ve felt in a very long time,” Mithrun said as he tugged at the ends of the fancy, over-decorated blouse the Canaries had put him in. “I honestly prefer Cithis’s frilly dresses.”
Which was saying something. Mithrun had a preference? That was a good sign.
“It makes you look handsome,” Pattadol said.
“The only thing it makes me is itchy,” he corrected.
The Canaries had somehow found a blouse— not a shirt or tunic, a blouse— that made Mithrun feel something other than indifference. He usually didn’t care about what he wore, as long as it was comfortable, but the clothes they’d stuffed him into were offensive to human-kind, like vegan bacon.
It had a big frill on the front and puffy sleeves. It was somehow both too flowy and too tight at the same time. The trousers weren’t much better, digging into his legs. And the shoes…
Mithrun didn’t want to talk about the shoes.
It was clear to him that Fleki and Cithis had only contributed to the outfit because they thought it would be amusing. Good for them, he supposed. Pattadol seemed to genuinely like it, Otta looked horrified, and Lycion was in some in between state where he wanted to show pity but couldn’t quite stifle his giggles.
“Remind me again what the point of this is?” Mithrun asked with a sigh.
“We got them to agree to a date!” Pattadol said, grinning, “I said outright ‘it’s a date’ so there would be no confusion. I made it clear that the date was with you. Now, if you show up looking like a million gold with a bouquet of flowers, they’ll get the hint.”
Mithrun did not want to do that.
Mithrun rarely wanted to do anything, but this just felt wrong. In his opinion, the relationship between you and him would develop naturally in a way that fit both of your personalities. He didn’t mind waiting for you to realize his intentions, he had time. As long as you didn’t fall in love with someone else, and didn’t stop him from staring at you or touching you, then he wasn’t in a rush.
But since the Canaries insisted, seeming to think that this was the right course of action, he would go along with it. Maybe it would be an utter disaster and Pattadol would realize that she knew very little about relationships— especially a relationship involving Mithrun. He was aware enough of himself to know that it wouldn’t be conventional.
With his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and the ridiculous outfit on, Mithrun entered the restaurant Pattadol had chosen. He found you immediately. You sat in a chair with your elbow on the table and your ankles crossed, waiting.
Mithrun held a bouquet of pink roses as he approached. You lit up when you saw him, but your brows then furrowed.
“Where’s Pattadol?” You asked.
His stride faltered, “She isn’t coming.”
“Oh,” you shrugged, “well since she set this up I assumed she’d be here.”
Why would she be here? It was a date Pattadol had set up for you and Mithrun specifically.
You probably didn’t know it was a date, he realized. Pattadol thought she’d been clear by saying ‘it’s a date’ but failed to realize that that was just a common phrase among people and meant nothing to no one.
Calm, he slid into the seat across from you and watched as you raised a brow, “What’re you wearing?” You asked.
“My team picked it out for me.”
“You look like you’re part of an opera or a ballet, like you’re about to stand beneath a balcony and start spouting poetry to your lover.”
That was a good description, actually. Those were the words Mithrun had been looking for earlier when he saw himself in the mirror.
He nodded, “Yep.” Then, wordlessly, he held out the bouquet to you.
Your eyes widened, “For me?”
“I’m handing them to you, aren’t I?”
Gingerly, you took the flowers and held the stem of the wrapped bouquet with both hands as you inspected each petal.
A flicker of surprising satisfaction ran through his chest. You liked the flowers. It made sense, most people liked flowers, even if he didn’t see why.
You dipped your head down toward them presumably to smell them, but your lips then parted and you dug your teeth into the nearest rose.
Mithrun froze.
You chewed on the rose, your nose wrinkling in disgust. You gave the flower a good shot, a proper taste, but it didn’t take long until you grabbed a napkin and spit up the pink slobbery mess into it.
“Sorry,” you sent him an apologetic smile and tried to hand the bouquet back to him, “they don’t taste that good, and I don’t think I could season or cook them in a way that would help.”
Mithrun knew he was staring. He knew he was making a face, slightly tilting his head down, intensity in his eye. The kind of face someone made when they were internally screaming.
He was not internally screaming, but he was thinking— about you, how your brain worked. And how it was so damn charming for some reason and all he wanted to do was kiss you until he was all you could think about.
He wanted something. The feeling was sweet, a shot of adrenaline, one of Fleki’s drugs. Addictive. Like the slow drip of honey. He could survive off that want for ages.
Wordlessly, Mithrun threw the bouquet over his shoulder to get rid of it. Judging by the gasp that followed, it probably hit someone in the head.
Loving you was as natural to him as breathing.
- Mithrun decides to not let the Canaries interfere any longer. He was wrong earlier in thinking he needed their help. He doesn’t.
- Also, watching them go insane over your obliviousness and his lack of communication provides a good bit of entertainment.
- When he finally decides to give into that all-consuming, new, exciting desire and kiss you, your response is, “But I wasn’t casting a spell, no reason to try and stop me.”
- God, he adores you.
- He takes kisses whenever he wants them, with no care about what you think his intention is.
- After a certain kiss that involves tongue and teeth and fingers digging into your waist, you start to openly wonder… Are you in a relationship with Mithrun?
“Yes,” Mithrun didn’t even glance up at you, remaining unphased by your rather serious question, “We’re in a relationship.”
He continued to jot down notes about a monster he saw, as if he’d just casually answered a question about the weather. ‘Is it going to rain today?’ ‘Yeah looks like it.’
You gulped, “How long?”
“A year now,” he kept writing. Truthfully, he’d been expecting this. A flash of disappointment crossed his mind; there goes one of his hobbies, watching the Canaries have a crisis over his love life.
You buried your face in your hands. Mithrun stopped writing and patted your head as if comforting a dog.
- The Canaries are pleased that this is over. But actually, they’re going to have to watch you not realize it when you’re engaged to the Captain.
- At your wedding you’re in regular clothes. Someone asks why and you say “Mithrun told me we’re going to a wedding. He didn’t say it was ours.”
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
#dungeon meshi#asks#mithrun#delicious in dungeon#mithrun of the house of kerensil#mithrun x reader#dunmeshi#dungeon meshi x reader#kabru x reader#kabru#kabru of utaya#x reader#reader insert#my writing#gn reader#oblivious reader
210 notes
·
View notes
Text
To, Future You | S.JY
sim jaeyun x fem!reader
warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f. rec), fingering, spitting, body worshipping, whimpering and whiney jake, mutual pining, confessions, mentions of alcohol, anti-men in some parts, not proof-read anything else lmk!
wc: 16.1k
synopsis: in your fourth year of secondary school, your home room teacher made you write a 'to future you' letter to someone in your class. while you had no idea who to write it to, sim jaeyun knew exactly who would receive his letter. he just never expected it to actually come through 10 years later.
a/n: hi! so this was something that has been sitting in the back of my mind for a while. i saw a tiktok that was someone writing a confession letter and ten years later receiving it so that is the inspo (pls if anyone knows it please send me the link so i can tag it!) i hope you enjoy this, after i post this i am taking a little break and stepping back so i can focus on my heeseung series! there might be some random fics here and there but i wont be posting as much (sorry!) as always, feedback, likes, reblogs, and comments are all welcome <3 ilysm
Your phone vibrates on your cluttered office desk, a blessed interruption from the mundane chore of sifting through emails. With a sigh, you pick it up, expecting yet another spam message or discount offer. However, as you enter your pin and swipe down the notification, your curiosity piques, and your posture straightens instinctively, uncrossing your legs and firmly planting both feet on the ground.
The screen displays the sender as 'To Future You'. Memories flood back from a decade ago when your teacher, Mr. Yang, initiated a unique project in your fourth year of secondary school. Instead of the typical 'what I think will happen in 10 years' pitch, Mr. Yang offered a more intriguing idea that got the students on board.
Your class was tasked with writing letters to someone else in the class, detailing how you perceived them then and what you believed they would become in the future. Mr. Yang's intention was to leave everyone with a lasting memory, knowing that some would stay for fifth and sixth years, while others would move on to college or the workforce.
He didn’t pair you all up, leaving you to your own devices; it could be a friend or someone random, the only stipulation being that it was someone from your home room.
Honestly, you hadn’t given it much thought at the time, sending one to the girl next to you with hopes that her dreams would come true. All your friends were in different classes, so you couldn’t even enthusiastically engage with the exercise.
However, you never expected to get one yourself. Your home room was filled with the popular girls and guys who were a world away from you and your quiet life. While they were out partying and having fun, you were studying to get into University, promising yourself a life of fun after you had graduated with friends you made along the way.
Of course, that’s not how it worked and you found yourself in a job you hated with bosses who make sly remarks about you and your competency even though you are much better at your job than any of these middle-aged losers. What’s that song from Bowling For Soup? High School Never ends, and by fuck were they right.
So as you stare at the unread email, you brace yourself for the torment from school to haunt you now as a 26-year-old. There was one girl from class who hated you, convinced that you ratted her out for smoking in the girls’ bathroom, which by the way, you had no part in; perhaps this letter is cursing you out wrongfully one final time.
Yet, the letter is not anything of the sort, leaving your palms sweaty at the unexpected turn.
Hi, Y/N.
How are you doing? From the looks of it, you’re struggling with what to write. Me too if I am being honest. This is a bit weird, isn’t it? I feel so strange writing these words when you're just a few seats away.
Anyway, hi again!
I don't know why I'm pouring my thoughts out to you of all people, but…I trust you. You’re genuinely nice and kind to everyone, even when others aren't :( sorry about that, by the way, for my friends. They can be real pissheads, and I personally hope they live unfulfilling lives. Once I leave next month, I pray I never have to see them ever again.
Is that too harsh?
Sorry, I should get back on track. You look super pretty today! I noticed you got a new bracelet. Was it for your birthday? Come to think of it, your birthday must have just passed if you're receiving this 10 years later, so happy 26th birthday, I guess! It’s so strange to imagine you as a 26 year old, or me for that matter lol.
I’m supposed to predict what I see your life like in the future, right? I think you’re an amazing lawyer (that is what you’re going to study at University, isn’t it?) I peer-reviewed one of your English papers once and you made me totally change my mind on The Woman in Black, I mean, she shouldn’t have tormented him but she was also grieving. I knew then that you could see the good in everyone, exactly what a good lawyer should be. Umm…you’re probably happily living with your husband who you met in a lecture and bonded over some conversation about how to save the world or what near extinct animal you should fundraise for.
I’m jealous of him just thinking about it.
Can I make a confession? Since I don’t think we’ll miraculously become friends and you’ll somehow read this while I sit beside you. It’s actually the real reason I’m writing this to you (I lied earlier about not knowing, I just didn’t know if I would say this part lol.)
I like you, as in, like you - like you. I have since first year when you walked into homeroom with your hair tied up and your Hello Kitty backpack. I might even be in love with you, as much as a 16 year old boy can be. You’re so passionate and beautiful that I can’t keep my eyes off you. Even now in the computer room, I’m staring straight at you and you haven’t even looked my way once. It always goes like this but I don’t blame you for it, don’t worry! It’s my fault, I should stop being a coward and ask you out, or at least try and be friends with you.
I’m leaving at the end of fourth year, I hate this place, to be honest. I have no idea what I am going to do or who I am and I’m scared as fuck. I wish in another life I could have you by my side through adulthood. I think it’s the only way I can cope, it’s the only reason I survived this hellhole. One look at you, and I feel safe, like the world isn’t crashing down on me. That’s weird, isn’t it? To think that about someone you don’t speak to.
This is coming off as creepy, like I don’t stalk you or anything, don’t worry. I just can’t express my feelings well but I guess it’s as simple as:
I think I love you, I hope no matter what happens in the future you have the life you deserve, and if I do happen to build up the courage at the end of the year to confess and you fall in love with me and I am in fact that husband I spoke about earlier (although way cooler and less of a knob) then do not speak about this lol.
Take care of yourself, Y/N. The world is so much brighter with you in it.
~ Your secret admirer.
LOL imagine I left you hanging like that :P
~ It’s Jaeyun (Sim, not Lee)
You stare blankly at your phone screen, the words swirling before your eyes like a whirlpool of emotions. A tidal wave crashes over you, leaving you paralysed in your seat, suspended in a moment of disbelief and regret. It's as if time itself has come to a standstill, and the world around you fades into insignificance as you grapple with the weight of Jaeyun's confession.
How could you not have noticed? How could you have been so blind to his feelings, so oblivious to the subtle signs of affection that now seem painfully obvious in hindsight? Jaeyun, of all people, someone who had offered you a smile while his friend group glared at you, or how he volunteered to be your dancing partner during PE, all that time you figured he was doing it to mock you when in fact, he was someone who had seen you for who you truly were when others merely glanced over you.
Jaeyun had been there all along, quietly observing, silently hoping for a chance to make his feelings known.
And you wish he did because out of all the popular students in your year, he was the one you would have been opened to. You had a crush on him like any girl does in their youth, but that's all you thought it was, an unrequited crush that could never be anything more than that. Yet, here he was telling you he liked you, so casually, in a letter he wrote at 16.
In his predictions, he was right about one thing - you are a lawyer, a damn good one at that. It’s amazing how he even knew that considering you don’t remember telling him nor did you share any inclination with even your friends that you were planning to go to Uni for it. It wasn’t for any reason other than usually when you tell someone you are going to do something, you end up never achieving it.
However, he missed the mark on the marriage front. Between the demands of University and your intensive full-time job, which frequently spills over into overtime, your romantic life has mostly consisted of fleeting Tinder dates and occasional hookups. Yet, it's not a life steeped in sorrow, marriage and children have never ranked high on your list of priorities, so you harbour no discontentment with your current relationship status, not really...
Suppressing the lump in your throat, you resort to the timeless ritual that any single woman in her mid-twenties indulges in upon discovering that someone from high school had an interest in her, particularly when she once found him undeniably attractive and frequently mentioned him to her closest friends back in the day: you embark on an Instagram stalking expedition, naturally.
Abandoning your pile of emails and the documents of your current case, you cast aside all distractions in a quest for Jaeyun. Despite only sharing a couple of conversations with him that linger in your memory, you're compelled to uncover what he's been up to. Typing his name into the search bar, you hold your breath, hoping that finding him won't prove too difficult given his distinctive name.
Thankfully, user simjakeyun emerges with ease, and in no time, you find yourself perusing his profile.
There he is, just as you recall him - those beguiling puppy eyes you once avoided now ensnaring you with their warmth, and that infectious smile rendering him ageless. As you delve into his world, you're entranced by the adventures he shares and the moments he has captured. His life appears so rich and fulfilling that you can't help but feel a pang of contrast with the dreary confines of your current office.
As you scroll, you see how he is embracing life to its fullest, travelling the world and seeing countries you can’t even point out on a map, all while you find yourself tethered to the prison of your office walls for hours on end. It's not that you despise your own life, but in this moment of comparison, a sense of discontentment begins to gnaw at you.
There are a few girls on his page but none that are consistent, with no wedding ring and no kids, you wonder whether it’s worth dropping him a message.
Are you really going to slide into Sim Jaeyun’s DMs? Yes. Yes, you are.
Creating a new private message, you hesitate, staring at his profile picture at the top of the screen. That beautiful smile makes you second-guess yourself. Why would he care about a silly little message from you? He’s out there striving and thriving, while your Instagram chronicles the life of a busy lawyer with only two close friends and an obvious wine addiction due to the countless glasses that makes frequent appearances.
You linger on the message screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. The doubts swirl in your mind, but something pushes you forward. Taking a deep breath, you begin to type.
"Hey Jaeyun, it's been ages! I just stumbled across your profile and couldn't resist saying hi. It looks like you've been on some incredible adventures. How have you been?"
You pause, re-reading the message. It feels both too casual and overly formal at the same time. With a sigh, you delete the last sentence and try again. Your mind is screaming at you not to bring up the letter, yet it might be the only way to get a response. At the end of the day, he was right - you weren’t friends in school, so why pretend you were just to start a conversation? Surely, that would make him think you were a weirdo.
But he told you he might be in love you, and you’ve gone ten years without knowing. Bringing it up could be the key to getting a genuine reaction from him, but it could also backfire spectacularly. He might recoil, feel uncomfortable, and even block you completely. You know you'd have that reaction if the roles were reversed.
Taking a deep breath, you decide to take the plunge. You start typing a new message, carefully choosing your words.
Hi Jaeyun! I don’t know if you remember me but the funniest thing just happened. Do you remember Mr. Yang made us write those letters to someone in the class that would be sent ten years later? I got one today…from you, actually! You probably won’t remember but I thought I would let you know that I got it and thank you :)
You hesitate before hitting send, re-reading it over and over again to avoid spelling mistakes and accidentally telling him that he told you he loved you. As the message goes through, your heart races and a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirls inside you. This is a leap of faith, and all you can do now is wait.
_____
Unfortunately, all you do is wait because it's been two days, and Jaeyun hasn't replied. The silence is deafening, amplifying your doubts and fears. You replay the message over and over in your mind, wondering if you said too much or too little.
It has to be because you mentioned the letter; he probably has a girlfriend. It wouldn't be uncommon for a guy as gorgeous as him to be snapped up quickly. He probably has one of those stunning girlfriends with long blonde hair and a figure straight out of Vogue.
You try to push the thoughts aside, but they persist, gnawing at you. Doubts mingle with vivid imaginations of his perfect life, further widening the gap between your reality and the fantasy you've constructed. Much like he passively fantasised about the prospect of being your husband all those years ago, you now find yourself lying on your couch, imagining what it would be like to be his wife.
The images in your mind are vivid and alluring: travelling the world together, exploring new places, sharing laughs and quiet moments. You picture the two of you living in a charming apartment, hosting dinner parties, and supporting each other through life's ups and downs. The fantasy is intoxicating, but it also leaves you feeling a bit hollow as you contrast it with your current life.
Why are you thinking about all of that about a man you haven't seen or cared about in 10 years? Are you really that desperate, wallowing over what could have been when you had practically forgotten about him?
The more you dwell on it, the more you realise how much you've let his lack of response affect you. Deciding that it's time to regain control of your thoughts, you put your phone aside and focus on something productive. You dive into cleaning your house, finally discarding the takeaway boxes and clothes thrown around the room.
As you clean, the physical activity provides a welcome distraction and a sense of accomplishment. You clear the clutter, creating a more organised and inviting space. Each piece of trash you throw away and each item you put back in its place helps you feel more in control. The mess around you had mirrored the turmoil in your mind, and now, with each cleaned surface, you feel a bit more at peace.
You remind yourself of your strengths and the life you've built. Your career, your friends, your favourite plant that you bought on a whim - all these things are a testament to the vibrant and dynamic life you lead. You're not defined by a response from Jaeyun.
His life is not yours and yours is not his. You are an independent-
*ping*
Leaping over your couch, you unlock your phone and see the Instagram notification and smile brightly, like it was a job offer you’ve been patiently awaiting or an early release of your favourite manga. The rush of anticipation and excitement courses through you as you eagerly open the app to read Jaeyun's message.
Hey there! Sorry about the delay in getting back to you. I've been on a marathon journey back from the UK over the past few days. Opted for the budget ticket, and obviously, it turned into a 36-hour saga with three stopovers 😅. But hey, I'm finally back home!
It's genuinely awesome to hear from you! Can you believe that letter actually made its way to you? I half-suspected it was some scheme Mr. Yang cooked up to sneak a smoke break with Mr. Kim lol.
I remember writing that letter! I said a few things in there...didn’t I? 😳 So, are you still in town? We should totally catch up tomorrow if you're free. I'm all yours if you'll have me.
Your heart skips a beat as you read Jaeyun's message, a rush of excitement coursing through you. His casual tone and mention of the letter bring a smile to your face. It's a relief to see that he's not put off or weirded out by your message; instead, he seems genuinely happy to hear from you.
His apparent recollection of what he said in the letter adds a layer of complexity to the situation. He may want to meet up to address it, perhaps to clarify that it was meant as a joke or to downplay its significance. You find yourself mentally preparing for the possibility of him saying something along the lines of, "Hey, sorry, that was just a joke, so please don't read into it."
While you tell yourself that you'll accept his explanation, deep down, you know that these past two days have shown that you may not take it as casually as you initially thought. If a simple message, or lack thereof, got you in such a tizzy, you can't imagine how you'd react to a rejection of a confession that you didn't even make.
Regardless, you type your response rapidly, not caring if it makes you look desperate and available.
You must be exhausted after travelling! But I'm glad you made it back home safe and sound. I'm free tomorrow. Can you do after 6pm? There's this cosy cafe downtown that's perfect for catching up, it’s called Daisies. I'll make sure to save you a seat. Looking forward to it!
With a quick tap, you send the message, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness about tomorrow's meeting. However, you don’t get long to be alone with your thoughts as another ping of your phone comes through.
Do they do double Jack and Cokes? I think I might need it if I remember what I wrote lol…😅
In all honesty, you might need one as well.
_____
Straightening the napkins on the table for the seventh time in the space of an hour, you watch the door patiently, anticipation coursing through your veins, waiting for Jaeyun to walk through the glass door of the bar you had both settled on. Each of you knew that you wouldn’t be able to have this conversation without some form of alcohol.
It’s not that you’re nervous about seeing him again; after all, you used to see him every day. But it's the weight of the conversation that looms over you. The realisation that the first real conversation you are going to have with him throughout all these years is about a letter he confessed to you in - a letter never meant for you to read because he thought it was a hoax assignment. His actions, unintentional as they may have been, have consequences, and you can't shake the uncertainty of it all.
