#god i wish i'd found this years ago | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mayaflowerxs · 2 years ago

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omgg hii! i'd like to request a fic of Jeno (similar to jaemin's Crazy In Love) but i wanna have the fic sweeter and cuter, as in jeno's really and deeply in love with y/n and that he always shamelessly shows how clingy he is around y/n and would do anything in the world just for her 🥺

(i wouldn't mind a little bit of romantic smut between Jeno & y/n too 🤭)

FAILED CONFESSIONS

Synopsis: The five times Jeno failed to confess & ask you out and the one time he finally found the courage. Or, in which Jeno embarrasses himself multiple times until he finally manages to do things right.

Warning: Fluff / Humor / Smut. Swear word usage, softdom!Jeno, oral + creampie, it’s on the more cliche side so beware! She fell first he fell harder trope. Idol life!

Pairing: Jeno x fem reader

1. WHEN HE WAS 8

The day you saw Jeno was at work. As a cashier, you see faces every second of every hour and unfortunately for him you wouldn’t recognize him again after that day. At least that’s what he thinks. Jeno’s used to the attention, to girls fawning over him and guys wanting to be his friends. He’s popular, aura of his is very enticing but not for you. Maybe it was because you had currently been running an eight hour shift, on the busiest day of the week and the store lacked cashiers but it seemed the tables have turned the second you ringed his group of friends.

Rowdy and in their own world, the friend group continues to have their conversation of god knows what. And it wasn’t until you asked what sort of payment will be made did he turn to face you. He’s not spiritual, not into astrology nor psychology or any of that sort of thing and yet, in that moment he wanted to asks all sorts of questions. Like how is it, that you managed to get him starstruck by merely being in his presence. Frozen in place, hands becoming clammy, throat clenching and hand half way through his pocket and fidgeting with his sleeve. His brain practically reboots until he’s able to move again. “Oh sorry, um..how much?” He asks shyly, mentally scolding himself as he tries to avoid as much eye contact.

And even though you didn’t notice the flustered state the boy in front of you was in, he felt as if you did. There’s no way you didn’t notice the nervous gulp and the struggle to take out his credit card. There’s no way you didn’t notice the way his friends began to snicker the second they realized how he got because of you. But as he swipes the card and you hand him the receipt with a quick, ‘have a good day’ he slightly wished you did notice him.

Jeno wasn’t one to waste time. Any girl he liked he was quick to ask out and yet as he grabbed all the bags, not wanting the others to help carry and slightly wanting to impress you: he walked off as quickly as he could. Forgetting about his credit card, “Your credit card!” You say and hand it out to him. A tight lipped smile, he nods and grabs it. Uttering a low thanks he was sure you didn’t even hear. Shutting his eyes momentarily and walking out of the store he scolded himself all the way to the parking lot. Throwing the bags inside and getting in, he waited for the moment in which his friends would give him hell. And when they do arrive, as expected they dived right in.

The car erupted in chaos, he felt their hands shaking him as they cooed. Jokes and laughs were made, teasing from Chenle and Haechan and squeals from Mark. He wanted to punch every single one of them. He didn’t want to be reminded of how much he acted like a fool. He didn’t want to be reminded that no matter how much he physically changed he’s still the same eight year old dork that struggled to ask you out all those years ago. A single rose in hand with a box of chocolates. Propping his glasses up the bridge of your nose as he tried to steady his breathing. You’ve been his long time crush since preschool, way before he even understood what feelings were. His best friend Jaemin at his side reminding him everything will work out. That you would say yes, he spent the day before rehearsing what’d he say. How he’d approach you, would it be in front of everyone? Would he ask you to meet him behind a tree?

During the first and second grade, he grew just the tiniest bit of confidence to talk to you but for the most part still too shy. The most he ever spoke to you was to ask you to pass him the glue. Spending most of his time admiring you from afar and when he decided he’d ask you to be his girlfriend, Jaemin was ecstatic for him. Taking him to the nearest store where he spent too much time trying to find the right rose and box of chocolates. All just for it to never be received by you. The next day came and as he walked past the gates of the school he noticed the slight sadness in his best friends eyes. “I’m sorry.”

But he couldn’t pay much mind to him. Only a few yards away from the two of them, were you and your first ever boyfriend Shotaro. A transfer from Japan and even though he only knew a few sentences the two of you quickly hit it off. Close to the hip, Jeno should’ve seen this coming. Of course he noticed how good friends you two became and yet he was dumb to think he wouldn’t ask you out. Of course he would, you’re pretty, kind, funny and sassy. All that he likes about you. And so feeling disheartened, he throws the rose into the trash can and gives Jaemin the chocolates. Ever since that day, he’s only liked you from afar. He thought as the time went on he’d forget about this ‘silly’ crush on you but that would be far from the truth.

Which is why, as he currently sits in the car. Running a frustrated hand through his hair and contemplates on what he should do. This would be the first time seeing you after high school, and yet just as he thought he moved on. BAM! Did all those jitters come flying back into the deepest pit of his stomach. I guess he hasn’t actually moved on then.

2. WHEN IN THE 6TH GRADE

The class was switching seats. And as comfortable as the students were, a part dreaded this day but others didn’t. No, others were excited, others were Jeno. As his teacher walked past each desk, one by one and calling out a name his heart only increased in beats. Inhaling sharply, fingers slightly crossed as he hoped his and your name would be called. Not even caring if he got to sit in the back of the class or not.

“Y/n.” His heart skipped a beat, watching as you send a sad smile to your friend and walk over to your new seat. At the front, left corner. Furthest from the teacher and back facing the cubbies. And the desk right in front of her, the teacher hits with her pen and reads the name. “Jeno.” Hearing his friends pat his back and tease him for having to sit in the front he pretends to look sad but doesn’t waste time to go to his new spot. A miracle it was, a blessing his teacher gave him for seating him so close to you. In front of you where he only mostly sees you. And as he sits down, he feels the familiar tightness in his throat appear. His hands becoming clammy and fingers fidgeting with his sleeves. Your eyes momentarily glanced at him and sent a quick smile before looking past him and stare at your friend. As pathetic as it was, he froze. Mind spiraling as he replays the short smile you sent him. You never smiled at him, of course you smiled before but usually it’s because of your happy state but this. This was voluntarily only for him. Not for a group of people or the situation. Only for him, and even though he shouldn’t think much he can’t help but smile idiotically at himself about it.

During the time he sat in front of you, he made it his mission to get you to smile more, and if lucky, make you laugh. So, purposely he began to make dumb decisions, crack jokes and when he notices the slight curve on your face he knew he was heading into the right direction. Letting you in on the pranks he was about to pull on his friends and feeling joyous when you helped him. Accidentally getting glue on his hair, red in the face but liked when you began to giggle and help take it out of him. With you so close and smelling your vanilla perfume, he tenses and panicked to look anywhere but you. Asking for help even when he didn’t need it with the excuse that you’re the smartest of the class, which you were. He made himself seem like the class clown who had not a single clue as to how to do his work. And even though he got in trouble a lot, he felt happy to know it was getting your attention. So much, you spoke to him every chance you got.

It almost seemed like everything was finally going right for him. You and Shotaro had broken up a while ago, and the only other boy you dated was the class clown Yangyang in the fifth grade. And as jealous he got, Jeno tried his hardest to not come to resent him because he knew he was a good kid. But his hopes were back, you were single. He’s been single even when it’s been made obvious many of the girls especially the popular ones have had a crush on him. He was feeling optimistic and so during lunch, he finds a way to sit by you every time. Even if he had to cut people to stand behind you in line, and during recess he insisted his and your friend group played a game together even when the two had different interests. But it’s not like he cares if his friends wanted to play soccer and yours wanted to play in the bark box. He only looked at you and waited to see what you had to say. And whatever you choice was even if it was to do jump rope which he was miserably bad at or sit at the bench under the blazing sun, he agreed instantly.

Valentines Day was nearing. Which meant grams were around the corner. A time in which anyone can buy someone else a piece of candy with a note on it. Whether it’d be anonymous or not but Jeno was feeling brave. This could be his time to ask you out, to confess his feelings and so with his 25 cents in hand. He waits patiently in line, and as he goes to fill out the note he overhears some of the other boys discussing who’d they be sending their candy grams to. And when he hears your name, he feels his heart drop. “Me too!” “No way! I said her name first!” “Yeah well I like her too!” “Who says she’ll pick you?” Whatever hope Jeno had that you’d accept to be his girlfriend fell down the drain. Those boys were much more taller than him, bigger. You would never go for a scrawny kid like him. And so, without his name written on there he simply writes, ‘Happy Valentine’s Day.’ And when the day comes where the names are read, he watches sadly as you get over ten grams from your friends and admirers. Slightly smiling fondly at you for the way your eyes brighten at all the times your name was called.

Dejected that when you said yes to a confession on one of the Valentine grams, it wasn’t his.

3. WHEN IN MIDDLE SCHOOL

Seventh grade by far was the most thrilling year ever. A new school meant new environment, teachers, and classmates. The size of peers doubled and as Jeno made new friends so did you. At some point he managed to move on from you, just a little though. He made tons of new friends but those that sticked were a Canadian kid named Mark and a bratty kid named Haechan. Now enrolled in a soccer team, his clique grew from four friends to almost a class full. His popularity grew as well, his hair was freshly cut. He figured new school new look, clothes were newer and of popular expensive brand. Shoes nice and shiny and backpack a plain black Jansport because that’s was all popular kids wear. Not only that, but more girls were after him. Rumors were spreading like hell fire with more kids along with the gossip so any girl got a crush on him, he’d know within a day notice.

But after the long list of girls liking him, none of the names were ever yours. His attention was drifted off from you for a while, until he saw you show up to one of his games. When he notices you on the bleachers he can’t help but freeze. Why were you here? Do you like sports? Was it because it was tournaments? Were you here for somebody? Dating someone in the team? Oh god hopefully not. And as he tried his hardest to focus, he felt his hands getting clammy again. Just knowing you’re watching, maybe not exactly at him but in general had him feeling extremely nervous. What if he messes up and makes a fool out of himself? Then again it wouldn’t be the first time he’s done it. And when the game ends and luckily winning, his eyes aren’t on his coach nor his teammates. Not even the medal he gets, no his eyes are focused on tracking you. And when he spots you he felt relieved to know you weren’t here because one of the guys were dating you. On the contrary, your friend was dating one of the players, the goalie actually.

And with an excuse in thought. He walks over to you three. “Hey.” He managed to get out without his voice shaking. “Hi!” Your friend greets, a slight nod from you which kinda saddens him. So long since the two of you properly spoke it almost seemed like you two were strangers. But he wanted to speak to you again, which is why when he had a moment with his goalie he demanded he’d bring them any chance he got. Even when no game was going on, “You have to bring them.” “Them?” “Yes, your girlfriend and y/n.” But he didn’t leave any spot for questions, sternly giving him a look he simply nods and obliges. And so, little by little does he get close to you again. So much, rumors have begun to spread. Were the two of you dating? Were there any feelings involved? And even though Jeno only laughed it off, he looked at you expectantly, hopefully. Only smiling off the sting when you simply shake your head. Not even changing his appearance did you have any interest in him.

A dance was nearing, and Jeno thought it’d be the perfect opportunity to ask you out. And this time, he had your friends support. Making sure to get you to not accept any one else’s request and even asking you frequently about Jeno. And when she assured him you’d agree if he asked you, he took the leap again. Only this time, he was successful. You agreed! Overjoyed and also embarrassed by the way he was a stuttering mess and there managed to be a crowd when he asked you. He couldn’t stop smiling from ear to ear. Shyly grabbing your hand and walking you away from the crowd, forgetting that he only asked you to the dance and not to date. So with an awkward chuckle, he lets go. When the night did come, he couldn’t stop pacing. One of the first to arrive despite his friends protests but he didn’t care. Standing by a table he watched as more and more walked through the door, his anxiety doubling as the time went on and no sign of you. But when you finally did, hair down and a part of it up. A nice flowy dress and flats to match it, your smile bright and gradient he felt himself grow weak in the knees.

He dreamed of this very moment and now that it’s here, what should he do next? He only wished to ask you out and never what to actually do when you said yes. With a slight shove from his friends, he sends them a glare and walks over to you. Awkward and ears and cheeks red the two of you dance to a slow song. The disco ball shines above you two and it seems like time stops. Taking in your beauty, Jeno can feel his heart beat in his ears. Taking another gulp to moisten his dry throat. Holding your hand gently and praying they won’t start to sweat. The proximity made him feel fuzzy inside. His other hand on your waist he tries to resist himself in pulling you in a hug. To hold you tight and call you his. To not lean in and kiss your rosey pink lips. For most of the night he had fun with you, so much fun he couldn’t stop smiling like a doofus. Like a little girl did he speak how he felt to his friends, “I think I’m asking her tonight.” And as the supportive friends they are, they patted him in the back and wished him good luck.

So he searched for you, and then wished he didn’t. He couldn’t believe his luck. Eric Sohn, another popular kiddo not really close friends with and he too is a soccer player. Just not in his team. And this same Eric was currently dancing with you on the dance floor to another slow song that began to play. And even though he couldn’t hear what you two were talking about, he knew what was asked the second he saw you nod your head excessively and the group of kids around you began to awe. Truly, he couldn’t catch a break.

4. WHEN YOU TUTORED EACH OTHER

“Can everyone be quiet please?” Jeno snaps, finally gaining some peace in the car. “She doesn’t even remember me so can we please just get going?” Jeno didn’t want to admit what he was feeling was getting the best of him. And it wasn’t fair to take it out on his friends but he just wanted to leave already. To hide in his room and sleep away the image of you. He successfully did it for a few years, surely he can do it some more. But the ignition hasn’t started, and it’s gotten eerily quiet. So much he can practically read his friends thoughts. “What?” He asks monotonously, “You should go talk to her.” “No.” With an exasperated sigh Haechan groans and begins to whine. “C’mon Jeno it’s obvious you still like her.” “Ok and? Doesn’t mean she likes me, I mean she doesn’t even remember me.” He huffs.

