#i've definitely named the city before i left | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yoongihan · 9 months ago

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You Left A Mark - LYB - OneShot

pairing: felix x female reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

romantic trope: soulmates (inspiration from this reel)

word count: 10k

rating: M for smut, a little language

warnings: cursing, penetrative sex (unprotected), kissing, cuddling, so much touching but it's FELIX, an excessive amount of felix admiration, mc is a reporter and i make up all of that because i know nothing, ages are never mentioned but felix is a few years younger than mc, mc is shorter than felix, silly use of skz song titles for the names of venues. i can't think of anything else that might need a headsup, please let me know if i've missed something.

a/n: fic #2 in skz as romantic tropes collab with @jl-micasea-fics. the soulmate trope i use is one i encountered here (it's a great fic and i'd highly recommend it) and i have no idea if it originated anywhere else. don't click if you don't want to be spoiled, my fic explains how it works about half way through.

It was, in appearance, just another work day like any other.

In truth, just another work day tended to be not like any other work day as your job entailed reporting the news, which means you could be anywhere in the city in any kind of situation. Your job probably seems exciting to the regular person, but more often than not, it’s dealing with the news anchors’ larger than life egos and your producer not allowing you to cover much more than fluff pieces.

You like fluff pieces, you do. The world is a big hot mess of negativity and darkness and reporting on a child who saved a hamster is definitely a small bright light in that void. But you also care about the dark things, the horrors big and small that need to be announced so that maybe someone can do something about them.

But you aren’t there yet. According to your boss and her boss. You are still growing as a reporter, as a television personality (wtf?), and the latest showdown at the courthouse is to be covered by seasoned professionals.

Not little you and your four years of effort and hard work (not even counting the internship).

But you digress.

You’re in front of the newest coffeehouse in one of the smaller neighborhoods. Taste is the simple name and it looks more like a sleek, modern cocktail bar than a cozy coffee shop. Austere and intimidating if you aren’t someone who can look put together (which you often aren’t).

“So for those interested in a new type of caffeine experience,” You start to close your segment after speaking with the owner and manager. “This place is definitely for you. The coffee mocktails themselves would require multiple visits before you try them all. So come by and have a ‘Taste.’” You smile as brightly as you can despite the cringe-worthy pun, but before your cameraman (one of your favorite humans on the planet, Chan) can call cut, you are bowled into by someone running past.

Part of your professional attire sometimes includes heels and as it is a particularly nice day that doesn’t require too much traversing, you wear heels. Which give no stability when being bumped by someone careening down the street.

“Hey!” you hear Chan say but you can only concentrate on trying to keep upright (a losing battle) and you hold onto the microphone because compared to your body, the mic will cost more to replace.

But you don’t fall. You don’t feel the hard smack of the concrete against your skin.

Hands are wrapped around your upper arms, grip firm and steady.

“You okay?”

You try to regain your balance, find your footing in these insensible but pretty heels. “I��m okay, I'm fine.” You turn your head to see your would-be rescuer and have to blink a few times.

Okay, freckles.

He smiles. This guy of probably mid-twenties, warm russet eyes, with black hair is smiling at you once you’re standing on your own merit. He releases you, but not without a quick pat as though to say ‘there you go, you got it’.

“Thank you.”

His cheeks redden. “Oh, um, you’re welcome.” There’s an accent to his words, but you’re still rather gobsmacked by the entire exchange to place it.

“You alright?” Chan has moved to the both of you, eyes quickly inspecting you as though you might hide any injuries even though you didn’t fall. “It was some kid.”

There’s a deep sigh from your rescuer. “Yeah, he stole some of the chocolates we keep by the POS.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I…well, it’s just chocolate.” His smile is less brilliant and more sheepish. “He probably needed it.”

“Chocolate is not a necessity,” you reply immediately, but then pause and rethink your words.

“It might be.” He smiles again. “It’s pretty good chocolate.”

You shrug. “That’s fair…wait, we caught a crime on camera?” you ask Chan. “Amazing.” You brush yourself off even though you really aren’t covered in debris because again, you didn’t actually fall. But this guy’s attention is throwing you off just a bit.

“I caught you nearly falling on your face,” Chan says before laughing at your glare. “I’ll edit it out.”

“Whatever,” You aren’t really annoyed because it’s Chan and you did nearly fall on your face. “Thank you, again, Mr….”

“I’m Felix,” your rescuer says. “I work here.” He reaches out to move a wayward piece of your hair out of your eyes, his finger brushing along your cheekbone. It makes you pause in your attempt at gratitude because you’re not really bothered. Like he’s a stranger and is touching you and you don’t mind? Because he has a nice, sweet face? “Sorry, you had some hair…”

You can sense Chan moving away, packing up the camera, leaving you relatively alone with this person.

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” You stutter a little because you’re off your game. “Felix. At some point, I owe you a drink.”

“Oh no, it’s not a–”

“I owe you a drink.” You smile, though it’s your television smile because you need to be professional even if you feel the least professional. “Even if it’s just a coffee.” You gesture to Taste. “If you want.”

The smile returns in full. “Yeah, okay. I’m here most days.” His lips part like he might say more, but he doesn’t. Nor do you.

It’s nice just looking at him. The sun-warmed skin that contrasts with the inky black of his hair and eyebrows. He’s taller than you, but there’s no intimidation factor in the difference. He feels like someone you could meet anywhere and approach without worry.

You bet he gets great tips as a barista. Imagine walking in to get a coffee and that luminescent smile.

You hear Chan call your name in an attempt to get you to head back to the studio. It shakes you out of the strange reverie this stunning, deep-voiced person has you in.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you.”

He waves as you walk away before tucking his hands into his back pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet. It’s now that you notice that he wears the half-apron other employees were wearing, black pants and emerald shirt (a t-shirt, but like a really nice one). You glance back once you’re in the news van with Chan who chuckles.

“Isn’t he a bit young for you?”

You look back at the road and huff. “Aren’t you a little too interested?” You grab a granola bar out of your bag and take a bite, sighing happily.

“Not at all. I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that though.”

“God, he’s cute, alright. And saved my job because I doubt I could keep reporting with a broken face.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too–”

“I can murder you, you know,” you interrupt. “No one would suspect because I know things. I’ve watched a lot of Criminal Minds.”

He presses his lips together, but is grinning. “Ooooo, scary.”

“Exactly.” You roll your eyes, your mind briefly leaving the cute barista and returning to all that is work.

–

When you get home that night, he pops into your brain again. The pretty, voice as deep as the ocean, Felix.

But not for the normal reasons one would ponder a good-looking acquaintance.

He pops into your brain when you undress in your bathroom in order to take a much desired shower. In the corner of your eye, you see your reflection when you remove your shirt. There, in marked contrast to your skin, is the beginnings of the darkest bruise you’ve ever seen.

“What the–” You turn to examine it better, spooked by it when you had no memory of bumping into anything that hard. Your other arm shows a similar discoloration, in a similar area.

In fact, it almost looks like something left by a tight hand grip.

You roll your eyes at your own reflection. It hadn’t felt like he’d held you that hard, but you could bruise pretty easily, so of course, Felix, the fae-looking barista, grabbing you to keep from planting into the sidewalk would leave a mark. No big deal.

You pull your hair back as it is not hair-washing day, and then quickly use make-up remover on your face. You are stopped again by your reflection.

On your cheek, not as dark or as prominent, there is the slight darkening of another bruise.

You push a piece of your hair out of the way as you move closer to the mirror to see it clearer. As you do, it sparks the memory of Felix moving your hair and how you’d felt the brush of his finger keenly.

“But…like, a bruise?” Talking to your reflection isn’t a thing you do, but today really has been a weird day. You press it and wince. It does pinch a bit. Nothing worse than the time you ran into the sliding glass doors at your family’s home as a child. Nothing topped that fiasco and subsequent pain.

Dismissing it as your body being more sensitive than usual, you hopped in the shower and soon went to bed after that. Your dreams are filled with a strange scenario of chasing after croissants and them being sucked into a hole in the sky.

–

It’s two days later when you find yourself at Taste again. You aren’t sure if it’s just Felix who’s stuck in your brain, or the fact that the bruises you see when you wipe off your makeup and undress at night makes you remember meeting him; therefore, he’s just there, hanging around in your memory which is distracting.

You tell yourself you just need some coffee that isn’t out of the ancient coffeemaker at the station.

You can’t really buy him a drink unless you have his number or something after all.

The list of excuses and rationalizations you’re coming up with is concerning.

You walk in and smile at the person behind the counter, trying to look for your rescuer without looking like you’re looking. The barista smiles at you as you place your order for a Fiery Redhead (salted caramel breve latte with a hint of cayenne) and you go to sit at an empty table by the window. You know you should ask if he’s working or coming in later, but you also just sort of want to not do much of anything for a few minutes. Work is very intense even on days you aren’t recording. News never stops whether it’s life-changing or just a cat stuck in a tree (life-changing for the cat), and you spend most of your off-work time catching up on stuff around your apartment or sleeping.

You’re staring out the window, watching the cars pass, people drift by, and you aren’t sure where you go, but when you hear a slight noise, you jump and see a mug topped with curlicues of latte art. You look up the arm attached to see Felix smiling apologetically.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You feel your skin heat at his attention on you. You’ve thought about him quite a bit in the last forty-eight hours, assuming that maybe your fascination is due to that imagination of yours. But no…he’s really that lovely to look at.

The freckles are particularly still eye-catching.

“I just zoned out.”

He’s wearing the uniform, though no apron.

“Are you on break?”

“Haven’t quite clocked in yet,” he swallows. “Saw you…kinda thought you might be here because of me.”

On anyone else that could sound arrogant, but his voice is incredibly gentle and the lilt up at the end of his words frames it hopeful; a tiny question.