As the minutes tick by, each second feels heavier than the last. You find yourself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, replaying scenarios and conversations in your mind, trying to predict how tonight's encounter might unfold. Will Jaeyun be as casual and friendly as his messages suggested, or will there be an underlying tension lingering beneath the surface?
The sound of the door opening snaps you out of your reverie, and you glance up, heart pounding, only to find it's just another punter entering the bar. You let out a sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly, but the anticipation remains palpable.
You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to stay calm and composed. This is just Sim Jaeyun, not an ex, not a lost lover, not your dad’s work colleague—there is nothing to be nervous about.
“Y/N?”
Jaeyun’s melodious voice breaks through your thoughts, and you look up to meet his gaze with wide eyes, startled by his sudden appearance. How on earth did he manage to slip through that door without you noticing? The surprise registers on your face as you take in his presence, a mix of amusement and disbelief dancing in your eyes.
"Jaeyun, hey!" you exclaim, your voice betraying your surprise as it breaks, forcing you to clear the bubble in your throat and quickly regain your composure. “I mean, when did you get here?”
He laughs loudly, the rich sound filling the room as he takes the seat opposite to you. The genuine warmth of his smile is infectious, closing his eyes slightly as he enjoys the moment. “Just a minute ago, I went up to the bar first to order us a drink. You like white wine, yeah?”
Nodding, you tilt your head, intrigued. “Yeah, how did you know that?”
“I saw you started without me,” Jaeyun chuckles once again, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he points to your empty glass, “I made an educated guess.”
You can't help but marvel at Jaeyun's appearance. His features are striking, his smile infectious, and there's a certain magnetism about him that draws you in. It's as if he effortlessly commands attention without even trying. A face that gorgeous shouldn’t be allowed to roam so freely, you think to yourself. It should come with a warrant, or at the very least a warning label.
He’s also wearing a pretty cream jacket with a simple white Stussy t-shirt, and some cargo jeans. His hair is much longer than when he was younger, with whisps of his fringe covering his face.
It’s parallel to your business-casual outfit, having just come from the office you decided to opt for a baby pink blouse - in honour of your hero Elle Woods, a cream thigh-length skirt, and a pair of kitten heels. It wasn’t exactly how you wished to dress while meeting Jaeyun again for the first time but due to having consultation with clients, you couldn’t exactly wear a little black dress.
Not that Jaeyun minds; as you’re lost in thought, his eyes are tracing over your body, how your clothes look tailor-made and your tits are sitting beautifully. He feels like a perv for staring at you, this is the first time he’s seen you in so long and here he is, eye fucking you. Though who could blame him? Even as he focuses on your face, forcing his eyes to leave the contours of your curves, all he can stare at is your lips and how they’ve been freshly glossed.
Clearing his throat, Jaeyun tries to shake off the inappropriate thoughts flooding his mind. "So, how have you been?" he asks, his smile innocent yet tinged with nervousness.
"Good. Yeah, good. You?" you respond, keeping your tone neutral, not revealing too much about your well-being. To you, your life is boring and lacks anything worth speaking about.
"Yeah...good," Jaeyun replies, the awkward tension between you palpable in the air.
The atmosphere strange, a tense undercurrent clouding the breezy air. Being alone with him, even being with him at all, feels unfamiliar and stirs a tinge of awkwardness in you. Luckily, he seems just as uneasy.
But when your eyes finally meet, you both burst out laughing, the tension melting away. The sound of your harmonious laughter fills the bar, louder than the soft hum of music or the chatter of others in the background.
His laugh is just as infectious as you remember it, filling the air with its higher-pitched squeals that seem to come in four successions. You watch with fondness as his body leans to the side, his eyes scrunching together in pure joy. It's a sight you hadn't realised you missed until now, a flood of memories rushing back to you in an instant. You hadn't known you knew that about him - the way he laughs, the way he tilts his head when he finds something amusing - but now, it's like a long-lost memory has suddenly resurfaced, and you're hateful to yourself for ever forgetting.
He straightens up, shaking his head to calm his amusement, yet the smile still beams from his face. Huffing out, he nods and looks at you, as though agreeing with his thoughts. “You know, I just realised that we haven’t ever spoken, so this is a bit awkward, isn’t it?”
Shaking your head, you lean forward, your fingers deftly smoothing out the tiniest wrinkle in your shirt as you relax, feeling your body shift with the new atmosphere. “That isn’t true, we had that conversation during country dancing classes.”
“Oh, you mean, ‘Can you not step on my foot, please?’ I would hardly count it as a conversation,” he dismisses it lightheartedly, offering you another chuckle as he remembers.
What he doesn’t know is that you do count it. It was your first proper encounter with him, and even though he kept squashing your toe under his tatty trainers, you let it go because it was also the first time you heard that melodic Australian accent say your name as he mumbled a quick, ‘sorry, Y/N’.
You both laugh again at the memory before the waiter brings over your drinks. “Cheers, mate. Thanks.” Jaeyun smiles politely at the man. It’s the bare minimum to thank your server, yet you can’t stop the butterflies in your stomach as he does so. It’s a testament to his kindness because most of the guys you have ever dated have been the type to snap their fingers or complain about the tiniest thing that could easily be fixed.
Not Jaeyun though, he is far too sweet to act like an arsehole. You haven’t even spent 10 minutes with him and you already know it.
As the waiter walks away, you reach for your wine before stopping for a beat, looking at it thoughtfully. There is a slice of lemon inside the glass, the sight peculiar not because you don’t like it, but rather because you do like it. It’s not conventional to have any garnishes on wine; most connoisseurs say that the wine is already perfect as made. But you like things extra bitter and everything citrus; it’s been this way since college.
You glance at Jaeyun as he sips his Jack and Coke, his attention solely on his drink, seemingly oblivious to your curiosity. Could he have known you liked wine this way? But how? It’s not like you brought a 125ml and a wedge to school. And you certainly don’t come here frequently enough for the bartender to remember you or your order.
The thought niggles at the back of your mind as you take another sip of your wine, mulling over the possibilities. Perhaps it's just a coincidence, you tell yourself, trying to rationalise the situation. But it also isn’t a big deal, you got what you wanted without asking for it which is a very rare occurrence, so you’ll take it and run.
Setting the thought aside, you indulge in a sip of the crisp wine, a contented hum escaping your lips as you enjoy the taste. With a playful shoulder dance, you set the glass down on the table. “So, how has life been since you left school?” you ask casually, even though as you glance up at him, you catch him licking the residue of his drink from his lips and it makes your body flush with heat.
Your gaze lingers for a moment longer than intended, a fleeting moment of admiration as you catch the subtle details of his expression.
“Really…amazing actually,” he begins, his voice laced with a sense of joy as a broad smile lights up his face. “When I left, I didn’t know what I wanted to do, so I just got a part-time job, saved up enough to travel and see my brother back in Australia, and from there...just travelled. I did odd jobs to make money, enough to pay rent for a few months at each place.”
As Jaeyun speaks, you can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy creeping into your thoughts. His carefree lifestyle, filled with adventure and spontaneity, sounds like a dream compared to your own mundane existence of endless paperwork and court cases.
“Wow, that sounds incredible,” you respond, trying to mask the envy in your voice with genuine interest. “Must have been amazing to just pick up and go wherever you want.”
Jaeyun nods enthusiastically, his eyes alight with the memories of his adventures. “It is liberating, honestly. I’ve learned so much about myself and the world. It was good for me, it turned out to be exactly what I needed.”
He takes another sip of his JD, his expression shifting to one of apology as he notices the dejected look on your face. “But what about you? Aren’t you a fancy lawyer now? That’s way more impressive than a country-hopper.”
You know he's just trying to be polite, but his words only serve to magnify your own feelings of inadequacy. In no world is your tiresome job and lack of social life anywhere near as impressive as what he has managed to accomplish in 10 years.
Taking a big swig of your drink, you bob your head from side to side, downplaying the enormity of your profession. “Yeah, it’s okay. It pays well and I do love it some days. I work in corporate law, so it isn’t as exciting as I would have liked.”
“You wanted to do immigration law, right?” Jaeyun asks, his tone is casual but his question catches you off guard.
You pause, your eyes narrowing with scepticism as you look at him. It's one thing for him to recall your career aspirations, but for him to remember the specific field you were interested in seems almost uncanny. After all, you never spoke about it except in your university applications. So unless he had some insider knowledge, there's no reason for him to know such specific details.
Nodding slowly, you set your wine glass down and lean back. “Yeah… how did you know that? I never told anyone about it.”
“I guess I'm just quite the observer,” he jokes, though there's a hint of sheepishness in his tone as he scratches the back of his neck. He curses himself inwardly for being so casual about a minute detail that he knows he shouldn’t know. “I actually, uh, I saw you checking out an Immigration Law and Social Justice book one day. Figured that’s what you wanted to do.”
Jaeyun wasn’t lying; that really was how he knew. It was just before summer break, and he was returning his physics books when he noticed you in front of him, a pile of books in one arm, the first one being about immigration law.
You look up to the ceiling, a smile of understanding spreading across your face as you let out a contented 'oh', finally piecing together the mystery. "That makes sense now. I was so confused when you wrote about me going on to become a lawyer in that letter because I could have sworn I never uttered a word to anyone."
“That’s right! I predicted you would be a snooty lawyer,” he exclaims, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he lightly bangs his fist on the table. His chuffed grin widens, spreading across his face like he's just won the first question on a quiz show.
Laughing, you nod in agreement. You don’t tell him that he never called you snooty because he also isn’t wrong as he adds the adjective. Although you’re easy going outside of the office, you hold yourself with high pride while at work, looking down on the men you work with. Perhaps you would be more kind if they weren’t gigantic arseholes with no morals.
So in that sense, yes, yes you are snooty.
“You also said I would be married with kids,” you point out, a chuckle escaping your lips as you recall the absurdity of the prediction.
“So? Did I get two for two?” Jaeyun retorts, a playful twinkle in his eyes as he wiggles his eyebrows. Beneath his casual demeanour, though, a subtle flutter stirs in his heart at the mention of a husband. He wants you to be happy, obviously - why wouldn’t he? But he can’t deny the pang of jealousy that tugs at him at the prospect of you being happy with another man.
You notice the subtle shift in Jaeyun's manner, the conflict between his words and the emotion flickering in his eyes, but you choose to let it pass without comment. Instead, you simply shake your head and lift your eyebrows, taking another sip of your white wine. If you don’t slow down, you’ll be finished five of these before Jaeyun has even made a dent in his first drink.
He audibly gasps at your silent confession, his surprise evident in the way his eyes widen and his jaw drops slightly. As much as he had hoped you wouldn’t have a man waiting for you at home, he can’t believe that you don’t.
“Seriously? I would have thought someone would have snapped you up in a heartbeat,” he admits, still flabbergasted that the bright and beautiful woman sitting before him is, in fact, single.
“Nope. I guess it’s just like high school,” you say, shrugging nonchalantly as you downplay the situation. Despite trying to be casual about it all, a hint of vulnerability lingers beneath the surface. You know how it looks, being in your mid-twenties and never having been in a serious relationship. It has made you wonder countless times about what could possibly be so repulsive that men don’t want to pursue a relationship with you.
But then you remember the richness of your life - a nice cosy flat, paying all your own bills, having friends who love you unconditionally, and a supportive family who stands by every decision you make. In the grand scheme of things, your life is fulfilling in its own right, far beyond the confines of a romantic relationship.
It doesn’t mean you don’t sometimes feel like you’re missing out though, but you've come to appreciate the career-driven journey that is yours alone.
Jaeyun's laughter fills the air, warm and genuine, but there's a certain intensity in his gaze as he looks you dead in the eyes. His iris’, a shade of deep brown flecked with golden hues, seem to hold a wealth of unspoken words, as if there's something he's yearning to express beyond the surface banter.
“Like high school? As in you’re too busy to notice people looking your way?” he quips, his voice light but tinged with a hint of vulnerability. There's a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a silent recognition of the unspoken truths dancing between you due to one letter.
This damn letter.
“You did mention how you would always look at me. Although, you made it very clear you were not a stalker,” you remark with a snort of laughter, thinking back to the playful disclaimer he had included in his letter. The tension between you dissipates slightly as you both chuckle loudly with one another much like before.
Even when the air is awkward, you both still manage to find comfort in it. Perhaps it’s because you both share feelings that none of you are aware of. As far as you’re concerned, he left those feelings behind in secondary school, and he thinks you’ve never cared about him at all.
Jaeyun covers his face as the memories invade his mind of writing and re-writing the paragraph to make you abundantly aware that he did not sit outside your house at night and watch you through the window - a sentence which was in the first draft - or that he didn’t transfer classes to National 3 Maths to be close to you - even though he did and he should have graduated high school with National 5, sacrificing his academic standing just to have the seat close to yours.
“Can I read it? I need to know what I should specifically be apologising for,” Jaeyun titters, his voice muffled by the palms of his hands as he peeks through his fingers at you. The request hangs in the air, laced with a mix of curiosity and trepidation, as if he's both eager and apprehensive to revisit the words he had penned so long ago.
Reaching for your phone in your bag, you nod, trifling through the empty wrappers of gum and secret chocolate bars you sneakily eat in the office. The last time you ate your well-deserved Mars bar, your boss made a snide comment about how you must be starting your period soon. It’s men like him that make Jaeyun’s bare minimum of thanking the waiter a much-needed standard.
You retrieve your phone and open up the letter, passing it to him which he awkwardly accepts, smiling apologetically at you already for whatever 16-year-old him thought was appropriate to say. He begins to scroll, his face changing from amusement to disdain and then back to amusement. Yet one solid feature is etched on his face the entire time, hiding behind the other emotions he is portraying but you can’t figure it out.
You observe Jaeyun as he clicks the phone to lock it, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face before he passes it back to you. There's a hint of apprehension in his eyes, mingled with a quiet resignation, yet he does what Jaeyun does best; he smiles and washes his true feelings away.
“It was even more cringe-worthy than I remember, I seriously gotta apologise that you had to read all of that,” he says with a self-deprecating chuckle, his tone light but carrying a hint of genuine remorse. It's his way of deflecting, of downplaying his confession, but you can't help but sense the underlying sincerity beneath his words.
"I honestly thought it was a joke when I opened it and saw your name," you admit softly, wary of your words. You don't want him to think you found his feelings laughable, but rather that receiving a love letter at all was the punchline, particularly back then.
Contrary to his portrayal in the letter, you didn't consider yourself pretty or beautiful in high school. You felt average, plagued by acne, with scars that still dot your face as lingering reminders. Your hair was often a mess, your face untouched by makeup, and you never settled on a style, finding them all too mismatched with your personality.
Upon hearing your confession, Jaeyun's eyes widen in disbelief. "Seriously? Why?"
You shrug, picking up your glass and swirling it thoughtfully before responding. "You were with Chris and the others, and let's be honest, they weren't exactly my best friends," you scoff, recalling the snide comments his friends used to make in passing, or the 'accidental' bumps that would cause you to drop your phone or books.
There is a pregnant pause in the air as Jaeyun's expression softens with understanding, a hint of regret shadowing his features. "I'm sorry you had to deal with all that," he murmurs, genuine remorse colouring his tone.
You offer a small, dismissive wave of your hand, attempting to brush off the memories. "Water under the bridge now," you say, though the bitterness still lingers beneath the surface. It wasn’t his fault; he had no control over his friends' actions, and in hindsight, he was the one in the group who never laughed at your discomfort or instigated trouble for you. He was always there to offer you an apologetic smile when you needed it.
Back then, it was hard to see him as an individual from the others, considering he was always by their side. But in retrospect you realise that your crush on him had been rooted in an unspoken recognition of his genuine and kind nature, even if in high school you couldn’t fully see it. You never hated him, the opposite in fact, and there was a reason for that.
A chuckle escapes Jaeyun's lips, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "If it makes you feel better, I got my wish," he says, laughter lacing his words as he knocks back the rest of his drink. "Half of them peaked in school, and Chris is divorced and balding as we speak."
You can't help but laugh along with him, the irony not lost on you. "Well, karma works in mysterious ways," you quip, raising your glass in a mock toast to the twists of fate.
Jaeyun grins, clinking his glass against yours. "Cheers to that."
Settling comfortably back in your seat, you smile fondly at him. Despite the heaviness of the conversation, you feel at ease. There’s something about him that makes you feel safe, a sense that no matter what’s going on in your mind, he can calm you down. You recall his words in the letter, how he could look at you and instantly feel better.
Jaeyun's gaze holds a gentle intensity, his eyes sparkling with a glint of satisfaction as he observes your visibly relaxed state. "It's nice seeing you like this," he murmurs softly, a hint of warmth lacing his voice. "I always hoped we'd have a moment like this someday."
You hum softly, grinning sheepishly at the prospect that Sim Jaeyun could have thought about you even after your school years. It does beg the elephant in the room to be addressed, however, both of you sneaking around the main focus of his written word.
"In the letter," you begin, feeling a curious mix of apprehension and anticipation swirl in your chest. The question hovers on the tip of your tongue, laden with the weight of untold possibilities. "Why didn’t you ask me out?"
The inquiry catches Jaeyun off guard, momentarily stalling his easy demeanour. He blinks, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he recovers with a thoughtful expression. It's evident that he hadn't anticipated such directness from you, despite knowing your inquisitive nature all too well.
Straightening out his jacket with a nervous flick, Jaeyun adjusts his posture to convey a sense of faux confidence. He clears his throat and licks his lips, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "I shouldn’t have been a coward," he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.
Jaeyun's candid admission bubbles shock into you, yet you find it refreshing coming from a man. You nod in understanding, silently acknowledging his confession.
"You were just…you," he says, meeting your eyes with candour. "Smart, attractive, career-oriented, and determined to change the world. And I was just a screwy little kid with no life aspirations and nothing to offer a girl like you."
His words resonate within you, with a genuine honesty that is both disarming and charming. Despite his self-deprecating tone, you can't help but be empathic to the vulnerability he's exhibiting.
"I didn't see you that way," you say, your voice soft but genuine, hoping to convey that you never considered him beneath you. In your view, you could never be on his level, not in a negative sense, but in the understanding that he exuded charisma and confidence that seemed out of reach. Your personalities were too contrasting, with him being cool and outgoing, while you felt you would have fallen short.
Jaeyun lets out a rueful laugh, a wry smile playing on his lips. "You didn't see me at all, did you?" he replies, his tone carrying a mix of self-awareness and resignation.
His words hit you like a blow to the chest, a painful realisation dawning upon you. You wince, feeling yourself crumble inward, the weight of missed opportunities and unspoken truths bearing down heavily on your shoulders. If you had stuck your head out of your own bubble, maybe you would be sitting and having a drink with him as something more than high school could haves.
"I'm sorry about that," you say, your voice laced with regret. "I was so focused on studying and staying away from your crowd that I just didn't see."
Jaeyun's expression softens, his features reflecting a mixture of empathy and knowing. "It's alright," he says gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on yours. “The way you were back then, it was exactly the reason I lo-, I liked you so much,” he confesses sheepishly, stumbling over his words as he skirts around the most obviously avoided topic of his letter.
Shaking off the intensity of the moment, Jaeyun gestures for the waiter to return, his easy smile returning as he orders more drinks, figuring that if he’s sipping, he isn’t saying something he might regret.
“So, tell me about being a lawyer.”
_____
For the next three hours, you both speak about everything and anything; from his adventurous travels to your disastrous dates, from your awful bosses to the state of the government, you discuss it all. Each topic seamlessly flows into another, and you find yourself conversing with ease, as if you're best friends on your weekly catch up.
As the evening progresses, you've shared stories, laughter, and even a few moments of vulnerability. The wine has flowed freely, the bottle emptying with each heartfelt story, while Jaeyun has indulged in his fair share of Jack and Coke, the familiar burn of the alcohol helping to dissolve any lingering feelings of apprehension.
Despite the passage of time and the years spent apart, it feels as though no time has passed at all. You find yourself effortlessly connecting with Jaeyun, discovering new facets of his personality with each shared anecdote and heartfelt confession. You wonder if you would have gotten along this well in secondary school.
"Is this you back for good then or?" you ask, the wine buzz kicking into your system enough to make you lean forward, resting your chin on your hand as you gaze at him with an undercurrent of longing.
Jaeyun's expression softens, his eyes never meeting yours but they shine with a hint of something you cannot put your finger on. "I'm actually going to Malta the day after tomorrow. This was just a flying visit," he replies, his tone tinged with a sense of wistfulness.
The news comes as bittersweet to you because just as you had Jaeyun within reach, he is also leaving you just as quickly. But you’re also envious that while you have to get up early and represent people in a boardroom who only see value in money and nothing else, he is galavanting to another dream destination.
"Ugh, I am so jealous!" you proclaim, unable to hide the playful pout that forms on your lips. Your declaration elicits a hearty laugh from Jaeyun, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he shakes his head, seemingly amused by the idea of someone successful like you being envious of him.
Because little do you know, that behind the facade of excitement of his adventures lies a loneliness he's kept hidden for years. He couch surfs, has little money to his name, and lacks solid friends to call in times of need. He hasn’t even seen his family in years, missing out on cherished moments like Christmas and birthdays. Despite the allure of adventure and freedom, his heart aches for companionship, for someone to share his experiences with.
As if a lightbulb goes off atop his head, he bites his lip and begins to speak. “You could co-”
“Sorry guys, we actually need this table for a last-minute reservation, could you sit at the bar until a free table is available?” The interruption from your waiter cuts off Jaeyun before he can finish his sentence, leaving him momentarily stunned.