Just to think you didn’t even recognize him was only making him more upset and sad. All these years and nothing? Maybe you had short term memory loss or something. There was no way you didn’t remember him, I mean throughout the years the two of you spent some good time together. Making some memorable memories, were they not as meaningful to you as it was to him? Freshman year and at the brink of failing his English class, top of your class and was asked if you could give him a hand. And as the sweetheart you are, you agreed. He still remembers how his throat closed up on him when he saw you enter. He immediately stopped slouching and pulled back a chair for you. Organizing his stuff so there’d be space for you. The first few times were quiet as he felt embarrassed by how bad he was at it.

But then he realized you weren’t so perfect either, you struggled in Math. And he was great in that subject. And so for a fair trade you began tutoring each other. Either at school, before or during lunch, after school at his or your house. At times the two of you got distracted and began having random conversations and playful banter. Watching movies and even staying for dinner. The two of you got so close, you even shared your first kiss together. But it was an accident, at least the first time. Jeno wanted to teach you a dance move and when he encouraged you to try, your socks caused you to slip. Instincts kicked in and before he knew it, he was quick to grab you only to fall alongside you. Falling on top of you and lips planting full smash on yours, a shocked pause occurred. Not a muscle was moved and it seemed like the two of you were afraid to make the next move. By the next time you tutored there was some awkwardness but mostly tension.

And when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and came back to him standing up to stretch, he came face to face with you. Merely an inch away and as the two of you struggled to not look at each other’s eyes or lips, you two shared similar thoughts. You’d lean in and kiss again. He felt overwhelmed with emotions. He can’t exactly decipher what he’s feeling, the wonder of what your lips would feel like and here he is kissing them again only this time for real. Kissing you like there was no tomorrow. Leading you to your bed, ignoring the loud crunches your papers made. Sighing happily when you run your hand through his hair and pull away to take a breather before leaning back in for more. House with no parents, the two of you spent the rest of the night wrapped in each other’s arms.

That night, you took each other’s virginities.

The purity ring he once wore now dangled around your neck. Luckily your parents didn’t know what that was and assumed it was yours, but Jeno wasn’t so fortunate. He got grounded, berated and shamed. How someone so young could be causing such reckless behavior but at this point in time he was in too deep. He felt this way for a while but never acknowledged it but he knows now. And despite his parents saying he’s too young to know what he’s truly feeling he knew it was real. He knew his love for you wasn’t all in his head. And he certainly knew, he didn’t regret giving you his v-card. Something no one knew, not his best friend or anyone else except you and his parents. It was a shock when he gave you his ring, you assumed he’s been without his virginity and to know you weren’t the only one that lost it, you confessed to him the truth. Guilty, he looks down shamefully. “I should’ve known, I’m sorry it should’ve been special.” “But it was.” Cupping his face and lifting his head to look at you, you can see the twinkle in his eyes the second he glanced at you.

You notice how his pupils dilate and the puppy eyes take form, how at ease he gets and his hands itching to touch you. Yearning for your comfort. “I’m glad it was you that took it, wouldn’t want any one else.” You mumble and close in on his lips.

Leg bouncing as Jeno waits impatiently for Mark to start driving off he rubs the inch on his skin, his shirt slightly reveals his abdomen. The black and red ink apparent As it rests neatly above his v line, a tattoo of a stem with two cherries. A date on it with initials. Your initials. To symbolize the day he popped your cherry, a day he’s never forgotten.

“Well I’m sure she was just too tired, it’s busy in there. You should at least think about coming by some other time and getting in touch with her.” Renjun tries to convince but he and the others can tell their friend has already begun to think about all his memories of you. Even the hurtful ones. Like when he prepared to ask you out with a poster and a bouquet of flowers. The two of you were practically inseparable, already acting like a couple no way it can go wrong. But it did, horribly. He convinced you to meet him out on the track, where he thought he would be able to get some alone time with you but that wouldn’t happen when the kids from p.e would be using it for their run day. Jeno should’ve specified, he should’ve made sure it was clear when he gave some of his classmates each a rose to give to you. A trail until you found your way towards him, but not a single rose was given to you. No instead, to a completely different a girl. The popular girl who’s been heavily crushing on him since the 7th grade and never had her feelings reciprocated.

More and more students piled up, a crowd forming and as she made her way down to the last rose Jeno felt his insides fill with anxiety. Still completely unaware that the person nearing wasn’t you. The horror to see the crowd part way not for you but for her. A bouquet of roses in hand as she read the poster he had in his hands. Phones out, video recording and whispers of encouragement. And when she shrieks and shakes her head. The crowd went wild, clapping and whistling for the new couple. And as he stood there mortified with the chick’s arms wrapped around his neck he grew oblivious to you who merely stood a few feet away. Heart broken and hopes destroyed, feeling stupid for thinking he’d ask you to be his. To think that night meant a lot to him just as it did to you. So that’s why he invited you, you assumed. So that you could see how he’d prove to you that day meant nothing to him, and how easily replaceable you were. So with a broken heart, you turned around swiftly and wiped off the tears from your cheeks. A new profound hatred for him.

5. WHEN HE SAW YOU CRYING

For two years you went ignoring his very existence. A senior, your last and final year before leaving grade school. One more year before leaving the city behind, your childhood home and moving on somewhere far away. A new start for you. During those two years, you had tried to do your best with getting by but your hatred for the school increased. You grew to hate the homework, the teachers, the peers, everything about it brought wrath. The idea of having to go made you want to cry and only thinking about having to wake up and attend had you stressing. You didn’t know exactly what caused that switch but you had a hunch it was the day you cried over Lee Jeno. After the misunderstanding at the track he was quick to make it clear he wasn’t referring to her and even though he was met with a slap in the face and accusations of messing with her feelings, he didn’t care. His only focus was you and yet when he noticed your sudden coldness towards him it worried him tons. Avoiding him at all times, not responding to his text messages and even stopped the whole tutoring program.

You stopped going to his games and when his team mates girlfriend was around, you were no longer with her. It hurt him to know how easily he lost you, so close. So close and yet you had managed to slip through his fingers again. And even though you tried to prevent crossing paths with him, it seemed like that wasn’t his intentions. No he searched for him, purposely walking past your class to run into you. And during lunch where you’d stay in the library, he would too. Sitting from afar but looking after you. And the times you met eyes, he would send you a soft smile only to falter when you immediately looked away. To say his heart didn’t sting would be a lie, he could no longer focus during practice. The gym wasn’t doing much to keep himself from thinking about you and at night when alone with his thoughts, all he can reminisce about are the days he spent with you. Trailing over his finger and feeling the emptiness of his ring, it had him thinking. Did you still have it? Did you throw it away? He couldn’t dare check, worried his heart wouldn’t know how to deal with the pain of you tossing his ring. Not when it held so much value of what took place for him to give it to you.

For two whole years he was left in the dark. Did you see what happened? You must have, he asked you to be there. By the next day it seemed like the whole school found out about it even more when the videos went around. He wished he could explain to you it was all a big mistake. And yet, he was a coward. Tail tucked between his legs, he hid in a corner and bowed down because he was afraid of confrontation. Of the possibility of you rejecting him even after explaining he only has eyes for you. That he only loves you. And with that in mind, everything began to slowly slip. His grades, his social bar, his ambitions. He quit soccer despite all those who tried to get him to stay. He started turning in lots of late assignments and most times, never even bothered to do them. He found his way into drinking most weekends, and smoking in the empty parking lot. His mood definitely dampened over time. No longer in the mood to go have fun, only shakes his head No and goes home where he’d lock himself in his room for the rest of the day. He began getting into situationships, and as messy as it got he didn’t stop.

Eventually it’s how he got his playboy reputation. Always seen with a new chick by his side and when he was no longer interested, he tossed them aside. You on the other hand managed to move on, you found yourself a new guy. And for those two years, you dated. Many saw how serious you quickly got with him, complimenting how well the two of you were for each other. Made for each other. Just the sentence itself had Jeno rolling his eyes. Party after party, it’s all he ever hears the second while there: your boyfriend waltzed in. It seemed like only he knew how fake your ‘lovely’ boyfriend was being. How he enjoyed the attention he gained from girls, how he simultaneously flirted back with them. How his sweet boy demeanor changed the second you left and spoke vile about women like they were objects. A toy, and even though Jeno had no place to talk he felt enraged to hear the son of a bitch speak about you so lowly. You weren’t his, ‘bitch’ you’re his girlfriend not a dog. You’re not meant to be a distraction instead a human he should love and cherish. And as much as he wishes to punch the living shit out of him, he refrained from doing so. He was no longer in your life, he shouldn’t be getting involved in your business.

But when you cried that night. The night of one of the regular parties that happened on Saturday’s. When he was shocked to see you enter. You’ve always hated parties he knows that because you told him. And yet here you were, walking in completely lost and uncomfortable. Tugging your thin sweater closer to you as you’re in search for your boyfriend. His eyes trailed your every move and when he sees you go upstairs, he’s about to make his way after you but is stopped by a manicured hand. Feeling their other hand come behind his head and avert his attention. Pushing him up against the counter but his focus wasn’t on her. Even when she began to brush herself on him, he continued to divert his eyes over to the stairs. And when he suddenly sees you coming down and push through the crowd of bodies hurriedly and a hand over your face, he knew you saw something you wish you didn’t. Quick to brush off the random chick, he goes after you. Demanding the annoying people standing in the middle of the room to get out of his way and when he finally catches up to you outside, his heart breaks upon hearing your small sniffles.

“Y/n…” you heard his voice but this only caused you to look away pathetically. Feeling embarrassed that he’s seeing you in such a vulnerable state. Humiliated that you fell for your ex’s tricks and had to find out the hard way that he was just a pig like every guy in high school. “Go away.” You get out with a croak in your voice. But he didn’t, no he stayed. He sat besides you on the steps and stayed silent as he watched you with sad eyes. “Stop pitying me.” “I don’t.” Scoffing, you wipe your eyes and roll them afterwards. “Of course you do, I’m crying over a guy who used me. Who cheated on me. I was just another chick he used, just like what you do.” A sting to his chest, he felt himself sobering up quickly. You weren’t wrong, you look down at his appearance he has changed vastly. Wearing almost all black, and clothes reeking of nicotine. Mouth smelling like beer and hair oily for the lack of regular washing. “I may not be the guy who should say this but, you deserve better. And I’m sorry that dirtbag couldn’t see how good he had it with you. That he made you cry.” He softens his eyes the second you turn to meet his. For the first time in two years his face was no longer cold stone. He wasn’t miserable or serious, he was at ease and a boy in love. A boy who silently begged for you to love him back.

“I’m sorry I made you cry.” His voice broke letting that out. The memory of seeing a small tear fall from the corner of your eye when the two of you met eyes from across the library. Right before you looked away. The last time you’d look at him for the next two years. Hands balled at his sleeves, his throat begins to tighten up, picking at his nails as he continued to stare into your orbs. Worried if he did anything else he’d break down. When he sees you let out a light chuckle, you wipe your tears away and dig something from under your shirt. Surprised when he sees the familiar silver ring, his purity ring. “Can you believe i still have it?” At loss for words, he averts his eyes from the ring to you again. “I thought the day you asked me to meet you at the track would be the day you’d ask me to be your girlfriend..” you chuckle hurtly at the memory. He could say something, right now. He should say something, but nothing comes out. So he waits for you to talk again, and hopefully he’ll find the courage while you do.

“But I was delusional, so I left. Because it was the only way I can move on. From you, from the hurt I felt. I thought getting into a relationship would help me do that but instead it only led me down to a path filled with more pain.” “Y/n…” he said desperately but you only shaked your head. “It’s okay.” You smiled softly at him. “I was wrong, and I moved on.” No, please don’t move on. Standing, you wipe off any dirt on your jeans and fixed your hair. “Think it’s best I never let another man in my life again. Love sucks anyways right?” Silent, he only nods merely just to agree with you. But it’s not what he’s thinking. Despite the pain he still wants to feel love. He still wants to love you and still does. No love doesn’t suck because despite it never going his way, he’s never regretted the special moments he shared with you.

About to leave, he stands and grabs your hand. “Y/n please wait-“ “Jeno!” He hears the high pitched voice call out to him. Raising a brow, you nod over to her. “Someone’s waiting for you mr. hotshot.” Shaking his head, he keeps a firm grip on your wrist and doesn’t bother looking back. “Please don’t go.” He pleads. “There’s nothing for me here-“ “Me. I’m here.” Stepping closer to you, he towers over you. A growth spurt that made him a good inches taller than you. “Funny, good to know you haven’t changed entirely.” Before he gets to explain that he isn’t joking, he gets pull roughly. Turned around and is met with the irritation on the girls face. “What the hell?! You’re supposed to be here with me and I find you outside with some chick?” “She’s not some chick!” Eyes widening, she scoffs and shakes her head. “So what is she your girlfriend now?” She asks sarcastically.

“So what if she was?” Surprised, she drops the attitude and huffs. “What?” Nodding, he feels all those sealed feelings begin to boil up. “You heard me.” Snickering she shakes her head. “C’mon Jeno who are you kidding, you don’t date. You only kiss and hook up-“ “Yes because I had no other choice given it was the only way to bury my feelings for her alright!” Shocked, she’s at loss for words. “That I’ve loved her since the first grade and nothing ever seems to go right because I only ever end up pushing her away and I can’t eat, think, sleep right because she’s always on my mind 24/7 and hooking up with nuisances like you was the only way I could temporarily forget about her. But that didn’t work because now I’m here potentially going to lose her indefinitely because you won’t stop cutting me off when I’m on the brink of confessing my feelings towards her and to finally ask her the question I’ve been dying to ask since I was 8 and that’s if she’ll do me the honors to be my girlfriend!”