“I am. You thought right.” You gesture to the chair across from you. “Hard to buy you a drink when I don’t know how to get a hold of you, except show up creepily at your job.”

As he sits, he’s chuckling, tugging on the foodsafe opaque plastic gloves encasing his hands. You notice them and it triggers something in your brain, but before you can follow that path, he speaks:

“I figured with your connections being a reporter, you could find out everything about me in mere minutes.”

You smile. “I’m so flattered you think that I have really good connections.”

“You don’t?”

“I’m still kinda low in the newsroom hierarchy.” You rest your chin in your hand. “How long do you have before your shift?”

He glances up behind you, presumably at a clock. “Ten minutes.”

“Early.”

“I hate rushing if I can avoid it.” He looks back at you and you take a second to marvel at the rich brown of his eyes.

He is stupid pretty.

“So…” you begin, trying not to be too direct (hazards of the job). “Is barista-ing something you’ve done before here?”

He nods. “Yeah, though this is a lot fancier than where I was before.” He shrugs. “I'm in school, so it helps pay the bills. And I like serving people.”

“School? For what?” You thought he might be young, but how young?

“Culinary. Baking specifically.” He smiles, the warmth just lighting him up.

“That’s so cool.” You lean closer. “I am a passable cook, like enough to follow a basic recipe and feed myself, maybe buy cookie batter on days I need a sweet, but that’s the extent. If a recipe says to fold in something, I run away in fear.” His answering chuckle warms you more than the latte (though it is very good), all the way to your toes. “Do you love it? Even though it’s school?”

The skin between his freckles turns pink. “Yeah…I enjoy it. Both learning the traditional rules, and getting to experiment.”

“Do you get to experiment here?” You point toward the shelves of pastries. You’d been tempted by at least three. Maybe you’ll give in before you leave.

“A little. When he’s feeling generous and doesn’t think I’ll screw it up.”

That’s a story you want to hear, but you file it away for later. Maybe when you get him that drink.

“What about you?” he asks, derailing your thoughts. “Always wanted to do the news?”

You straighten up and gesticulate aimlessly. “Kinda. I think I wanted to do more print journalism in the beginning. But you have to do both in school and I was good at speaking clearly and on the fly, so I stuck with broadcasting.”

“What do you like about it?” Now he rests his chin in his hand, winces before then straightening. The pained expression makes you want to reach out and check on him. You aren’t uncompassionate or anything, but the immediate concern for this near-stranger is unusual.

Maybe it’s because he looks like taking care of him would be nice. Like to curl up with him on the couch someday and watch a movie together. You bet his hair is soft and playing with it would be so nice. Maybe he’d look up at you with those big eyes and ask you for a kiss, his voice all rumbly and–

Uhhhh, maybe you should not fantasize like that.

“It feels important. Even when perhaps it’s not. I get to meet people and learn things I wouldn’t in a ‘normal’ job or ‘normal’ life.”

“Makes sense.”

You watch him look back at the clock and then sigh.

“Work?”

“Work.” He opens his hand. “I’ll give you my number? If you still want to–”

“I do.” Maybe a little too eager. “I mean, you are under no obligation if you don’t want to.” You pull out your phone and unlock it before handing it over.

“I do.” He says it simply and you wonder if he’s mildly as fascinated by you as you are by him. “I do, too.” His nose scrunches up as he types in his number, and it’s adorable.

“Okay.”

He hands you your phone back and smiles at you. “Okay then.” He starts to stand, pressing his hands on the table to aid him and he grimaces. “Ow.”

“You okay?” The concern, again, you feel is bigger than it should be, but that’s another thing you file away for the time being. “Did you hit your knee?”

“No, I…” He is looking at his hands then at you, and you feel like he’s searching for something as he gazes at you. “It’s nothing.”

You must come up short.

“I better…” He jerks a thumb toward the coffee bar. “I’ll hear from you?”

“Yeah.” You are still intrigued and concerned and a whole lot of other things, so you just force a smile to your lips. “Have a good shift, Felix.”

“Thanks.” He walks over to the bar, grabbing an apron to tie around his hips (why does that emphasize his narrow frame so much and why does that affect you?) and greets the other barista. You look back out the window, taking another sip of your drink (it’s really very good, especially with the heat of the cayenne) and try not to look back at him.

But you do. You watch him as he greets each customer, that smile bright like stars. You watch as he moves around with the other barista in the small space, like a choreographed dance for two; opening a cabinet for something, closing it with his hip or foot as he moves to the espresso machine, spinning the knob to steam the milk.

He speaks with a customer as he makes their drink, laughing without slowing down his work. He sets the paper cup in front of them, showing off the latte art you think, before covering it with the plastic lid. The customer takes it, with a smile almost as brilliant as Felix’s. He waves goodbye before glancing over at you.

You smile, embarrassed at being caught staring, but his tiny grin is shy and cute, and he gets back to making the next drink.

There’s a quick rush in the thirty minutes that you spend there. A queue of ten people, several who are in a hurry and speak with sharp, short words.

One even berating the other barista for not inputting her order quickly enough.

Felix comes to the side of his coworker, speaking calmly to the customer; not smiling, but not frowning.

You wish you could hear what he says, but the lowness of his voice makes that difficult. The perturbed customer doesn’t look too pleased, but does seem to back off. Felix makes her drink and sends her on her way.

He walks back over to his colleague, eyes searching and you know, you just know that he’s checking in. Making sure.

Caring.

You glance at the dregs of your latte, surprised at how much you feel you know this person. You don’t. You know you don’t, but there are things about him that feel familiar. That feel safe, like maybe instead you could curl up in his arms, he could play with your hair, you could ask to kiss him, taste those curved, pink lips and–

You stand up rather abruptly, taking your mug and setting it on the marked table for dishes.

“Bye!”

You turn to see him looking bewildered but bidding you a farewell. You think you smile, but you just nod and hurry away.

Good thing there’s a bit of traffic on the way back to the station. You need a moment or ten to calm down.

–

It’s a few days before you actually message Felix and make plans. Work is relentless as the local election is days away and both candidates for commissioner seem to believe that character attacks on the other is the best way to convince people to vote for you.

There was almost a fist fight yesterday. You also forgot to eat, which you didn’t realize until breakfast the next day. Perhaps your stomach shrunk because you could only do a small yoghurt in wake of not eating for a day. Despite the printed expiration date, you think it might have been spoiling already. It tasted tangy.

As you get ready for your…you’re just gonna call it a date and not overthink about it…, you see the bruises and they seem darker which makes little sense to you. You’ve bumped them a few times and it hurt, but no more or less than a normal bruise.

The bruise on your face is darker too, but your foundation and concealer does a good job of lessening the contrast so most of the time it looks like an oddly placed shadow.

But you feel like it’s a thing. Something you can’t quite figure out. And you will, once the election and campaign stuff is over and perhaps you’ll have a bit more free time.

But tonight is a date. A something with Felix. Who you have texted a couple times beyond the mere matching of your schedules. His schooling is at night four times a week. You imagine working a shift then going to class must be exhausting. You spent your undergrad years in class and in the library for work study. Not on your feet for eight hours or more, serving person after person.

Wow, you are creating a traumatic story for him. He might really love both.

He is excessively positive in his messages. He diatribes one night about nailing baumkuchen (you have to google that to understand what it is and why it’s hard) finally in class.

He’s really proud of that grade. And though you had nothing to do with it, you’re really proud of him too.

Something about him is just inviting, the opening of a door and a wave to come in.

You arrive at Back Door, a relatively less popular bar than Up All Night, which is where you would normally grab a drink after work with your colleagues if you were feeling social (which is about 50% of the time post-work). You’ve not been to Back Door yet, but just walking in makes you smile. Everything looks like a hotel lobby with big couches and large tables to stand at. The art on the walls is a mixture of traditional and modern. The red and black color scheme is daring.

Not a place to get cozy, but a place to make an impression.

Do you want to make an impression on Felix? Maybe.

You walk to the bar, finding a spot in between well-dressed people. You wait your turn for one of the two bartenders to find you and as you often do, you watch people and imagine what their lives might be like.

“Hey.”

You jump at his voice (how do you forget how freakin’ deep it is every time?) and then you get his laugh.

“I keep scaring you. Sorry.” He squeezes in next to you and you get a new image of him. Dressed in ripped black jeans and a pale pink button-down shirt with black tie loosened.

He is…delectable.

You shake your head to his comment as well as the path your thoughts are going.

“I just zone out a lot.”

He moves closer, his ear toward you so he can hear better. You repeat yourself and he nods before turning back so his eyes can look into yours.

Damn, that’s powerful.

“Where do you go?” he asks. “When you zone out?”

Do you admit that you regularly think about people you don’t know and make up backstories for them? You think that maybe he won’t judge you too harshly.

“I–” You cut yourself off when he lifts his hand to try and get the bartender’s attention. He’d had on gloves the last time you saw him, but he doesn’t now.

And the insides of his hand is dark. Like a bruise covering the length of his index finger across the palm to his thumb.

As though he’d grabbed something (someone) and bruised himself.

You don’t think to check for consent, but grab his hand, peering at the marks then you take his other. It doesn’t register that he just lets you, not even saying a word about your impoliteness.

“Felix,” you say slowly. “You…” You look up and he’s looking at your arms which are covered by three-quarter length sleeves. You’ve been intentional about not highlighting that you look like you’ve gone through a round with a MMA fighter. You nod at the question in his eyes.

What’s the point of lying? And to lie to Felix feels beyond wrong.

“Let’s get that drink and talk, huh?” he offers, tugging away from your hold to wave down the bartender. Your brain feels like it’s frozen, like a computer that has glitched so badly no matter what key you press, it’s unresponsive.

“What do you like?” Felix asks you softly, which helps your brain function just a bit. The bartender is there as well, waiting.

“Whatever you’re having.”