You glance at your phone and smile, "It’s getting late anyway so we should go. Thank you though," you respond politely, masking any disappointment you might feel.
Jaeyun nods in agreement, thanking the waiter once again before standing up. He holds out his hand for you to take as you rise from your chair, an action that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It’s not the gesture itself but the way he extended his hand without thinking about it.
Taking Jaeyun’s hand, you stand up, careful not to bump into anything as you step out from behind the table. Together, you retreat outside, the cool night air hitting your alcohol-flushed faces, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the crowded restaurant. The sensation brings a sense of relief, washing away the residual tension from the interrupted conversation.
Jaeyun notices the icy air, but instead of embracing it, his gaze falls on you, and he can't help but notice how your thin blouse must be providing little protection against the chill. Swiftly, he takes off his jacket and drapes it around your shoulders, adjusting it with care to ensure you're snug and warm.
You're taken aback by his offer, feeling a rush of gratitude and warmth flood through you at his thoughtful gesture. "Thank you," you say softly, a smile touching your lips as you pull the jacket tighter around you.
He returns your smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine affection. “Let me walk you home?” he offers, his tone gentle yet insistent.
You hesitate for a moment, trying to save him the inconvenience, but he's not fooled. Jaeyun knows the dangers of a woman walking alone at night, and while he trusts your ability to handle yourself, he wouldn't feel right if he left you and something did happen. Plus, deep down, he relishes the opportunity to spend as much time with you as possible.
Touched by his concern, you look up at him and offer a small smile. "I only live down the road, I'll be fine," you assure him, though the underlying appreciation in your voice is evident.
Jaeyun shakes his head with determination, a glint of resolve in his eyes. "I insist," he says firmly, reaching for your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I won't take no for an answer."
His sincerity and insistence warm your heart, and you find yourself relenting, knowing that his company will make the short walk home all the more enjoyable. With a grateful nod, you lead the way, feeling a sense of comfort and safety in his presence as you navigate the dimly lit streets together.
You really do only live about 10 minutes away, so the walk is quick by usual standards. Yet, tonight, you find yourself taking your time, savouring each step as if seeing the world through a new lens. Perhaps it's the lingering effects of the wine, or maybe it's the comforting presence of Jaeyun's hand in yours, but suddenly, the world feels lighter and fresher than it did just this morning.
As you stroll through the streets, you notice the ebb and flow of life around you. People are walking into bars, some are finishing up for the day, and others are simply enjoying a leisurely evening stroll. The streets hum with a busy yet serene energy, a unique blend of activity and tranquillity that can only be found when there's no rush to get from A to B.
Reaching your apartment building, you slow your pace, allowing yourself to take in the familiar surroundings with newfound appreciation. The soft glow of the streetlights casts a warm ambience over the building's facade, while the gentle hum of the city envelops you both.
You pause in front of the entrance, turning to Jaeyun with a smile. "This is me," you say, gesturing with the hand clasped in his, pulling him out of whatever thoughts have plagued him this whole journey.
While you were admiring your hometown, Jaeyun was overcome with thoughts that, once you reach your flat, this could be the last time he sees you again. He doesn’t want to come across as greedy for your time or clingy considering this is the first time you’ve both interacted in ten years, but he had so much fun that he doesn’t want it to end here.
Luckily for him, you have the same thoughts even if you aren’t projecting them in your manner the same way he is. “Would you like to come up?”
Your invitation hangs in the air, laden with the unspoken hope of spending just a little more time in each other’s company or maybe something else. Jaeyun's heart skips a beat as he meets your gaze, seeing a glimmer of anticipation reflected in your eyes. He hesitates for only a moment, the weight of his own desires battling against his fear of overstepping.
But in the end, the pull of your company proves too strong to resist. With a soft smile, Jaeyun nods, his voice barely above a whisper. "If that’s okay, I would love to."
The thing about you both is that you’re seeking companionship in one another while also oblivious that the other feels the same way. You aren’t noticing how Jaeyun subtly prolonged the walk, pulling you back a few times as if reluctant to let the evening end. And he certainly didn’t notice the hopeful glint in your eyes as you asked him for another bout of his time, knowing what this could lead to.
As you both step into the building and make your way up the stairs to your apartment, there's a quiet anticipation between you, a sense of possibility tinged with the thrill of the unknown. Each step brings you closer together, the space between you filled with unspoken thoughts and unvoiced desires.
As you unlock the door and step inside, the warmth of your home envelops you, a comforting embrace that welcomes Jaeyun into your world.
You are also very glad that you had that anxiety-induced cleanathon.
Jaeyun wipes his feet on your doormat before heading inside, looking around at your quaint yet busy home. “Your flat is nice. Homely.”
“I’m either here or the office so…” you explain, taking your shoes and his jacket off, discarding them on their appropriate stands.
Since you spend a lot of evenings in your office, which is sterile and minimalistic, you wanted the opposite tone for your house. You filled it with knick-knacks and plants, every available surface adorned with shelves or posters, while the warm orange paint added a cosy glow to the environment. This was your sanctuary and you couldn’t love it any more.
You wonder if you would love it so much if your office wasn’t your only other option of residence.
You open the refrigerator and peep at the beverages you have on hand. "Do you want a beer, wine, or I can make a coffee?” You offer, grinning and looking at Jaeyun.
“Beer sounds good, thank you,” Jaeyun replies, his attention drifting towards one of your paintings that hangs just beside a free-standing bookshelf filled with your favourite romance and fantasy books.
You don’t get the chance to read as often as you would like, but when you do, it has to be filled with a romance that is so out of reach that you can convince yourself that it would never happen to you anyway. If it’s too realistic, you start to feel a little burdened at the lack of love you receive from a partner.
Grabbing a beer for him and a glass of white for yourself, you make your way over to him, extending your hand as you offer him the ice-cold drink. He accepts it with an appreciative nod and suddenly, his eyes dart over to your University degrees, each one showcasing your incredible knowledge and talent. You always ended up top of your class with first honours, a testament to your hard work.
“You really made something of yourself, Y/N. It’s incredible.” Jaeyun says softly, clinking your glass with his bottle.
“Eh, it’s all amazing and then you’re suddenly working crazy hours with not so much as a thank you,” you shrug, voice bitter as you think about all the times your dedication to your clients goes by unnoticed. You don’t do it for the acknowledgment, however, when your colleagues are getting praise for doing the bare minimum, it starts to nag at you.
Turning to you, he tilts his head, “Do you hate it?”
Do you? That’s the big question. Maybe if you had stuck to immigration law like you wanted and weren’t swayed towards corporate all because your University advisor had told you ‘It’s what is best for someone of your calibre’ then maybe, just maybe, you would be content. You aren’t being fulfilled the way you hoped you would.
“I don’t think I hate the work as much as I hate the people. They are soulless, money-hungry, misogynistic pigs with no manners,” you say spitefully, the anger bubbling inside you evident in the fire that flashes in your eyes. As much as the job might not be totally fulfilling, you think you would enjoy it more if the men in your office or those you represent had even a shred of respect for you.
Your shoulders tense, the frustration threatening to overwhelm you, but as you hear Jaeyun’s subtle laughter, you whip your head around and knit your brows together. “What?” you demand, your tone sharp with irritation. There was nothing funny in your statement, so you're finding it rather difficult to understand the chuckle that is flooding your ear.
“No, no, I’m not laughing at your struggles,” he says softly, sensing your manner change to slightly standoffish. “It’s just…you haven’t changed. You’re still passionate and driven. Just like the girl I fell in--”
He stops himself abruptly, the words dying on his lips as he realises what he was about to say. Mentally kicking himself for almost letting slip, not once, but twice tonight, he trails off into an awkward silence, the unspoken words hanging heavily between you.
But you can’t let it slide a second time. If you’re going to talk about it, now is as good a time as any.
You inhale deeply, the air heavy as you gather your courage to broach the difficult conversation. It’s not one you particularly want to have, but you know it's necessary nonetheless. Steadying yourself, you meet Jaeyun's gaze with determination, steeling yourself for what's to come.
“Jaeyun, when you wrote that you thought you loved me in that letter, was it true?”
His initial shake of the head sends a pang of disappointment through you, but before you can fully process it, he continues, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity. He places his beer on the unit beside him and takes a step forward, his expression earnest.
“No,” he begins, and for a moment, you brace yourself for the finality of his words. But then he surprises you, his next words washing over you like a wave of relief and warmth. “I didn’t think I loved you, I knew it. I just didn’t want to come across as weird or pathetic.”
His honesty leaves you momentarily speechless, your heart racing as you take in the depth of his confession. And as he reaches out, gently taking the wine from your slightly trembling hands and setting it aside, your breath catches in your throat.
With both his hands cradling your face, you find yourself drawn into his gaze, the intensity of his eyes locking with yours. In that moment, time seems to stand still, the world around you fading into the background as you lose yourself in the connection between you.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, I really am,” Jaeyun admits, his voice laced with regret as he pours out his heart to you. His eyes close for a moment, as if savouring the sensation of your face under his fingertips, the soft beating of your heart a comforting rhythm in the silence between you.
“Adult me hates teenage me for not jumping on the chance to tell you how beautiful and awe-inspiring I thought you were, that I still think you are,” he continues, his words filled with raw honesty. “I was scared because you were so out of my league that I felt ridiculous for even thinking you could love me back. I fucking regret it all because even though we never spoke, I knew I wanted to be with someone as brilliant and wonderful as you. I tried so hard to find someone like you over the years and yet not one person ever compared, because there is only one you, Y/N. And I hate that you weren’t mine for even a minute.”
You have no words to say and it agitates you because here was Jaeyun, telling you how he felt and you couldn’t even give him an ounce of assurance that you would have been his if he had just asked. Your feelings back then were not as intense as his but they were real all the same. No, you didn’t love him but you wonder if you could have.
Jaeyun leans in, resting his forehead against yours, nudging your nose with an affectionate, almost playful tenderness. His warm, alcohol-tinged breath washes over your face, causing you to close your eyes along with him, immersing yourself in the intimate moment passing between you both.
“I don’t want to make the same mistake, Y/N. I can’t.”
His words hang in the air, laden with meaning and urgency. Before you can fully process them, he kisses you. It's a kiss so tender, so full of reverence, it feels as if you were a delicate rose being presented to his most cherished person.
Despite the sincerity and fondness you feel through the gentle pressure of his lips, a wave of uncertainty washes over you. He is leaving for Malta in less than 48 hours, and the thought of the impending separation threatens to overshadow the moment of intimacy you share.
But in this moment, with Jaeyun's arms wrapped around you and his lips against yours, all thoughts of the future fade away. You're consumed by the warmth of his embrace, the sweetness of his kiss, and the undeniable chemistry that ignites between you.
You know there are risks involved, that giving yourself to him could lead to heartache when he inevitably leaves. But this might be the only chance to embrace him, to have him as your own, even for a moment, just as he had wanted all those years ago. Deep down, you know that you could live to regret not taking this chance, the same way he regrets not confessing to you in fourth year.
So you let your inhibitions go, allowing yourself to be swept away by the intensity of the moment. His tongue swipes over your lips, a soft purr escaping him as he seeks to taste more than just your cherry-tinted lip balm. You can't help but surrender to the intoxicating pull of desire.
He pushes you gently against the wall by your hips, his lips never leaving yours. His senses are overwhelmed by you in every way possible: the taste of you on his tongue, your perfume drifting into his nose, the feel of your body pressing against his, and the soft echoes of your moans filling his ears. He loves it all so much that he thinks he could get addicted to it.
As Jaeyun deepens the kiss, your hands instinctively find their way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. Each touch, each caress, feels electrifying, sparking a fervour that neither of you can ignore. The taste of him, mingled with the remnants of his drink, is intoxicating, making your heart race faster with every passing second.
Jaeyun’s hands wander from your hips, tracing the curves of your waist and back, committing the feel of you to memory. He pulls you closer, erasing any remaining space between you, the heat of his body seeping into yours. Your breaths come faster, mingling with his in the small, shared space between your mouths.
Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours once more, both of you breathing heavily. His eyes search yours, filled with an intensity that makes your knees weak. “Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ve wanted you for so long, even when I thought I would never see you again, I thought about you.”
“Yeah?” you ask breathlessly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, your fingers tangling in the soft strands.
Nodding, Jaeyun’s features shift, his gaze darkening with a hunger that makes your pulse quicken. He kneels before you, his hands moving with deliberate slowness as he finds the zip at the back of your skirt. His fingers work the zipper down, the sound of it seeming loud in the charged silence of the room.
His eyes never leave yours as he sinks down, the skirt slipping down your legs to pool at your feet, leaving you in your white panties. The vulnerability of the moment sends a shiver down your spine, but Jaeyun's adoring gaze and gentle touch reassure you.
Jaeyun places his hands on your hips, his thumbs brushing over your skin in soothing circles. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe as he looks up at you from his kneeling position. His eyes trace the lines of your body, drinking in the sight of you.
The raw adoration in his gaze ignites a fire within you, and you feel a rush of emotions you can barely contain. “Jaeyun,” you breathe, your hands resting on his shoulders for balance as you steady yourself against the overwhelming surge of feelings.
His hands move from your hips to your thighs, his touch light but firm as he traces the contours of your legs. The anticipation builds with each gentle caress, your skin tingling under his fingertips. When he finally leans in, pressing a tender kiss just above the waistband of your panties, a soft gasp escapes your lips.
His touch is reverent, each movement deliberate and full of intent. He hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, looking up at you for permission. You nod, your breath hitching as he slowly slides them down, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.
Jaeyun’s mind races as he sees you in this vulnerable state, yet he is the one who feels exposed. His feelings are pouring out of him like never before, and it’s all down to the fact that you bring that side out of him. No 16 year old should have had the emotional intelligence to decipher a crush from love, yet with you as his focus on the subject, he knew exactly what it was. While his friends were goofing off with people at parties and at the bike rack at school in a fleeting fling, he was wondering how he could make you his.
Looking at your exposed heat, he places a soft, lingering kiss just above your clit, making you jolt. You hadn’t expected him to find it so quickly, yet, it was as easy for him to find as a horse in a cow farm, like he had been doing this for years with you.
Once he feels your fingers threading through his hair, massaging his scalp, he takes it as the go-ahead to dive in deeper and explore you in ways he only imagined he could. Placing your left leg over his right shoulder and keeping his grip on your thigh for balance, he dips his tongue into your folds, moving in slow but strong strokes, lapping your taste up in his mouth. If your lips had him intoxicated, your pussy had him obsessed.
You throw your head against the wall and buck your hips up to open yourself up further to him, allowing him the privilege to get lost between your thighs and drink you up like a man deprived of cold water on a hot day. He’s so eager to please you that you can sense how much he is enjoying this, maybe even more than you are.
Jaeyun’s tongue swirls at the entrance of your core before he pushes in, tracing the bumps of your wall as he explores your pretty pussy and its tightness; he can only imagine what his cock will feel like clamped inside you, if you grant him the honour to do so.
One thing you crushed on Jaeyun the most over in secondary school was his nose - the prominent feature stood out against everything else and you couldn’t help but marvel at it from time to time. Big noses have been your weakness since your hormones started to kick in and Jaeyun’s was perfect. You know this for a fact now as it brushes on your clit as he slurps and sucks up your cunt.
You revel in the sensation, how his enthusiastic and skilled mouth shivers down your spine. It's a testament to his attention to detail, his dedication to your pleasure evident in every movement, every touch.
His hands paw at your thighs as he loses himself in worshipping your mound. It’s tang on his taste buds only driving him further into madness - he can’t believe how lucky he is in this moment, so much so that he is grinning like a Cheshire cat as he continues to devour you.
“Jaeyun-” you breathe out sharply, the air in your chest leaving your body as he licks fast stipes up to your clit, focusing his attention where he knows you want it most. It is truly remarkable how well he knows you despite only knowing you from afar until now.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” he mumbles into your cunt, burying his face into you as he laps up the juices that are leaking from your hole, “I’m here to please you, please let me.” Jaeyun doesn’t mean for it to come off as begging but he is so desperate for you he can't help it; and when your thighs tense slightly at his words, he thinks perhaps you want him to plead with you.
You’re so used to being around men who think that they own you, that are superior to you, that as Jaeyun asks you to let him pleasure you, it's a refreshing change. His words, muffled against your wetness, carry a genuine desire to fulfil your every desire. You can feel the sincerity in his actions, the earnestness in his plea.
“I want you to make me cum, please, Jaeyun. I need it so bad,” you whisper into the hot atmosphere that surrounds you both. You’re close and he can sense it too and right now, that is all you care about. You need to feel that satisfaction rush over you, your body is aching for it because it knows Jaeyun can bring you to that peak.
Whimpering below you, Jaeyun loses all sense of control and picks up his pace, his fingers now circling your entrance before slipping into you, scissoring you open in a mix of gentleness and roughness. He loves the idea of being able to touch you like this and make you release over his hand and tongue.
Nibbling at your clit is the final straw and you feel that tightness in your stomach and clench in your pussy as you cry out, cumming all over his face. The whites of your eyes come to the forefront as your entire body rolls and the wave of your climax consumes you like a tsunami. The grip you have on his hair tightens and you hold him in place, your body riding his face as his nose, tongue, and fingers work in tandem with you to help you ride out your high.
You don’t think you’ve cum so hard from just oral, these types of experiences being between you and your toys. Jaeyun is a man above the rest and you can’t wait to have more of him.
As he gently guides your leg back to the ground, his hands steady you as you tremble in the aftermath of pleasure. His thoughts wander, contemplating the possibility of lingering between your thighs for just a few more precious moments, coaxing yet another orgasm from your willing body.
For Jaeyun, the idea of bringing you to such heights of ecstasy is not just a source of pride but pure joy. The thought of surrendering himself completely to your pleasure fills him with a sense of fulfilment like nothing else. In a world where some might find embarrassment, he finds only bliss in the act of surrendering to his woman, to you.
Looking down at him, his eyes locking with yours past your heaving chest, you moan quietly at the sight of him; his hair dishevelled thanks to your hands, your juices over his face and lips which he wipes his fat tongue along to collect, and his eyes filled with pure adoration and lust.
You’re never going to be able to let him go.
Tracing a path of tender kisses along your body, his lips remain in constant contact with your skin, leaving a trail of warmth and sensation in their wake. With each gentle press of his lips, he conveys his adoration and reverence for every inch of you. It's a silent yet powerful declaration of his desire to explore and worship every part of your being.
Once he reaches your neck, he stops, nibbling softly at your nape. "God, you taste so good," he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm against your neck. "I could spend forever right here, just worshipping you."
His words send a shiver down your spine, a delicious anticipation building within you at the thought of what's to come. You tilt your head slightly, granting him better access, silently urging him to continue his actions.
"I could lose myself in you," he continues, his voice husky with desire. "Every touch, every kiss, I want to claim every part of you for myself, even just for tonight.”
His honesty pangs in your chest because what if it is just for tonight? The probability of that is high and yet you don’t dare think about it, the revelation too upsetting for you to consider. So you push it down, committing yourself to enjoy this, regardless of the what-ifs. Having him now is all that matters and you’re going to relish in it.
Grabbing his t-shirt, you yank it off his body and kiss him desperately, your arms finding home around his neck as you waltz him to your bedroom, thankful for your familiarity with your apartment as you weave around coffee tables and decorative baskets.
As you reach the bedroom, a primal need surges between you, an urgency and determination unlike anything you've experienced before. With a sense of raw desire, you turn him around and push him onto the bed, your actions driven by an irresistible force that neither of you can deny.
Straddling him, you see his face light up in excitement and glee as you initiate the next move. Jaeyun loves it when his eagerness is reciprocated and by the way your thighs are squeezing each of his sides and your hands are cradling his face as you kiss him messily, he feels so wanted at this moment.
His hands eagerly grasp at your blouse, urgency guiding his movements as he tears it open and discards it aside. With unbridled desire, he buries his face into your chest, kissing and nibbling at the exposed flesh above your bra. Fingers knead and lift your tits, enhancing the sensation as he revels in the intimate contact between skin and skin.
The heat between you intensifies and Jaeyun's ardour only grows stronger. His lips trail from your chest to your neck, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin, igniting a flurry of sensations that ripple through your body.
With a skilful touch, his hands explore the curves of your body, tracing the contours with a fervent hunger. Fingers dance over the fabric of your bra, teasingly tracing the edges before deftly unhooking it, revealing your breasts in all their glory.
“You’re a fucking dream, Sweetheart,” he confesses, knowing that you have, in fact, clouded his dreams some nights. “You always have been.”
Grabbing his chin gently, you lift his eyes to meet yours and smile fondly, showcasing your affection through your sparkling pupils. “You’re so pretty, Jaeyun,” you utter quietly as each syllable matches the thumping in his chest.
Jaeyun flushes red and smiles brightly, like you’ve just called him a good boy and he’s your golden retriever. What you don’t expect is for him to open his mouth just wide enough to poke his tongue out, asking for something.
It takes a moment for you to grasp his silent request, but once you do, your hold on his chin transitions to his jaw, gently urging it wider as you oblige, softly spitting into his waiting mouth. A soft whimper escapes his throat as his eyes flutter closed, savouring the intimate exchange with an fervour.
Emboldened by the connection between you, you lean in closer, your lips brushing against his in a silent promise of more to come. His response is immediate, a soft moan escaping his lips as he eagerly presses himself against you, seeking to deepen the connection between your bodies.