An eery silence had consumed around him. Only the faint sound of grasshoppers and the beat of the music coming from inside the house. But it wasn’t until a voice broke it, did he feel the blood in him run cold. “What?” Forgetting you were there the whole time, he tenses up. Turning around slowly where he sees you standing there confused and surprised. His brain seemed to go blank, struggling to find the right words and when he watched you run off he could feel his heart shatter into a million pieces. So you really didn’t feel anything towards him anymore. He assumed. Brushing past the chick standing there awkwardly, he goes inside for a much needed drink. Grabbing the first bottle of vodka and downs a sip. He drinks, and drinks until the music only become sounds to him and he lost himself through the crowd. And even though he struggled to even piece together a coherent sentence, he seemed to sober up enough the second he finds your ex coming down the stairs with a girl in his arms. A smug look on his face, a hickey on his neck with her lipstick on his lips. This pissed him off, how could he be such an idiot to lose a gem like you. To ever think to hurt you. He saw red, he no longer cared what his friends had to say. Even when Jaemin and Renjun tried to get him to sit down and cool off he only shrugged them off.

He went straight towards the guy who hurt you. Roughly pulling him back by his shoulder, only a short hey escapes his mouth before receiving a hard punch to the jaw. That night, Jeno made his first ever felony and ended up behind bars for the night.

“Please just drive.” Jeno tells Mark and with a reluctant nod, he turns on the ignition and drives home. On the way there, Jeno was left with his thoughts. Silently begging to think of something else but all that flashes through his head is the taste of your lips. Your adorable smile, the contagious laugh and the warmth of your embrace. A single tear falls down his cheek and quickly wiped it. Even after all these years, when you ran away and never spoke to him again. When you didn’t even graduate at the same school and instead moved away, when he stopped seeing you entirely. After all that time, he’s still in love with you. Because as many came and gone, none managed to fill the void that occurred when you left. None could make him smile the way you did, laugh they way you did, love the way you did. And even when you feign to not remember him, he remembers you. And while you may have already forgotten about him, he didn’t because he never did. He loves you, so so much and it hurts.

6. WHEN HE SHOWED UP AT YOUR HOUSE

Seeing him after all those years felt like a time relapse. After a stressful shift, you were ready to clock off. Ready to tell whoever began to pile their stuff at your register to find somewhere else to pay but when you saw him. It’s like you couldn’t utter a single word. Your heart felt like it ran a 100 mph, you felt yourself heating up and breathing getting heavier. Would be recognize you? It has been almost six years since high school but you hadn’t change a lot, of course you matured but anyone who knew you would recognize you. And Jeno, he still looked the same other than his hair was now dyed and he was buffer. Jaw more chiseled. But it was him, it was the same Jeno. Your Jeno. And when you asked how they’d like to pay you made an effort to not look in his direction even making sure to have asked one of the other guys. Too anxious to meet him face to face, but he was the one who paid. The one who looked up at you, he recognized you. The way his cheery self butchered the second he saw you. How quiet he got, but you feigned ignorance. Pretended you didn’t remember him and only hoped he wouldn’t ask any questions.

You should’ve felt glad he didn’t, but you weren’t. And when you watched him quickly walk off leaving behind his card you made the impulsive act to call out for him. Finally looking at him, you couldn’t read his facial expression. He seemed, conflicted. And when he had since left, you were left alone with your thoughts. Making your way to the locker room where you would think back to all the memories you had with the man. You tried to move on from him, pretend he no longer existed and you thought you were doing a good job at it. But all those repressed emotions were hitting the surface, by the time you were headed off home you never would’ve known to prepare yourself to find the very man standing outside your doorstep. Head down with AirPods in, arms rested on his knees and he doesn’t look up until your headlights shine on him. Nervous and anxious, he’s quick to stand on his feet and play with the hem of his hoodie. Eyes widen when you get out, taking so careful steps towards him. There’s silence, and it seems like the two of you don’t know how to begin a part of Jeno is beginning to regret finding your address. Maybe you truly did forget about him and now thinks he’s some stalker waiting for you to come home.

“Jeno.” You say softly.

So soft and yet he still heard it. Heart rate jumping and throat closing in on himself. “How did you know I lived here?” A nervous chuckle, he cheeks become a light shade of pink. Balancing his weight on either leg, “Im friends with one of your old classmate buddy, she uh told me where to find you.” Ah, the very one who dated his teammate the goalie. “…So how you’ve been?” You ask after a moment of silence. But that’s not what he wanted to hear. At least not now, no he wanted to explain himself. Explain everything that went down years ago, ask you why you ran. Why you left. A part of him wanted to demand you some much needed explanations while the other wanted to break down and hold you tight. But he refrained himself from doing so, so instead he only nods and shrugs his shoulders. “Okay, I’m living life so that’s good.” “What are you doing here?” Chuckling, he looks around. “I’m still trying to figure that out myself.” A momentarily silence engulfs the two of you, staring at each other but the two of you begin to make quick steps closer to each other. Opening your arms and engulfing each other into your embrace. He hears you begin to cry, and to repress his he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry I ran.” You manage to say out loud. “I’m sorry I made things worse.” A single tear falls from his eye, fisting his hands on your sweater and pulls your closer to him.

“No, I’m sorry I never made myself clear.” Pulling away, he cups your face. “I’ve liked you since the first grade, and as hard as I tried I failed. I failed to confess to you and when it was most important I messed that all up by making it seem like I was asking someone else when I wasn’t. I should’ve told you how I felt under better circumstances but I didn’t because I was filled with guilt and alcohol.” He sniffles and leans closer to your hand that’s raised to wipe the tears off his face. “I love you y/n, I’m sorry it took me more than ten years to tell you that. I’m sorry I was a coward and hurt you, and I’m sorry I’m too late.” He goes to move away from you but you don’t let go. Instead your grip on him tightens. “Why do you say you’re too late?” Unexpected by the question he stutters out an incoherent response. “I’ve always liked you Jeno.” Freezing, you smile at the confused state he’s in.

“You’ve always been oblivious haven’t you?” Feeling his cheeks warm up, he tugs the back of his hair and chuckles awkwardly. “I don’t- I’m not-“ “The only reason I’ve dated so much is to forget about you. I always wished you’d ask me to be your girlfriend. Always wished there was a chance you felt the same way, when the day I saw you and her…it hurt.” Feeling the guilt wash back up on him, he gently holds your hands. Rubbing soft circles on them nervous you’ll pull your hands away. “Which is why I cut you from my life.” Ouch. “But the night of the party, when you confessed your feelings about me, I didn’t know how to act. I couldn’t believe you liked me this whole time, I panicked and so I ran. I ran until I didn’t look back and it only made things worse.” Cupping your face, he tilts your head to face him. “I love you.” He says wholeheartedly.

“Ask me.” Raising a brow, you giggle and ask the question again. “What you’ve always wanted to tell me?” When the realization hit, he almost couldn’t believe it. Definitely not how he’d liked to ask you but he worries if he waited for the ideal moment then he’d never become yours. “Y/n…” he clears his throat. Hands beginning to sweat, “Will you be my girlfriend?” He hates how time seems to be passing by super slow. Every second is filled with dread, worry you’ll say no. Fear you’ll realize you don’t want this and reject him. But when he sees you grin and nod your head, a cheery yes all that worry is thrown right out the window. And instead, he picks you up and spins you around. “Yes?” He wants confirm, “Yes!” He didn’t ask your for hand in marriage and yet it still seems just as special. So much time went by, and just when he thought he’d never get the girl of his dreams. To confess his feelings, it did. Setting you down, he gives you no time to speak for he’s smashing his lips on top of yours.

Butterflies and fireworks go off, humming by the softness of your lips and your perfume hitting his nostrils. Like he just arrived in heaven, he’s ascending further the more he continues to kiss you. He loves it, loves the feeling so he deepens the kiss. Tilting his head, a hand behind your neck and pressing lips harder on yours. Moaning when coming in contact with your tongue. All his love and yearning for you has begun to spill through the kiss and it seems like you’re feeling the same. Feeling your hands pull him by his belt loops, walking forward until he leans you up against your car. He didn’t care who could potentially see, if anything he’d make it clear he’s now taken by the love of his life. The girl he’s been crushing on since the first grade, who has agreed to be his girlfriend. And when an elderly man walking his dog walk by and groan in disgust, he simply gives him a wink and presses his body on top of yours, in love with the whimper you let out. He wants to hear more of it, but he can’t push his limits. He just got you, he must be patient it’s the least he can do.

Pulling away to catch your breaths, he looks at you with a certain fondness. A smile on his face as he leans in and presses a kiss on your forehead, your cheek, temple and nose. “Mine.” He sighs contently on top of your lips before going back to kissing you. Spending another hour with you propped on your trunk and him nestled between your legs, lips locked onto yours. A perfect way to start your blossoming relationship.

Jeno hasn’t stopped showing his affection since you’ve said yes. Not caring what his friends had to say, even when they made kissy faces and poked fun at him for being so love sick. He loves expressing his love for you. It’s so obvious to everyone how much the man loves you, practically worships you. To every request you make, he obliges. With a simple plea and he’s on his knees for you. Dating for a few months and nothing has changed. Attached to your hip, he’s protective and caring. Helps with handing you things that’s too high for you, carries your purse and shopping bags. Moves the shopping cart as you grab the items. Brings in the grocery bags and refuses for you to carry any, opens doors for you and gives you pieces of his food with an excuse that he’s not that hungry. He cuddles you when he says he’s tired, cold, sick but really it’s excuses just so he can hold you. He nuzzles his face in your neck as a silent request to kiss him. Placing his head on your lap when he wants you to run your hand through his hair.

He even lets you dress him up, put crazy makeup on him and do any of the trends you see on Tiktok just to please you. So when his friends enter your home and sees you reapplying some of your lipstick meanwhile Jeno’s face is absolutely covered with your lip stains all over his face they point and laugh but he doesn’t care. A fuzzy hair band of yours pulling back his disheveled hair you fluffed up, and a loved up expression as he was reliving all the kisses you left on him merely a few minutes ago. As the time went on, his clinginess grew which meant more attention given. Such things like kisses and when those turned heated it would only be a matter of time before the two of you would have sex. But it hasn’t happened yet. That was until Jeno invited you to a dinner party, jaw dropped when he notices how gorgeous you looked. Hair and makeup done and the dress fitting so pretty on you. You look so good he couldn’t help but have you sit on his lap for most of the time, not trusting the strangers around you. Arms rested neatly on your lap, rubbing up and down your thighs. Biting his lip to hold back a groan when you moved too much.

A heated make out session in the bathroom ended in the two of you leaving sooner than the others. And when you arrived home, clothes were discarded until the two of you were bare for each other. The sheets over the two of you, dark room but the light of the moon shines through your window. Giving Jeno a perfectly view of you in pure bliss as he entered you. Quickened his pace after given the okay signal and pounded into you when you begged for more. Holding your hand that went to wrap around his neck and pressed reassuring kisses when he fucked you deeper. Arms resting in either side of your face, caging you in and lifting your leg to rest on his shoulder for better access. Leaning his hand down to run quick circles on your nub and asking if you were close. Softly kissing your face when you finally do come for him. “So pretty.” He mumbles and sets your leg down, only to be surprised when you flip him around. Sat neatly on top of him and having him through his head back and let out a loud groan when you sit on his dick. Grabbing your waist to steady you, he curses under his voice and admires how your breasts bounce when you do.

Pupils dilating even further when he stares at the base of his cock, how deep you take him. Loving how well his fits neatly inside you. Loving the way your warm walls tighten around him, in love when his tip makes a small dent on your lower abdomen and overall loving how well he’s pleasing you. So angelic, he wants to see you in this state for hours. And that’s exactly what he does. By morning, he’s calling in with no intentions of getting out of bed any time soon. Starting the fun from the previous night all over again. If possible he’s sure he’s fallen even more in love with you, and he was certain you were always meant for him.

So by the end of the year, he put a ring on your finger

#nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct smut #nct reactions #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream imagines #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct jeno #nct jeno imagines #nct jeno smut #jeno x reader #jeno imagines #jeno soft hours #jeno scenarios

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thesnadger · 4 months ago

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Saw an occupational therapist and for the first time I felt like I was talking to someone who actually understood my pain, who didn't find my symptoms baffling and (I swear, I hope, I pray) actually may have found the root cause for both the spinal injuries and the constant, widespread muscular pain that can't be explained by the spine.

It's the best thing and the worst thing ever. The best thing because for the first time I feel like I have hope that this is a problem that can be fixed and treated, and not just a mystery where I either hope it stops on it's own one day or I somehow learn to live with pain for the rest of my life.

It's also the worst thing because I wish so badly I'd found this person a year ago, and because understanding the actual problem has made my body feel fragile to me in a way that stresses me out hugely and makes my pain actually feel worse.

The short term is that I'm probably going to have a very difficult time for a while as I process all this knowledge and slowly get an idea of what the future and the present will look like for me. But like, God, for the first time in a year, thinking about the future actually makes me feel like there's hope, and a reason to believe my pain can get better and even be gone someday.

God I want to experience a day without pain. I want several days in a row without pain. I want to be pain free so often that I don't even think about it, or stress about it going away. God I want that, please, please, please.

#i am gonna be useless at work today #just counting the days till my next appointment I want to get started NOW #aaa!aaAaaaAaAAA!!HhhH!!#discard bones become octopus

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ponett · 1 year ago

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I have now finally seen the Mario movie. It was Pretty Good. Here are my wordy thoughts on it. (I am going to spoil the entire movie. Duh.)

In many ways, the Mario movie does what I wish the first Sonic movie had done. They just took the characters and the premise and the world from the games, and made it a straightforward animated adventure movie. It's bright and colorful and remixes things JUST enough to include fun elements from multiple games, and it doesn't make Mario get adopted by James Marsden or whatever. It even has the music!

That's all you really need, right? Right...?

I'll get this out of the way up front. Chris Pratt was fine. He's fine

If anything, it really feels like they did the movie a disservice by letting us hear so little of the Mario voice in the previews. It took one scene for Pratt to disappear into the role for me. It was totally fine. If anything, I found Charlie Day's normal voice coming out of Luigi WAY more distracting, even if I did like him in the role.