He nods, seeming to know that you are processing intensely at the moment. A few seconds pass, you trying to logic why bruises on him and you mean something, but you’ve got nothing when he nudges you with his elbow and lifts his chin to indicate you both should find somewhere to sit.

You follow him, blindly, as he weaves through the weekend crowd, finding a small table in a far corner where the music and talk is muted. He sits, laying the two wine glasses on the table. You scoot in across from him, staring at the wine wine ripple in the glass before settling.

“Can I see?”

You meet his gaze and shrug a yes, knowing what he’s asking. You shove up one of your sleeves, inadvertently pressing the bruise which makes you inhale sharply. He leans forward, hand reaching out to hold your arm carefully.

“Fuck. That’s dark.” He lightly rubs his thumb over it, gentle. “I’m sorry.”

“I wouldn’t have thought much about it,” you begin, feeling content with him touching you, even though he’s the one who left bruises. He’s warm, not just in temperature, but it’s like he emits a toasty energy that flows into you. It’s odd, but you like it. “Because I bruise pretty easily, and you did keep me from busting my face. But…” You touch the bruise on your cheek. “You barely touched me here.”

He follows your motion and peers closer. You actually stare back into his eyes, sparkly as they are with the bar’s array of lights.

“Fuck.”

His second cursing makes you smile even if you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s because his freckles and generally soft demeanor make him seem innocent; i.e. not someone going around using the f-word so easily.

You’re also really enjoying the skin to skin contact. You weren’t even cold, but his touch feels secure, sheltering. Like you’re in an oversized armchair with a cup of tea, reading on a thunderstorm night.

“Do you know what it is?” His demeanor makes you think that he knows more than you, and you have to admit, you’re bothered that you’re so clueless right now. You’re used to being the smarter person on a date.

Which explains why you don’t date much and have been single for nearly two years now.

“I…no. I didn’t realize you had them too.” You sigh, and trace the marks on his hand that isn’t holding you. You don’t question the intimacy as you’re pretty sure whatever is going on is not a normal interaction with a man you only barely know, even if he is pretty. “Work has been slammed…I was going to go to the doctor if they didn’t fade soon.”

“They won’t. I mean, not on their own.” He stares at the mark on your arm. “Not without me.”

It’s like he’s talking in riddles. “Felix. What do you know?”

He lets go and you shiver as though a cold front blew through the bar, at you specifically. He takes the wine glass and sips it, closing his eyes as though he’s savoring it.

He must like wine because it seems like minutes upon minutes that he keeps his eyes closed.

“Look…” He opens his eyes and you are floored by how much pain echoes there. The same eyes that sparkled seconds ago. “You have questions and I think, think, I know the answers, but…fuck…this means–” He breaks off, dropping his head.

Is he crying?

“Felix….” You reach out, burdened, and place your hand over his. He jolts at your touch, but doesn’t pull away. He slots his fingers in between yours. “Please tell me what’s wrong? Can I help?”

“I need to go. I knew what it was. I just wanted it not to be true.” His voice cracks and he looks up, eyes welling. There’s a quiver in his lips, like maybe he wants to smile or maybe he wants to cry, or maybe it’s both. “I just need some time?” He stands up, leaving his glass and leaving your touch.

“But…?” What the fuck is going on?

He’s next to you, leaning down so your faces are close. You catch your breath.

“Soulmates. Look up soulmates.” He presses his mouth to your cheek before tearing away and disappearing in the ever-growing crowd. You stand up, to do something; call him back, chase after him…something. But he’s gone and you sit down again, staring at the two wine glasses. You take a sip of yours and grimace.

It just doesn’t taste quite right.

–

You take a cab home because you drink your wine, his, and order two cocktails (they all taste odd, but honestly it doesn’t matter by the time you get the first cocktail, you are such a lightweight). It’s dumb but you spend two hours at a bar, using Google on your phone.

At a bar. On a Friday night.

You get approached at least three times by someone either intent on chatting you up, or getting your coveted spot at the table. You basically ignore these approaches because you are intent.

Soulmates.

That’s what he’d said and though normally you would laugh derisively at the mere use of that term in anything other than some cliched romantic film, you find that the moment he said it, your heart felt like it was being squeezed in a tight grip.

So you search ‘soulmates’ which yields more links and pieces of information than you are willing to wade through.

You type in ‘bruises soulmates’ and that narrows it way down.

When you touch the first time, it leaves a mark; something similar to a bruise, but far more distinct. This is your soulmate.

“I met mine, because we ran into each other on the train. Literally. My hip is black and blue. How do I find them?”

The marks take hours to show up, so you have to retrace your steps to find them. Chances are they’re looking for you too.

“I can’t eat any more. It tastes like licking the inside of a dumpster.”

Food and drink will lose its pleasurable taste. It’ll become disgusting, revolting.

“I’ve sent out messages on all SNS. It’s been a week. The hospital keeps pumping fluids, but it’s not working. Someone please help me!”

The only way to survive is to be with your soulmate. Skin to skin contact for hours if you are sick or hurting. Not as long if it’s just daily need. You will no longer need food or drink. Water will be the only thing palatable.

You stumble out of the bar, Uber app open on your phone. The air outside is heavy from late summer humidity and it’s like you can’t catch your breath.

If you don’t find your soulmate, you will starve to death.

You can starve to death. You’re not even thirty years old yet, and death is now something more likely than ever.

You look at your arm, the sleeve still pushed up from earlier.

He doesn’t have very big hands, you muse. The mark is actually lighter and you realize that the little amount of contact you had with him has already started to heal.

Holy fuck.

Your Uber shows up and you practically throw yourself into the backseat as though someone nefarious is chasing you.

“You alright?” the driver asks, glancing back. “You run here?”

You are panting, your breath short from the magnitude of what you’ve just found out. Part of your brain denies it all. Surely this is bullshit. Soulmates, touch, inevitable death for those who lose their person.

It can’t be true.

But what you thought was just hormones when he touched you tonight; the warmth, the comfort, the irresistible draw…

You’ve dated. You’ve fucked. You’ve had men who looked great and those who looked less so. No one affects you the way the quiet-eyed, deep-voiced barista has in three encounters.

You give the driver your address and force yourself to stop looking at your phone before you get more nauseated, and look out the window.

You need to sleep before you can tackle whatever the fuck this is.

–

It strikes you two days later. You go through the weekend researching everything you can, or pointedly turning off your phone and your laptop in order to clean your apartment and reorganize your kitchen.

You look at the set of pots that you got two years ago because you wanted nicer, matching ones and now, you aren’t going to need them.

You’d been able to stomach one egg this morning, the desire for food already waning. You wonder if going to get your favorite donuts would be good, if life-changing information warranted donuts.

It hits you then.

Felix wants to be a baker.

And he’s going to lose his sense of taste.

You sink down to the floor of your kitchen with the weight of that revelation. You lean back against the lower cabinets and let that take hold.

By meeting you, Felix can’t pursue his dream.

You barely know him, but you know enough to understand perhaps a tenth of the loss he must be feeling knowing that he’s going to lose what he wanted to do with his life.

You did this. By nearly falling over, you have changed the direction of his life.

You enjoy food, and the loss of it isn’t something you’re looking forward to, but it doesn’t change your job or your life.

You cover your face when you realize that you’re crying.

It’s your fault.

You cry for longer than one would for a near-stranger before you force yourself back to your feet. You trudge toward your bedroom, seeking your phone that you’ve put on silent and plugged in. There are notifications for work, for social platforms, from your mom.

You don’t check them, but you search out the chat between you and your…

Soulmate.

<<I am so sorry.

What else can you say? There is nothing you can do because unless every source you’ve found online about this phenomenon is wrong and lying, the ball is rolling and nothing can stop it.

You set your phone back down, sitting on the edge of your bed. There’s a window across from you and the view is simply the brick building next to your apartment complex. There is nothing to really look at, but the simplicity of the brick, the gradient of burgundies and reds with beige caulk between is a lot easier to make sense of than anything else right now.

Your phone vibrates.

>>It’s not your fault.

There’s hardly anything you can say. You can state that it is. It is your fault. Without touching you, he’d go on with his life, pursuing his dreams like everyone should get to.

<<Regardless. I am. Very very sorry.

You don’t expect to hear from him. You set your phone aside, noticing that your hands are shaking. You feel exhausted, like the crying you’ve indulged in has drained you. Maybe you’re coming down with something.

Or maybe it’s something else. Something soulmate.

>>Can I come by?

You type out yes before you think through it fully. You send him your address and close your phone before getting back up to go to the bathroom and look at yourself.

Maybe it’s silly to make sure you don’t look like someone who has fought dust bunnies and lost, but you think that showering wouldn’t be amiss.

It’s a half hour later when there's a knock on your door. You’ve already buzzed him in, so it’s not that you’re unprepared to see him, but really, how would anyone be able to prepare for the groveling you want to do when you see him.

He stands in your doorway, eyes wide and you chastise yourself for changing because he obviously had no qualms, dressed in sweatpants, and a creased t-shirt. He looks terribly soft with rumpled hair, light wrinkles on his cheek from sleeping.

There are dark smudges of weariness under his eyes.

“I’m so–” you begin because surely apologizing profusely will relieve a little of the guilt you feel. He doesn’t let you finish, but strides in and wraps his arms around you. He’s got several inches of height on you (lack of heels) and rests his chin on top of your head. He closes the door with his foot, falling back on it, his hold on you firm.

“You don’t need to say you’re sorry,” he whispers. “It’s not your fault.”

“Kind of is. If we’d never touched…” The heat of him warms you through, as though you were icy but didn’t know it until touching him.

It’s uncanny, how much better you feel just by being in his arms. Soulmate or not, you think that anyone would be better receiving a hug from him.

“I could have let you fall. So I’m just as responsible.”