You feel his clothed cock against your naked heat and suddenly the room is filled with explicit moans, both of you dry-humping one another like horny teens. It’s electric and you both want each other more than any destination or University degree, it feels like you’ve found your hearts true desires in the confines of this bedroom.
“Let me have you,” His plea resonates in the air, heavy with longing and urgency, as his fingertips caress every contour of your exposed skin, eliciting a cascade of goosebumps in their wake. "Please, Y/N," he groans, his voice thick with desire, the intensity of his gaze locking with yours in an unspoken plea for surrender.
“If you let me have you,” you whisper into his mouth, ghosting your lips above his,
“Baby, you’ve had me for a lifetime.”
His response is without a moment of silence, followed by a deep kiss that ignites a fire within you both, drawing you into a passionate embrace. With a gentle yet possessive grip, he pulls you closer, his hands trailing down to caress the curves of your ass. The sharp sound of his gentle slaps mingles with your moans, echoing off the walls as pleasure courses through your veins.
As the heat between you reaches its peak, you break the kiss with a soft gasp, a mischievous glint in your eyes. With a playful smirk, you slide your hands down to the waistband of his trousers, fingers deftly undoing the buttons as you tease him with each deliberate movement.
Jaeyun watches you with a mix of anticipation and desire, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he eagerly awaits your next move. You climb off him for a moment as you peel his trousers and boxers down his legs, revealing his hardened length, aching for your touch. His arousal is evident and his cock is thick and twitching with its need to be buried inside of you.
Discarding the trousers aside, you meet his gaze with a wicked grin, your desire mirroring his as you hover above him. Your eyes sparkle playfully as you slink forward, your lips caress his teasingly, then trail kisses down his chest, creating a path of fire in your wake. Jaeyun's breath hitches as he watches you with rapt attention; his anticipation grows with every second.
Your fingertips follow enticingly down his thighs as you approach his waist, sending shivers of expectation coursing through his body. You gently but firmly guide his legs apart so that you can lower yourself between them for better access.
Grinning slyly, you approach him closely, your breath ghosting over his skin as you torment him with every instant that passes. Then you take him quickly into your mouth and engulf him with a hunger that leaves him panting for air.
Jaeyun surrenders to the thrilling sensation as waves of pleasure rush over him; his hands tangling in your hair as he leads you, lost in the depths of bliss. In this moment, there is nothing but the two of you, bound together by a passion that knows no bounds.
However, as good as your mouth feels, and fuck does it feel good, Jaeyun needs to be enveloped by your warm walls, he craves it like an addiction, and he genuinely thinks that once he gets a taste of you wrapped around him, he might just have to check himself into pussy anonymous.
Using his grip on your hair, he yanks you up off of him, causing confusion to overcome your expression. “Baby, if I’m not fucking you in the next 3 seconds, I might just die,” he laughs but he is serious, you can tell he is by how he’s already grasping his cock with his freehand and holding it in position for you to sink onto it.
So that is exactly what you do. You straddle him one more, lining him up at your entrance before slowly easing your way onto him. With each inch, you take your time, allowing yourself to adjust to his size, the sensation of him filling you completely overwhelming your senses. Jaeyun's hands grip your hips tightly, guiding you as you slowly sink down onto him, his breath catching in his throat as you finally envelop him completely.
Due to his thickness, you take your time to adjust to his size, grinding on him to open you up a bit more, not that any of you mind because as you do so, the tip of his dick is brushing inside you blissfully.
"You're taking me so well, beautiful," Jaeyun says, his voice hoarse with need, his hands tracing patterns of heat over your skin. "I was made for you.”
You begin to ride him while moaning gently beneath your breath. At first, your motions are shallow as you slowly elevate your hips. Each motion causes a surge of pleasure to course through your body, sparking a fire that grows more intense with each passing second.
Jaeyun's hands are firmly grasping your hips, directing you as you find your rhythm. His own groans blend with yours to create a symphony of want. Your walls are squeezing his thick cock so tight that each time he lifts you higher, the bell of his cock snags on your entrance, trapping him inside.
“You’re bouncing on my cock so well, Y/N,” he compliments as he kisses you gently on your bouncing tit. His heavy breath mists over your heart and it clenches along with your core. He’s so beautiful and adoring that he has ruined every other man for you.
As the ecstasy consumes both of you, Jaeyun's control starts unravelling and his primitive impulses begin to take over as he loses himself in the intensity of the moment. He jackhammers himself further into you with each thrust and he lets out a howl, completely losing all control of his movements. His thrusts become more frantic and more desperate as he hears your cries of pleasure.
The rhythm of your fucking frenzy transforms into a symphony of desire, the sound of his hips meeting yours echoing off the walls as he pounds into you with unrestrained passion. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.
You cling to him desperately, lost in the overwhelming intensity as you surrender yourself completely to the pleasure that consumes you. With each powerful buck of his hips, you feel yourself hurtling towards the brink, the sensation building to a fever pitch as you both race towards the climax that awaits.
"F-Fuck, Jaeyun!" you groan out, your voice a mixture of pleasure and desperation as you hug his head between your cleavage, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation coursing through your body.
Jaeyun is completely lost in the moment, his focus solely on the incredible feeling of being enveloped by you. He bites down harshly on one of your breasts, leaving a bruise as a mark of his passion, eliciting a cry of pleasure mixed with a hint of pain from you.
Taking control, Jaeyun’s only objective now is to feel you cumming on his cock, so he picks up the pace, bringing your body down to lie on top of him as he sinks into your mattress. Using his legs as anchors, he thrusts into you with an otherworldly speed, each movement driving you closer to the edge.
“Come on, Sweetheart, cum all over me,” he grits out, all of his focus on his hips.
The slapping of your skin and how his tip is puncturing your cervix is enough to tumble you over, a roar leaving your mouth as you come undone just as he wanted. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jaeyun!” You can’t form coherent sentences because to put it plainly, the dick is too good. It’s rendered you dumb and the only thoughts in your mind are; Jaeyun, cock, feels good, cumming.
Smiling brightly beneath you, Jaeyun marvels at your face as you let the pleasure take over. Your eyes are screwed shut and your mouth is open wide with short breaths escaping, your chest is panting against his and he can feel your heart race against his.
“That’s it, baby. God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Jaeyun whispers earnestly.
As you start to relax into the aftermath of your second orgasm of the night, he picks up the pace again, now content to seek his own release. Clawing down your back, he holds your hips still and batters into your sensitive and spent pussy, knowing that the beating it just took must have left you sore, so he needs to cum quickly.
You aid him in his quest for release, showering him with kisses across his chest, neck, and face, your droopy eyes still gleaming with adoration despite the ache that lingers within you. "Jaeyun, you're fucking me so good," you whisper gently into his ear, nibbling at his lobe in a gesture of encouragement that sends a jolt of electricity coursing through him, his length throbbing inside of you in response.
Empowered by your words, Jaeyun's rhythm becomes even more intense, his movements propelled by an innate urge to reach his climax, which between your tight cunt and your seductive words, it doesn’t take him long.
"I'm cumming, fuck, I'm cumming, Baby," Jaeyun mewls, his voice strained with desperation as he tries to push you off of him, but you hold him firmly in place, unwilling to let him escape the imminent release.
With a whispered plea, you encourage him to let go completely, to surrender to the intoxicating pleasure that courses through both of you. "Cum inside me, Jaeyun. Let me feel you," you urge, your voice filled with lust and longing.
He shakes his head and tries to roll over to pull out, yet you remain headstrong and unyielding to his attempts of escape. “I have the implant, Jaeyun, you can cum in me as much as you want.”
The lawyer in you is furious that you’re letting him bust a nut inside of you due to your irresponsibility, but the happy and content you is relishing in the fact that any second, you’re going to be filled with Sim Jaeyun’s seed.
Looking deep into your eyes, he sees you’re serious and huffs out a laugh of joy. It's not that he didn't want to experience the ecstasy of releasing inside you - ask the stars, he did - but he also understands the importance of being responsible.
However, as you resume your rhythm, bouncing on his cock and firmly holding him down by his chest, any lingering hesitation evaporates. He becomes consumed by the overwhelming pleasure, his primal instincts driving him to chase his climax with an intensity that matches yours.
“Cum for me, Jaeyun, please,” you beg, wanting nothing more at this moment.
Coaxed by your words and the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him, Jaeyun succumbs to the irresistible urge to release deep inside you. With one final, powerful thrust, he empties himself into you, his hips stilling as he rides out the waves of his high.
"Fuck, Baby, fuck I'm cumming, don't stop."
The sounds that escape his lips are a symphony of pleasure, soft yet needy, low but whiney, a perfect embodiment of every fantasy you've ever entertained. As you massage his chest and shoulders, soothing him down from his orgasm, his features are painted with bliss and love, a smile mirroring your own as he gazes at you with adoration.
"You're amazing, truly out of this world, Y/N L/N," Jaeyun huffs out, his voice filled with reverence and admiration.
Gently moving you off him, he guides your head to the pillow before hovering over you, peppering your lips with affectionate kisses. Finally, he settles on top of you, his head resting against your chest, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat calming him instantly.
Resting his chin in the valley between your breasts, Jaeyun's touch is gentle as he reaches up, tenderly tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. There's a glimmer of something in his eyes, a silent contemplation that leaves you wondering what he's about to say next.
For a fleeting moment, you fear he might choose to end the encounter, bidding you farewell with a polite smile and a promise to call. But to your surprise, he does the opposite.
"Come with me, Y/N," he says, his voice soft yet filled with determination.
Stunned, you feel your chest tighten as you replay his words in your mind, each repetition only adding to the disbelief that swirls within you. There is no way he is asking you this when this is the first time you’ve really spoken to one another. He might as well be asking a blind date he’s just met to leave with him.
"What?" you manage to utter, blinking at him in shock.
For Jaeyun, however, there's no hesitation. In his heart, nothing has ever felt more right. He's harboured feelings for you for so long that now, with you in his arms, he's determined not to let you slip away so easily, even if that means proposing a notion that can be deemed outlandish.
"To Malta, to everywhere you want to go," he continues, his voice filled with sincerity and a touch of vulnerability. "Come with me."
You stay silent, nervously biting your lip, there isn’t much you can say, your inner battle between your head and your heart make it difficult to hear anything clearly.
Noticing your silence, he offers you a gentle smile and grabs one of your hands, kissing your palm gently. “Y/N, you’re miserable here, I can feel it. You’ve practically said it yourself,” he argues with you even if he cannot hear your turmoil, “Think about it; you come with me, experience everything you’ve ever wanted, study Immigration Law at one of those Open Universities if you want, or do literally anything else that makes you happy.”
You shake your head. "I'm not miserable, Jaeyun."
“Then tell me you’re happy.”
Silence ensues. A profound quietness fills the space because...you can't. You can't fabricate happiness. Are you content with your life? Undoubtedly. But true happiness eludes you. Until he posed that question, until you stood eye to eye with him, you had mistaken contentment for fulfilment, believing that your family and friends held the key to your happiness, that working hard to get to the top of your law firm was all you could want. But you aren't truly happy.
“Y/N, I came here for you,” he admits, his voice just above a whisper.
“What do you mean?” you ask, confusion palpable in your manner.
“I was supposed to be leaving the UK straight to Malta. I had my bags packed and ready to go and then I got your message on Instagram. Before I could even reply, I was changing my flight to come home to see you. I just…I couldn’t let the chance of seeing you pass me by,” his voice quivers with raw emotion as he speaks, his grasp on your hand tightening, “Do you know how many times I’ve hovered over that stupid send button, desperate to reach out but was too scared to? When you got that letter and messaged me about it, I knew this was my only shot and I couldn’t waste it.”
Jaeyun, deep down, is still the scared teenage boy who wrote you that letter. You can see him fighting himself, terrified that as he pours his heart out to you that it’ll be a disaster, but he has spent so long contemplating what life could have been had he just plucked up the courage that right now, he’s powering through his insecurities to try and reach your heart.
You sit up, intertwining his fingers in yours as a form of reassurance. “Did you come here to see if I would come with you?” you query, the tone of your voice light despite the heaviness of the subject.
"No, I came here because I wanted to see you and...to see if I could find some closure for teenage me," Jaeyun begins, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. The nakedness of both of you both being and soul amplifies the vulnerability that envelops you. "But I can't bear the thought of losing you again."
"You don't really know me, Jaeyun," you counter, not with hostility but with a sense of realism.
How could he be so sure he wants you by his side when he knows you as far as he could throw you? Sure, you have both connected in a way you didn’t know was possible in the past 7 hours, and you have in some way known one another for years, but you don’t know each other. Not enough to leave the country with him…right?
With a sigh, Jaeyun gently strokes your hair, his gaze softening with affection. "I do know you, Y/N. I see you for everything you are, I always have," he insists, his voice now infused with unwavering determination. “I don’t know if I love you the same way I did ten years ago, we’re both different people. But I want the chance to find out, I want the chance to fall in love with you as you are right now.”
You stare into his eyes, contemplating your future. You could stay here and go about your life as is, sitting in a swimming pool of ‘what could have been’, forced to see bosses who could never give you the time of day, or you could follow Jaeyun, explore the world and let your hair down, meet new people and enjoy everything that life is supposed to be. Pragmatically, you have enough savings to get you by and worst case, you work shitty jobs in beautiful cities.
There is nothing holding you back except yourself.
With a beaming smile, you nod a silent promise to him. “Can we go to Venice?”
Jaeyun's eyes widen in surprise at your request, a flicker of disbelief dancing in their depths. But as he takes in the earnestness in your gaze, the longing for adventure and new beginnings, his heart swells with a profound sense of gratitude.
"Venice, huh?" he echoes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Let's do it.”
The words hang between you, laden with the promise of excitement and possibility. You leap forward and kiss him, pushing his back onto the mattress once again, enjoying the moment with him, knowing it’s not the end but the beginning of future you.
perm taglist: @immortalvee @snoopypupp @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21 @diorsyun @heexzbae @pockettwinzz @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @emi-en @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @iikeustar @shawnyle
#enhypen smut#enha smut#jake smut#sim jaeyun smut#jake sim smut#enha fluff#enhypen fluff#jake x reader#jaeyun x reader#aj writes#enhypen x reader
200 notes
·
View notes
Text
LNDS: Hospital Trip | Fluff
Listen...this was supposed to be a crack fic. Apparently when I write long form fics I can't help but take it seriously. So this is romantic comedy now. It's fluff. I'm not a Zayne girlie but damn do I adore him...I might be a Zayne girlie. And a Rafayel girlie. And a Xavier girlie...I'm a whore.
Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.
Warnings: Crack treated seriously, But also is this really crack anymore?, Romance mixed with comedy, flirting, Blood, Leg injuries, stitches, shots (the not fun kind)
Synopsis: You had been enjoying your day when a small incident led you to the hospital. Thankfully your beloved boyfriend is taking care of you, but he does demand an explanation at to how you got injured...something you'd rather he not know.
Word Count: 4,159
Blog Information | Masterlist
Zayne
Hospital Trip | Zayne x Reader
You let out an unamused huff as you leaned against the back of the hospital bed, looking off in the distance. Your leg was on fire at the moment and you weren’t exactly happy to be in the hospital. Thankfully Yvonne had been sweet enough to allow you to see Dr. Zayne about your injury (even though she insisted that Dr. Greyson was available immediately and Zayne was finishing up a surgery, you didn’t care.)
You perked up as you heard the door open, smiling the moment you saw Zayne. You weren’t even sure if he was aware that you’d be his patient as Yvonne didn’t bother getting you checked in. He looks up from the paperwork in his hands, seeing that you were sitting on his examination table with a dopey grin.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He said, his voice soft as he adjusted his glasses. He clearly hadn’t noticed that something was amiss as you shifted on the table.
“Well, you see…” You said, shifting more to show the inner part of your thigh. The thigh that happened to be getting blood on his examination table. The way you were sitting had helped it not pool too much, and the nurse that helped you in the room did place a small tourniquet around your leg (although in all honesty it wasn’t that bad).
Zayne paused at seeing the injury, looking at you and then back at your bloody thigh. His lips pressed together as he nodded in disappointment, realizing that you had probably given some nurses hell as they tried helping you and you refused. The hospital was used to your antics, especially when it came to your doctor. Unless you were dying, you insisted on seeing Zayne for everything.
He approached you, placing a hand over a section that didn’t have blood on it. You were grateful to be wearing shorts today so you didn’t have to take off your pants for this…although the thought of waiting for Zayne in his office in only your underwear was an amusing thought. An idea for another day.
The feel of his cold hand had you instinctually opening your legs up more for the man. He looked back up at your face and you couldn’t help but wiggle your eyebrows suggestively at him.
“Is there a reason this hasn’t been treated yet? How long have you been here?” He asked, finally taking his hand away from you.
“Um, maybe ten minutes? I told them it wasn’t that bad and I’d wait for you.” You told him and he shot you a look. He sighed, going over to see that the nurses had already gotten him a tray of items he’d be needing.
You wouldn’t lie, you had gotten nervous when you saw the nurse wheeling the tray in and seeing it had items for stitches. You really didn’t think your injury was that bad. Granted you couldn’t feel your leg at the moment, but that's besides the point.
“If your leg is in this condition, you should’ve allowed another doctor to tend to it.” Zayne scolded, walking over to the sink and washing his hands.
You hummed before smirking, “Well I figured you wouldn’t like having one of your coworkers between my thighs, since you are the jealous type.” You teased him. Zayne shot you a small glare, but you knew he wouldn’t stay mad for long.
“Leave the suggestive comments please. There is nothing sexual about a doctor tending to their patients.” He said, pausing and letting out another long sigh. You wondered what was causing him so much grief since you saw a flash of something in his eyes as he remembered something, “I need you to take your shorts off.”
You barked out a laugh, “Nothing sexual my ass.” you said, going to unbutton your shorts, “I’m surprised you’re letting me take them off, you’re always so eager to be the one doing it back home.”
“I said to leave the comments.” He said, placing gloves onto his hands as he approached you on the table.
“I can’t help it when you’re this easy to tease.” You winked before looking at the supplies he had been given, “So you gonna numb me up before you sew thread into my thigh?”
“I don’t know, should I be numbing you? If you have the energy to flirt, the pain must not be that bad.” He said, watching as you shucked your shorts off and placed them next to you on the bed. “Now might I be enlightened as to how this happened in the first place? If I’m not mistaken, today was your day off.”
You made a small, pained noise in the back of your throat as you thought back to what you had done. Nope. Absolutely not. He didn’t really need to know what had happened, did he?
“I tripped.” You lied, knowing he wouldn’t buy it for even a second. You’d rather tell him an obvious lie then do too good of a job and have him believe you. He always ends up finding the truth eventually, and when he finds out you actually lied to him, he always gets upset and distant. So you never did it to him. You’d give him the world’s fakest lie so he could tell right away.
“I’m not asking out of curiosity. I need to know if you might’ve gotten something in your wound. I need to know as your doctor.” A shiver went down your spine at the statement. There was always a difference between your sweet, caring boyfriend Zayne, and Akso’s Chief of Surgery, Doctor Zayne Li. You, of course, adored both sides, but seeing him switch to being Doctor Zayne was always hot.
“Fine, then I assume if you’re asking as my Doctor, then you won’t be judging me when I tell you?” You said, shifting in your spot. You really didn’t want to tell him. He was the best boyfriend ever but god damn could he give your sass back ten fold.
“Sadly doctor’s are entitled to judge whomever they please, we’re just not allowed to voice it to our patients or coworkers.” He said and you huffed.
“You’re judging me right now, aren’t you?” You finally murmured.
“Always quick to catch on.” He had the audacity to smirk as he grabbed the shot that you assumed had the lidocaine in it and waved it in place to tease you.
“Asshole…” You said under your breath. He looked at you with his eyebrow raised.
“What was that, you don’t want to be numbed?” He asked and a small, pathetic whine came from you.
“I mean my beloved boyfriend who is so kind, caring, and compassionate. The boyfriend who will do anything to keep me out of harm's way and fixes me up when I have booboos in the nicest way possible.” You said, pressing your hands together and smiling at him.
He looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at your praise and you finally relaxed a bit, “I’m still waiting to find out what happened.” He reminded you.
"Okay, where to begin…” You said, tapping your lower lip, “Well I woke up a bit later than usual since I didn’t have work today. I went to the kitchen to get some breakfast and was going through the freezer when I noticed we didn’t have any ice cream left!” You began and Zayne gave you an unamused look.
At this point, Zayne was grabbing the alcohol wipes to begin cleaning off the blood so he could see the actual damage, “I don’t need a play by play of your day, darling, I need to know how you injured yourself.”
You chuckled at the pet name and Zayne smiled ever so slightly at the happy wiggle you did on the table, “Okay, but it’s all super important information.” You chided with a small waggle of your finger, “So I decided the best course of action would be to run down to the store and go buy some in case we wanted some ice cream tonight. So I got dressed and walked down to the corner store.”
“Did you actually manage to get any?” He asked and your smile fell.
“Well…of course I did. At first. I got the ice cream and it was all bagged up. I left the store after thanking this sweet new cashier, her name is Tamara by the way.” You said with a wave of your hand, “Then out of nowhere I heard this sweet little chirping and saw a baby bird was on the ground. Clearly he had fallen, but thankfully it had been in a bed of soft flowers.” You explained.
You watched as Zayne paused, thinking about what you said and shook his head, “Sit correctly please, I need to clean your wound.” He said, pushing your legs to a better position.
“Okay so clearly you know the corner store I’m talking about, ya? The one right by your apartment?” You asked.