Everyone else was pretty good, for the most part. Jack Black was obviously very good as Bowser, but I'm biased. Seth Rogen does the Seth Rogen laughs as Donkey Kong, but I thought DK was fun, too. (I liked his little rivalry with Mario where he was just constantly giving him shit.) The only casting choice I truly hated was Fred Armisen as Cranky Kong. I hated every line that came out of his mouth. He sounds atrocious. Just the worst. I swear to fucking god if they do a DKC movie and we have to hear him for 90 minutes

I did think Peach was lacking, but that was on the script, not Anya Taylor-Joy's performance. It's cool to see Peach fight, but it's one of those all too common instances where the writers put so much effort into making the main girl kick ass and be an effortlessly confident girlboss that they forgot to give her an actual personality. Not that I'd point to Super Princess Peach and its mood swing superpowers as positive representation or anything, but there's a happy middle ground, surely. Shrek was 22 years ago, just having the princess do flying kung fu kicks isn't enough.

Okay. With the voices out of the way, let's talk about the big picture:

It's way better than the words "Illumination Mario movie" implied, and I mostly enjoyed my time with it. The spirit of Mario is there 100%. But I'd also describe it as "ruthlessly efficient."

This was perhaps the main complaint critics had, and they were absolutely right. People have responded to these totally average reviews with "Well, what did you expect? Shakespeare?! It's MARIO!!" Like, yes, I would prefer it if the movie I paid to see had writing that was good instead of bad. What a shocker. My issue isn't that it's not "high-brow" enough. The problem is that it feels mercenary. It feels like an editor went through and deleted almost every line of dialogue that isn't some form of exposition, at the expense of the pacing. Any scene that's not a montage or some sort of action is kept as short as they could make it, with barely any room for embellishment, character interaction, or anything other than the bare minimum word count to hit all the typical Save the Cat Hollywood screenwriting 101 story beats to the letter. There aren't even as many jokes as you might think (and the ones that are there are extremely hit or miss, including a lot of the slapstick with Mario himself).

Mario and Peach's little arc together in the front half of the film is probably the worst example of this pacing. Even having read reviews that complained about how fast Peach goes from meeting Mario (by her admission the first other human she's ever met) to deciding to train him as the new savior of the Mushroom Kingdom, I was SHOCKED at how fast it was. They don't even lampshade it.

Peach takes Mario straight into the big training sequence where he learns how to use mushrooms and jump over platforming obstacles. Peach is apparently already a hypercompetent platforming pro and a great fighter, so there's no clear reason why she's taking the time to train this random guy to be half as good as her when the world is in danger. Then they set off on their adventure, Toad joins them, and we get a VERY brief travel montage. It's about thirty seconds total - just long enough to give Peach a line about how she wants to protect this beautiful world of hers to try and give her some stakes. We get the genre-mandated nighttime campfire heart to heart, which is exactly long enough to have Mario say he misses Luigi and to have Peach give the two sentence summary of her origin story and not a second longer. Then they reach the Kongs, and their big journey is complete. (They barely interact for the rest of the movie.) So much of the movie is like this - always ready to get on to the next scene as soon as a new one starts.

I'm not criticizing the script because I expect The Super Mario Bros. Movie to be a prestige drama - although there are certainly halfhearted attempts at a dramatic arc. The stuff with Mario's family was a fun enough idea, but again, ruthless efficiency. We get one quick scene with them at the start to give Mario some pathos, because I guess Save the Cat said he's gotta have some pathos. And then Mario gets his dad's approval amidst the action of the final battle in Brooklyn to resolve his arc, just so the movie can end as quickly as possible once Bowser is defeated. (Despite now having the approval of their family and their community back in Brooklyn, Mario and Luigi move to the Mushroom Kingdom off-screen without a single word dedicated to this decision, because that's where they live in the games.)

Look. I am not comparing it to The Godfather. Don't give me that shit. I am not asking for an extra half hour to explore Mario and Luigi's childhood trauma. I am not asking for the complex inner workings of the Mushroom Kingdom monarchy. I know this is gonna be a basic Hero's Journey adventure for kids. It just feels like it's turning down so many opportunities to have a little fun with the characters, to let them interact and play off of each other, to let there be some adventure on this adventure. This is the first time we've gotten to see these characters interact with fully voiced dialogue in a very, very long time! "Yeah, it's not High Art, but it's FUN!" Stories are fun! Character interactions are fun! The script could be having so much more fun!! It is adamantly against making the Story parts of this story-driven movie any more Fun than they functionally need to be!!!

Mario, Peach, and Toad's journey to find the Kongs is shorter than the training montage that precedes it. After the opening, Bowser mostly just sits in his castle and waits for the third act to start. Luigi's there, too, but he only gets one scene with Bowser and then the movie mostly forgets he exists until the climax. He doesn't even get to try and sneak out of Bowser's castle and get up to hijinx. He's just there to be a motivation for Mario, so he sits in a cage for half the movie. It's the bare outline of a script with action scenes added in.

Aside from the fact that it's Jack Black singing as Bowser, I feel like this overly-efficient script might be part of the reason why the "Peaches" scene stands out so much. It's a moment that didn't strictly need to be there to keep the plot moving or to provide an action setpiece. It's not even a reference to another Mario thing. It's just a fun and memorable little character moment that's there for its own sake. That's what the movie needed more of. To stop and smell the roses more often. To play in the space.

To be clear, this isn't a unique problem with this movie. Critics have been noting for years that second acts are disappearing from big Hollywood movies in favor of the Act I plot setup and the Act III action, even though Act II is supposed to be where you get to explore your actual premise. And lots of animated movies give me this exact same vibe of being too "screenwriterly," or feeling like they had an executive breathing down their necks and demanding changes based on focus testing. But these common issues are why I come away mostly feeling like the movie is on the better end of "average," rather than totally blowing my mind. You have seen this movie many times before, just not with Mario in it.

And, of course, there's the music. The score by Brian Tyler based on various classic Mario and Donkey Kong tunes (frustratingly all attributed to Koji Kondo) is absolutely beautiful, but it's unfortunately frequently overshadowed by the licensed music. Everyone already complained about things like the use of Take On Me in place of a lovingly arranged DKC medley, but it feels illustrative of the tug of war the movie is caught in the middle of, between wanting to be a lavishly faithful Mario movie and wanting to be a generic tentpole animated adventure movie. Every single licensed song used is the most obvious, overused song they could have picked for the scene. It reeks of cynical executive meddling and it took me out of the movie every time.

But there really was a lot of care and love put into this movie - more than probably any other video game movie ever made, not that that's a high bar. I don't want to underplay that too much amidst all my complaints spurred by the absolutely insane response to the reviews.

Aside from the countless background references that people will be picking apart for years, touches like the Captain Toad tune playing in the background of Toad's introduction or the Mario Kart 8 menu music playing in the kart garage really help bring it to another level of authenticity. I also enjoyed seeing some more obscure Mario enemies that felt like they were picked more for being fun to animate than for being nostalgic and marketable. No matter how many times I sarcastically pointed to the screen and deadpanned "reference. reference." I am not immune to noticing these things and smiling. I am not immune to the DK Rap. These alone don't make the movie good, but it's nice to have a video game movie that feels like it was made by people who like video games.

Most importantly, the animation is great throughout. It's leaps and bounds ahead of other Illumination work, and it's the best the Mario cast has ever looked. They even made Donkey Kong handsome, somehow. They're all so squishy and expressive, and they move so fluidly - especially in the action scenes. I particularly liked the more kinetic ones like the aerial Banzai Bill chase and the Mario Kart sequence. Truly, the Mad Max-inspired car battle on Rainbow Road where Mario literally does the speedrun shortcut is this movie firing on all cylinders.

Other, more hand-to-hand fights nail the Popeye-esque vibe Mario should be going for. He's an underdog who gets the shit kicked out of him by bigger, stronger opponents until he gets his signature powerup and turns the tables on them. My favorite animation of all probably came from the use of Cat Mario to turn the tide in the DK fight. They had so much fun making Mario move like a cat. Again, it feels like a choice made because it'd be fun to animate rather than just a nostalgia move.

It's that animation and that attention to detail that carry the film, really. They elevate it from mediocrity into being a fun watch for a fan like me, albeit one I couldn't help but pick apart with Anthony as we watched it at home. I'm glad I saw it, but there's a lot of room to improve with the inevitable sequel. I hope they do. I can't deny that I had fun with the movie, but I hope next time that fun is partially because of the script instead of in spite of it.

Stray thoughts:

Overall, I would say I enjoyed the movie a lot more than Sonic 1, but probably not as much as Sonic 2. Not that these movies need to be pitted against each other.

I hated the Luma. I hated how hilarious they clearly thought the Luma was. They have the fucking Luma break the fourth wall to end the movie and start the credits. This is going to be a deep cut for fans of bad animated films, but the whole time I was just thinking of the little fish from Romeo & Juliet: Sealed With A Kiss who's just the director's kid saying random nonsense. You know I'm right

I rolled my eyes at the "our princess is in another castle" joke and several other jokes that would have been dated in a gamer webcomic 20 years ago but I guess they had to be there

How much of Brooklyn did Bowser's giant floating castle take out? We know 9/11 happened in this universe because the Freedom Tower is there, hasn't New York been through enough

I can't believe there's a Diskun easter egg

The dog is the most Illumination character design in the movie. It felt like it wandered on set from The Secret Life of Pets

Mario being a gamer and playing Kid Icarus of all things just made me remember this tweet:

Yes Anthony did get mad at me for being thirsty for Bowser

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kydrogendragon · 3 months ago

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Relationship: Dream/Hob, Johanna/Rachel

Rating: Gen

Words: 1356

Warnings: None

Ao3 Link

For square D1 of the Dreamling Bingo. Masterlist can be found here.

"Now boarding group three at Gate B12. Please have your boarding passes ready." The announcement clicks off and Johanna stands up, carry-on rolling over the airport linoleum as she walks. She nods to the attendant, readily handing over her boarding pass with a sigh. People slowly filter into the plane, the flight attendants greeting each person with a nod and a hello. Already she's transferred over from the three and a half hour flight from Los Angeles and the two hour hop from Atlanta to New York. And now she's preparing herself mentally for the long flight back to London. And she didn't get paid enough for business class either. After going above and beyond for those Hollywood snobs.

Fuckers.

She shuffles through the narrow hallways into the middle of the giant 787. The overhead compartments are already starting to fill up, but thankfully there's still some room above her seat. Johanna stashes her bag up onto the shelf and slides into the ever-shrinking airline seat.

There's a middle-aged man to the right by the window and, with luck, the seat by her will stay empty like it was when she checked-in so she can scoot over.

She watches and waits, letting her eyes rest as the rest of the plane slowly boards and settles in. Unfortunately, someone slides in on the aisle seat, so she's wedged in the middle. Odds are she'll be sleeping the whole way through. Should be any moment now before they start taxing and then she can—

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we apologize in advance but it looks like we'll be experiencing a brief delay before taking off. Thank you for your patience."

Motherfucker.

Johanna groans, rubbing her eyes as a slow grumble rolls through the rest of the plane. Christ above, she hopes it's just a simple five, maybe ten, minute delay. Knowing her luck so far though? She'll be here, crowded between two strangers, for an additional hour.

Shaking her head, she pulls her phone out and plops her ear buds in. She scrolls through her music as the man beside her pulls out his tablet. It's bright and there's no privacy screen on it at all, so when he pulls up his email—an in-progress one too—it's clear as day from her seat so you know she's gonna read that shit. Might even be entertaining.

"Dear Dream," it reads. This is already great. Dude's got a penpal with a killer nickname. "All stories return to their original forms, right? You know, when I first landed there in Los Angeles, I thought for sure the week would just drag on and on, like all the other business trips would. Thought maybe I would liven things up with trying some new sushi joint since there always seems to be a new one each time I go.

But then I saw you. You, standing in the lobby of the same hotel I was staying at. Of all the hotels in LA. What were the odds? I'd heard you'd moved down there with Calliope all those years ago. Wasn't sure if you were still there, though. Would it be bad if I said I always hoped you were? So something like this might happen?

God, I just wish I had run into you the first day I landed and not with just three days left. It wasn't enough. It's never enough. This damn trip was for business as you knew. Filled most of my days with meetings and hours in the office. I'd gotten used to it after all these years. Even all the time on planes and trains I'd gotten used to. But this time, I don't think I'm ready to head back to London.

Dream...I'd rather be off this plane and back on your doorstep, back in your home. Back to hearing your voice and seeing your smile. But I don't think that's what you'd want. You'd said so once before when I tried to offer it to you. Threw it back in my face and then I never saw you again until today, ten years later.

Do I pretend I don't still love you? Do I push you away instead? Like you had me? To save my heart? I said a lot of things those days and none of them were what I meant. Not truly. Not fully.

Maybe I should just let things be and give you your space. I just got you back. Even just if it's as distant friends. So...it was good to see you, Dream. I wish you the best.

- Hob"

Jo can tell by the abuse of the backspace key that there's a heart balanced on how his words are perceived. The man—Hob— has typed that fourth paragraph there four times now in the ten minutes that they've been sitting here. He finally lands on a version devoid of all passion, all longing. Until it's pared down to just a basic "Good to see you again, let me know when you're in town! We'll have to meet up" type email. Even she, one who knows well the risks love poses, feels a bit sad at that.

She tilts away, her heart sinks in her chest. You'd think, by the time you start showing gray in your hair you stopped dealing with this kind of shit. This...hurt. The uncertainty and not knowing which way to move, what to say, or what to do. Jo hoped that by the time you get through your twenties, things like that would be old news.

She would have thought that kind of heartache was meant for the young, but you're never too old to hurt, it seems.

Doesn't bode great for her. Her mind wanders to Rachel. To all the things she should have said. To everything she did say instead. She should call her when they land. She owes her that at least.

"Alrighty there passengers. We've been cleared for taxi. Please buckle your seatbelts and put your phones and other electronic devices away and in airplane mode. Thank you for flying United. Flight attendants, please prepare the cabin for takeoff."

The man beside her hits send and turns his tablet off, stowing it in the mesh pouch on the seat in front of him. He settles into his seat and closes his eyes. Jo can't help but feel a twinge of pain for the passion that this Dream might never know.