You feel your eyes well up, your throat constrict with grief. “But you were just being nice. That’s all. And this is your reward.” You bury your face into his shoulder, noting how bony he is and how nice he smells, like cookies. “I’m so so fucking sorry.”

You’re crying into his shirt and it’s embarrassing, but you can’t seem to stop. You feel his hand stroke your back, soothing.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

There’s a rumble against you, he’s chuckling. You lift your head to look up at him. He smiles sadly, releasing his hold to wipe under your eyes.

“You’re stubborn.”

“And you’re too nice. I would fix it, if I could. I would give you back–” He kisses you.

Oh. My. God.

If touching him casually or even being in his arms is comforting, kissing him is that feeling amped up to eleven. You actually feel light-headed and dizzy like you’re back at the bar drinking too much wine.

He presses one small kiss to the corner of your lips before drawing away. You whimper to lose that caress, but he keeps his arms around you like he knows you need it. He rests his head on the door, eyes fixed on you.

“Wow,” you breathe.

There’s a slight quirk of his lips, like he wants to laugh, but won’t at the moment.

You realize both of you are still standing in your little foyer so you draw away, but his hands tighten.

“I was just…just gonna invite you in.”

“That’s okay. I just…” He takes a deep breath. “Don’t let go?” You peer at him, seeing that the dark under his eyes has already lessened.

You nod, adjusting so your hand encloses around his. You lead him into your apartment, watch him as he looks around, eyes still wide, but seemingly less panicked now. You sit on your two person couch that is opposite your television. He sits next to you, looking at your bookshelves, covered in photo frames, books, knick-knacks from places you’ve gotten to go for work.

“I have to ask,” you say, making him look over at you. “What are you thinking? Right now?”

“I…I feel a little out of place,” he replies, glancing down at your clasped hands. “You have a real job and a nice place and I’m just a barista, trying to get a certificate.” The mention of his schooling makes you tighten your grip and he squeezes back, still not looking at you. “Makes me wonder if the universe screwed up.”

“I don’t think that’s fair.”

He looks up then.

“You are this beautiful, ridiculously kind human who smiles like the sun and because of me, lost your dream and you’re still here. You should hate me.”

He covers your mouth with his untethered hand. “I don’t. I couldn’t.” His hand drifts to cup your cheek. “I’m not mad at you.” He takes another deep breath. “I’m mad at the fallout. Like…it sucks.” He nods. “It really does. That’s why I just needed some time.”

“I’m sorry. I only gave you like two days.”

His thumb runs over your lower lip and you feel like you’re melting.

“I wanted to see you. I can already tell that I need to…” He blushes. “I need to touch you.”

“You look less drained.” You touched his heated cheek. “I felt out of it, too.”

“Me too.” He leans in, face close, watching you. “I didn’t ask. About kissing you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Weird circumstances.” You hope your smile does half of what his smile does for you. “You’re stuck with me unless you want to starve to death.”

He half-grins, his hand still on your face, tracing along your nose. “It’s pretty dramatic, right?”

“It really is.”

“You don’t mind?”

“What?”

“Being stuck with me?”

“No.” You’re louder than you meant to be. He blinks at the emphasis. “I mean, I don’t know you all that well, but what I do know…” You take his hand from your face, holding it as tight as the other hand. “I like.”

He nods. “Can we…” He takes a breath. “Can we touch more?”

It is weird and you both laugh at the awkward and latent innuendo.

“Like nothing…” He stops talking, expression helpless. You just nod.

He watches as you let go of his hand to get close. His dark eyes seem darker when you pause to figure out how exactly you plan to touch him.

“Here.” He pulls you in, aligning you to his chest, your back resting against him, his arms around you, his chin coming to sit on your shoulder. “The longer we touch, those bruises will fade.”

You lift his hands so you can see that his marks are lighter since you saw them Friday night. He presses his face where your shoulder meets your neck. It tickles, but you don’t shy away.

“I feel like we’ve gone from acquaintances to whatever this is really quick.” It’s an obvious statement, a pointless one, but things are progressing at an exponential speed that you need to voice it, if only to remind yourself and him that it’s real.

“It’s okay, though?” he asks softly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but even beyond the need to touch you, I want to.” His chin rests on your shoulder again.

“You do?”

You can hear the smile in his voice, “I thought you were pretty when you came in for the interview. I think I would have tried to talk to you if you ever came back, even without the rest of it.”

You’re still playing with his hands, absorbing his words.

“This whole thing is weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know about soulmates before?”

You feel his chin as he nods. “My grandmother’s second husband and her. My grandfather died and at age sixty-three or something, my grandmother bumped into this man at her favorite bakery. Bruises and everything. She told me the story when I was about ten, when they decided to get married. No one believed her, but I did. It just made sense when you saw them together. But it’s rare. Like…there are accounts of it all over the world, but not a high percentage.” He noses your ear. “What did you find out? You researched, didn’t you?”

“If you call googling for too many hours, proper research.” Being in his arms is slowly making you feel less weary and calmer. You’re still sad and worried, but your body feels less like debilitated frozen tundra. “I guess we’re lucky that it wasn’t hard to know who it was. There are stories…of people…” You stop talking, overwhelmed by the fact that this could have gone so badly. “I’m glad I knew it was you immediately. Like I meet so many random people and I–”

“Shhh, it’s okay.”

You’re both quiet for several minutes. You’ve stopped playing with his hands and he’s just wrapped around you even more snugly.

“How do we do this?”

“Well, I’m going to quit school tomorrow. The semester is nearly over and I haven’t paid for next semester yet, so that’s money saved.”

“It sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” His hand slips under your shirt and you tremble at the energy pulse that such a slight touch does to you. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” You ponder for a second. “Do we need to do this every day?”

“I think it’s encouraged, and necessary. Like to go too long not in contact is…well, I felt like a zombie until I held you.”

“I hope you don’t need alone time.”

He chuckles. “Not too much. You?”

“Some.” That’ll be an adjustment. Someone wanting to spend hours with you. More than just the occasional meet-up with a friend. “Do…you…god, this is gets more and more bizarre…should you move in with me?”

The gentle motion of his hand stills. “Would you…would that be okay?”

“I mean, we should probably find a place together, but I still have a few months left on my lease. You?”

He sits up and you move away, though you notice his hand stays on your skin, following as you adjust to face him.

“I’m rooming with some guys. Month to month.” His eyes are wide. “Really?”

“I mean…will it make it easier?”

He chuckles. “I have a twin bed.”

“Mine’s a queen.”

“You really are so much more of an adult than me.”

You bat at his arm. “Stop saying that. You aren’t any less. You work and go…went to school.”

“Yeah.” He stares at you for a few seconds. “You’re willing to just let me move in?”

“I mean, we can have sleepovers if that’s easier.”

He laughs, covering his face with his hands for a second before making sure he’s still touching you with a hand on your knee. “I don’t have a lot of stuff. My baking stuff…that I guess I need to sell.”

You lace your fingers with his. “I’m–”

“You don’t need to say it.” He shrugs. “It just is what it is. Anyway, clothes, not a lot. I have my computer and that’s kinda…” He looks around. “Do you have another bedroom?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a makeshift office/storage unit right now.” You make a face. “I should probably get rid of some of it. Do you have a big computer?”

He shrugs again. “I built it. I game and fiddle with computers in my free time.”

You move closer. “How are you that interesting? It’s not fair. You’re ridiculously pretty, you bake, and you do computery things?”

His ears, cheeks and neck all flush. “It’s not that interesting…”

“It is to me,” You point at him with your connected hands. “I just do the news stuff.”

“And zone out.”

You laugh. “And zone out. Regularly.”

He brings you back to rest against his chest, a deep sigh releasing. “So…I guess…we’re moving in together?”

You aren’t horribly impulsive usually. In big things you try to think logically and rationally. But that seems to have been tossed aside currently.

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”

You feel his lips on your cheek.

��

It’s a month later, after you’ve emptied out the second bedroom with as much as you can let go off, Felix moves in with his stuff (the computer set-up reminds you of like the command bridge in Star Trek or something), and you’ve learned how to sleep in bed with a person you aren’t actually sleeping with (despite the touch thing, both of you seem to avoid talking about anything past necessary touch).

The progression the soulmate-ness has had is different for both of you. You lost your taste for food and drink well before he did. It’s nearly three weeks to the day you two met that he can’t eat one of his galettes because it tastes like the way wet dog smells.

He cries in your arms.

You handled working over eight hours a day as well as you always have, but if it moved to twelve hours, you found Felix at the apartment, on the couch or bed, looking more fragile and delicate than normal. The toll your separation took on his body was far worse than the toll on your body.

It took some adapting and adjusting; trial and error to see what worked for the both of you. If it was going to be a long day, Felix would leave work and come find you at the station, or you’d come to him just to sit and hold hands for a half hour before one of you had to go. It helped.

For the first time since being on your own, you have to worry about someone else and yes, at times, it can be frustrating; overall, it’s nice. It’s nice to come home to someone.

“I can’t do it,” Felix comes in late from the coffeehouse. You came home early and are spending your time trying to figure out what one does with a kitchen and all that cabinet space if one no longer eats.

“Can’t do it?”

He doesn’t stop in his path, dropping his bag on the ground as he toes off his shoes. You barely can say much else before he’s wrapped around you in what has become a regular habit of his. In your arms the moment you’re both home.

You can’t complain even if it thwarts your thought process about the kitchen.

“The coffee smell is awful,” he mutters into your hair. “Like, I thought not tasting it would be okay, but the smell is just as bad. All day, every day…” he sighs. “I almost quit.”

“Maybe you should. I make enough for you to take a break for a little bit.”

“I’m not…” He sighs again. “I don’t like that. It’s your money.”

“And therefore I can help you out.” You rub up and down his back, soothing him. “You haven’t had much time to figure out a new plan.”