“Our apartment? Yes, I recall. It’s the one that always has a sign outside with those drawings to draw people in on the newest products.” He said and you paused before giggling again at him calling it our apartment. You'd never get tired of that since you had only been living together for a short while.
“Then you know how there’s some construction going on right next to it. There’s that metal fence they put up to keep people out and there’s a tree right on the other side.” You said and Zayne nodded, “Well the nest was in that tree.”
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be in an easier to reach location?” He sarcastically murmured to himself. It was just loud enough for you to pick up, and you went to kick him before freezing at realizing it was your bad leg. The same leg that earlier you couldn’t feel, but when you made sharp movements apparently it was all you could feel.
“Well I couldn’t just leave the poor thing there to die, so I scooped it up and put it into my jacket pocket.” You said and Zayne made note that you didn’t seem to have a coat anymore. How curious.
You flinched away as Zayne began cleaning the wound, the alcohol burning but he held your leg in place as he continued dabbing at it.
You cleared your throat, trying to not think about the sting, “So I managed to climb the fence without any issues thankfully. There were also no construction workers so I was all by my lonesome in my quest to put this birdie back in its nest.”
Zayne paused as he finished cleaning the wound, looking up at you from behind his glasses. You don’t know why you felt small under his gaze at the moment, especially since he was technically underneath you.
“Then I started to climb that tree to put the birdie back into its home. It wasn’t very high up in the tree thankfully, so it was easy enough to place him there.” You explained, happy about your accomplishment.
“I’m very proud that you managed to save a single chick by doing two very reckless things.” It was sarcastic as all hell, but you’d take the praise when you could get it.
“Thanks babe.” You said and he shook his head.
“This doesn’t explain how you ended up with a gash on your thigh.” He said and looked down at your legs, “Or why your legs have dirt on them…and probably future bruises forming.”
“Well, so the nest was home to an eagle! Can you believe it? It was very majestic looking as it began flying back to its babies.” You said, then you let out another hiss as he swiped a disinfectant of some kind over your wound. As if the alcohol wasn’t enough…
“Don’t mind me, continue your story.” He said and you got a sense he was almost amused now.
“Well apparently mama eagle wasn’t happy I was spending time with the babies because she swooped in to attack me. Obviously my natural reaction to an eagle coming for my throat was to flinch back. Sadly it caused me to fall from the tree and as I fell, I managed to catch my leg on a piece of the fence that was jutting out…thus ending in my giant gash and forming bruises.” You finally confessed.
You felt like an idiot, but honestly how were you supposed to know that would happen? You just wanted to save a baby chick that had fallen. Then BOOM! Eagle attack. To make matters worse you had fallen right on your ice cream and the concoction splattered all over your white jacket (alongside your blood since you used your jacket in an attempt to stop the bleeding) so you ended up just tossing them both away in shame.
You watched Zayne grab the needle that had the lidocaine in it and flicked it a few times to get the air pockets out, “And how, pray tell, did you get to the hospital? If the ambulance brought you in, you would’ve been treated in the ER right away. Since we’re having this conversation, it’s clear you didn’t make the right decision.”
“An ambulance would’ve been overkill.” You said and the look Zayne gave you said otherwise, “I just walked here. It’s only a few miles and the day was beautiful.”
Zayne could feel his eye begin to twitch at your lackadaisical response, “You walked miles with an injured leg that needed stitches. Did nobody try to stop you when they saw you trailing blood everywhere?” Oh he was a bit upset by this.
“Well people on the highway are normally like super busy and not looking at random people walking on the side of the road.” You said and Zayne seemed to be trying really hard to keep his cool at the moment. He wanted to properly scold you and tell you how stupid you had been; his worry wanting to turn to anger, but he held himself back. He didn’t want to lash out with emotions when he was trying to treat you as a patient.
“Of course, you just casually walked on the side of a busy highway where a car might’ve hit you.” He couldn’t help but say in almost disbelief at the lack of self awareness. How he managed to fall for you was a mystery. He did absolutely adore you, but moments like this would only cause his hair to gray faster.
Zayne took the shot, carefully placing it on the edge of your gash and began injecting you with the medication. You let out a hiss of pain, the sensation being horribly uncomfortable. You held as still as you could though, wanting to tear up a bit from how bad it stung going in and watching as he moved it around wasn't helping.
“Are you making it hurt a lot because you’re mad at me?” Your voice came out in a dejected whine. Zayne had just pulled back the needle when he looked at you. He gave you a tired smile, his hand going to rub at the non-injured area of your leg.
“I apologize for the discomfort, but you should know that no matter how upset I am with you, I would never do something to cause you intentional pain like that.” He said, his hand feeling cool against your hot skin. It helped numb the pain, and as the medication slowly began working the entire area was numb to…everything.
You were surprised by how fast it worked, and even more surprised by how fast Zayne worked. He was already getting ready to stitch your leg up and you looked over at him with a cheeky grin.
“If you’re gonna sew up my leg, can you make a heart shaped design for me?” You teasingly asked.
“I’m a doctor, not a seamstress.” He said as you watched him grab the threaded needle and pressed it against your skin. As soon as it was about to go into your leg, you looked away. There was no way you’d be fine with watching him put a needle through your body.
It doesn’t take long for him to finish with the stitches, leaning back in his chair to check it over. You look down as well, a bit off put by stitches but at least it was going to heal properly.
Zayne began cleaning the wound and then grabbed the gauze, tapping your thigh to lift up as he wrapped it carefully. Once it was all wrapped up (sadly without a neat little bow like you requested) Zayne ran a finger gently over it.
“Does that feel better, darling?” he asked and you smiled, loving the nickname and nodding.
“Yes sir, feels a million times better…but I also can’t feel it at all so that might be why.”
“It’ll most likely feel sore and ache for the next few days. I’ll make sure to pick you up some painkillers from the pharmacy before we head home.” He said, going to take off his gloves and move the tray away from you.
“Thank you, doctor.” You finally said. Despite all your teasing, you really were happy he was the one treating you. You always felt the most comfortable when he was in charge of your care, after all.
Zayne looked over at you, adjusting his glasses on his nose and tilting his head, “Don’t think you’re off the hook. I haven’t forgotten what you did.” He said and you huffed.
“Now why did you have to say that?” You murmured, watching as he went over to his desk. He began typing things up on his computer, looking through some files it seemed. Once he saw what he needed, he clicked his tongue.
“We can discuss your actions when we get home.” he said, looking you over, “For now I’ll need you to wait here. I need to grab some things. It seems you’re due for a tetanus shot, and with your most recent endeavor of getting cut on a metal fence, I think now is the best time for it.”
“Wait…a shot?” You groaned, “Oh you’re mad, mad.” The accusation fell on deaf ears as he was already heading out the door.
With another huff, you crossed your arms and looked at the clock. After only five minutes you decided you had enough and got on wobbly feet. You could barely feel your thigh still so it made it awkward, feeling almost like you were walking with a partially dead leg.
Still, you limped with purpose and eventually got to Zayne’s large desk. You didn’t care much for all the paperwork; most of it was medical jargon that went well over your head. No, you were curious about if he kept some of your gifts.
You opened up one of the drawers, smiling as you saw a sticky pad with little pears on it being the first thing in sight. You also saw a handful of pens that doubled as flowers. You felt all warm and fuzzy seeing how the items were clearly well used.
Then you heard the door open.
You froze in place, staring at Zayne who was carrying a few items. You two made eye contact for a moment and he only sighed, shaking his head. It wasn’t like you could run away from him. You watched him close the door behind him and it clicked as it locked.
He walked over to you, placing the shot down on his surprisingly clean desk. He towered over you in that moment, making you feel small yet again. He went over, lifting you gently as he paid attention to your newly wrapped leg.
Your ass met the cool wood of his desk as he sat you on top of it, “Can’t you behave for five minutes?” He asked and you looked away to avoid eye contact.
“I wanted to see where you kept the candy…” You murmured, as it was half true. You didn’t want to admit you were checking to make sure he didn’t toss out your little gifts.
“Next drawer over.” He said and you looked over to see his hand grazing the edge of the desk, opening the drawer and grabbing the candy, “However only good patients get it. If you behave for your shot, I’ll give you a piece.”
You knew him damn well, he’d give you a mint no matter what happened. He was always a sucker for spoiling you, even when you were acting up and being a total brat.
“Alright, Dr. Zayne. I’ll be good.” You huffed, looking at the delicately wrapped mint in his hand. He placed it next to you, then went to grab his supplies. You watched patiently as he cleaned an area on your good thigh then grabbed the needle.
Once again, you can’t look at the needle as it goes into you. However, this time the feeling was so much worse. You cursed under your breath, your hands going to Zayne’s shoulders to grip onto for some stability. Thankfully Zayne didn’t falter as he finished up, taking the needle out and placing it next to you.
His gloves hand goes to rub soothing circles over the area in apology, before he grabs a plaster and places it on top where a small bead of blood was already trying to come out of.
“Are you alright?” He asked finally and you grumbled under your breath.
“Ya…” Your hands tightened on his shoulders, not wanting him to leave, but also being a bit upset at all the pain you had endured because of your antics. It wasn’t fair, why couldn’t you do stupid things without consequences?
One of Zayne’s hands cupped your chin, forcing your face up to look up at him, “You need to be more careful in the future, understood? You got off lucky with only a few stitches this time.”
A small whine comes from the back of your throat, your cheeks reddening at his proximity. Your eyes couldn’t help but glance down at his lips for a second before going back to his eyes.
It didn’t go unnoticed by Zayne as he leaned down, giving you a short and sweet kiss before parting. His lips found your cheek next, then your other, then finally your forehead. He leaned his forehead against your own as he looked at you.
“Let me finish up some of my paperwork then I’ll take you home. I don’t need you walking on this leg right now.” He said and you pouted. Who knew how long it would take for him to do all that paperwork, “I promise it won’t take long.”
“Fine…but do I get a reward when we get home for being so good?” It didn’t go unnoticed by you that Zayne was practically between your legs as he leaned over you. Your pants were still on the table across the room, and you desperately wanted him to just kiss you properly this time. You wanted to be gasping for air by the time he parted from you.
Zayne paused, noticing the current predicament before smirking. His hand left your chin, instead going to box you between his desk and body. He leaned closer, pressing his lips near your ear.
“You want to know what I’m going to do to you later?”
You shivered at his suddenly husky voice, your hands grasping onto the lapels of his lab coat. You bit your lip, feeling suddenly hot in your own skin.
“I’m going to have you lay in bed and make you drink plenty of water and rest while your leg heals.” He whispered in your ear.
You let out an annoyed groan as his body left your own, standing at full height as he went to begin cleaning. “That wasn’t sexy at all.” You complained.
“Falling from a tree and gashing your leg open is also rather…unsexy.” He said and you groaned, a small smile spreading on your lips. Touché Zayne, touché.
“Okay can we at least stop by and get ice cream on the way back, then cuddle on the couch while we watch a movie tonight? I think I deserve extra cuddles for the pain I’ve had to endure.” You said with a small pout.
“I find those terms to be rather agreeable. It’s a date.” He settled on. You giggled as he picked you up from his desk and took you back to the examination table. He placed you on a clean spot and handed you your pants.
Sometimes dating a doctor has its perks.
Sadly dating a spiteful doctor had plenty of downsides as you later learned that night. You, curled up against his chest, as he puts on a movie for you two to watch. A documentary…on eagles.
#loveanddeepspace#love and deepspace#Zayne Love and Deepspace#Xavier Love and Deepspace#Rafayel Love and Deepspace#Lnds#Lnds Zayne#lnds x reader#x reader#reader insert#zayne x reader#l&ds#l&ds zayne#l&ds zayne x reader#lads x reader#lads zayne#lads zayne x reader
272 notes
·
View notes
Note
What about omega prison guard Steve and alpha prisoner Eddie Munson.
Steve should sue that prison for workplace endangerment and I’m so sorry for how late this is. I have others still in my inbox too that I will get to eventually!
That being said... alpha prisoner Eddie flirting with nervous prison guard Steve!!! Steve who's been told to be wary of inmates trying to intimidate him with threats, but he was never warned that he'd fall in love with the charming weirdo in Block D who's always telling him how pretty he is.
At first, Steve assumes that inmate Munson is trying to get extra time in the yard or a better work assignment, but he never does. He greets Steve like a friend, asks how his dog is, and even makes sure that other prisoners don't mess with him despite being an omega working in an alpha prison.
It feels too good to be true, but five days a week, Steve clocks in and instantly finds himself drawn to Block D. Even if it's not his assignment for the day, he makes a point to say good morning to Eddie. Sometimes he does sneak him an extra granola bar from commissary if he's feeling generous, even though Eddie would never ask.
"Morning, officer beautiful."
Steve laughs at that, sticking his hand in his pocket to quickly find the pack of gum security had allowed him to bring inside. Not necessarily following protocol, but he figures that it's innocent enough.
"Good morning, Munson," he greets.
Eddie gets off his cot and comes over to the bars of his cell, his smile widening when he catches sight of the bright pink package of gum in Steve's outstretched hand.
He has to be subtle about the special treatment, but Eddie’s good about that, accepting the present and pocketing it quickly.
"Surely you can come up with a better petname than that, baby? You've had damn near a whole year to pick one for me,” Eddie teases in a whisper.
Steve brushes it off with a laugh, putting a little more space between them.
Having a soft spot for a handsome prisoner wouldn’t look good to the other inmates or his fellow correctional officers. Everyone already thinks he’s not fit for this job and he can’t afford to lose it. It’s the best paying job he’s ever had and the benefits are great.
“Alright, Munson. Mind your manners.. What’s on the agenda for Block D? Are you running your little club this morning?”
The alpha typically leads some weird club for the prisoners on good behavior. Steve has never understood their funny game, but he always volunteers to oversee it.
Eddie smirks, throwing him a wink as he returns to his bunk and picks up a full box to show Steve.
“Big plans for today, actually.”
He chuckles at that.
There are no big plans in prison. Every day is more or less the same. Eddie either has a work assignment or his club. Sometimes he attends a special workshop or class for some college credit, but it’s not exactly the Ritz-Carlton.
“Sure, Munson. Whatever you say,” Steve says, rolling his eyes.
Eddie pouts.
“Don’t you want to know why all my stuff is packed up? You aren’t the least bit curious?”
Huh?
He looks around the cell, suddenly noticing how bare the walls are— devoid of Eddie’s monstrous drawings and plans for his game. In fact, his bed has been completely stripped and none of his books are lying around the place anymore.
“Eddie? What— what’s happening here?” Steve questions frantically, his heart racing now at the idea of his favorite prisoner being transferred elsewhere.
He’s had good behavior lately, but maybe he got caught in a fight on Steve’s weekend off?
Eddie can’t leave. He’s unintentionally become Steve’s best friend here and honestly, he’ll really miss the guy. Even the extra attention and flirting too!
The alpha drops his box and comes all the way to the bars, close enough that he can reach a hand through and take Steve’s. He squeezes it gently, settling Steve’s panic a little with his calming scent now.
“Hey now, baby. I thought you’d be happy for me? Are you really that upset that I’m getting out finally?”
Getting… out? Holy shit. Eddie is leaving prison. For good.
“You— your time is up?”
Eddie leans down, glancing around to make sure nobody sees him press a kiss to the omega’s knuckles.
“Yeah, sweetheart. I told you I was gonna be on my best behavior for the parole board. How else was I gonna take you on that date I promised?”
Everything he says always sounds confident and a little cocky, but for once, Eddie seems vulnerable and sincere.
He actually wants to take Steve on a date.
Steve shakes his head, but doesn’t pull his hand away from Eddie.
“You didn’t really mean that,” he protests. “I know you were just messing around or whatever, Eddie.”
“Oh, so now you know my name?” the alpha teases.
Steve rolls his eyes, wanting a real answer.
“Munson…”
Eddie grins.
“Alright, alright. No need for all of that, honey. I just thought I’d give you a heads-up in case you wanted me to leave you alone when I get out. I didn’t really expect you to let an ex-con take you out, but it gave me something to aim for and I wanted to thank you nonetheless for being such a good friend, even if you don’t want to see me outside of here.”
Steve hesitates for a moment.
Of course he didn’t realize that Eddie was getting free any time soon when the alpha joked about taking him out and “showing him a good time.”
But does that really change anything?
If Eddie wasn’t an inmate, would Steve be interested in him? The answer seems clear, but he’d never had to think it through before now.
He clears his throat, giving Eddie a smile as he comes to a conclusion.
“I think… I think you could thank me with dinner, Munson. I’m assuming you have a place to stay already? Do you have a number I can call too?”
Eddie grins like a kid in a candy store and runs to grab a piece of paper out of the box, writing on it frantically before shoving it into Steve’s open hand.
“I’m staying with my Uncle Wayne. He got me a position at his garage since I got all my certs here. My first paycheck is all yours, Steve. You find the fanciest restaurant in town and I’ll book the table, sweetheart,” Eddie promises. “You won’t regret this.”
He blushes at the intense stare from the alpha, feeling surprisingly eager for him to follow through with this.
“I’m going to hold you to that, Eddie. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
Steve loses his favorite inmate that day, but ends up with a different kind of mate a few months later.
#slick Sunday#steddie#steddie omegaverse#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#steddie ficlet#a/b/o#omegaverse#my asks#anon asks
220 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am not dead and I have a DPxDC idea to share with you all!
So Ghost King!Danny died died-for reasons I have yet to come up with-and gets reincarnated as one of the BatFamily members. Revolutionary idea I know. But, there’s a catch. It’s not Dick, Jason, Tim, any of the Robins actually, but Danny get’s reincarnated as Cassandra Cain-Wayne. Why did I come up with this you may ask? Because I like Cass. That’s it that is the main reason.
Anyways, Cass doesn’t know or have any awareness of her previous life before being revived by the Lazarus Pit by Lady Shiva. Not even any muscle memories. Which is a good thing since Danny’s muscle memories in fights is a bit like punch kick punch some kind of power punch punch. So a bit after Cass is out of the Pit, the next time she tries to fight crime she is not as good as she used to be, as she’s trying to use her fighting techniques and skills but her brain is telling her to button mash her way through it.
After that Cass tries to train her way back into being a better fighter, with everyone thinking that being killed and immediately being revived the Pit probably just messed with her system in some way.
Cass starts to see some ghosts, mainly animals and shades but Cass mostly brushes it off, and she decides that she can probably use this newfound skill to her advantage when at a crime scene. Cass gets psychically stronger as well, more agile, and she starts to pull pack her punches even more than before so she doesn’t injure anyone too much.
Then someone notices a single, shiny, white hair sticking up from Cass’s roots. But that wasn’t the weird part. It looks like a curved lightning bolt in a way, looking unnatural. Batman finds this a bit odd, and decides it’s best to be safe rather than sorry and brings Cass to all the magic users he can summon to the Watchtower.
Other heroes who wanted to see what was going on were also there, but it’s ultimately Deadman, who managed to tag along to the meeting, who recognized what’s going on. The moment the Batfam entered and Deadman made direct eye contact with Cass, he frantically shouted, “T-THE GHOST KING??? THAT’S who the GHOST KING decided to reincarnated as????”
Needless to say that everyone who heard him was freaking out. That included Cass. All the magic users are like, “Deadman, are you sure?” or “This is bad, what do we do, oh fuck” And Deadman just nods, saying “I mean, I’ve heard from other ghosts that the Ghost King had returned in mortal form, so I kinda just assumed it’s her. She’s definitely ghost some powerful ghost molecules in her tho” Everyone calms down a bit after that, but Cass having some “ghost molecules” in her is concerning.
So now the main quest is figuring out who exactly this Ghost King was, which is the easiest part, and figuring out what happened to him, much harder. All while Cass has an internal and external crisis that she can’t communicate effectively about with bonus powers to worry about. And probably some old ghosts from DP going after her to claim the ghostly throne. Because whether or not they know for 100% sure that she’s the reincarnation of the Ghost King, she’s the most likely candidate.
#danny phantom#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc#dpxdc#reincarnated au#in the drafts no more!#jan 5th 2023#I was brought back from the dead that day and then immediately died#also I don’t really like how I wrote this but the IDEA is what I love so I’m sharing it
246 notes
·
View notes
Text
surprise pt 1- nh13
pairing: nico hischier x girlfriend!reader
word count: 1k
warnings: no explicit smut but thoughts of it, swearing bc I’ve written it
authors note: this isn’t smut! are you proud of me? part two coming next week lovelies :)
part 2
“In what world did my sister think that it would be a good idea for me to go to this event with Dawson,” you groaned into Nico’s chest.
“In her defence,” Nico nuzzled his head into your shoulder. “We haven’t told anyone we’re dating.”
“But that doesn’t mean I want to go to an event with her boyfriend’s friend.” Sighing, you got up from your boyfriend’s lap and walked over to check the calendar that was on your refrigerator. You knew that the charity casino event was coming up and you had told Nico to go it alone. Your sister was going with Luke, naturally, and you were more than happy to have a night in just watching a movie.
But no, she thought that you hadn’t had a good lay in over a year and that you should hang out with Dawson. Little did anyone know that you were perfectly happy dating Dawson and Luke’s captain.
You sipped on the cool water and tried to think of ways of not going to the event with Dawson. He was lovely but if you were going to be going to a Devils event, it would be on the arm of your boyfriend.
“How about,” you thought out loud, “I say that I’ve got a work thing that night that u can’t get out of?”
“Nah,” Nico stole the glass of water from you and downed the rest of it. “You’d have told her about that already if you knew.”
“What if I told Alex I was coming down with food poisoning?”