Johanna passes out shortly after the plane takes off and thanks whatever gods are listening that she wakes up as the plane begins its descent. Might be the longest she's ever slept in the past month if she's honest.

The man with the broken heart beside her flutters to life as the wheels touch down on the tarmac. He stifles a yawn and rubs his eyes before beginning the process of putting his belongings back into their rightful homes.

It's raining outside. Classic London. At least she knows she's home.

The plane comes to a stop. The pilot sends them off with a farewell and a thank you. People stand, shuffling about, claiming their bags and suitcases. And eventually everyone leaves the craft.

Hob follows the crowd as they all make their way to the baggage claim. She wonders, as she watches him from the back of the pack, what Dream's answer will be, why this Hob kept his cards so close to his chest that even he couldn't read them. What was it about their history, their meeting in LA that gave him such pause when he so clearly wanted to tell Dream all the emotions he kept bottled down.

She might never know. Odds are she won't ever see this man again. London's a big city, after all. She supposes in the end, it doesn't matter too much the why of it all. She'll never know why he kept the honest truth from the other guy, but maybe she can learn a bit from it. Maybe she can still save things with Rachel.

But Dream, if you're out there, just know this: in the rough draft he loved you.

#dreamling #the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #ky writes #johanna constantine #rachel moodie

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fog-kid · 10 months ago

Text

So... Cellboier decided to give us old man yaoi, I am honoring their wishes

(can't believe i am unaronically writing about Abueloier and his "friend", dear fucking god)

There was blood under his nails, but that wasn't new. He sometimes scratched too hard or got too rough with the guards after trashing around his cell. Those were the bad days, when he couldn't even control where his hands landed.

Any other day, he couldn't control where his thoughts landed. That was the real danger. Not the scratches and bruises, the teasers and beatings. None of that compared to what years of confinement can do to you.

It probably would've been even worse had he not met him.

"Hey" he had whispered one night from the cell next to his, just over a year ago, after the guards left "You okay?"

"De puta madre" Abueloier hissed, touching his busted lip "Y tu qué? You're new?"

"Got transfered today" the man behind the wall moved to the front of the cell, Abueloier instinctively followed "Are they always like that?"

"Only if you're crazy enough to start breaking shit in your cell and threatening to kill everybody"

"Are you?"

Abueloier almost heard a smile in his whisper. He'd always remember that as the moment he realized he had finally found a match, someone of his caliber. An equal, a partner.

"On my bad days" he answered.

The other huffed a short laugh "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you at your worst"

"I'd hope so, you would hate me at my best"

From then on, they moved together as one. It was them against the rest of the inmates, the guards, the entire prison. They shared every meal, every recess, and talked about what they'd do once they made it out.

"I'll build myself a house" he spoke around a spoonful of beans "Maybe a castle"

Abueloier laughed "You dream too big"

"Okay then, what will you do?"

He shrugged and looked down at the stale beans on his plate "Make tacos, probably"

The talking got to planning, the days got longer and Abueloier's mind got louder. Every time his new friend explained what they had to do, his voice morphed into some distortion of what he said. The last days were bad, worse than bad, and nothing could stop that train of thought from flying off the rails.

"How do you know their schedual?" his hands shook, they had been doing that for a while.

"I told you already, I sneaked into the office-"

"Yeah, right. Fucking likely" there was a noise coming from his right but nobody noticed, so Abueloier didn't turn to check. He kept staring into those wild, troubled blue eyes and decided that if there was a white figure at the corner of his eye, he'd not give it the satisfaction of being noticed.

"You trust me, right?" he tilted his head, some of his hair brushing the neck of his uniform. Had that smile always been part of the design on their uniforms? Was it there at all?

"I do" he sighed and closed his eyes, mostly to avoid noticing more than he could handle "We can do this, and we will. Together"

There was blood under his nails, and it wasn't his or from any guard. His only friend tried to sit up to cough up blood but winced when it only made the knife dig further into his abdomen.

"Why would you do this to me?" he heaved, but Abueloier was about to ask the same thing.

"Where do you know them from? Was this entire thing just a trick to get me to them?"

That smile was plastered everywhere, he could see it in the blood that poured from his friend. He would see it in the tears that fell to his hands.

"I would've gone to the end of the Earth with you, but you chose them" he pressed his forehead to a bloody chest, feeling the difficulty of its rise and fall "You chose them. You chose them. I would've chosen you"

The realization came seconds before those wild, troubled blue eyes dimmed into nothing. There was blood under his nails, on his hands, on his clothes, pouring from his friend's body. There was betrayal laced to his last words.

"I choose you too" it sounded like a scratched record, wet with the blood drowning the sound from his throat "At your worst and at your best"

The guards found him some time later, maybe minutes, maybe hours, could've been days for all he knew. Turns out they didn't wear white, never did, in fact. The smiles from the walls were no longer there, the eyes in every corner had completely dissapeared. No trace of bears or artificial voices telling him about other people's intentions.

All that was left was a life sentence and years worth of lagoons in his memory, blissfully blank and confused. Still, he managed. He got a job as a janitor, even went out sometimes to meet up with his grandson, but always tried to avoid that good for nothing husband of his.

Those eyes, they looked too lively. Too wild, too troubled for anyone's good

#old man yaoi save me #qsmp #q!roier #q!cellbit #sort of i guess #qsmp abueloier #ghostbit #abueloier x ghostbit #qsmp prison #roier #cellbit #guapoduo #spiderbit #qsmp roier #qsmp cellbit

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save-the-villainous-cat · 1 year ago

Note

I'd like to request a snippet for a justice-driven homicidal Vampire Hunter getting bitten by his long-time femdommy Vampire rival and enjoying it far more than he expected. Can be as suggestive as you wish <3

He didn’t talk for a long, long time. He just watched her curiously, not really sure what he would do, now that he was alone in a room with her again.

Last time turned out horribly wrong with her destroying all his weapons and pushing him against the wall. He wasn’t one to lose his composure easily but that one was…challenging.

“Ugh. You again?” she asked. Her pupils were dilated, two massive black holes in a dimly lit room that sucked him in. “Come back later.”

His eyes fell on the shards on the floor, the deep scratches in the wooden desk. A drawer was destroyed, torn into pieces. Usually, order was important to her. Wherever she was, there was a certain grace that followed her.

“I’m here to finally end this,” the vampire hunter said. “And I’m not leaving this room until I do.”

Usually, she would’ve laughed at that. She liked to tease him. Make fun of him.

But she didn’t say a thing, she just rolled her eyes and groaned. One hand sank into her smooth hair, grabbing her skull as she was squeezing her eyes together.

He’d never seen her like this before. Tortured like that.

Oh god.

She seemed to be in pain, fingers grabbing the desk hard enough to make the wood crack. Was she sick? Injured?

“I’ll make this quick. Some hunters capture vampires and force them to walk in the sun until they die.” This was mercy, wasn’t it? It’s what he had to do, what he was trained to do.

“Aren’t you a sunshine?” she asked. Her eyes found him again and hunger and insanity seemed to mix in them. He was more enticed than he should’ve been.

He’d been after her for months now, had spent years trying to end her. So many times, he’d been this close.

And he kept hesitating every single time. Sometimes he cursed himself for that. She seemed to be so much better at being his enemy.

“Look, pretty boy.” She looked at him and he noticed that her eyes were bloodshot. “I will decapitate you with my hands and let your head rot on my desk if you don’t leave now.”

“You’re sick.”

“So I’ve been told,” she said.

“No. You’re sick. You’re ill. Something’s wrong.” He took a step towards the desk, watching her hands, her body to detect any signs of danger but she didn’t seem to be capable of fighting right now. Her muscles tensed and relax almost rhythmically. “I can’t kill you when you’re ill.”

Technically, not true.

He took another step towards her, trying to reach her with his hand.

“I’m good with medicine and I have enough knowledge about vampires to help you, just let me—”

He didn’t know exactly why he was acting like an absolute idiot. When it came to her, his brain shut off and showed no signs of going back up.

She snatched his wrist and slammed it into the wall, panting as she pressed him against it once again. Her fangs hovered over his bare skin. He felt her breath on his neck, heavy and fast, and god, he realised how lonely he was.

“You have to go,” she said.

“I’ve never seen you act like this,” he said, his heart hammering in his chest. He concentrated on her body, trying to think of any sickness she could have. Nothing came to mind. “I’ve never seen a vampire act like this.”

“I…” She let her head drop, still panting, still clawing at his wrist. Their chests were touching and he was sure he was going insane when her forehead rested on his shoulder. “I’m trying to starve myself.”

“What?” he whispered, angry at the thought and confused why she would want to do that.

“My niece died three months ago of old age. She was the last of my family. They’re all dead now. I haven’t tasted blood since.”

“Are you insane?! Three months?” Her breath was slowing, her grip loosening. He knew she was probably at the end of her tether, with his heart beating hard enough for the two of them to hear. It probably took all her composure not to make a meal out of him.

“I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I would’ve asked you but…I don’t think you can kill me.”

“Excuse me?”

She raised her head to look up at him.

“No offence,” she said, studying his face. He was probably drenched in red, even though he wanted to play it cool. “Fuck, you’re so adorable…”

He knew how unfair life could be. A long time ago she had mentioned that she never wanted to be a vampire in the first place.

To watch everyone around her die, to be alone for good…he swallowed, touched by how much he could relate to that.

It wasn’t easy, this profession. Most people didn’t make it to their 30s.

“Bite me,” he whispered gently.

“What?”

“Bite me,” he said again. “Please. I’ll beg for it if I have to. Please, help yourself.”

She was tired, he could tell. Maybe that was why she didn’t argue. Her nails dug into his shoulders and if that wasn’t enough to ruin him already, she licked his neck generously, sucking on the spot she wanted. He cursed quietly, trying to hold onto her hips but she was faster and pressed his wrists above his head with one hand.

The other found his jawline and followed it. When she was done with her preparations, she pressed a kiss to the wet spot on his neck and moved on to brush her lips against his.

“Is this really what you want?”

“Might as well have some fun before I kill you, huh?” He chuckled nervously. God, he was rusty. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched like this.

“Don’t get cocky now,” she warned, lifting her knee to press it between his thighs. “Don’t get cocky…”

He groaned, nearly whimpered and leaned his head back, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He wondered if this was how everyone who got bitten by her felt like and that thought alone made him jealous.

He was a starved man, he realised. Starved like her, for other reasons and maybe for the same reason. He had expected her to be ice cold and though her skin was a lot cooler than his, she was comforting.

Being close to her made him feel at peace. It was as if he’d known her in his previous lives, as if this was meant to be. He couldn’t allow himself to think thoughts like that…

“Please…”

“Shhh, my love.” She sucked a hickey into his neck and it slowly dawned on him that she was edging herself. Sucking that blood to the surface, taking her time…or maybe she just wanted to edge him.

Maybe she was just as nervous as he was, maybe she was just as rusty. He couldn’t tell. And he didn’t care. He cursed himself for all the wasted years.

One last time, her tongue went over his skin and then, he felt a sharp pain, followed by sweet release and an overwhelming amount of pleasure.

He wanted to hunt her for eternity, he wanted to hate her, he wanted to call her his undying nemesis so bad but above all, he wanted to fall asleep on her chest with her long fingers buried in his hair.

#THIS TURNED OUT SO ANGSTY NAUR #and so horny??#I had so much fun with this!#also that I post this on the first of July is a coincidence istg I did not wait for pride month to be over to post this #writing snippet #suggestive #vampire x vampire hunter #vampire hunter x vampire #vampire #vampire hunter #f/m

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happilyhertale · 2 years ago

Text

Long Lost Love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader, Part 12

Summary: You are the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra. When the invitation to Aegon and Helaena's wedding came, your entire family rushes from Dragonstone to King's Landing to take part in the festivities. You haven't seen your family in King's Landing for 6 years so you are very excited...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: At the beginning none – eventually smut (uncle/niece)

Author’s note: Hello you! (:

This is my first fic so please be nice (: I thought I'd just try a little self-considered story. I hope u like it.

The events are not entirely similar from the series.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

18+ NSFW

Word count: 4k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7a, Part 7b, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You're speechless.

He stands before you and holds out his hand to you.

Aemond wants to dance with you.

You don't seem to move at first, for some reason you can't move at all. Until Daemon nudges you lightly and barely noticeably with his elbow. He grins slightly without taking his eyes off the goblet he brings to his mouth.

Back in reality, you reach for his hand as if of your own accord. Immediately you feel a fire go through your whole body.

He holds your hand firmly, yet gently in his. He smiles shyly at you and leads you around the table, straight into the crowd. You are still speechless and cannot take your eyes off him.

Aemond dares to stand in the crowd with you, to embrace you and want to dance with you. Ever since he reached out to you, you feel like all the eyes in the hall are on you. You have never seen Aemond so willing to attract the public's attention.

He puts his hand on your waist and presses you tightly against him, his other hand holds your hand up. You put your hand on his shoulder.

You look him in the eye. He visibly swallows. As the music starts, Aemond leads you across the dance floor without a hitch. Every step is on point and you are almost impressed. You feel your body heat up as he guides you across the ball floor. You are lost in his beautiful purple eye and take in his scent. His scent, which you've been missing for days. And yet it seems that none of you dares to speak first.

Until he seeks your gaze with his eye, "Y/N I'm.. so sorry. I'm ashamed... I am ashamed that I made you feel that I was dishonest with you."

He sighs and his gaze flits briefly to the crowd, "That you had to see that kiss... I'm disgusted with myself."

You look at him, tears welling up in your eyes, he continues, "I assure you I pushed her away. Too late… Yes. But I pushed her away." His gaze is firmly fixed on you again.

"You... You pushed her away?", you whisper. He nods at you.

"Alys means nothing to me anymore. There was a time when she was close to me. But… she was never as close to me as you are. Since I found out weeks ago that you were coming here, my thoughts have… have only been about you. My wish to see you again... After all this time. I could think of nothing else but wanting to be close to you again."