He moves so his face is in the crook of your neck, nuzzling. Normally you giggle because it tickles, but lately when his lips are anywhere near you, it’s like every nerve you have is on high alert.

“I think I’m avoiding it.”

“That’s okay too.” You hurry to continue when you feel his body stiffen as though he wants to argue with you. “For now. It’s a lot.”

He lifts his head, but not before brushing a soft kiss on your neck which sends you down a path that you’ve tried to avoid thinking about with Felix in mind. A path that includes not only sleeping in your bed.

“I…” He watches you for a few seconds and you can feel your face heating with his scrutiny. “I’m gonna game for a bit.” He then sees that you have all the plates and cups and paraphernalia on the counters. “Unless you need a hand?”

“Go shoot something digitally. I’m good.”

He smiles that soft smile of his. The one that makes you want to cozy up with him on the couch, his head in your lap and mindlessly watch a movie.

“Sure?”

You nod, and start to move back to the kitchen problem when he drops another kiss, this time on your cheek. You should be getting used to this, and perhaps you are, but it still floors you. The feel of him, the subsequent burst of soulmate voltage that it emits.

He doesn’t seem to notice that every time he kisses you, your brain pauses like a video buffering. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe kissing you doesn’t do much more than just heal in the soulmate way.

He hasn’t kissed you on the lips since that first time. You want him too. You’ve thought about it way too much, even when you’re supposed to be working.

You should say something. You should kiss him, and often. But you hold back. You don’t know why.

He’s had so much of his life uprooted because of you, you don’t want to add the burden of your sexual wants onto his plate.

He shuffles off to the second bedroom and you eventually go back to working on the kitchen.

He calls your name about an hour later, after you have given up on the dusting because it’s too much, and have ended up on the couch, looking through your SNS feed to find that there isn’t much new in the world.

“Hmm?”

“I think…I think I had an idea.”

You get up and wander over to that room, more Felix’s than yours now. You stand in the doorway, eyes adjusting to the darkness because there’s only a lamp that he keeps on by his set-up.

He wheels around in his ergonomic chair.

“What’s your idea?”

“One of my friends,” He waves toward his screen, “Asked me a question about what to add to his computer to boost its…” He chuckles immediately when you furrow your brow. “You don’t care about that.”

“I will attempt to understand it?”

“Nevermind.” He reaches out his hands toward you and you walk in, suspicious. He latches on and pulls you into his lap, which just makes you freeze even more than the nightly cuddles. “I gave him about three different options and he asked if I’d do it for him. He’d pay me.” He cradles your face in his hands. “He’d pay me.”

“Well, that’s nice.”

“I mean…maybe that’s it. I could fix or enhance, I guess, computers. I know too much about it for just fiddling with my own.” He trails his fingers down to your neck and you tremble. “Maybe this is what I should do.”

Even in the dim light, you can see how bright his eyes are. It reminds you of when you met him, before everything changed.

“If you want. I imagine you probably do know more than the average person. I’ve heard you ramble enough to your friends on that thing.” You smile even if the heat of his legs is burning you in the best way. “Will it make you happy?”

His infectious joy fades a little. “It might.” With his finger, he draws an amorphous shape on your skin. “I think it might.”

“Then you should do it.” You pat his shoulders, getting ready to remove yourself from him because being on his lap, facing him, being so close is making you want more than you think either of you are ready for.

His hands slip to your waist to keep you from leaving.

“Felix, what are you–?”

“You make me happy, you know that, right? Being here with you, coming home to you or vice versa makes me happy.” His gaze is zeroed in on you, and it’s a lot. Having his focus.

“You don’t have to say stuff like that.”

He adjusts you so you’re nearer, his hands clasped at the small of your back. “I’m not just saying that. I mean it.” His lips turn down in concern. “Aren’t you? Happy?”

“With you? God, yes.” Sometimes with him, you do this. You say things before thinking it through. “Even when you hog the covers.”

He looks a bit sheepish, but doesn’t apologize.

“But my life didn’t derail because you entered it.”

He touches his nose to yours. “Mine didn’t either. It just changed direction. Maybe a little more dramatically than yours.” He purses his lips in thought. “I only worry about the job stuff because well…I want to work in something I like.”

“Of course you do.” You comb back his hair, longer than when you met him; shaggy and probably needs a cut, but you really like it. “If you want to do this, I think you should.”

“It might take a while for me to make much.”

You point at yourself. “Do I look worried?”

He smiles, teeth flashing, eye crinkles, and your heart flutters.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper, tracing the curves of his smile and cheeks. His lips part at the compliment, and your finger slides to his teeth. “I…uh, sorry.”

He kisses the tip of your finger to reassure you. You swallow your more lustful feelings and smile.

“You better get back to your friends.” You try to stand up, but his arms tighten. “I should…go.”

“Why?” he asks softly. “Why can’t you stay right here? I want you to.”

“You do?”

He says your name in the same whisper and kisses you reverently. You dissolve into him, scooting closer so you can embrace him. There’s a soft groan, and it’s not from you.

“Am I too heavy?” you ask, breaking the kiss. He pouts at you and shakes his head.

“It’s…it’s not that.”

It takes you a second and your eyes widen before you look down.

“Oh.”

He chuckles. “You haven’t noticed?”

“Well, I mean, in the morning, but that’s like…all guys.” His cheeks turn pink as you continue. “I…I wasn’t assuming that it had to do with me.”

“You can assume.”

You stare breathlessly at him.

“If you want, I mean.” His eyes dart away from yours. “If I’m the only one turned on here, you can pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“Just because it’s not as obvious doesn’t mean I’m not.”

You feel him raise his head and meet your gaze. If he can tell your face is hot in the shadowy room, he makes no mention of it.

“Yeah?”

You nod before hearing some tinny voices coming from his headset. “Your friends.” You nod again toward his computer screen. “Your game.” You don’t even try to move out of his hold, but his arm wraps around you so you’re nearly chest to chest.

“Don’t move.” He grabs his headset from around his neck and slips it on, pressing a button on the side. “Guys…something’s come up. Min…I’ll come by tomorrow with a better graphics card and install it for you.” He presses the same button amid all the protests you hear, and takes the headset off. He tosses it on his computer desk before returning to hold you, with one minor adjustment.

One hand slides up the back of your top, searing. He watches your face, intent. You tug at the collar of his shirt, and he stands up gingerly, letting you slide down until your feet touch the floor. He pulls off his shirt before taking your hands in his to bring them to his chest and arms.

“I didn’t know,” he says as you outline the planes and facets with your fingers.

“Didn’t know?”

He dips his head so you have to look up into his eyes, away from his beautiful skin. “Didn’t know you thought about me like that.”

“How could I not?” You let your hands trail up his sides to his neck and then to his face. “You are beautiful, both inside and out, Lee Felix.”

He doesn’t answer but kisses you with none of the former softness or gentleness. His hands are gripping your arms, directing you backwards out of the room and toward the bedroom. All of your kisses have been chaste, as though the crossing into using tongue would mean something else.

Perhaps it did. Perhaps it’s not just about a mutual need to live, a mutual admiration, though that’s all true. Perhaps being soulmates is just the beginning of having a partner. In everything.

You feel the bed at the back of your legs, unaware that you’ve traveled that much of the apartment because Felix might be good at gaming, but he’s exceptionally good at kissing. It’s all you can do to hold on as he consumes you, tongue stroking yours, teeth nibbling. You fall back on the bed, and he follows, climbing on top of you, mouth still seeking yours. His hands have slid under your top, mapping out your shape with fervor.

The calm and quiet of him has broken.

He draws away to look down at you, panting. “Okay?”

“Yes, so much,” you answer breathlessly. He smirks and peels off your shirt before sitting and undoing his pants. “Hey.”

He pauses and glances at you. You can see his hands trembling.

“We don’t have to rush.”

“I know. I know, but I…” He leans to kiss your jaw. “I want you so much.” He slips a finger under your bra strap and slides it down your shoulder. “Sleeping next to you is both wonderful and fuckin’ torture.”

His grin when you laugh only lasts a second before he pulls you close and on top of him. You work his pants off, trying not to get sidetracked by his undoing of your bra and ensuing caresses. It takes a few minutes, both of you distracting the other in the process, but eventually, gloriously, the clothing is gone and you’re both looking at each other in awe.

Beautiful. Inside and out.

“C’mere,” his voice drops to a decibel you aren’t sure anyone else can hear (you don’t want them too because he’s your soulmate and you are so damn grateful). He places soft kisses all over your face, making you giggle as he props up pillows at your back. “We’ve never talked about past relationships.”

“Oh. I mean…” You twist your lips thinking about your last date let alone last relationship. “I haven’t…work kinda replaced everything else, you know? I’m clean…it’s been at least a year.”

“Six months. Had to move away.” He eases in between your legs, hands rubbing your thighs almost carelessly. “Clean too.” He leans down, face inches away and those perfect freckles blurring together.

“Was it serious?”

“I think it could have been,” he says honestly. “You?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been serious about someone till you. Even before I saw the bruises,” You run your hands up his arms, his muscles taut from holding himself up. “You stuck in my mind. Chan teased me about it.”

He grins before slipping one hand down your chest, your stomach and farther down… “You weren’t kidding about being turned on, were you?”

You half-heartedly slap his shoulder because one, it’s more than obvious and two, his tender exploration of you is dizzying. The soulmate energy, with no clothing to bar skin to skin contact, feels like you’ve laid down in a meadow on a warm day; not too hot, no bugs, no pollen, nothing but heat and light and tranquility.

Then his fingers lightly touch your clit and the tranquility liquifies into heat and lust and want.

“There, huh?” The teasing, soft but dark, makes you want to say something snarky, but he’s kissing you, his fingers circling until you're gasping against his mouth.

“Lix, please,” you whine. His lips leave yours before he pushes in. “Oh god.”