“Babe, all you eat is chicken tenders and pizza,” Nico raised an eyebrow at you. “You cannot get food poisoning from sticking something in the oven at 180 degrees for 20 minutes.”
You rolled your eyes at him, even though you knew he was right.
“How about I just say no?” You sighed as all the thinking had started to hurt your head.
Nico ran his hands through his hair as he thought about the situation that your sister had put you in.
“Right,” Nico started. “You tell Alex that you can’t go, I say I’m bringing a plus one. We just announce the relationship by us walking into the event together?”
You and Nico had thought about telling your friends and family about your relationship but you hadn’t found the right time. Maybe this was the right time.
“Okay, I like that plan,” you agreed with your boyfriend. “Now what do I need to wear?”
You flattened down the skirt of your dress before reapplying a touch of lipstick. Nico had let you take free rein of his en-suite bathroom and you had done exactly that. All your skincare and makeup products covered the wash basin and overflowed to the cupboard above the sink. It was a struggle to constrain yourself with all the products you needed and how were you to know exactly what shade of red lipstick was going to work with your dress without trying every single one on.
“Nico!” You shouted from the bathroom as you struggled to put your 13 necklace, a birthday present to you from your boyfriend, on. You had to contort yourself into a position to get the matching bracelet on and the trying it again for the necklace just wasn’t going to happen.
The door to the bathroom opened and Nico stood in the doorway with his mouth hanging open. You looked beautiful in the dark blue dress that hugged all your curves and made Nico want to rip the dress off you and take you right then and there. But no, you had an event to go to first.
“Nico,” you groaned. He shook himself back out of his trance and walked over to stand behind you, hands resting on your hips.
“Fucking beautiful baby,” Nico whispered as his hands wandered further up your body to gently cup your breasts. Your head leant back to rest on his chest which exposed more of the skin of your neck. Nico’s lips started pressing kisses along your neck before you had to shake him off, even if you didn’t want to.
A pout formed on Nico’s face as you looked back at him via the mirror in front of you and instructed him to put the necklace on you. The number 13 sat on your upper chest and Nico’s cock hardened as he looked at it. It was a claim. A claim that you were his. Not Dawson’s, not anyone else’s. You were his. Nico knew that his eyes wouldn’t be on anyone else, how could they be when you looked like that.
“Let’s head out,” Nico commanded and it sent a shiver down your spine. It made you wonder if he would be like that when you got back. “Your red bottoms are by the door ready to go.” His lips pressed to yours and as you turned around, his palm gently swatted against your ass which looked perfect in the dress.
The pair of you were quiet in the drive to the venue. A combination of nerves and awkwardness sat uncomfortably in the bottom of your stomach. Ideas of how Alex would react to you walking in on the arm her boyfriend’s captain, how she would know that you had been lying for the past nine months. It was torturing you and Nico could notice.
“Schatzi,” he spoke softly, picking up one of your hands and rubbing circles on the back of it. “Alex will understand. It might not be right now, but she will. I promise you.”
“I really hope so,” you sniffled out a response but couldn’t let yourself cry. You never kept anything from your sister, she knew everything about your life. Except Nico. She knew nothing about how you fell for the captain of the New Jersey Devils.
#ahockeywrites#nh13#nhl imagine#nhl fic#hockey writing#hockey fic#hockey story#nhl writing#nhl fanfiction#nico hischier imagine#nico hischier x reader
125 notes
·
View notes
Text
I've been asked to write a post about Georgia's newest Insta stories, all of which (including the text title cards) are in the video above. I'm between events here at the conference, so I will try to get my thoughts down as succinctly as possible.
What seems to have happened is that Georgia dared David to climb a tree, and what we see in the video then ensued. I think what stood out to me most about this is the way David and Georgia are speaking to each other, which seems very different to how we've seen them speak to each other before. In this video, David seemed to really push back in response to Georgia, particularly when she was using her "mom" voice and talking to him like a child as she entreated him to get down from the tree:
"Get down."
"You started it, Georgia."
"I'm stopping it. Get down."
"Oh no you're not. You don't get to do that to me."
I couldn't help but contrast this in my mind with the video Georgia filmed of David at Morrison's last year. How visibly uncomfortable he looked throughout, but despite that, kept on going and didn't say anything or ask her to stop. To go from that to, "You don't get to do that to me" seems like a major leap, and possibly another indication that the dynamic between them has shifted.
It was also interesting to see the difference as she continually pleaded for him to get down, and him seemingly...not believing her? The "Is this not a ploy?" was an interesting comment, as if he's become so used to being a gimmick, to being content for her, that he is now doubting her sincerity. It was hard not to get the feeling that Georgia was panicking less about him possibly falling out of the tree, and more about David not immediately doing exactly what she told him to.
This is not me saying that she wasn't truly worried about him getting hurt, of course, but when you take David's comment into consideration along with the second title card, it just seems disconcerting:
...I had to read this twice to really make sure I read it correctly. And again, this feels like it reinforces what we saw above, with Georgia not being able to handle David pushing back: The idea that she would be (and is) more concerned about her own image and her coming across as unappealing than anything else.
Which we again saw with the last title card and the ending of the story being that "the wife was listened to. All was right with the world." That was apparently the victory here more than anything else, at least for Georgia. And she is very good at not making this the most visible thing on the surface, but once you really think about what she is saying (he's 53 years old and embarrassing and has delusions of grandure grandeur), it starts to become a lot more apparent.
So those are my thoughts on the video. I could be wrong about all of the above, but this was what I took from it. I'm glad it all turned out well, though, and to see how proud David seemed of himself once he did get down from the tree (and him wearing that adorable stripey sweater again). Happy to hear from folks in the comments as well with your thoughts...
#david tennant#soft scottish hipster gigolo#georgia tennant#i also don't think it's a coincidence that the Morrison's video was from October#one month before a certain Michael Sheen came to London#curiouser and curiouser#also her in the last title card needing to get in more digs at him#as if to say without saying 'this wasn't my fault. this was his fault'#again if this was a one time thing i wouldn't even say anything#but it's over and over at this point#in my opinion anyway#but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds#relationships#discourse
99 notes
·
View notes
Note
Kill yourself you fascist zionist fuck
okay, let me actually be clear on what I think should happen regarding israel/palestine:
I think people should be allowed to live where they want, and that communities should not be disrupted. this means, you may note, that I am OPPOSED to the violence being done by both sides, and I am trying to be better at showing that- our society has a tendency to be very binary and I'm working to deconstruct the idea in myself.
I also happen to believe that the jewish people should be allowed to live in (not SHOULD LIVE IN, I will not dictate where someone should live, should be ALLOWED TO) their ancestral land and indeed the land they originated from- being the Levant, around where i/p are currently. this does, in fact, make me a zionist, insofar as I believe jews should have access to and live near/on zion hill and its surrounding land.
it does NOT mean, or at least I very much hope it doesn't mean, that I am what could be considered the narrow definition of zionist, which effectively boils down to "someone who hates palestinians". I hope my actions have made that clear. if you are willing to explain what exactly makes me fascist, I would leap at the opportunity to remove such actions from my life.
side note, wishing death on someone isn't a very good look.
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
Real take: I like Star Wars. I like the prequels because they have more fleshed out world building than the originals. I like the originals because it has a compelling storyline and character building. I like the cartoons because they do things that live action cannot. I like the children’s show Young Jedi Adventures and I think it’s both cute, extremely full of world building, and it’s designed to bring back the cartoon storyline of learning a lesson every episode that young children can relate to. I like the Mandalorian because it took a species with exactly two known people from it, and added a third, but made them a baby, and they were cute, and it shows the morals of Mandalorian adoption and love for children. I love Ahsoka because it took a favorite cartoon series and not only brought it to life, but also it’s funny and very full of world building for both the New Republic Rebellion scene, as well as more Dathomirian nightsister lore. I love a lot of other Star Wars off-shoots because they gave good storylines, they try to bridge plotholes, and a lot of amazing characters and new places to play with. I adore, fucking love, would give my life for Star Wars Visions; the lore and new concepts alone have captivated me and I can and HAVE made posts about things Visions did that no other SW series has touched and I’m so obsessed with the force and it’s aspects as well as just species and such you have no idea I would sell any of you for SW Visions. In fact, I would sell any of you for Young Jedi Adventures too. The worldbuilding alone for those two series is enough to have me vibrating with excitement with every episode. Sometimes I rewatch episodes of them just for random juicy facts that I can use for fics.
But you know why I don’t tell people I like Star Wars in real life? People always lookin at something they hate, and the most incel take on it is that it’s got too many women now. But irl non-fandom people who just want to ‘enjoy the ambiance of the original trilogy’ and me do not get along because they actually hate Star Wars. They genuinely hate Star Wars.
I can give you 50 plot lines in various sections of canon and legends that boiled my blood (tho not that one time Anakin at 12 literally boiled a man’s blood inside his body, that was hilarious his eyes turned black like a demons I’m so obsessed with him), but I’m not gonna talk about those.
Aren’t you exhausted? Wouldn’t it be nicer to gush about how amazing a certain costume design was? How the implications of a certain species makes you so excited you could burst? Wouldn’t you like to talk about how that one character just doesn’t get enough love and it wasn’t because they were fridged it was just because they didn’t get enough love from the fans for being black or female or disabled or something?
I am going to tell you this now, and you’re gonna hate me for it but I’m right: if you didn’t like Mortis because you think the force Doesn’t Work Like That? You don’t like Star Wars.
I’m tired of interacting with comments on commercials because it’s full of idiots crying about more women, a black character, the fact that ‘oh that wouldn’t happen’ as if the High Republic era didn’t literally have some sort of fucked up midichlorian vampire roaming the outer rim killing anyone force sensitive. Obviously they def would have acolytes set before the prequels shove it up your ass.
Anyways. Stop talking about what you hate. Yes, I get it. We are tired of rote pumped stories, but that doesn’t change the fact that there will ALWAYS be someone who hates the story you love, and loves the story you hate. You cannot please everyone, and I for one have found just about all off-shoot SW series individualized and compelling in some way or another.
You know what I did when I starting hating about 90% of all new Marvel movies? I stopped watching them. If I want back in the fandom I have older ones I can watch or simply only interact with fics.
Because Marvel, as much as they Need To Calm Their Shit, isn’t about me, and it isn’t for me anymore.
But I think a lot of you hate so much Star Wars content that you truly need to stop interacting with the series. It’s not for you anymore. And just because you didn’t like it doesn’t mean it’s not real SW. Not sorry, but this ain’t your scene anymore and you need to find a new one.
#star wars#clone wars#the acolyte#the mandalorian#star wars prequels#I hate the sequels with all my heart but I won’t say shit about it now because I know that’s not mine to criticize#and yet. I still love them for being there for those that love them#you do you booboo#if you can’t find ANYTHING to do in this fandom that would take a lifetime to finish#other than criticizing the newest content we get because it’s not what you envisioned#then I’m sorry you don’t like the fandom you just want more of the original
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
As we see an increase in antisemitism I have reflected on my experiences how many years ago being the token Jew in my eighth grade English class and I have found some aspects about it which lead me to believe are the parts that Holocaust Education in the U.S. goes wrong
Being taught in English Classes
Often such as in my state, the Holocaust is taught as part of English curriculum. English teachers aren't history teachers and they may be lacking in the skills or knowledge required to teach in the necessary depth to discuss the Holocaust.
My mother used to teach English but she had a history degree as well. She would lecture in class about everything leading up to and during WWII. I remember reading handouts she had in her classroom while I was waiting after school about the history of antisemitism. I didn't have any of this in my English class unit, because to put it simply most English teachers aren't my mother who also has the prior knowledge of how to teach history.
Additionally, as it is part of English, there is often more focus on Holocaust literature rather than the topic itself
This is where I think it gets extremely flawed if a person's primary knowledge of a historical period is Anne Frank or the incredibly inaccurate boy in the striped pajamas. A single account or work of complete fiction shouldn't be your main lens to view any topic whether it's the Holocaust, Slavery, Civil Rights movement etc.
You're in short blurring fact and fiction when discussing these things in the context of literature.
Sense of Finality
I feel like in my classes at least there was this idea that was kind of implied that hatred of Jews began and ended with Hitler and the Holocaust. I think this leads to misconceptions about antisemitism.
I feel this is a problem as I remember mistakenly getting that takeaway in school regarding civil rights in America. It was taught that Slavery was a problem, emancipation proclamation, MLK said I have a dream, and the civil rights act was passed and bam no inequality or racism. Later on, I fortunately learned this was flawed for many reasons. But not everyone does.
Not teaching about how the Holocaust happened
If you aren't given the knowledge of how centuries of hatred lead up to the Holocaust, I feel the main takeaway becomes that it was almost a random occurrence.
Many learn the Holocaust is bad without learning the signs of thinking that can lead neighbors to kill neighbors.
So many people don't have the basic facts such as Hitler being elected rather than assuming power.
I think when you learn of an atrocity of such scale without learning the human beliefs that brought about it, you have learned nothing.
I had a girl in my college uni class who was shocked when I said that antisemitism didn't begin and end with Hitler. I can see where she would get this idea if I at ten figured that racism ended with MLK.
Using Simulation
Slavery and the Holocaust should probably not be taught using roleplay. It usually goes poorly and you can find dozens of examples of how this goes wrong.
Sanitizing History
Exactly what it sounds like. But it's a major problem in general with history education in the US. I think we downplay westward expansion, and slavery in the us. When we downplay those it's easy to see how some begin to downplay the Holocaust.
We had a kid faint on the trip to the Holocaust memorial at some of the images. I think it was because they were inadequately prepared to see the horrors in image, my teacher didn't show any pictures in class.
Final notes
I don't blame teachers. Teacher's jobs fucking suck from what I've seen and many don't have the skills or resources or experience. I guess for now I think it's good to recognize those holes in our education and fill them ourselves through self education and life long learning
With the current political atmosphere of education of the unpleasant or difficult to discuss parts of history, i can only see things getting worse if we don't change anything. But like I said in the absence of a solid education which discusses these topics, it's important to educate ourselves and confront our lack of knowledge.
#tw shoah#tw holocaust#jumblr#feel free to add on with your school experiences#especially if you're jewish
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
Never Not Mine
Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.
That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.
Chapter 1 | Read on AO3
Feyre and Nesta come to Autumn the night before Elain’s wedding, tanned and a little blonder than normal. It was too late to intervene—Elain had already been fitted for the dress she’d wear tomorrow and was, essentially, under lock and key. No guards, but an endless parade of servants that seemed to pop up any time she tried to leave the room.
Elain knew that was Lucien’s doing. He’d been sleeping on the sofa she now sat on each night, keeping watch so she didn’t try to escape and vanishing before she woke up. They’d barely exchanged a sentences worth of words since she’d foolishly climbed over the balcony.
“How are you feeling?” Feyre asked as Nesta paced back and forth. If she told her sisters the truth, they were likely to do something foolish. Something that got them all in trouble. Nesta was already trying to angle out of her marriage and didn’t need Elain mucking that up.
“Excited,” she lied, catching the way Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “And nervous, of course. We barely know each other.”
“Is he kind?” Nesta demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Yes,” Elain replied, not bothering to add that he was rude in equal measure.
“All mother talks about is how handsome the Vanserra’s are,” Nesta said with a dark scowl. “I see nothing special about them.”
Feyre shrugged. “They’re not ugly.”
“They’re hardly beautiful, either,” Nesta argued. If Feyre said the sky was blue, Nesta would argue it was gray and if Nesta thought the Vanserra’s were ugly, then Feyre found them to be impossibly beautiful. They had always been that way, leaving Elain to mediate.
“There is a charm to them, certainly,” she agreed, not taking any particular stance. “I am acclimating well. How are things at home?”
“Dull,” Feyre said as Nesta opened her mouth. “I paint and Nesta plays piano and we wither away, waiting for our turn to be good, dutiful wives.”
“They’ve banned arranged marriages in Summer,” Nesta said sharply, her tone rife with implications. Run to Summer, she seemed to say. As if Summer would risk a war with their neighbors simply to harbor her.
“Perhaps other courts will follow suit,” Elain said noncommittally. It was too late for her. Tomorrow she’d walk willing with Lucien through a priestesses temple, watched by her family and his as they pledged fidelity and honor to the other. It was a farce and one Elain was committed to seeing through, now. If her sisters managed to escape their own prescribed fates, she wished them well.
But there was no more escape for her.
“Have you seen anything?” Feyre questioned. Elain bit her bottom lip.
Yes, she wanted to say. How did she explain that what she’d seen was a particularly steamy affair with the man she had sworn she wouldn’t touch until she was forced to. Elain refused to think about it lest Lucien scent the accompanying arousal that always followed and got the wrong idea.
Visions were imprecise, a snapshot of what could happen and not necessarily what would. A wrong turn, a different word spoken and the entire world rearranged itself.
That did nothing to remove the image of Lucien without his clothes shifting over her, or the expression on his face—
“Elain?”
She blinked. “No, nothing. I haven’t looked, though, either.”
“Well, maybe you should tonight,” Feyre suggested. Elain only smiled, certain she did not want to know what the next day had in store for her. Let it remain a mystery, even from her. If she saw herself beneath him, she’d panic and never make it down the aisle.
There was something she wanted, though, and Elain found exactly how to get it later that afternoon. Cadmus poked his head in, expression guarded.
“Lady Elain?” The second eldest Vanserra looked the most like his father, his red hair browner, his russet eyes lacking some of the ringed gold the rest of his brothers had. Even his features were those of the sharp elegance of the High Lord rather than the softer edges the Lady bore. “How are you?”
“I…” A dagger glinted off Cadmus’s belt, silver hilt inlaid with vibrant rubies. “Can I borrow that?”
Cadmus looked down at his body, hands hovering over the weapon. “My dagger?”
Elain made her eyes big and round as she bit her bottom lip, and hoped Cadmus was no better than the males back home. “I don’t know how to use it, if you’re worried for your brothers safety”
“What’s to know? Stick the sharp end in anything soft,” he said with a wry smile before unstrapping the hilt. “If you do stab my brother, try not to kill him.”
Elain blinked. “Just…just like that?”
“It’s become almost a tradition to provide my new sisters with a weapon to use against my brothers. I’m starting to think Vanserra’s like to be threatened.”
She frowned. “It’s not like that.”
“For you, maybe,” he chuckled, watching as Elain quickly hid the dagger beneath an ornate pillow. “If you’re frightened, though, you could tell me.”
That was curious. “Why? What would you do?”
“What any good brother would do. Knock him around like he’s a youngling again, and hope his good sense returns to him.”
“That’s…unexpectedly kind,” she murmured.
“We’re nearly family, right?” he said gruffly, glancing back toward the hall. “Anyway ah…don’t kill him. And uh…if you need any help, ask Arina. You know, for plausible deniability.”
“Right,” she agreed, holding back the urge to laugh. The Vanserra’s could be so unintentionally funny when they wanted to be. Absently, Elain wondered what Nesta would make of Cadmus. Nothing positive, she decided.
Nesta was supposed to marry a High Lord, which was a tragedy given how she hated all of them. Maybe all men, truthfully—Elain had never once seen her sister betray any interest despite the numerous men who had been interested in her.
Elain hid the dagger beneath her pillow once Cadmus left, just in case Lucien decided to try anything. Elain knew she was likely going to have to let him touch her, but if he tried anything she didn’t like, she’d whip the dagger out just to remind him that he might be married to her, but he didn’t own her.
It made her feel a little better, though only marginally. As she made her way through the palace, Elain found servants hanging floral arrangements and cleaning every surface for the upcoming spectacle. Everything smelled like cinnamon somehow and if Elain was braver, she might have made her way to the kitchen to see what they were cooking.
If she was braver still, she might have asked to help.
Instead, Elain emerged into the gloomy afternoon with a heavy sigh. It felt like the world was mourning, too. She intended to meander through the apple orchard again, kicking the rotting fruit on the ground with the toe of her boot until she didn’t feel so angry anymore.
Instead, she found Connall and Tanwen standing off to the side, flanked by two smoke gray dogs, each holding a rather large axe. When they saw her, their eyes lit up.
“Baby sister!” They called in unison, making their way toward her. “Want to smash some pumpkins with us?”
“Smash some what?” she repeated as one of the large dogs wound its way through her legs, sniffing at her clothes with curiosity.
“Pumpkins,” Connall said, russet eyes glinting with mischief.
“It’s an old tradition,” Tanwen added. Of the two, Tanwen was taller and built more like a warrior. Connall was slighter, with a prettier face and hands that didn’t look like they’d done a hard day's work in their life. Tanwen’s hair was longer and braided off his face while Connall sported a shaggier look that seemed like it was popular with whoever he was courting.
With a face like that, Elain guessed everyone.
“Smashing pumpkins is a tradition?”
They nodded solemnly. Connall added, “Whenever the Forest House is overrun, we come out here and destroy the heaviest looking pumpkins we can find. C’mon, join us. Beats sulking through the grounds.”
“I wasn’t sulking,” she replied, though she fell into step between them.
“Sure you weren’t,” Tanwen said, elbowing her gently. “I’m sure you are merely contemplating the marital bliss you’re soon to find with little brother.”
“I don’t know how to swing an axe,” Elain admitted. Connall’s smile sharpened.
“We’ll teach you.”
The pair, accompanied by a dog she later learned technically belonged to Arina—Apollo—and another that Tanwen was fond of—Artemis—made their way toward a sprawling pumpkin patch. Elain was fascinated as Tanwen and Connall picked out three large pumpkins, hauling them each one by one before dropping them at her feet.