You slide even closer to his body as you dance. He holds you close and looks at you gently.

"Yesterday, when I saw how close you were to the Stark Lord... I'm sorry, I couldn't bear it. I had to do something. I wanted to talk to you, but when you stood in front of me, almost crying... I couldn't say anything... I just wanted to hold you in my arms, but I couldn't."

Barely perceptible, he wipes away a tear running down your cheek with his hand.

"And… I haven't slept with you yet because it's important to me that it's perfect for you. Don't get me wrong... I want to make love to you. Oh, only the gods can guess how much I long to sleep with you. But I don't want to sleep with you out of temptation..." you interrupt him, "I don't want a perfect moment, Aemond... I want you."

You almost whisper the end.

He looks at you and barely noticeably shakes his head, "Y/N you don't know what that means. This moment is so important. For a woman even more than for a man. My important moment was in a brothel and it marks me to this day... and not in any positive way... " and again you interrupt him " Aemond... you are my perfect moment. No matter what the situation. With you... it's perfect. I trust you..."

He pauses for a moment. He must smile slightly. He leans lightly towards you and whispers in your ear, "You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now."

You return his slight smile, "Then… just do it", you breathe.

He laughs briefly, "Oh, you really will be the death of me."

You lean against him, your face in the crook of his neck. You inhale his scent. How much you miss this... To be safe in Aemond's arms. Inhaling his unique scent.

Aemond can't help himself either and leans the side of his face carefully against your head.

You don't care what anyone else would say. You have had to do without his touch for too long.

After you have enjoyed your closeness for a while, you ask, "You can dance?"

He chuckles briefly, "Of course I can dance, I'm a prince after all. Just because I don't want to, doesn't mean I can't."

In response you press your face further into the crook of his neck.

"And furthermore, I didn't know any other way to help myself... I had to talk to the princess and… I had no other chance to get close to her...", he whispers softly in your ear.

You remove your face from his neck and look at him.

You have to smile slightly, "Aemond... Let's leave this stupid ball."

He looks at you, "Do I dance that badly?"

You have to laugh, "No. But I want to be alone with you... I've missed you."

He looks almost heartbroken as he finally nods.

He stops leading you across the dance floor and extends his arm to you. You are overjoyed to accept his invitation. As you take his arm, you lean close to his side.

As he leads you out of the hall, there are still a few pairs of eyes on you. Whether because you were dancing or because you were far too close to each other, you don't know.

But you couldn't care less.

Daemon's gaze meets Viserys'. Viserys nods at his brother with a smile and Daemon knows what that means.

He too has noticed how close you were. How much you enjoyed dancing close together.

Daemon has always known that you would have to wed someone someday. But still it pains him. It would be foolish to ignore any longer that you were likely to wed Aemond. What you feel for each other is probably more than a childhood love.

He leans towards Rhaenyra with a sigh and she looks at him, "I think we should prepare for our daughter to come to us soon with a request."

She looks at him questioningly, "What do you mean? Aemond?"

Daemon nods at her. Rhaenyra doesn't look happy, more worried.

Daemon gently takes her hand, "You know, there was nothing our daughter could do about it."

Rhaenyra looks at him.

"She's fallen for her uncle", Daemon smiles at her.

Rhaenyra has to suppress a smile.

"I am afraid for her. I'm not sure he's good for her."

Daemon sighs, "Who would have thought I'd be good for you? Try to look at it this way, the only good swordsman of the Targaryens, besides me of course, will consider it his life's work to protect our daughter."

She looks unconvinced, "Y/N is quite capable of protecting herself."

Daemon kisses her hand, "I am aware of that... But a capable man by her side, that can't hurt. I also think he's different with her. Almost tenderly... hopefully. And I trust her enough not to wed a tyrant."

"Let's hope so", Rhaenyra smiles slightly at Daemon.

After a short while she says to him, "I hope you realise that if he treats her badly, that I'll send you to him?“

He looks at her, one eyebrow raised, "I hope you are aware that I am on my way long before you can even send me."

Rhaenyra kisses Daemon gently.

Aemond has never led you anywhere so quickly.

He opens the door to his chambers and leads you inside. You stand in the middle of his chambers and look at each other. He swallows and reaches out for your hand. He holds it and strokes it gently with his thumb, with his other arm he embraces you. He simply holds you in his arms. You put your arms around his neck, hold yourself tightly against him. A tear leaves your eye. Not out of sadness, but rather out of the relieving feeling of being in his arms. You press your face into the crook of his neck again. A light sob escapes you as you inhale his scent. He just holds you and gently strokes your back.

"I'm so sorry Y/N...", he whispers in your ear. When he notices you sobbing again. Carefully taking your head from his shoulder, he holds your face in his hands and gently strokes away the tears, "No, my Love, please don't cry..."

You sob again, "... I... I thought I would never be here again... In your chambers... Just in your arms..."

He interrupts you with a gentle kiss. He leans his forehead against yours, "I would never have let you go..."

You just nod slightly.

"Come...", carefully he leads you to the bench in front of the fire.

You sit in front of the fire, he holds you tightly in his arms and gently caresses your arm.

Absently he looks into the fire.

You watch him discreetly... You have missed him. His beautiful face. These few days without him were hard for you to bear.

"It's rude to stare," you suddenly hear him say.

You bury your face in his shoulder and he chuckles lightly.

In time, you begin to caress his thigh. You draw light circles on his firm thighs with your fingers. You become more curious... Carefully, you let your fingers slide a little further upwards, still stroking him gently.

Slowly he turns his gaze away from the fire and looks at you from the side. But you do not return his gaze. You continue stroking until you are almost at his crotch. Your heart begins to pound harder and the thought of what you are about to touch makes you bite your lip.

"What are you up to?" he whispers in your ear.

Quietly you reply, "I... I want to do something good for you. You've only given me nice moments so far... beautiful feelings. I want to give you that too."

"Y/N, that was at least as nice for me... To be the first man to give you these feelings."

Nevertheless, you notice how the bulge in his crotch is getting bigger.

You look at him, "I want to be able to experience when you have such… beautiful feelings". He chuckles, gently strokes your cheek and kisses you passionately.

After a while you break the kiss. Unsure how to do it... what to do at all, you bite your lip.

"I'll show you what to do?" he asks you softly.

You nod slowly.

He kisses you again and carefully takes your hand, placing it right on his crotch.

A breath escapes your lips as you feel him. He is already hard. You look at him, he smirks.

He kisses you again and starts to move your hand on his crotch. Slowly you massage his length. You notice how his breathing quickens.

Aemond takes his hand off yours and starts to undo his belt. You continue to massage him, but interrupt the kiss. You want to see him.

He sits up for a moment and pulls his trousers down to the back of his knees. When he leans back again, you see him for the first time.

Unconsciously you swallow and bite your lip. Aemond caresses your cheek and pulls your chin up, he kisses you again. Between kisses he breathes, "Go on, touch him."

You look at him, a little unsure. But you dare, slowly you close your hand around his hard length.

He gasps briefly and closes his eyes. He puts his hand on yours and guides it. Slowly he lets it slide up and down. He squeezes a little harder and tells you, "You can press harder". You follow his lead. As you let your hand wander down his hot length, you notice him getting even bigger and harder.

He begins to moan and lets your hands slide up and down faster. This deep moan sends a wave of arousal through you. You feel yourself getting wet and you press your thighs together to at least try to get some satisfaction.

You take the lead and let your hand slide along him on its own. He groans again and reaches out with his hands beside him. He squeezes your knee, which is lying next to him on the bench. You can't help but kiss him. Greedily he kisses you back. The sounds of your kisses and moans fill his chambers.

Suddenly you notice your fingers getting a little wet. You look down and see little drops coming out of him. A light, clear liquid spreads over your fingers and his hard, pulsating length.

At this sight, the feeling rises in you that you must have more. You look up at him for a moment, his head leaning back, his eye closed. His breathing is rapid and interrupted by moans. He is so beautiful.

"I want to taste you," it escapes you.

He looks up, out of breath. His eye is dark, full of lust. He kisses you passionately.

"Just before I'm done... Then you can taste me...", he replies out of breath.

You look a little irritated, but you nod slowly.

Not for a second did you stop your movement. Aemond puts his head back again.

You look down again and something else occurs to you.

Carefully you slide down to the floor and push his legs a little apart. He looks down at you and gasps, "What are you doing?"

Sitting on your knees between his legs, you look at him, don't answer and just smirk slightly.

Your hand closes around him and you begin to slide it up and down his full length again. A deep grumble arises inside him and he watches you, full of lust.

Slowly you lean forward and you let your tongue wander along his shaft. Aemond moans loudly. When you reach the top, you surround the shaft with your lips and suck gently on it. He hisses, "Oh seven hells..., Y/N!"

With a "plop" you let him slide out, breathing heavily. You look at him, "You have to show me..." he just nods.

He leans in for a moment and kisses you. He lets himself fall back, strokes your cheek lightly with one hand. His hand wanders gently to the back of your head and presses it down lightly.

"Be careful with your teeth. Wrap your lips over your teeth," he whispers.

Your mouth closes around his cock, carefully he pushes your head down and up again. Delicately you let your lips glide over his length. This feeling makes the arousal between your legs flare up even more. You moan out.

Aemond responds with a twitch that travels once through his cock.

He whispers, "Take him... as far... into your mouth... as you can manage. Use...your hand...to help."

You try to take him all the way into your mouth, but he is too big. You gag for a moment, but you don't stop. And again you feel him twitch.

With one hand you grab the part of the length that doesn't fit in your mouth and you start stroking him. You squeeze him lightly and Aemond moans.

He lightly thrusts his hips rhythmically towards you. His hips tremble slightly as he controls the urge to rut into your throat.

A load of wetness leaks out of you and it would be a pure miracle if you didn't already have your underwear completely soaked. With rhythmic movements you try to satisfy your arousal. His breath is getting faster and faster, you can't help but moan again.

You let your mouth slide up and down faster. In your mouth you feel his length growing even bigger and you taste him a little.

You love it.

He carefully takes your free hand and guides it to his balls, he almost whispers between his gasps, "Squeeze them gently."

You follow his instruction. Tenderly you let your fingers wander over his balls, squeezing gently as you suck greedily on his cock. "You look so… beautiful with my cock in your mouth," he whispers breathlessly.

His cock twitches more and more and the grumbling deep in his chest doesn't let up.

His hand first glides gently through your hair until he suddenly grabs hold of you and holds you tightly while his cock disappears almost completely into your mouth. This sight makes him come almost immediately. "Fuck, Fuck... Fuck! Y/N, take him all the way in your mouth... oh Fuuck, take all of me."

Suddenly he grips your hair tighter, his other hand claws into the sofa and you notice a violent twitch go through his balls and cock. You increase the tempo once more and suck eagerly on his cock. Aemond grips your hair even tighter as he inhales sharply, a moan caught in his throat.

His thighs tremble slightly. "In a moment... there will be a liquid in your mouth... swallow what you can..."

Then he moans loudly and your name passes his lips countless times.

With one last thrust from his hip, Aemond squirts his hot cum into your mouth, right down your throat. You have a large amount of liquid in your mouth and you try to swallow it all down. A little liquid runs down your lips, but you don't stop sucking and swallowing until you notice Aemond's grip on your hair loosening.

Slowly you lift your head up and wipe your lips with your hand.

Aemond's head is leaning back, his eye is closed. He gasps to himself, but he smiles.

You look at him for a moment. You have to smile. Carefully you stand up and then straddle his waist. He looks up and smiles at you, his hands find their way to your hips, he caresses you. You kiss each other gently.

"You taste delicious", you say with a smile on your lips.

He laughs briefly.

You kiss him again.

The next morning you wake up in your chambers. Aemond has spent the night in his chambers. You thought it wiser not to spend the night together, as the servants would come early in the morning to fetch your luggage. So that the carriages can be loaded for the hunt.

However, he did not miss the opportunity to accompany you to your chambers and kiss you passionately goodbye as well as gently caress your cheek.

You have to smile at the thought of your last evening. To feel him... and tasting... it was indescribably beautiful.

The heaviness of the last few days that lay on your chest has almost disappeared. You were hurt and yet missed Aemond at the same time. You are still not comfortable with Alys presence at court. You would prefer it if she would just leave.

But now Aemond is by your side again. You know how he feels about Alys and that nothing happened between them. At least not in the last few days... and apart from that kiss... You push the thought aside.

And again, you have to think of all the accidents that can happen during a hunt in the forest, and that makes the feeling of Alys presence a little more bearable.

Yet he went to the effort of dancing with you in public and explaining himself.... You're glad he reached out to you. And that your father talked to you. Almost stood up for Aemond...

You are jolted out of your thoughts when there is a knock at your door

"Yes?" you call out.

The door opens and four servants step inside. They curtsey slightly and the one speaks to you "Princess Y/N, we are to fetch your clothes and other things to load them into the carriages."

You slowly sit up in bed, "Yes, that's fine. There are two boxes next to the door. Please take them and load them."

The servants curtsey again and take the boxes. After you have bathed and dressed, you go to breakfast.

Your family is already gathered and light conversation fills the hall. Aemond is also at the table and your eyes meet.

You have to smile and bite your lower lip lightly. Even as you look away, Aemond is still looking at you with a smile.

Daemon notices and looks at you with a raised eyebrow as you sit down next to him. You kiss his cheek lightly, followed by a quiet "Daddy."

After a few more glances between you and Aemond, Daemon decides to tease you.

He looks at you from the side and turns to the family, "Did everyone have a restful sleep?"

You look at him confused. Even your mother looks at him irritated, "Since when do you care whether your fellow men have slept well?"

He shrugs slightly, "I don't know, I was walking along the corridor leading to the princes' chambers last night and heard unusual noises. So I was worried that not everyone had had a relaxing night's rest."

You choke slightly and have to cough, your gaze goes forward to Aemond. His eye is wide open, but he quickly regains his composure and looks unimpressed.

You look at your father, who smiles at you.

He wasn't near the chambers last night, why should he be? But he wanted to know if you were there. Just as you are about to answer, you hear Aemond's voice.