As with everything, the soulmate need for touch just amplifies everything; how he feels sliding in, each thrust, the grazing of your g-spot. It’s a million times more and when you break, and feel him break; it’s not surprising that for a few seconds you aren’t sure where you are.

Then the puffs of his shortened breath on your skin, the length of his body covering yours, one hand trailing up and down your arm.

“You back?” he asks, voice gruff.

“I think so.”

He lifts his head, eyes at half-mast, smile sleepy and well-contented. “We should do that again…often.”

You roll your eyes, a grin twitching at the corner of your lips. He kisses you, open-mouthed, but delicate.

“I am really really glad you caught me that day.”

He stares down at you, eyes fond. “I’m glad you caught me too.”

a/n #2 - the coffee drink, fiery redhead, is not mine, but created by a coffeehouse in my parents' town. i love it, and make it at home now.

(c) yoongihan 2024. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

521 notes · View notes

mianexil · 6 months ago

Text

◇ Your first meeting ◇

(pt.1)

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

💫 [ Ah, that most exciting meeting with a young man, before which you did not yet know that this boy would take that very place in your heart ]

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

ㅡ Umemiya, Suo, Nirei

Umemiya

Your family's flower shop

During the holidays, your parents sent you to your grandmother in Makochi, who had a small but pretty flower shop. Spending a few weeks surrounded by flowers and calmness, away from the hectic and noisy city, seemed like a very good solution.

Today, your grandmother left for a meeting of shopkeepers from this street, so you stayed to replace her in the store.

The sound of the doorbell distracted you from the not too thoughtful scrolling social media feed on your phone.

ㅡ Wel..come

A tall white-haired young man in a funny T-shirt appeared before your eyes. He seemed big, but you instantly felt his comfort aura as soon as your eyes met.

His loud voice brought you out of a momentary trance while you were looking at him.

ㅡ Good morning! How are you feeling?

The guy beamed with a smile.

ㅡ Oh? Not bad, thanks. Are you looking for something?

ㅡ Yeah, I want to buy "Bull's Heart" tomato seeds.

You got up from behind the counter and started search shelves for the right seeds. You definitely remembered that you saw a package with such an unusual name the other day. After finding the right seeds on the farthest shelf, you returned to the counter.

ㅡ I didn't think gardening was popular among students.

ㅡ Oh? But it's a wonderful activity! I have recently ripened a sweet pepper, it cannot be described in words!

You stood and listened attentively as the young man in front of you enthusiastically talks about his gardening exploits.

Something about him got you hooked. He didn't look like the sullen boys from your town at all.

ㅡ I've been wanting to grow cherry tomatoes for a long time. I think I should also look for seeds today.

ㅡ Are you serious?

Umemia's eyes sparkled.

He told you that if you want to grow something for the first time, it's better to start not with seeds but with sprouts. And he just has a few on the roof of the school where he grows his vegetables.

He kindly invited you to come and choose one of them if you want.

And how could you refuse when those blue, almost puppy dog eyes were looking at you.

But, girl, don't think he's just giving away his precious plants to just anyone.

He was definitely interested in you at first sight conversation about tomatoes.

Suo

The tea house (Of course, it's a tea house, how could it be anything else?)

You stood and chose between Bi Lo Chun and Tie Guan Yin. It is a rather difficult choice. Both varieties reveal a floral-fruity taste and a sweet aftertaste. And of course, carried away by your reasoning over the choice, you did not notice how an elegant stranger has been watching you from another corner for 5 minutes.

Suo immediately noticed your good taste. It was not often that he managed to meet the same tea connoisseur of his age in Makochi.

When you were already starting to get nervous from the fact that you couldn't make a choice, a young man in a silk tangzhuang silently glided towards you.

ㅡ Bi Lo Chun harvest this year was particularly successful, and its fragrance is felt more deeply.

You turned at the melodious voice and saw in front of you a mysterious high school student with an eye patch and unusual earrings.

There was something fascinating about him..

The corners of Suo's lips lifted in a friendly smile, while you were slightly confused.

ㅡ Oh? Well, thank you..

ㅡ Can I ask, are you also interested in different types of tea?

Nirei

Anime Store

You were standing at the shelf and looking for a Funko POP with your favorite character from a childish but incredibly cute anime.

Having found the right one, you decided to go to the manga section. You were attracted by the bright cover of one of the manga, and you picked it up.

Then you felt someone's eyes on you. It didn't seem to you. Theree was an excited young man in a bright shirt and round glasses standing to your right. He looked like if he had a tail, he would be actively wagging it.

Damn, he really looked like a cute puppy with that expression and the sparkle in his eyes.

ㅡ Excuse me?

ㅡ Oh! I'm sorry for staring, I didn't mean to scare you, it's just... Do you like this manga too? I have not yet met the same fans of this work, but it is really interesting. And the characters here are very unusual and so well written!

You watched in surprise as Nirei quickly took his notebook out of his pocket and began enthusiastically talking about the small details of the main characters from the cover of the manga that you were holding in your hands.

Such information can usually be found only in special publications or artbooks. God, this guy seems obsessed with this case. Is he really okay?

And yet, despite this oddity, he looked so cute and enthusiastic, telling you about everything that you silently listened to, looking at his freckles.

ㅡ So, who is your favorite character?

ㅡ Oh, uh..I'm not a fan of this manga, actually..

The expression on the boy's face changed so quickly to confused and a little sad that it made your heart ache.

He blushed slightly from embarrassment.

ㅡ Oh..sor-

ㅡ But I'll read it, you've interested me with your words.

It's strange, but when this sunshine smiled again, for some reason, it felt better for you.

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

💫 [ Okay, I've already accelerated now ]

#windbreaker x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #hayato suo x reader #nirei akihiko x reader #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker headcanons #windbreaker #hajime umemiya x reader #suo hayato x reader #akihiko nirei x reader #headcanon #windbreaker headcanons #wind breaker #hayato suo #hajime umemiya #nirei akihiko

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seungsuki · 6 months ago

Text

station cafe - romance between a soccer player and a webtoon artist (gn! reader)

warning: boring tbh (+ too many words)

note: wrote this during while my professor was yapping so hopefully it's okay

itoshi rin hated whenever his practice games were played for too long. he’d like to blame it on his teammates who couldn’t stop goofing around every minute.

“last train for station 2 is leaving”, the loud speakers announced

rin froze thinking he must have misheard the announcement but when it repeated again, his legs began moving without him even thinking. speed walking through the busy salespeople and students, he nearly made it to the train. he could see the gates of the train and he wanted to yell for it to not close but he didn’t. he stopped and slowed down as he watched the gates shut tight.

the train had left for station 2

the last train

he fished out for his phone to check the train schedule. he wasn’t too familiar with the train routes other than the one he usually took. lucky for rin, the next train for station 2 is set for 5 pm

“5 pm?”, rin mumbled to himself seeing that it was only 3:07 pm

what was he supposed to do with all this freetime? he never gave himself that much time. he used every second to practise soccer and to be on top. to defeat his no good of an excuse brother and win the world cup. now what? it’s not like he had any friends nearby

that’s how the younger itoshi wandered into a random cafe near the station. opening the door, he could smell the coffee bean aroma filling the room. he walked to the counter and was greeted by the cashier, who in his opinion, was overly energetic for no reason.

ordering his favourite tea and bread, rin settled at a seat beside the window of the cafe. there weren't a lot of people except for you, seated at the next table. while rin normally didn’t act like a busybody, he was curious as to what you were doing. he could see a lot of papers scattered around the table. they looked like… character designs? are you an avid fan of a series he’s never seen before?

he couldn’t help but notice how absorbed you were on your computer with a drawing tablet attached to it. oh so you’re marking papers? you did look rather young to be a teacher. well it was none of his business. he brushed away any lingering questions and silently enjoyed his tea. tuning into the latest soccer clip between bastard münchen and manshine city, rin booed both parties since he didn’t support any of them and took the time to criticise their play style

he was watching the so-called ‘hat trick’ when a paper flew directly on his face, blocking the match. almost instantly, he heard a small worried yell and a hand reached to remove the paper that didn’t allow him to see anything. why did this remind him of a heavily scripted shojo manga?

“i’m so so sorry! are you okay?”, a voice asked and rin looked up to see the you in front of him this time

“i’m fine”, rin replied short not wanting to engage in the conversation

“they turned on the stand fan so my papers flew everywhere!”, you groaned

that’s when rin looked away from his phone and looked up to you. or more specifically, the paper dancing loosely between your fingers. it definitely looked like a detailed study of a character. just how much of an avid fan are you? then again he couldn't say much himself as he was in his own obsession over soccer. seeing how hard he was staring at the paper, you moved it behind you, allowing your skirt to hide the paper

“i’m a webtoon artist. i have a lot of papers because i came back from a small meeting”, you said taking a seat at the empty chair in front of him

“im [name]! i think i've seen you somewhere haven’t i?”, you asked going through the train of thoughts

“i play soccer”, another short reply followed by a tsk

“oh yeah!! aren’t you the captain for the eleven team against the national team? i watched your match on tv, you were pretty awesome”, you remembered

even though rin didn’t want to engage in the one-sided conversation, he couldn’t help but hear more than the commentary of his discarded phone (which was turned off later on).

itoshi rin picked up a new habit. after his everyday practice, he’d make his way to the cafe near the station. he would order his favourite tea and bread but this time, an extra iced chocolate for you. he sits in his usual seat beside the window and waits. not long he’d see the door open to see you enter. today was rather chilly so it made sense for you to wear your favourite red sweater with white stripes. scanning the room, your eyes lit up seeing a particular teal eyes locking contact with you. a comfortable walk accompanied with a small wave, you made it to your designated seat, in front of him. time would fly as the duo exchange conversations about random topics

rin never realised how he fell for you. maybe it’s the way his heart skips a beat when he sees you? or how he’s obviously less mean to you. in his eyes, you aren’t too bad. you definitely weren’t some lukewarm npc that took up his time. you was someone who he enjoyed talking too. the people around him (or more particularly his teammates) couldn’t help but wonder what made the striker less grumpy

“someone’s in a good mood~”, a singsong shidou said slinging his arm around rin

“right? leaving practice so soon? have a date planned?”, karasu joined in on the teasing

“yeah i do”

that one sentence froze the soccer players. itoshi rin going on.. date? sounded impossible to his teammates. they were dumbfounded at how rin even got a date. a familiar ringtone caught the attention of rin and he peeked his phone to see your text. he kept your ringtone different from the rest of his usual notifications. grabbing his duffle bag, itoshi rin left his obviously curious teammates to go see you at your usual spots

the cafe beside the station

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 4 months ago

Text

The Meet-Cute, Chapter 4 - Law

Source for the pic

Word Count: 4487 (these just keep getting bigger!)