“Ladies first,” Tanwen said, cheeks ruddy from exertion.
Elain considered them, before pointing at one that was still a little green and covered in warts. Connall picked it up for her and set it atop a tree stump before handing her the smooth, wooden handle of the axe.
“Hold it like this,” Tanwen began, positioning himself behind Elain so his arms were wrapped around her. Warm, callused hands covered her own as he positioned them on the handle.
“Pull it back like this—not too far or you’ll drop it and hurt yourself. Use the power from your thighs, okay? And then swing hard—”
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
The three turned and Elain realized Tanwen and Connall must have known Lucien was nearby. He looked furious, though it was hard to take him seriously with Arina skipping merrily at his side.
“I’m debauching your wife, what does it look like I’m doing?” Tanwen said, throwing a rather charming wink in her direction. “She doesn’t know how Autumn Court females treat a male on their wedding night—”
A snarl ripped from Luciens throat before he settled himself, running a hand through his windblown hair. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
“Am I not allowed to be here?” Elain demanded, pointing the axe at her soon-to-be husband.
“Lucien’s just grumpy—”
“I’m not grumpy,” Lucien interrupted as Arina laughed, hands clasped in front of her body.
“Your sisters gave him a good dressing down.”
“It was pretty funny,” Eris Vanserra chimed in, wrapping an arm around his wife's neck to kiss the top of her head. “Nesta Archeron has a barbed tongue and no sense of propriety.”
“That’s not true,” Elain protested, interested in what her sister said. “You’re thinking of Feyre.”
“It was both of them,” Lucien grumbled as he rubbed his jaw. “I thought the ladies of the Spring Court were sweet.”
Elain took that moment to swing, her sharpened blade slicing easily through the pumpkin. Tanwen whooped as Connall and Eris laughed and Lucien…Lucien merely watched, his expression unreadable.
“Who told you that?” Elain asked him, dress covered in pumpkin guts.
It felt good, though, in that moment, to wipe the look off his face. She was sweet.
Just not for him.
LUCIEN:
Lucien tugged at the golden cuffs on his maroon jacket. He was deeply uncomfortable and somehow sweating despite how early it was. He hadn’t slept at all the night before and given the noises coming from behind the door that they were about to share, Elain hadn’t either. It hadn't been crying, exactly…but something akin to mourning had been happening. It occurred to him that perhaps Elain had her own Jesminda that she missed.
Lucien couldn’t bring himself to care much. Instead, he perched himself in a tree outside the palace, closed his eyes, and prayed.
Bring her back to me. Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll give you anything.
Easy words for a male who knew the Mother would not indulge this request. Lucien would have traded anything to see Jesminda right then. To hear her tell him it was going to be okay and somehow, someway this was all going to work out in their favor. He wanted to feel her hands on his face, her mouth slanted against his. He wanted to bury himself inside her and sob into her shoulder as he told her about the nightmare he was living.
And to do so would be the ultimate betrayal of the love he felt for her. To see her was to condemn her to death. She was gone, and Lucien knew she wouldn’t come back, and if she did, he wouldn’t touch her. Wouldn’t acknowledge her.
Wouldn’t look at her.
It didn’t stop him from pretending anyway. What kind of male was he, he wondered? His wife was inside preparing herself to marry him and he was outside wishing she was someone else. Daydreaming about another female. Would he think of Jesminda as he betrayed her later that night?
Lucien half hoped Jesminda hated him. He certainly hated himself.
Lucien remained outside until Eris tracked him down, dressed in a deep brown jacket and cream colored pants. His brother swung himself easily into the tree, grunting softly as he sat on the opposite branch. “Brooding?”
It was almost comical. It was a scene they’d played before, only in opposite roles. Lucien had once gone looking for Eris the day of his wedding, finding him in the same tree likely with the same look of frustration on his face. Eris had wanted a way out, too, and he’d known what was waiting on the other end for him was his mate. There was something to work toward, at least.
Lucien didn’t care what Arina said—he didn’t believe he could love someone as deeply as he loved Jesminda and not be mates.
“Just thinking,” Lucien said, wishing Eris would mind his own business.
“You’ve got ten more minutes to find a last minute loophole,” Eris warned. “Though, I think you should marry her.”
“Of course you do.”
“She’s better than the females at court. Do you want father to pick one of them?”
“I want him to let me choose my own wife,” Lucien snarled, unable to keep his anger down.
“Love is for the lesser fae,” Eris said, ignoring the fact that he was in love with his wife. That was merely luck, Lucien supposed. “You are simply a cog in fathers political machinations. You know that.”
“Why not Tanwen? Or Cadmus?”
“Because Elain is a second daughter with no magical ability, unlike her sisters,” Eris reminded him, a cold edge creeping into his voice. He ought to have known better than to look for comfort from his brother. Eris had done his duty no matter how little he’d wanted to, giving Eris a mate and Beron a foot in the solar courts. “He needs sons he can marry off to all his most important nobles. Count yourself lucky that isn’t your fate”
“Is this luck?”
“Elain is nice,” Eris reminded him. “She’s not scheming and you’re unlikely to find her in Tanwen’s bed.”
“Are you sure about that?” Lucien asked, a surge of jealousy flooding through him. He didn’t want her, and yet didn’t want anyone else to want her, either. She was merely off limits. If he could have, he’d have ordered them all not to speak to her, either.
Swinging his legs out of the tree, Eris landed smoothly back on solid ground. The world was mocking him—after two weeks of rumbling thunder and moody fog, the sun had come out blazing, igniting the world in a golden glow.
“I’m certain. Now get down before father realizes you’re missing and takes the lash to your back on your wedding night.”
Lucien considered it only briefly, but ultimately chose to join Eris on the ground, heart thudding painfully in his chest.
Eris didn’t look at him at all, adorned in a crown of burnished leaves similar to the one Lucien wore. As they stepped back into the Forest House, Lucien felt the full weight of it for the first time in his life. Never had he ever felt more like a High Lord's son, the weight of his responsibility and duty dragging behind him like chains wrapped around his ankles.
He was drowning, and it didn’t matter. Lucien followed Eris through the labyrinth of halls toward the adjoining temple that spiraled deep into the ground, housing their family jewels and a private library you need permission to enter. Lucien knew on any given day, Arina would be down in the dark reading by faelight.
Priestesses historically were not welcome in Autumn. Beron found them too scheming, but feared angering the mother by shutting them out entirely. His solution was using daughters of Autumn, deemed unlikely to marry by their families, and making them priestesses with fathers that had a vested interest in curbing their ambition. Housing them in the palace allowed the High Lord to keep a watchful eye on them via his wife, who was charged with overseeing the priestesses along with the ladies at court.
Now the head priestess stood at the end of the temple, adorned by multicolored light from the stained glass behind her. Rows of benches held their families, though Beron sat behind the priestess on a throne built specifically for him, lest anyone forget the true power of Autumn.
Elain was waiting in the atrium just outside, dressed, hilariously, in a fluffy gown of white lace and pale pink ribbon. Her hair was piled high atop her head, as if someone with a grudge had decided to try and make the beautiful Elain as unappealing as possible.
It was working, too. Lucien couldn’t help his barking laugh when he saw her, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings overhead. Elain turned, eyes wide with horror that melted into irritation.
“Be quiet,” she hissed, shoving the traditional red ribbon of Autumn against his chest. His brothers filed in behind them, not daring to make eye contact or otherwise react.
“Who did you piss off?”
“This was my mothers wedding dress,” Elain informed him, chin held high in the air. “And the traditional bridal clothes of Spring.”
Lucien only shook his head, thinking of how lovely Arina had looked draped in red. There was no point in starting his marriage by telling his wife she looked awful, but…well. Lucien wondered if Elain felt beautiful right then.
“Come on,” he murmured, offering her his arm. Elain took a breath, eyes glassy, but otherwise nodded her head. She had more conviction on her expression than Lucien felt, and it was sobering. This was happening, he realized. Under the watchful gaze of not just his father, but the High Lord of Spring, Lucien was marrying this stranger. Lucien could barely breathe, couldn’t think as he stood in that beam of light, eyes trained on Elain without actually seeing her. Elain seemed to be employing similar tactics, repeating the words when demanded but otherwise standing utterly still.
Something was building, some emotion Lucien thought must be radiating out of him. It wasn’t fear and it wasn’t hatred, though it felt somehow like both mixed together. Holding the ribbon in his hand, Lucien began winding it around their wrists until the long sleeves of her ugly dress pushed upward, pressing them skin to delicate skin.
The scene of Elain invaded his senses once again, making him dizzy. He needed fresh air, to get far, far away from her. Elain looked up at him through dark lashes, their eyes connecting just as the priestess pronounced them married. Something solid slammed into him.
No, not slammed.
Snapped.
Lucien stumbled backwards, forgetting for a moment they were still tied together. Elain came with him, falling into his chest and oh, he wished she wouldn’t touch him just as his traitorous body ignited with pleasure.
Touch her, smell her, taste her—
Lucien righted Elain, trying to apologize but unable to get the words out. If he spoke, he might just blurt the truth out.
You’re my mate.
If Elain knew, she was doing a far better job than he was hiding it. Her expression was one of confusion but not of recognition. If she didn’t know, good. There must be some way out, he reasoned, even as every other part of him rebelled at the thought. The Mother was mocking him. Elain Archeron was mocking him, with her beautiful face half lost under the weight of her gown and hair. Who had done this to her?
Lucien wanted to kill them.
“Are you okay?” Elain whispered, ignoring the crowd promptly descending upon them.
It wasn’t a lie when he said, “No. I’ve never been less okay in my life.”
And it was all her fault.
ELAIN:
Elain wanted to cry. The Lady of Autumn had done her best to try and make Elain look presentable, but it had been her mothers wishes to see her dressed like a traditional bride of Spring—the sort that had fallen out of fashion centuries before. She could still hear Lucien's barking laugh in her ear and the look of disgust on his face once he’d tied that ribbon around them.
It shouldn’t have mattered, truthfully, but Lucien had looked every inch an Autumn Court prince and she…she’d looked ridiculous. Embarrassing. Only her mother was happy, which seemed to be the only thing that ever mattered. Who cared if Elain was suffering internally so long as everyone else got what they wanted?
Stomping from the great hall, where a lavish feast in her honor had been prepared, Elain made her way outdoors into the sunshine. It was only there that she began pulling pins out of her hair like a petulant child, tossing them to the leaves with reckless abandon.
Why couldn’t she make peace with what was happening? Everyone else in her position had. Arina and Eris were in love, her parents were in love, the Lady of Autumn and the High Lord…tolerated each other. And Elain couldn’t even muster that.
She hated Lucien with a passion that clawed at her chest and threatened to strangle her. She didn’t want him to touch her, not like this. Not when the sight of him cringing away as he disentangled himself from her and promptly walked away without so much as a reassurance that things would be okay.
She’d left him downing a cup of wine and imagined he’d be so drunk he was incapacitated for the night. That was a good thing, right? So why did it make her feel so awful? So ugly, so…so unwanted. Cast aside by everyone, loved by no one. She wanted to curl up somewhere and wait to see how long it took them to notice she was missing.
Elain turned her attention to the forest, determined to march right in. She bet Lucien noticed when it was time to do his husbandly duty. Then he’d be missing her. That's all she was good for anyway, right?
Elain didn’t make it two steps before someone stopped her. It wasn’t Lucien or his brothers, nor was it her sisters or anyone from the Spring Court. The male standing before her oozed darkness, with shadows trailing after him like a cape and eyes so vividly blue they looked like twinkling, violet stars.
Elain took a step back on instinct. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, knowing exactly who stood before her. She’d never met him, nor his father, though she had heard the rumors about the High Lord of Night. They said he’d killed Tamlins father.
They said Tamlin killed his.
Rhysand didn’t need to wear a weapon to seem lethal. Tall and powerfully built, she was certain if he wanted to, he could end her right there. His lips curved upward into a smile and too late, she remembered the people in his court were rumored to read minds.
“I hear congratulations are in order. Married to little Lucien…how delighted you must be.”
“I…” Elain trailed off, heart hammering like a jack rabbit.
“I don’t think I’d leave my new bride to wander the grounds,” Rhysand continued, jamming his hands into his pockets absently. “But perhaps the males of Autumn are more…liberated…here.”
Elain’s mouth was dry. “Can I help you with something?”
Rhysand cocked his head, a lock of blue black hair trailing into one of his eyes. “Can you help me?” he asked, pondering this question with faux concentration. “I suppose you can. I’m looking for—”
“Rhysand!” Eris Vanserra barked, crunching onto leaves without ceremony. “Decided to show your ugly face for once? Or will I find your spy lurking in my woods again?”
“There’s no need for hostility,” Rhysand purred, eyes trailing behind Eris toward Feyre, who’d clearly been trailing Eris. “I’ve come to speak with your father.”
“Does Elain Archeron look like the High Lord of Autumn?” Eris demanded, his annoyance plain.
“She is far lovelier, I’ll admit, though your father has his charms—”
“Stop talking,” Eris muttered, nodding his head toward the doors so Rhysand would follow. Elain watched the High Lord of Night even when Eris’s fingers curled around her wrist, dragging her back inside with him. Rhysand was looking at Feyre in her spring green gown, hair half braided off her face. There was something curious about his expression—as if he’d never seen a female before and wanted to study her.
Feyre wrinkled her nose back, betraying her unguarded disgust before turning on her heel and flouncing back inside and to Elain’s surprise, Rhysand chuckled. He didn’t know how skilled Feyre was with a weapon, training in secret with a sentry she’d once been friends with before Tamlin found out and had him sent to the border. It was too late, then. Feyre was a menace with a bow and arrow and not horrible with a sword, either. No one could control her and in truth, not many tried.
Elain wondered what Tamlin would do with a wife that liked to stalk the woods for monsters. Monsters like Rhysand, Elain thought, wondering if Feyre hadn’t sensed his presence and come looking for the disturbance. She half wanted to see the showdown, if only to watch a High Lord get trounced by a noble's youngest daughter.
Feyre was nowhere to be found by the time they all landed in the Great Hall. The once lively feast fell silent—even the musicians stopped their playing to watch, wide-eyed, as Rhysand strolled into the room. His eyes slid over the long tables piled with food, the people stopped mid-dance, and those that sat at tables holding goblets, drinking until their fair skin was ruddy from wine.
He grinned when he saw Beron. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, not sounding very sorry at all. Beron looked murderous, though he stood quickly while eyeing Eris trailing just behind. Elain watched as Cadmus fell into step beside his elder brother, the two flanking their father when he came down the elevated platform that held the throne he’d been lounging on. Everyone tried to pretend this was merely business as usual.
The music restarted and chatter resumed as Beron and Rhysand made their way out of the room, but Elain knew every immortal ear was straining to hear what was whispered between them. Why now, she wondered? Tamlin was gripping his goblet so tightly Elain could see the whites of his knuckles and Nesta’s eyes danced with silver flames, arms crossed over her chest.
Elain started to make her way to Nesta to ask when Lucien caught her attention. He was drunk, she realized. Stumbling forward, he grinned broadly not at her, but at someone behind her. Elain didn’t turn to see the female he was making eyes at, unwilling to even acknowledge how humiliating his behavior was.
“You reek,” Elain hissed, catching Lucien by the arm and turning him around. “Go drink some water.”
“Telling me what to do already?” he asked, eyes strangely glassy as he looked down at her. There was an intensity to his expression she didn’t think she liked. It was as if he was undressing her with his gaze.
“Yes. Water. Now,” she hissed quietly enough that no one but Lucien could hear.
“And if I say no?” he challenged. Elain wanted to cry.
“You are not the only one experiencing misery, Lucien, and yet am I out here making a fool of you?” she demanded, hating the way her voice cracked beneath angry tears. “You could at least keep it behind closed doors.”
Lucien considered this. “You’re right. I…” he swallowed, sliding his hand over hers in the crook of her elbow so she had to join him as he went for water. “Sit down and eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Do it, or I’ll feed you from my hand like a baby bird,” he threatened, pulling out a chair from a neglected, empty table. Lucien dropped beside her, gulping down icy water as Elain picked food from a platter in front of her and spread it over two plates.
“Here,” she said, pushing a plate toward a wide eyed, strangely ashen looking Lucien.
“I—I’ve eaten already,” he said, gingerly moving the plate further from view. “You’re kind to offer, though.”
He was so strange, she decided. If he didn’t want to eat, he could suffer, then. No one could say she hadn’t tried, though. Elain began chewing, lost in thoughts of Rhysand just outside the forest grounds and her family that would vanish before the night was over. Her stomach tumbled as she thought about what the night had in store for her. Perhaps if she closed her eyes tightly it would be over quickly without a lot of fuss.
“Was there another male?” Lucien asked abruptly, interrupting Elain’s considerations. Looking at him, she found that same burning intensity from a few moments before. She didn’t think she liked when he looked at her that way.
“What?”
“Back in Spring. Was there a male you…preferred?”
Elain shook her head, though she wanted to ask why it even mattered? She was here, wasn’t she, wishes be damned?
“None?”
“No, Lucien. I’ve been set aside for you my entire life.”
“Sure, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “That didn’t mean you had to…”
Elain wished a hole would open beneath her and swallow her up. Surely he wasn’t implying that he wished she’d been with someone else mere hours before he was about to be with her? If she’d been less of a lady, she might have launched herself across the table to throttle him.
“Please do not worry about it,” she implored, desperate for this conversation to end. “Let’s just…lets just get through this afternoon.”
Lucien eyed her dress again, but kept whatever comments he had to himself. “Fine.”
His reluctant compliance was better than expected. And Elain would take what she could get.
LUCIEN:
“You’re acting strange,” Arina said, catching Lucien in the hall on the way to his new bed chamber. His old one had been cleared out without ceremony, and he’d bet if he went to Elain’s room, he’d find her folding his clothing like a good little wife
“I’m not,” he lied. Lucien was desperately trying to avoid his brother and Arina, if only because he was afraid that might see him and just know somehow. Or smell it, more likely—the way he could currently smell the mating bond Arina and his brother shared wrapped around her like a lingering perfume.
It smelled like sex. Lucien hated it. It was like a warning pushing up against him, reminding him that she belonged to someone—a male who might rip Lucien’s throat out, should he feel like it. Elain seemed oblivious to what was happening which was the only mercy Lucien could find in their miserable situation. How long could he keep her in the dark before she realized? Before she felt the pull, the urge to touch him, too? Before someone scented him on her and told her?
“What’s going on?”
“Besides being actually married to a stranger, nothing at all. I, for one, have never been better—”
“Don’t use that tone with me,” Arina snapped, clearly irritated. “There’s something else about you.”
“I’m just…” Lucien ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It's my wedding night, Arina, and my wife hates me. Put the pieces together.”
“I doubt she’ll be upset if you put it off.”
“Or she’ll run and tell her father to get out of the marriage,” Lucien retorted, though truthfully, Elain simply didn’t seem like the vindictive sort. His mind drifted back to lunch, watching as she put together two plates as his mind warred. On the one hand, the part of him driven by instinct had been screaming and clawing for him to simply accept it from her, thus cementing the bond before she ever had a choice.
The other, more rational part of him, wanted to throw that plate across the room before cursing at the Mother for what she’d done. It was supposed to be Jesminda. It was Jesminda. Lucien’s heart beat erratically at the realization that all the times he’d laid with her and sworn she was his mate, when they’d laced their fingers and talked about when it might snap…all of it had been a farce.
Lucien couldn’t stop thinking about Jes’s own mate. He was out there somewhere. Maybe she’d find that male and she’d realize what they had paled in comparison. Would she laugh a little at their silliness? How young they’d been, how foolish to believe what they had transcended the gods.
Lucien would have left Elain if Jes appeared right then. If she’d asked him—he wouldn’t make her beg—he would have left. Damned Elain, his life, his mating bond, just to see her again. And he knew that if Jes learned he had a mate, she’d bow out entirely. When the bond snapped, there was a finality to it.
He was a mated male. He owed it to Elain to try and make things work, and maybe he owed it to himself, too. That didn’t mean Lucien wanted it, either. Gods, he didn’t know what he wanted other than to drink himself into oblivion and wait for some obvious answer to present itself.
“When Eris informed you that you were his mate, what did you do?” Lucien asked, interrupting Arina’s self-important lecture about being a good husband.
“I suffocated the air in the room until he got on his knees and apologized,” she said, eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s different, Lucien.”
Elain probably couldn’t nearly kill him—he’d been told she had no magic to speak of—but he imagined her reaction would go nearly as well.
“Just…let me deal with my marriage my way, okay?” Lucien ordered, unwilling to be nice to Arina at that moment. Butt out, he wanted to add, though slipping into his bedroom and closing the door behind him was response enough.
Inside was something out of Lucien’s personal hell. Elain rose to her feet when she saw him, eyes bright from what seemed to be some amount of crying. Her hair was unbound and artfully arranged around a night dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Lucien blinked, frozen in place as his eyes moved of their own accord.
BETRAYER
“I—put on a robe, please,” Lucien managed, turning in a circle like some kind of animal. She was his. He had no claim to her at all. The competing desires threatened to unmake him. Lucien heard Elain sniff.
“Shouldn’t we…”
“Not like this,” he breathed, certain he would have felt that way even without the mating bond. “I—we could just…go to bed?”
“What about…you know?”
Lucien took a steadying breath and turned again, relieved to find Elain had wrapped a throw around her body. Her face had a little more color, her eyes a little less red.
“If I offered to just…pretend…would you tell someone?”
“No,” she breathed with the saddest look of hope on her face. “I would swear we did.”