"Thank you for asking uncle, but don't worry, I really was able to sleep very relaxed."

Everyone at the table is now looking in Aemond's direction. No one says anything. Aegon even looks relatively amused and drinks his wine with relish. There is far too much surprise that Aemond and Daemon are talking to each other.

Daemon has to suppress a chuckle and replies, "Yes, I can imagine that only too well."

You look down at your plate and try to finish your breakfast as quickly as possible.

While standing in the courtyard, you watch absently as the carriages are loaded.

Your brothers look forward to the hunt. Your father does the same and looks forward to the wine.

Drinking wine, riding through the woods and killing animals. Except for the wine drinking, it doesn't sound very enticing to you.

Suddenly you hear a soft "My Love" in your ear. You turn around and see Aemond. You blush slightly, without knowing exactly why. Aemond has to smile in response.

You stand close together, "You'll come hunting as well?"

He nods slightly, "Of course. I am the king's son. My brother and sister are to be celebrated with this hunt... And I can't leave you alone in the wilderness after all." He smiles at you. Oh how you missed that smile.

"Well, she's not all alone, I'm still here too."

Aemond's jaw stiffens and as you look over Aemond's shoulder you see Rob.

"Rob," you smile at him. He smiles back and winks at you.

"Mmm, that's right. There are still dogs needed for the hunt", Aemond turns slowly in Rob's direction, his hand resting on your lower back. You whisper warningly to him, "Aemond..."

Rob chuckles slightly, "That's all right. After all, women like to bring the dogs to bed with them at night. That keeps them... warm".

You notice how Aemond stiffens. You also notice how the whole situation recharges.

"Rob? I'll see you later, yeah?", Rob smiles and gives you a quick nod.

You take Aemond by the arm and lead him away.

You stop in front of the royal carriages, the first ones already boarding them.

Aemond caresses your cheek.

You lean into the touch, "I don't like that we can't travel together."

He chuckles softly, "I'll see you when we arrive."

You nod at him. Aemond's gaze wanders briefly and no one seems to be looking, he takes your hand and gently kisses the inside of your wrist. You smile.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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mrsmarlasinger · 1 year ago

Text

The surreal thing about the Titan submersible: unless someone pulls off a miraculous last-minute rescue, when we all wake up tomorrow, those five men will be dead.

I mean, assuming they haven't already hyperventilated the last of their oxygen or imploded in a hull failure event.

It's currently June 22nd, 1:48 AM, MDT. If they're still alive, they will not be within the next...what, three hours? Give or take. And it would take hours to get the sub to the surface if it were found miles underwater, so if it's at the bottom of the sea, that really gives the rescuers...I don't know, like, maybe an hour to pull off the impossible?

These men are about to cross the event horizon.

When the banging sounds were first reported, it blew my fucking mind. I'd been certain that they were dead already, or that if they weren't, they would be soon. Without question. Then came this bizarre, impossible glimmer of hope. And I thought, if those sounds really were occurring at thirty-minute intervals, if it really was the Titan passengers, then maybe—maybe—they had a chance.

But they just...don't. Let's be realistic: they're about to die. We know this. We know for a fact that their time is about to run out.

And I know people are angry about the Missing White Woman Syndrome feel of it all. It would make for such on-the-nose satire. Five wealthy men have the world on pins and needles; where was that energy when hundreds of refugees drowned off the coast of Greece a week ago?

It frustrates me that I'm so invested in the Titan sub. It's like the entire incident was orchestrated for the sole purpose of grabbing attention (of course I don't believe that's the case). The very premise of the sub is tauntingly ridiculous—so very blatantly an expensive suicide. I saw someone compare it to an Onion article, and it IS.

The shitty video game controller, the ominous waiver, Stockton Rush's portentous comments (hell, even his name), the toilet sat right in front of that tiny dollhouse window. The absurd price tag paired with a history of failed dives and an OceanGate employee fired and sued years ago for raising safety concerns.

God, it's so dumb. It's so so fucking dumb. In real life, what we'd call "foreshadowing" is really just actions→consequences. But still. Still. It reads like sitcom writers setting the dominos for a season finale, tirelessly working to maximize memeability so we can all point and laugh with our popcorn.

The sheer pointless, brainless, wasteful extravagance of it all makes it easy to forget how horrific and tragic the ordeal really is. It grants us some strange permission to rubberneck.

And, well, who wouldn't want to rubberneck? The drama. Horror movie levels of repulsion. Any fear you can imagine—the dark, the cold, the ocean, suffocation, confined spaces, death—all wrapped into one perfect, cinematic nightmare. It's a black comedy: dumbassery punished by a fate we don't, shouldn't, wish even on billionaires.

Then, of course, there is the deadline. Pun not intended.

That, I think, is what's really gripped us. The limited oxygen supply is a countdown, a ticking time bomb. Ten minutes left in the movie—can the protagonist pull off a daring escape in time?

God, I know I sound like one of those crisis actor conspiracy theorists, but you couldn't manufacture a more gripping story if you tried. That hard figure we've seen in every news article: 96 hours. Ninety-six hours to save the day.

Can you see the Netflix docudrama now? The cuts to a black screen with the remaining number of hours emblazoned in the center? "If we don't find that sub tonight, those men are dead," some intrepid rescuer says...a split second of grave silence...then the scene goes black, except for a line of heavyweight white text that reads, in all caps, "SIX HOURS REMAINING." Next we'll see a heart-wrenchingly candid conversation between the passengers, for character development.

You know Channel 5 is airing a documentary about the Titan in the UK tomorrow. Tonight, actually, since I guess it's technically Thursday morning. The countdown was so hard-set, ITN calculated the exact hour at which they could broadcast their production. The perfect moment for them to capitalize on that post-curtains melancholy we all get at the end of a movie.

It's crass, but fascinating, too. Is ITN going to acknowledge their production timeline by leaving the documentary's ending ambiguous, a choice which will ring bittersweet when aired in the aftermath of the inevitable deaths? Will they scramble to concoct an ending in those mere hours after the passengers asphyxiate? Have they already made two endings: one in case of a miracle, and one in case of a tragedy? Any answer is soulless.

But all of this is soulless. The Titan is our gladiator fight, our bread and circuses. Still, I can't stop staring, because I cannot wrap my head around it. It's 3:30 AM now. Within hours, they will be dead, sure as an execution.

Few news stories come with such a grim deadline. Almost always it's a nail-biting rescue whose twists and turns we follow until some hitherto-unpredictable endpoint; or a sprawling clusterfuck of tragedy trailed by aftermath upon aftermath; or a search for a missing person that eventually meanders into a quiet presumption of death.

The certainty blows my mind—the finality of it, the tragedy of it, is incomprehensible. It doesn't feel real. Why do I care so much? Those men were dead from the start (if not literally, then certainly figuratively). Why do I keep reading about it, posting about it? Why can't I stop watching the car wreck smolder? What am I doing still standing in the street?

I hate that I fell prey to the submarine story like everyone else with an internet connection. But whatever deity may or may not exist got bored, I guess, and crafted the dramedy-action-horror hybrid of the year. Even wove in little cliffhangers (the banging! On the sonobuoys! There's still time!) to string us along like a damn HBO producer.

It gets me, man.

It's 4:00 AM, MDT. I guess it's really over, huh? I know 96 hours was never an exact deadline, but let's not be idealistic here.

I hope it was quick. I hope they imploded in a single terrible instant.

I hope the next sunken boat of six hundred refugees wins as much attention as the Titan did.

I hope Netflix doesn't make that docudrama with the black screen and the all-caps line of heavyweight white text.

I hope we sleep. I hope I sleep. I hope we all can sleep.

#titanic #oceangate #titanic submarine #titan submarine #titan #ocean gate #missing submarine #submarine #death #june 2023 #current events #suicide mention

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darklydeliciousdesires · 5 months ago

Text

Light on the Darkside - An Original Story.

Well, guys, here it is! I've been planning this premise for a while, but very recently the pieces of it all fell together, the main characters virtually materialised by themselves, and here we have it. I won't lie, it will be quite dark for the first couple of chapters, and if you are easily triggered by depression, suicide or anorexia, I'd give it a miss, but I have injected a lot of love and heart into it, and some comic moments as well. It does start to lighten considerably by the third chapter.

I had to AI my main characters in their appearance, unfortunately, since I can't really find anyone in reality to face claim them to.

So, here we go. Please remember to be kind and give me a reblog on this, as original fiction is so very overlooked on this site, any help promoting it would be greatly appreciated. I would love to hear your thoughts, too!

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 4,137

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

The fateful swing of a pendulum; some say it is as precarious as this, the thing that bridges the gap between life and death. Swing too far and the darkness engulfs you forever, eternal sleep settling over a body, whether willingly or not. Not enough, and it swings you back into the light, again, whether willingly or not.

For James Kingston, on the 21st of March, 1997, it wasn’t willingly.

The wings of death had opened to him, shrouded him in the alluring caress of her inky, feathered shadows, enveloped and lifted his consciousness away from it all. His body should have followed.

It hadn’t.

“James Nathaniel Kingston, twenty-three years old, found almost asphyxiated on the bathroom floor by the 999 caller twenty minutes ago. Both forearms slashed and approximately thirty co-codamol and twenty ibuprofen tablets imbibed with half a bottle of tequila.”

Light. Dark. Noise. So much noise. Pressure lifted from his arms, applied once again when the wounds began to gush. More shouting. A light shined into his eyeballs in turn. A tube down his throat.

“Just let me fucking go.”

It had been quiet, where he’d temporarily found himself. Quiet and devoid of everything, exactly what he wished for, a slither of peace finally filling the void of emptiness that had opened within him to such an extent, nothing could fill it comfortably. And god, how he’d attempted to.

In the end, the burden of existence had weighed upon him with an immovable, unfathomable pressure, his resolve breaking, toppling, his foundations crumbling like an ancient tower under the brutal duress of a wrecking ball. Slipping into it, he’d taken the large knife, just about coherent enough to open both arms and watch the river of red flow, witness his life draining out in a gush of crimson that glittered sticky over his dark clothes.

Vomit, a surge of it exiting his mouth into a receptacle held by a man in hospital clothing, telling him not to fight it. Charcoal. God, that was foul. He’d been so close, happily floating his way into the eternal embrace of death. How dare they interfere with it.

“James, come on. Lie back, buddy. Let the tube go.”

Heaving again, he yanked it from his throat, his fist connecting with the doctor’s face, vomit and blood splashing all over. Hands pushed against him, held him down.

“I need all available staff in here to hold him still!”

Oh, no. “Get the fuck off me!” His booted foot lashed out, connected with someone, something, a yelp sounding, his bloodied forearm hitting a nurse in her throat. “Get off me or I’ll fucking break your neck!”

Multiple hands fought against his thrashing, the tube plunged back into his throat. More charcoal. More vomit. “Okay, his stomach is clear. Sedate him so we can actually stitch his arms up.”

It took six members of the A&E staff to hold him still, until the effects of the drugs injected into his system sent him back into a world of pure, beautiful black, his body stilling. He was finally under control, his blood type attained, three units of AB negative lined into his arm, the nurse who he’d kicked in the chest beginning to stitch him up.

She showed him all the care he likely wouldn’t have thanked her for, remarking to herself that what she was witnessing was no simple cry for help. This young man, he’d wanted death, sought it avidly, the cuts she stitched so deep, she was surprised he’d survived going on those alone. Twenty-three and he was so weary with whatever he carried mentally, he’d only seen this, something so horrific, as a viable exit plan.

In the waiting room, two of his friends were seated, the young men revealing a little background on him when she’d gone out to give them the relieving news that he’d survived. They were members of the same band, a band who by all accounts was just beginning to take off, James the lead guitarist of the outfit named Nocturnal Descent.

She’d tentatively asked if they had any clue why he’d done it. The taller of the two, with full sleeves of tattoos and two bleached streaks in the front of his long, dark hair had shaken his head. “He’s a bit moody sometimes, bad tempered an’ all. Unless he’s been drinking then he’s larger than life, but nah. Nothing that’s made me think he’s about to do himself in. He cuts himself sometimes, likes the pain, he’s into the whole blood letting thing and whatever, but nah. No idea.”

Witnessing the older scars that flecked his arms, she could believe that.

“He’s been quiet for a bit,” the other man had confirmed, while he’d sat picking at one of his long, ginger dreadlocks. “Wasn’t nothing that made us wonder if he was alright or not. Just gets like that sometimes. Especially when he’s tired. Jim likes his sleep.”

How close he’d come to finding that eternally, the nurse thought, finishing up her stitching. She then cut him out of his vomit stained, blood drenched clothes, giving him a little wash down so at least he was fresh and comfortable when he did finally come around.

“God, fella,” she marvelled, “I’d bloody kill for your hair.” Poker straight, jet black and only a few inches from reaching his waist. He likely did little to keep it so beautiful, too, such was the injustice there when men possessed lovely hair, or amazing legs, and it not be anything they particularly put an effort into.

“Well, that’s you all sorted. I certainly hope you’re more pleasant than you were before when you wake up again.” With that, she left him there in the room he’d been moved to in the side ward, likely to remain until he was assessed by doctors. Bodily, he’d need some time to heal and recover from the physical trauma of attempting suicide, but it’d be what was going on up in his head that would be subject to the deeper assessment.

It was an hour before he finally began to come around a little, able to hear voices outside of the room he was in. He groaned faintly, his thoughts all plummeting down into the very depths of the dark once more.

“Fuck. Still alive. Steve’s a prick.”

Steve, he guessed, had likely been the one who’d found him and called an ambulance. It wouldn’t have been Snedders, who’d already been too stoned to move more than three feet when James had decided to lock himself in the bathroom and end it all.

No, once Liam ‘Snedders’ Snedderley hit the weed, his speed decreased to that of a tranquilised sloth. Amazing really, for a man who could drum with such velocity, a whirlwind of ginger dreadlocks swirling as he did. This? It was definitely Steve. His best mate, who at that particular moment he loathed.

“Just wanted to die, but no. Selfish bastard couldn’t even let me have that. Top grade twat.”