Warnings: Fem!Reader, This is going to be a series featuring Ace, Sanji, Law, Zoro and Kid.

Special Warning: English is not my first language!

Summary: You had your life in Grand Line City all figured out. A wonderful job, a fiancé and a shared apartment. Until you found out he was cheating. Your father, Shanks, had a horse riding accident and you decided that this was just the right time to return home. You were expecting a peaceful, uneventful life back in the Calm Belt, but, fate had other plans.

Notes: I'm really sorry if I messed up some medical expressions. I tried to Google everything first!

| Chapter 3 - Zoro | |Chapter 5 - Sanji|

Law:

Your dad's grunts and wails have been increasing both in volume and in intensity, so you let out a long breath of relief as you finally park the truck at the clinic’s - thankfully almost empty - parking space.

“Hey, dad” you say softly as your heart clenches at the sight of your father’s sweaty face and scrunched up brows. “I'm going to grab you a wheelchair and some help, okay?”

You take his grunt as a positive answer and run inside the clinic, only noticing your dishevelled state as you catch sight of your reflection in the glass doors: your white top is not white anymore and there's a tear at the bottom; your shorts have dirt and oil all over them; you don't even want to get started on your knees and legs, which are bruised and scraped from kneeling on the dirt; and your once perfectly braided hair is no longer perfect and it is barely braided.

You sigh as you enter the clinic and wince in pain as you step your foot wrong. You definitely sprained it when you were with Zoro.

You drag yourself to the front desk and the blonde girl gasps as she looks at your state. “Oh, my!” She gets up hastily and goes around the desk to reach you. “Are you all right?”

You nod frantically. “I'm fine, I'm fine. I-... Kaya?”

The girl looks at you with a furrowed brow but it doesn't take her more than five seconds before her mouth turns into an ‘o’ and she exclaims your name happily. “You're back! It's been ages!”

You laugh and nod. “Yes, we should catch up. After we get my father inside. He hurt his back and-...”

“Again?” You swear this time your ears start fuming. This has happened more than once and this doctor keeps sending him home? Oh, he is going to get a piece of your mind. “Shachi, Penguin, can you be darlings and bring Mr. S. inside? He's had another incident.”

You cross your arms against your chest and frown as you watch two men go outside with a wheelchair to bring your father inside.

“They'll take him to Dr. Trafalgar. How about you, sweetie, are you alright? You don't seem well.” Kaya was your friend from kindergarten to half of the middle school, until she went home to be home-schooled. You lost touch with her even before you left town, but she has always been such a nice friend that you actually find yourself sharing a soft smile with the blonde.

“I've had a few mishaps with the car before getting here.” You sigh. “I'll go freshen up in the bathroom and then I'll meet my dad. Is that alright?”

She nods and points you to the ladies’ room. You stand in front of the mirror and, as you're passing your fingers through your hair, trying - and failing - to detangle its knots, you realise you should eat something. You discarded breakfast on account of that stupid asshole and his selfies, and you and your father didn't have a chance to eat lunch.

But first, you let out a deep sigh at your appearance, you should try to make yourself presentable. You don't want to chew the doctor's ears out looking like a hobo.

Washing up as best as you can, massaging your sprained ankle, and redoing your braid - there's nothing to be done about the state of your clothes - you deem yourself somewhat presentable and, as you leave the bathroom, you see your father being wheeled to a room so you follow him quickly.

“Daddy!”

“Buuuuuug! The doc gave me the good stuff!” He slurs and guffaws, opening his arm and almost throwing himself off the chair to hug you. Then he turns his voice into a whisper. “He stabbed a needle in ma butt!” Shanks uses his hand to hide his cheeky laugh before he continues. “Imma stay here for a while because they'll put some more drugs in my arm. And then we can go.”

What? IV and an injection? That's the whole treatment? No. Not on your watch.

“Yeah, that's good dad, rest.” You smile at him and then turn to the man with the brown hair who is wheeling him. “Hey, where's the doctor's office? I need to speak with him.”

“Er… I… Hum… Dr. Trafalgar doesn't like unannounced visitors…” He stutters but you silence him with an angry look. “But if you must know, it's that door.” He then chuckles nervously and wheels Shanks to a room.

You take a deep breath and stomp towards the office the attendant pointed out to you. After one step, you stop stomping because your ankle hurts too much, but you still make it to your destination. You knock lightly on the door, because you're not a savage, but start to tap your foot on the floor when you don't get an immediate answer.

As you raise your fist for a second round of angrier knocks, you hear a deep ‘come in’ from inside the office and you open the door, wearing a frown.

Which is quickly turned into a stunned expression because you didn't quite know what to expect from the doctor you've been hearing about, but this was not it.

He's hot.

There's no other way to describe the man in front of you. His black hair is tousled to perfection and you have to swallow a lump when he fixes his amber gaze upon your own. The frown and the furrowed brows only add to his allure, as you notice the tattooed forearms and knuckles. What an interesting choice of tattoos for a doctor, you can't help but think.

They spell DEATH.

The rest of his arms are covered by his white coat but you can't help but wonder if he has more ink on them. But that wondering soon stops, because he's already asked you twice about what you need and you have been transfixed in the same spot, drooling at him.

“Right, hi! My father. Shanks! He was just here.” You exclaim as if that explains everything.

“Yes, I know. I'm his doctor.”

He stares at you. “Oh, it’s my turn.” You stumble with your words and, is that an amused smirk in the stoic doctor’s face? Couldn't be, since it disappeared as soon as it appeared. “What is wrong with him? I keep hearing that he needs to come to the clinic more than once a week because of his back. That's not normal.” You seem to regain your cool and remember that you are there to get some answers from this man.

He leans back in his chair and gestures for you to sit but you're too wound up to stay still, so you decline and start pacing the office. You're having a hard time breathing, so you start to fan yourself with your hand.

“You're right, it's not.”

“What is it, then?”

His fingers entwine with one another as his gaze follows your form. You're limping, fanning both of your hands now, and you look like shit. You must be quite a spectacle.

“Doctor/patient confidentiality.”

“Are you kidding me?” Does your voice usually sound so far away? Because everything seems super bright and all the sounds are blending together. You stop and grip the back of the chair tightly, your knuckles turning white from the strength.

“I'm not. Your father is sane and, other than his back, of good health. I have discussed treatment plans with him. He knows what he has and he knows what he needs to do in order to recover. To you, I can't say anything without his explicit permission.” You see him tense up as he stares at you and your behaviour. His brows furrow further as he turns his body to the side, as if he's about to get up.

“But I'm his daughter!” You let out a ridiculous whine and start to gasp for air.

“And I'm his doctor.” He gets up and approaches you. “Sit. You're so pale I can almost see through you. When was the last time you ate and-...”

That's the last thing you remember before waking up in a bed next to your father.

-*-

You blink as your eyes adjust to the brightness of the room and take shallow breaths. Your head is throbbing and the constant beeping noise from the machine is not helping you at all. You realise that the beeping machine is hooked to you through your finger, as well as an IV attached to your arm.

You raise your torso with a grunt and see that the cuts and bruises on your legs have been tended to, and your ankle is now sporting a not-so-fashionable elastic bandage with a pack of ice sitting on it.

“Bug! You’re up!” Your dad flails his arm in the bed next to you to get you to look at him. “Law! Kaya! Someone!”

Pressing your thumb and index finger against the bridge of your nose, you sigh deeply. “Dad, dad, there’s a button to call the nurse next to the bed, please don’t scream.”

But it’s not necessary to use the button because Kaya enters the room with a concerned smile and gravitates towards you. “Sweetie, how are you?” Her voice is so gentle and kind that it forces an immediate smile from your lips.

“My head is killing me. What happened?”

“Well, Dr. Trafalgar said it’s probably hypoglycemia - low blood sugar - he had some blood tests done, the results should be in at any moment. Have you eaten anything today?”

You nod and are about to say yes, of course, but the words don’t leave your mouth because they are not true. You really haven’t eaten anything today. “No.”

“Then, that’s definitely it.” Kaya giggles. “I could hear you yelling at Dr. Trafalgar from where I was sitting. He looked kind of flustered when he opened the office door, carrying you in his arms.”

You blush as your eyes widen. “What?”

“Well, you were unconscious, so he carried you to the examination room.” She giggles again and lowers her voice so your father doesn’t hear the rest. “Sweetie, you two looked straight out of a romantic movie. He was carrying you bridal style with a look of concern and you looked rather frail all curled up against his strong frame.”

You keep feeling your face getting hotter as the beep from the machine next to you grows louder and faster. Kaya has always loved romantic movies, so it’s no wonder she would think something silly like this. For all you know, Dr. Trafalgar was dangling you by one arm and you banged your head on all the thresholds before reaching this room.

It would explain the throbbing headache.

“Nurse Kaya, I do hope you’re questioning the patient about medical history and the possible cause of this incident and not engaging in idle gossiping?”