Oh, thank the Mother. “Then we’ll turn the lights off, get into bed, and in the morning go about our business as if we did.”
Elain nodded, dropping the blanket gently to walk to their bedroom. Lucien nearly choked at the sight of her from behind. Mother spare him, she’d be the death of him. Lucien didn’t need to like a female in order to admit she was appealing and Elain…Elain was just as pretty from behind as she was from the front. His eyes slid down her spine, landing on the soft curve of her waist, the flare of her hip, the sway of her ass.
Cauldron damn him.
Elain turned as Lucien steadied himself on the frame, wondering if sleeping beside her was a good idea at all. Servants talked—and everyone was nosy. If he was caught sleeping on the sofa, his father would know and put Lucien in a deeply uncomfortable position. Lucien wouldn’t put it past his father to demand to watch. He’d like enjoy knowing that he ruined every other coupling they’d ever have.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned, holding up a trembling finger. Was he looking at her in some particular kind of way? Lucien was certain he wasn’t. Still, he merely crossed his arms over his chest as he eyed his new wife.
“I was lost in thought,” he said, forcing himself to look only at her face. As if that made things any better. She was so heartbreakingly beautiful it made his teeth ache. She’d always been beautiful, which had warranted the space—if he spent too much time in her presence, he might find he liked her, and liking the woman who’d been forced upon him felt like giving in to his fathers demands.
Or worse, admitting Beron might have been right about him.
Elain still eyed him warily as he crossed the room, grabbing a pair of linen pants neatly folded in a drawer that had her scent all over it. In the bathroom, Lucien splashed cold water on his face and ordered himself to get together. The mating bond was making him stupid. He didn’t want her…and yet he did. Physically, anyway. Lucien wondered if he could get away with escaping to one of the nearby cities for a few weeks just to clear his head long enough to stand in her presence.
He returned to find Elain dividing the bed in half using pillows. “That’s not necessary,” he mumbled, reaching over her to toss one to the floor. “And obvious.”
“I don’t want you getting any ideas,” she replied in that prissy way of hers.
Lucien bared his teeth. “Trust me, lady. My only idea is sleep.”
“I thought all males wanted—”
“I’m not an animal,” he growled, fully aware he was a liar. “I don’t relish the thought of forcing myself on someone, wife or otherwise.”
“And if I never want you?” Elain asked, eyes narrowed to slits.
“I’ll tell all of Pyrthian you are terribly infertile and I’m a martyr—”
Elain launched a pillow at his face. “You’re not funny.”
Lucien flopped into bed, one hand thrown over his face. “You wound me.”
“I don’t believe anything could wound that over inflated ego of yours,” she responded. Lucien was learning that despite her meek appearance, his wife had a sharp tongue. He rather liked it, if only because it absolved him of any guilt he might feel for his own remarks.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Lucien said, settling against the pillow. “You could tell me, you know. If there was another male.”
“There wasn’t. There isn’t.” There was something bitter about her tone.
“Never?” he questioned, his curiosity making him stupid.
“Never.”
“You’re not…?” Shut up shut up shut up— “You’re not curious?”
“Stop talking, Lucien.”
“If it were me—”
“I know where you’re going with this, and I’m telling you to stop while you’re ahead,” Elain gritted out. “Find someone else, if you’re feeling frustrated, but don’t try and frame my lack of experience as an opportunity.”
“Cauldron, Elain, I wasn’t…” But he was. Lucien knew it was a bad idea. If he got himself in her with the mating bond pounding in his chest, he was likely to take things too far, to do something he regretted. He couldn’t help himself no matter how badly he wanted to, and her proximity was clouding his judgment. He tried to pull up an image of Jes, but his mind shifted to Elain in sheer white lace and the rosy pink of her nipples—
Lucien rolled over, frustrated more with himself than anything else. There was no way he was going to sleep, no way he trusted his dreams not to betray him.
Not for the first time, he wished he was dead.
But maybe it was the first time he’d wished for it the loudest.
And the gods did nothing.
66 notes
·
View notes
Note
Adam is charlie mom, oh that would be a good angst idea
For example, maybe before heaven found out, adam had a baby. For the first couple of days, adam would spend every waking meal with charlie. Like singing her to sleep
Years later at the hotel at
Adam humming a song on the outside balcony
Charlie: Hey adam
Adam: charlie what are you doing up?
Charlie: couldn't sleep
Adam: oh okay
1 hour later they both still awake
Adam thinks I haven't done this in a while, but I remember correctly . She fell asleep in minutes: Hey Charlie, you want me to do a tick for you to go to bed
Charlie: sure
Adam started to hum and sing a bit in minutes, charlie fell asleep
Adam: still works like a charm
This AU hurts my soul and I was writing it with someone in a server so some of these parts are theirs and some are mine. Also I just copied and pasted the texts so it’s gonna have some grammar mistakes on my end. (Their Twitter)
Discord idea
(Adam is Charlie’s real mother)
So running on the idea that Lucifer and Adam used to hook up a lot at the beginning of Adam joining heaven eventually they had a hard falling out when Adam found out Lilith and Lucifer were getting married and chose Lilith over him once again.
But Adam found out he was pregnant he hid the pregnancy with eating more and hiding his body.
When he had the baby he was completely alone and if Heaven found out it was Lucifer’s who knows what they’d do, especially because the baby looked just like Lucifer.
He swallowed his pride and gave his baby girl one last kiss before leaving her at Lucifer’s castle to which Lucifer adopted Charlie immediately, especially since Lilith liked the idea of kids but not the idea of having them, part of the reason her and Adam didn’t work out.
So with this AU Adam still falls in a similar way but instead he falls because of Lilith back stabbing him and stuff
And Charlie hates Adam because Adam lead the exterminations
And Adam is just in pain because his kid hates him and he can’t even talk without her looking at him like he’s a monster
When he first saw Charlie the air caught in his throat because his baby girl was all grown up, she looked just like Lucifer. Poor Adam having to deal with the idea that Charlie grew up without him and doesn’t see him as anything more than just Adam the Man in charge of the exterminations
Wondering if Lucifer knows. He couldn't NOT know, Charlie looks EXACTLY like him, and who else would be the mother? Unless Lucifer was fucking around with others too, which only depresses Adam worse.
(Me)
Poor Adam knowing deep down no one wants him but little did he know Adam realized Charlie was Adam’s but it was only after Lilith had pointed out how similar Lucifer and Charlie were despite “not being related”
Just...he had no way of bringing it up without it being awkward
And especially because Adam never acknowledged it too
Adam may have gone to that last Extermination drink off his ass just to get through it. Getting lost in the role he had to play. He wasn't actually going to kill Charlie, but he had to pretend. He's always had to pretend.
He especially had to pretend to Heaven
And when Lucifer showed up...instead of just ending it, Lucifer mocked him all over again. Fine. *FINE*. Adam wouldn't even ENTERTAIN the notion of talking it out. Just go scorched earth on this bitch, he was DONE
Just having so much pent up anger that he lets everything happen because he couldn’t man up and say something sooner
And then he was stabbed. Like 26 times, Great. Now he's dying. And no one will know the truth.
Sobbing not cuz he’s dying but because he died lying to everyone, *Sigh* 😔 I know it makes sense to kill him but imagine Lucifer saves him
Now he's alive. But practically a prisoner. Fuck, he might as well have kicked it
Being numb to everything and just accepting his fate as a loser
Even when Lucifer shows him the door opens. It's unlocked. He can come out.
He doesn’t even try just stays where he is holding his arm feeling like shit and Lucifer has to coax Adam. Only then does Adam follow Lucifer but still keeps his distance behind the king
Adam keeping his distance. Last time he got near, Lucifer beat the shit out of him and would have finished him off if not for Charlie
Imagine Lucifer was angry because Adam had the audacity to abandon Charlie and then almost kill her, not knowing Adam was drunk and at the time Charlie reminded him of Lucifer. The one who knocked him up and got away
Adam definitely not welcome at the Hotel so he's stuck at Lucifer's palace. His bedroom might be open but he's locked in when Lucifer is gone. Which gives him ample time to raid Lucifer's bar and get drunk enough to forget how every time he hits rock bottom, life keeps handing him a pickaxe
The first time Lucifer had come home to a very drunk Adam asleep on his bed he was annoyed especially because Adam smelled like too much alcohol.
however one day he had come home the usual, Adam drunk and laying on his bed. Lucifer sighed and walked to his closet only to hear Adam start sobbing and mumbling something that sounded like an apology.
It left an uneasy feeling on Lucifer not knowing if it was the alcohol talking or Adam was actually apologizing, he found out when he saw the man dead asleep with streams running down his face.
In his sleep, Adam had his arms curled like he's holding something
Whimpering and a cry woke him up, Adam’s eyes snapped towards the sound but the room was empty there was no one in his room and no traces of the cry actually being there.
The sound was unforgettable, he heard it in his nightmares or in his dreams. It was Charlie’s, he engraved it in his mind when she was born and he had to shield them in his wings as he held her close and cleaned her off. He remembers how small she was in his arms, how the girls pipes were the same as his other children.
Adam winced at the migraine he had, his skull was throbbing. He must have gotten back into Lucifer’s stash again. Though Lucifer never really seemed mad when Adam would go on his drinking sessions when he was away
Which was good. He wasn't going to stop. He just avoided Lucifer when he could, didn't mess anything up, and resigned himself to being the ghost that haunts the place halls. Because that's what he was. A ghost. Avoiding the north wing because that's where the big fuckoff portrait of Lilith and Lucifer were. He could spend hours glaring at it, remembering how Lucifer said he was marrying Lilith after all this time, and then just days later finding out he was pregnant.
Sometimes he’d debate fucking the picture up or he’d end up curled under it crying, it was best to just avoid it as much as possible.
At some point Adam found Lucifer’s Alcohol storage empty, and he panicked because without it he felt he couldn’t function. He couldn’t even be near Lucifer or even in the castle being sober. There was too much too much Charlie and too much Lucifer. How could he avoid it or even confront it without breaking down.
“Adam that’s enough,” Adam froze as he was throwing things around trying to look for something anything that could take his thoughts away from Lucifer. “Adam this is just sad, you can’t keep running away from me,” Lucifer stepped close too close and Adam found himself trying to get away from Lucifer despite being in a corner. “Adam I told Charlie about your behavior and she’d like to help you in your recovery,” Lucifer’s words weren’t registering in Adam’s head, he was only hearing bits and pieces.
He shakes his head, covering his ears with his hands. His head was pounding and he needed a hair of the dog before the migraine really kicked in. He couldn't process Lucifer, he DEFINITELY couldn't process Charlie.
Despite Adam’s protests he was dragged to see Charlie, and he was fucking sober. He hated it.
Charlie wasn’t too pleased about it either but from what her dad was telling her, maybe Adam wasn’t as bad as she originally thought. Especially after seeing him in person, he looked horrible and Charlie was sure that her dad was the one who dressed him because he did not look capable of doing so. Adam looked his age despite also looking young, he had lost weight in his face making him look like death. The guys hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks maybe even months, Charlie actually felt sorry for the guy.
Adam on the other hand was out of it, his mind choosing to disassociate and go on autopilot which didn’t last long because Lucifer kept bringing him back.
Husk immediately recognized the issue, making up a bloody mary despite Charlie's protests and giving it to Adam. "Look, I've seen the different levels of alcoholism, and if this fucker wasn't an angel, he'd be dead already. He needs to come down gradually, not cold turkey!"
Husk gives Lucifer a look of disappointment before giving Adam the drink, though Adam looks to the other two before drinking. Waiting for their approval before drinking it.
“Look Adam you can join me instead, but I ain’t going to talk about my feelings with you got it,” Husk made clear as they made their way to the bar. Charlie feeling guilty for telling her father to get rid of all the alcohol
Husk being careful to give Adam mixers, preferably with real fruit muddles or puree
As the sessions continue Adam started to associate a little more managing to make conversation with husk and angel, them both managing to find common ground despite not knowing what’s actually going on in his head.
They were both like small anchors that kept Adam from drifting off into his thoughts, eventually Angel managed to convince Adam to join a session of Charlie’s friendship exercises. It was a simple one or at least Charlie thought it was, it was to have everyone say one good thing about everyone.
Adam was doing good, even managing to compliment Alastors cooking. However when he got to Charlie suddenly Adam started to back track, he tried to skip her but her and Lucifer were the only two.
The panic sets in. He had SO many good things to say about Charlie, but every one of them sounded like poison coming from his mouth.
He wanted to tell her how proud he was how she grew into a wonderful person, but he couldn’t, he didn’t deserve to. He abandoned her his baby she deserved to hate him he didn’t deserve this.
Charlie started to panic now, this wasn’t supposed to happen like this. If it wasn’t for angel dust getting Adam to focus on him and to give him another compliment she was sure Adam would have had a full blown panic attack.
The fact that Adam would panic when it came to her or her dad made her think it had something to do with the exterminations but she scratched that when she say Adam and Vaggie talking about music together. There was something going on.
Lucifer too thought the same as Charlie, neither of them knowing the first man as well as they thought
Adam just leaves the room after that. He can't do this. He gets another drink and just sits in the corner waiting to go home
Angel dust followed behind him, husk had given angel a couple of bottles of booze. He hoped it would help.
Adam had become accustomed to going to Angels room for some comfort it helped that fat nugget was a sweetie. And despite Adam it felt nice to hold the little pig and just imagine he was back in heaven, with Charlie before he had to give her up.
“So do you wanna talk about it?” Angel asked softly as Adam sat on the floor so fat nugget could crawl into his lap.
“If I do it’s cuz I’m not sober,” Adam sighed out and Angel waved a bottle in front of him
“That can be arranged”
Lucifer and Charlie had a pit growing in their stomachs Adam had been in hell for about a year and still wasn’t on talking terms with them aside from small talk every so often.
A part of Lucifer wanted to get closer to Adam, it had started after he heard Adam apologizing in his sleep. It had reminded him of when he fell with Lilith and how for years he would mumble apologizing to her whether he was asleep or awake. It took a long time for him to get out of that mindset and if he was being honest, the visits he and Adam made really helped. Though Lucifer knew better, he knew those moments between him and the first man were only driven by lust and nothing more. Or at least he thought that, it wasn’t until he was actually married to Lilith did it all come together, him and her they were perfect. Their relationship was amazing up until Charlie arrived on their doorstep, it was like a switch for Lilith. The woman had begun taking care of the girl though it wasn’t as motherly as Lucifer hoped. Maybe because Charlie wasn’t hers, or maybe because she just like Lucifer realized who’s baby the girl really was.
Lucifer knew Charlie was Adam’s, he hadn’t slept with anyone other than Adam and Lilith. It wasn’t like Eve to just leave a baby so it had to have been Adam’s, at first Lucifer was angry with the idea. However those thoughts were starting to shift now that he was living with Adam
Angel was at a lose for words as Adam was in a drunken fit, the man was going through all the emotions
“It was the first time since I entered heaven that I actually felt happy,” Adam gave a shaky smile as he looked at the bottle of alcohol “it fucking broke me to leave her here,” Adam sobbed again, “looking at her now all I want to do is tell her how proud I am,” he bit his lip “but in reality I should be fucking dead, I am horrible I don’t even deserve to live with Lucifer,”
Angel pulled Adam into a hug and just let Adam sob for a good while until Lucifer came to get him. However angel wasn’t about to just let Adam go with the king in fact Angel felt the need to say something or at least give the dumbass a hint. Since whatever Adam was doing was definitely not working for anyone
That’s what we had and honestly idk what to add lol 😂 sorry for the sudden dump
44 notes
·
View notes
Note
do you have thoughts on the closure arc?
I like it better in theory than in practice. That’s the short answer. Much longer answer below the cut:
The idea of it is exactly right: What matters in the Samantha arc is emotional closure. It’s less about the answers than it is about Mulder choosing to accept them. The X-Files is always looking further inward, blurring the line between belief and truth (one can create the other). Of course in the end what’s important is not for Mulder to hear what happened to his sister but to feel it.
And it’s gorgeous that he can feel it because Scully hears it. I just rewatched these episodes, and Mulder letting Scully learn the truth on his behalf really hits emotionally. It’s an acknowledgment that this is her quest too, and that she’s sunk her own costs, but it’s also representative of the fact that he can find closure now because he has the love in his life that he lost as a kid. I love this post from @iconicscullyoutfits: “he is secure in knowing he has another person who loves him the way that Samantha did.” That’s always been where this story was pointing.
Some other things I like: I like that it’s about a media circus, because The X-Files — like Mulder — feels the loss of Samantha so deeply that it makes the whole show feel like a counterpoint to what Scully calls “our own morbid fascination with the killing of an innocent.” It’s cheap to make that point by blatantly ripping from the JonBenét Ramsey headlines. But it matters that The X-Files isn’t morbidly fascinated by Samantha’s death. It grieves the loss of her. And it suggests the world isn’t set up for people who grieve like that, which makes the gift of Scully, who grieves with Mulder, more pronounced.
I also think "Sein und Zeit"/"Closure" does really well at doubling down on all of these ideas through Mulder’s mom’s suicide. Every single one of Mulder’s and Scully’s parents dies with something unsaid, some kind of mystery around them, and again, the challenge is to accept not having all the answers. The challenge is also to accept that sometimes the answers are ugly and sad. When Mulder grasps for a conspiracy that would give his mom’s death deeper meaning, it’s because he’s in denial of a more mundane truth. That’s a bold move from The X-Files after almost seven seasons of validating Mulder’s belief in a different conspiracy that would give his the loss of his sister deeper meaning.
But first of all, if the idea is to strip down the story to the raw emotions underneath it — if the idea is to move past the conspiracy and accept the end result of it, which is that Samantha is dead — there’s way too much cluttering it up. Santa Claus, psychic visions, prophetic visions, walk-ins, ransom letters. It’s all over the place, and a lot of it doesn’t make sense, especially because there’s so much misdirection as they drag things out to fill two episodes. It’s noisy and confusing in a way that distracts from Samantha’s pain, and Mulder’s. It makes the emotional arc less clear.
Samantha’s story is only barely connected to Amber Lynn’s; the kids taken by the walk-ins don’t have much in common except being transformed into starlight (okay) to spare them a life of further suffering. I’m not totally against this concept if I don’t think too hard about it; it splits the difference between showing victims mercy and acknowledging that the world is awful, and the lack of evidence makes it a non-answer in a way that helps keep the story focused on how it feels. But it opens up a lot of questions about why only some kids are spared. I know Harold lampshades it — he asks why some have to suffer and not others — and I know fate being doled out unfairly is kind of the essence of being alive, but it’s a lot to brush over.
Also, Samantha did suffer! Her story is tragic, as it should be, and the best scenes of these episodes are the ones that acknowledge that. Mulder reading Samantha’s diary is the best scene of the two-parter by far, followed by Scully talking to the nurse, because we finally get Samantha’s perspective and her voice after only seeing her through Mulder’s eyes all this time. That carries weight. It makes the loss more vivid. But I think it’s hurt by the fact that we’re meant to take getting spared by the walk-ins as a happy-ish ending.
I’m not talking about Mulder’s relief at finding closure; that’s good. I’m talking about seeing visions of smiling kids and being told they’re “in a better place.” Basically, being taken by the walk-ins is just a metaphor for going to heaven. Maybe that’s the show combining Scully’s faith with Mulder’s; maybe the idea is that this is the only way Mulder could ever take comfort in his beliefs in the same way a religious person does. Maybe the idea is that it’s radical for him because it’s not like him. But they don’t play up that angle, at least not in the same way they do with Mulder’s mom’s death, so there’s not a lot of tension in what Mulder eventually decides to believe.
It doesn’t feel like something is changing within Mulder as much as it feels like the writers couldn’t come up with a more original idea. The X-Files is usually so aware of how difficult it is to have hope, so I think if they were going to end this whole series-long arc by just having Mulder tell himself the same comforting story people have been telling themselves since the dawn of human history, they should at least address the fact that this is not like him. Maybe the walk-ins would play better if the whole story were less cluttered with distractions and more focused on Mulder fighting this emotional closure. But to me, the tone of the walk-in storyline, which is so full of everyone telling everyone “your child is okay!” just because they’re dead now, feels dismissive of everything Samantha went through in life. Her story gets lost.
I would have liked to see Mulder find what Scully says his mom wanted for him — to stop looking, to take away his pain (both things Scully wants for him!) — without defaulting to a standard vision of an afterlife as the most hopeful ending possible. I know saying “they could have done it this way instead” is the lowest form of criticism, but I’m going to do it: I think the could have told a lot of the same story about Samantha while giving her a normal, tragic death, as a teenager, because of all the testing that had been done on her. She was already abducted, so there’s already a supernatural element to her story without the walk-ins getting involved. And there’s a beautiful grace note in the nurse who treated her kindly; focusing more on the kindness she finally experienced in her last moments would give the story a humanism that would feel more true to the show.
Maybe I’m being unreasonable to expect The X-Files not to throw in something fantastic, and maybe I just wish they’d found a less saccharine way to visualize the dead kids in the end. They were backed into a corner by everything they’d already revealed, and it was bold of them to give Samantha an ending that challenged Mulder’s belief system at all. They had the right idea. I also love the idea of CSM showing up to claim Samantha and the entire universe conspiring to keep that from happening. I just think it would have been better if the universe were represented by a bunch of compassionate nurses who said “Enough.”
32 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tintosecoporfavor
De todo un poco
xix-cctv
str8 vibin
nucleqr
soph
loadinglot49
Untitled
kodsihirbazi-blog
İsimsiz