Whether there’d be a time to come where he’d lighten such hostility, he didn’t know, attempting to lift his arm and scratch his nose but finding he couldn’t. Opening his eyes, the lights of the room obnoxiously bright, he grumbled, looking down to see his bandaged arms both fastened into wrist restraints.

“Usually got a bird on my cock when I’m bound up.” His thoughts were accompanied by a little smirk that quickly faded, tuning his ears to the voices coming from outside of his room. “Ahh, fuck. The duchess is here.” He’d recognise the shrill tones of his mother even through a lead lined box.

And she was on form, as usual.

“It's this whole scene he’s gotten himself into, that’s what’s brought it on! He started listening to this black metal nonsense when he was fourteen, had started a band by sixteen and now his entire life revolves around the darkness of it!”

The doctor she was talking at rather than to cleared his throat, wanting to at least attempt a little diplomacy in how he handled the balance of fact, and remaining tactful with a woman whose son had just made a serious attempt on his own life. “Mrs. Kingston, it’s a little more complex than that when we are dealing with clinical depression, of which I am inclined to suspect your son is suffering from severely, should we take his actions into consideration.”

Her ranting to the contrary continued. Truly, nobody knew it all like Carole Kingston, James lying there wishing he’d stabbed himself in the ears so he didn’t have to listen to her. His music was his solace, something he could pour the darkness within himself into, make the noise in his head and the bleakness in the epicentre of him a little more bearable to deal with. She’d never hear that reasoning, though. Never hear him.

“Carole,” he heard his father speak tersely, not even needing to witness him to know that he was likely pinching the bridge of his nose after removing his glasses. It was an Alan Kingston go to when aggravated. “You know he’s gotten a lot better since he started the band. The doctor is right, though. I think it’s been going on longer than we wanted to admit.”

Thank fuck his dad wasn’t working nights and he wouldn’t have to deal with his mother alone, with his head torn to pieces. That strong Liverpudlian lilt that most found either comedic or grating never failed to soothe him.

“For how long, would you say, Mr. Kingston?”

“Ahh, probably since he was about eleven or twelve, you know. We just thought it was teenage hormones, moodiness. They didn’t talk about it when we were kids, all this depression stuff, so we didn’t really know it was that we were dealing with. Well, I think I always had an inclining, but I just shoved it down, you know. He needs us to acknowledge it now, so we can get him well. Whatever that looks like going forward.”

“I want him back home with us,” she spoke hotly, “where I can keep a flippin’ eye on him!”

“Should’ve definitely gone for a fucking noose.” James thought darkly, actually snorting a small burst of laughter through his groggy state.

“Carole, he’s twenty-three,” Alan began in reasoning, “he’s a grown adult. You can’t babysit him every last second of the day.”

He smiled at that. At least his dad always fought his corner.

“I’m afraid that likely won’t be an option for him currently. He needs to be further assessed once his sedation wears off, but I personally will be recommending that James is sectioned under the mental health act.”

“Sectioned?” Carole spluttered, her mouth dropping wide. “You want to throw my son in some asylum? And what the bloody hell has he been sedated for?”

“Woo, I get to go to the funny farm,” he thought, his thoughts raining sarcasm. “Better than wrath of the mother, though.” Sarcasm was the drug-addled response, his temper placated enough not to begin vying for escape at the thought of being committed against his will.

Out in the corridor, his father feared for whoever was charged in actually moving him to the psychiatric facility he knew James would likely end up in, though. He might have been slight, but he was all lithe muscles and long limbs at six feet three. And god, he’d seen his son fight before when finally growing a backbone against his school bullies.

Sedated might be the best way to keep him, as much as it pained him, knowing his precious boy only had confinement and a course of medication that would probably zombify him in his immediate future.

“Mrs. Kingston, James was in quite a state while having his stomach pumped. He became extremely violent with a number of staff members attempting to treat him, so sedation was the only logical course.”

Sedation and restraint, his wrists burning beneath the padded leather cuffs that tethered him to the bed. Well, he had kicked one nurse in the chest and threatened a second with breaking her neck, he could just about remember. He felt bad about that. While he might have been a brawler when presented with anything that threatened him, James had never, ever been the type to hurt a woman.

Quite the opposite, he liked to think.

Women and his treatment of them were the last of his worries at that moment, though, listening for a little longer to what the doctor had to say before succumbing to the need to doze. He felt tired down to his bones. When he did come around again, he saw his dad he sat sitting at his bedside, Alan smiling wearily at him. In all of this, he was the last person he’d wanted to hurt. Truly though, he’d thought of little else as his life had faded upon the bathroom floor. Only his elation to leave it behind.

“It’s quiet. Where’s the duchess?”

At least his sense of humour was intact. “Gone to get herself a cuppa,” he confirmed, shuffling his chair closer as he reached to rest a hand on his arm. “Scared the bloody life out of me, you did. How you feeling now, kidda?”

“Sick, but not like I want to throw up or anything.”

Alan nodded, his forehead creasing with a deep line of concern. “Not surprising, with the number of tablets they had to pump out of your stomach.” His eyes saddened, thumb pressing against his inner elbow. “Why’d you do it, lad? You know you can always come and talk to your old man here, if you’re not feeling right, eh? Always said that, haven’t I?”

His mouth twitched, James trying to find a way to word it that wouldn’t hurt his dad more than he already was. Truly, there was little adequate recourse to the truth of the matter. “Just don’t wanna be alive no more, dad. It’s fucking meaningless, innit?”

“Here now,” he soothed, his hand reaching to grip his shoulder. “Don’t you say that, me lad. Got the bloody world at your feet, eh? The band’s starting to take off, you’re out there doing what you want to do. It’s got all the meaning in the world, mate.”

He sighed through his nose, his eyes falling down to momentarily gaze upon where he was restrained. “Nah. Don’t feel like that. Just feel fucking empty, dad.”

“Well, that’s apparent. The doctor thinks he knows why, and I happen to agree with him. Getting it through to your mother, though, different story. As you might guess.” He paused for a second, drawing himself up a little taller in his seat. “They think you’ve got clinical depression, kidda. If I’m honest, I reckon you’ve had it a while, you know. I blame myself, for seeing it and not doing anything, watching you become withdrawn and all that.”

James shrugged. “Ain’t your fault. Just the way I am, innit?”

“It doesn’t have to be, mate,” Alan stated, James seeing it there in his face, the fear, the anguish he’d caused. And he was still here putting him through it. Yeah. Fuck Steve for calling that ambulance. Fuck himself, too, for being like this in the first place and putting people through all of the worry. “They can treat it with pills, try and mend whatever it is in your head that’s broken. It doesn’t have to be like this, eh?”

“Wouldn’t be like this at all if people just let me die, like I want to.” He didn’t say that aloud, though, staying silent for a few moments, his eyes flitting over to the other side of the room.

“You want me to leave you alone for a bit, son?”

“Nah,” he sighed, turning back to his dad. “Can you undo these straps, though?”

“Can’t, mate,” he lamented, “you pose what they’re calling a significant violence risk. Apparently, you went full Vinnie fucking Jones on the team who were trying to save your life. Little shite.”

You little shite; it had been his dad’s go to since he was about three whenever he played up. His mouth twitched, something resembling a small smile curling the corner of his full lips. “Ain’t that little no more though.”

“Yeah, the nurse with a boot shaped bruise coming up between her knockers knows all about that!”

He puffed his cheeks, eyes widening a little. “Doubt I’m popular.”

“I’m sure she’s had worse than that in her time, kidda.”

“Yeah, but kicking her in the tits?” James exclaimed, snorting a little laugh. “That ain’t my style, dad. Not unless they like it a bit rough.”

The little snap of teeth his son followed that statement with had Alan wheezing with quiet laughter. “Bad lad. I’ll never bloody forget you coming down the stairs with that girl Helena, and the poor lass is doing her best to cover the bloody bite marks all over her chest with her hair. And then your mother sees ‘em and gives you the death glare. ‘So, you’ve been up there shagging all afternoon, have you?’ she shouts, and I’m sitting there trying not to laugh at the smug look on your face.”

God, Helena. That had been a while ago, the girl he’d been with for just over a year at sixteen. “Said she looked like someone had flung her in a piranha tank.”

Alan’s wheezing amped up considerably at that, a small slither of relief settling in him to see his boy smiling a little. It was a momentary reprieve in a harrowing situation. God, if Steve hadn’t been there. Alan had hugged him tightly upon arriving in the waiting room, thanking him over and over for kicking the bathroom door down and acting quickly, clearing the vomit from his mouth, wrapping his arms in towels and calling an ambulance. He’d saved him. He’d always been a good lad, Steve.

“Look at you now, though. Grinning like an idiot, being that smug little shite I love with all my bloody heart, mate. Can’t be that bad all the time, can it?”

James didn’t blame his dad for seeking out a silver lining at all, although the truth wasn’t so simple. “Doesn’t matter, dad. I can be onstage with the band, out drinking, biting on tits while I’m shagging some girl ragged, laughing my arse off and all that, but underneath I’m still the same. Still got all this shit I can’t get rid of.”

“I just don’t understand it,” he huffed, scratching his thick beard. No. And that was the problem. Nobody did. “We’re going to get you some help though. You just need to sit tight with it. You aren’t going to like this one bit, lad, but there’s talk of having you sectioned. I think the doctor wants to have you further assessed and they’ll go from there, but personally I think it’s the best place for you right now.”

“Do I have any say in that?”

His mouth straightened into a thin line, shaking his head. “No, son. Chasing thirty co-codamol and twenty ibuprofen tablets with half a bottle of San Jose and then opening up both your bloody arms takes that away from you. You need help, James. Help I don’t think you’d actively go and seek on your own.”

The hidden undertones were clear, rippling in worry just below his father’s strong surface. If he was allowed to leave the hospital of his own volition, he’d simply go and finish himself off and actually accomplish it. It was true, too. James had already earmarked the motorway bridge over the M6, should he find his way out of the looming threat of being sectioned. He doubted he’d survive a truck smacking into him at seventy miles an hour.

The door opened, revealing his mother, a steaming paper cup in her grasp. As soon as her eyes found his, she did what he least expected. She sobbed. He was expecting rage, a tirade, a full-blown stream of haranguing. For that moment, at least, it didn’t materialise, Carole striding around to the other side of the bed and placing her tea down, her throat pinched as she cried, reaching for him and stroking his hair as she kissed his forehead repeatedly.

“You, and it, and you could have...” Only squeaks followed, Carole hugging his head as she broke down. “You nearly died, James! You nearly flippin’ well died, you silly bloody thing! Why did you do it, love? What happened?”

He winced, feeling slightly smothered, the scent of her very strong perfume a little too much for his senses as she continued to hug him. “Like I just said to dad, it’s how I feel all the time. Just hollow, innit. Don’t wanna be here.”

Straightening, her hands went to her hips, cocking her head. “That’s bloody absurd!”

Oh, here she was.

“Carole,” her husband warned, “go easy. He doesn’t need chewing out right now.”

“I beg very much to differ!” Turning back to her eldest, she stared at him with wide eyes, James desiring nothing more than wishing he could unfasten himself and put some distance between them. “James, you need to snap out of this. Acting glum is one thing, but trying to kill yourself, without a second thought for your family?”

“Carole,” Alan spoke again, looking exasperated.

“It’s all this bloody black metal, isn’t it? Corpse paint and death! Bleakness and sorrow, you’re bringing it on yourself!”

Alan was just about to speak, his son getting in first. “Mum, I love you to bits, I do. That isn’t anything to do with it. Stop looking for things to blame it on. I’m not happy and I could listen to all that pop music shit like Sam does and it wouldn’t make a fucking difference, I-”

“Language!” she cut in with.

“Oh, piss off!”

“Don’t you bloody talk to me like that, my boy!” she raged through her tears, Alan standing up and moving quickly to her side of the bed.

“Come on, this isn’t happening now. He ain’t in the state to hear you being irrational. Go wait outside for me. Drink your tea and have a ciggie, calm down a bit, eh.” Picking up the paper cup, he steered his wife in the direction of the door, shushing her when she made further attempts at protest. “I know you’re upset, petal, but this isn’t about you. Go on, now.”

Shutting the door, he turned back to the bed, taking a very deep breath. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks, dad,” he confirmed, the unpleasant feeling in his stomach that his mother’s tirade had left beginning to sink again. It wasn’t her fault really; she was just very highly strung. She only did it because she loved her children deeply, but he and his younger sister Sam did often feel either stifled or prickled by Carole’s particular brand of parenting. “Can you do something else for me?”

“Of course I can, lad.”

He beckoned with a little jerk of his head. “Can you scratch my nose, just above the piercing? It’s driving me more mental than I already am.”

Alan beamed, wheezing a soft laugh. “Must be, kidda.” Reaching, he scratched at his nose, patting his cheek gently once done before he sat down again. “I remember when you did that. Ice, a whacking great bit darning needle, and blood all over the sink. Daft sod, eh.”

A doctor came in to check on him not long afterwards, telling him that for the immediate moment, he was being restrained under the mental health act on a temporary hold, subject to further assessment come the morning. He wouldn’t be allowed out of his restraints, or transferred to a ward. He would stay where he was until a bed was found at a psychiatric facility, the doctor assuring him they’d attempt to find somewhere within the Warwickshire area.

His dad only stayed a further ten minutes after that, James feeling woozy again after being administered a sleeping pill, the doctor feeling it best for him to stay medicated in order to rest after his ordeal.

“I’ll come by tomorrow on me dinner break to see you. Love you all the world, lad.”

Not being particularly affectionate, he didn’t expect to hear the same back, but the smile his son gave confirmed it. Poor kid, he truly couldn’t comprehend just how bent out of shape he was at that moment, but he could at least take some comfort in the fact that the problem he’d tried to pretend didn’t exist for so long was finally being treated.

As for James, all he could do as he fell into a synthetically delivered sleep was despair that he was still there to be treated at all.

#original fiction #original stories #romance fiction #romance stories #smutty fic #tw: suidice #tw: depression #tw: anorexia

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