You gasp alongside Kaya as Dr. Trafalgar approaches you both, a scowl on his face and his brows scrunched. How is his forehead not permanently wrinkled from all the pouts and frowns?

“No, I was just gossiping. I’m sorry.” Kaya giggles as you gasp at her truthful response. Is she allowed to speak like this with her superior? His stare at Kaya is so intense that, after a moment, she excuses herself and leaves you two alone with your father on the other bed, seemingly distracted by a soap opera on TV, until he spots the doctor next to you.

“Oh, Law! How is my baby girl?”

“Don’t call me that, dad.” You whisper between clenched teeth. Law? Is that the doctor’s first name?

“I’m going to examine her now, Mr. S. You can watch your show.” Shanks mouths a droopy ‘okay’ and turns back to the TV. He is still pretty high on drugs, apparently.

“Have you eaten anything today?” His amber eyes stare at yours and you feel compelled to look at his name tag, instead, but then you are staring at his chest, and is that more ink coming out from the neck of the shirt he is wearing? Does he have a chest piece?

The beeping becomes faster and you switch back to the piercing eyes. “No, I haven’t.” You say, trying to distract yourself.

“It’s certainly hypoglycemia, then. I will observe you.”

You nod and he removes the stethoscope from his neck, pushing it against your exposed cleavage. “Breathe in.” You take a deep breath. “Now out.” You do. He takes a step forward and tells you to lean forward as he repeats the process on your back. “In. Out.”

He reaches for a small pen-like flashlight from his coat pocket and points it at your eyes. “Look up. Down. Now the other one, up. Down. Okay, that’s it.”

“That’s it? Aren't you going to say I'm a good girl?” You giggle for a second and then stop abruptly. Suddenly mortified as his eyes pierce into your own with an unreadable expression. “I'm sorry. That was stupid. Are there drugs here?” You point to the IV and as his stare doesn't waver, the beeping on the machine just keeps getting faster and louder.

“That's just a dextrose and saline solution. No drugs. That was all you.”

The machine just beeps louder and louder and you grunt as you rip the monitor off of your finger, rendering the beeping into a continuous, even more annoying, beep.

“Stupid thing! I think that might be broken.” You snort, wail and hide your face in your hands. Can you be an even bigger idiot? Why are you acting like this? Aren't you supposed to be yelling at this doctor on account of your father? Where has all of your bravado gone?

Out the window when you passed out and were carried like a princess by her knight in shining armour. As well as all your sane thoughts on feminism and women’s rights, apparently.

Crap.

“Are you done?” He asks, deadpan as he turns off the monitor and the beeping stops. Now you’re frustrated again, but you simply pout and nod without making eye contact.

He flips through some files and hums softly. “Your blood tests came out normal. This was a simple incident of low blood-sugar, next time try not to stay too long without eating anything, or, at least, if you’re going to fast, drink plenty of liquids, tea or water, preferably.”

“I wasn’t fasting.” You mumble between clenched teeth, your eyes locked on the chipped nail polish that had come out when you ripped the monitor that was attached to your finger.

“Whatever weird diet you are on, then. Stop it. You look extremely healthy, you don’t need it.” Could that have been a veiled compliment?

“M’not on a diet.” Your mumble is even quieter.

“Sorry?”

“I’m not on any diet, or fasting, or anything. I just didn’t eat, that’s all.” This time you speak loud and cross your arms over your chest for emphasis.

“You didn’t eat the breakfast I cooked, bug? Is this still because of that jackass fiancé that cheated on you?” Shanks is literally screaming so you know that, by now, the entire clinic knows you’ve been cheated on. Yet you simply inhale, use the back of your hand to wipe away a stray tear and nod.

“I'm going to kill him.” Shanks simply declares as he tries to get up from the bed. “Law, help me kill him.”

You glimpse that amused smirk on the corner of his lips as he watches your father struggling with the bed covers.

“I would really like to be your partner in crime, Mr. S. But, you see, I took an oath.”

That statement makes you giggle and he turns his gaze back at you, smirk still in place, and your heart does a weird thing that makes you catch your breath.

“Shove that oath up your-... Ouch, dammit!” Shanks’ legs get tangled in the sheets and he almost falls as he tries to get up.

“Mr. S. please calm down. We're not killing anyone today okay?” Dr. Trafalgar turns to you. “He seems pretty determined, maybe you should distract him with something less illegal?”

Is he funny as well? He seems so stoic and uptight but he's responding to your father's shenanigans with a dark humour that's making you laugh.

“Daddy, lie back down on the bed, we will schedule another day to kill him, I promise.” You use your commanding tone and your father grunts before settling back down again. “Besides, since it's the three of us together, I would like to ask you, Shanks, what's the treatment that Dr. Trafalgar recommended for your back because the Dr. doesn't want to share that information with me.”

Your lips turn thin as you cross your arms over your chest.

“That's a good lad, Law. Thank you.”

You glare at both of them but Dr. Trafalgar just raises his arms defensively. “Doctor/patient confidentiality!”

“Dad!” You huff at the same time as your father groans loudly.

“Just tell her, Law. Or I'll never hear the end of it. And I still have a murder to commit.” He mumbles.

You turn your attention back to the doctor and try your best not to give him your ‘see you could've told me earlier and we would've avoided this whole situation’ look, but you definitely give him one of those.

“Your father has a herniated disc in his spine. This occurs when the soft inner core of a disc between the vertebrae protrudes through the tough outer layer, putting pressure on nearby nerves.”

Your brows tighten at all the medical jargon but you're understanding the essentials, so you nod for him to continue.

“Mr. S. experiences stabbing pain that radiates along the path of the affected nerve and can lead to episodes of intense pain and sometimes a feeling of weakness or numbness in the affected area. Activities that cause strain on the spine can make it worse. Something like bending down or lifting stuff.”

You turn to your father with a glare in your gaze, your frown heavy and your eyes watery. “I told you you should rest!” Your words are but a sliver that escapes your lips. Dr. Trafalgar continues.

“When the medication hasn't provided enough relief, as it's your father’s case, surgery may be recommended. The procedure typically involves removing the herniated portion of the disc to relieve pressure on the nerves and alleviate symptoms.”

The silence stretches and evolves into a thick fog that encapsulates the three of you within. Your next words are measured carefully, but need to be asked. “Is it a complicated procedure?”

Of course it is! It's on the spine!

“Each case is unique on its own. The complexity can vary based on factors such as the location and size of the herniation, as well as your father's overall health.”

“And the risks?” Your gaze alternates between the doctor’s professional stance and your father's slumped and defeated form.

“Like any surgery there are inherent risks of infections or allergic reactions. Specifically to this surgery, there's always the chance of the symptoms remaining or that another surgery might be necessary. There's also a more severe risk of nerve damage, which can cause temporary numbness or weakness. Yet, in this case, I would argue that the benefits far outweigh the risks.”

“Dad…” You start.

“I don't want to discuss this right now.” He discards the use of your nickname and calls you by your birth name, declaring his seriousness of the matter.

Your lower lip trembles and you nod at him letting out a very soft ‘okay’. Suddenly, realisation hits you. This was probably the reason why he had the horse riding incident. It was the cause not the consequence.

Dr. Trafalgar places a very gentle hand over yours and you gasp at the shock of his touch. “I will send nurse Kaya to remove your IV and your father's so you can both be on your way and discuss this properly.” You nod. “If you have any questions, you can always call me or visit the clinic.” You nod again, suddenly exhausted as your body starts to complain of all the abuse it suffered today.

He leaves calling out a ‘take care, Mr. S.’ to your father at the door. Silence permeates the room as you turn and let your feet dangle from the bed, your eyes focusing on the lying form of Shanks.

“Dad,” you start. “I know you don't want to talk about this, and I will respect your wishes, but just hear my opinion, you don't have to say anything!” You add and your father takes a deep breath but doesn't say anything so you take that as consent for you to continue. “You're young and very active. These episodes keep you from living a normal, fulfilling life. Dr. Trafalgar said that the benefits are far more than the risks and I think you should consider the surgery.”

The door opens up and Kaya comes in with a bright hello and a smile. “Think about it, dad.” You finish as Kaya stands at your side with a tray of equipment to relieve you of all the paraphernalia attached to your body.

“So, how are we feeling?” She asks you as she swiftly disconnects the empty IV from your arm.

You sigh and give her a lopsided smile. “I'm feeling better, Kaya, thank you.”

“Aaaaaand?” She giggles at you and your brows scrunch at her. “Dr. Trafalgar?”

You feel your cheeks grow hot, even if you will them not to. “He's very competent. He explained to me everything about my father's condition. He's very professional. I'm impressed.” As you admit this, you realise that maybe you should apologise to him for your earlier behaviour but maybe he's with another patient now.

“That's not where I was going.” She pouts at you. “He's single, you know?”

You wince as she takes out the needle in your vein and puts a bandaid over it. “That's… okay, I guess.” You don't really know what to say. Kaya seems to be trying to set you up, but you really don't want to think about men at this moment.

“You're impossible!” She mutters your name as she shakes her head and removes the melted ice pack from your ankle. “There, you're done. I'll take care of your father and you both can leave.”

-*-

Penguin and Shachi insisted on taking your father to the car themselves and you were at the desk with Kaya, settling the payment and documents. You were exhausted. Physically and mentally. The news about Shanks had left you preoccupied and you were having trouble processing.

As Kaya finished inserting some data on the computer, you sighed deeply and pressed the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb, closing your eyes and trying to suppress the growing throb in your head.

Suddenly, you feel a presence on your side as a deep voice fills the air. “Are you feeling well?”

Opening your eyes and forcing a weary smile on your lips you slightly nod. “Just the culmination of all the exciting events of today, I guess. A throbbing headache.” You shrug.

Dr. Trafalgar takes out a set of keys from his pocket and goes behind Kaya opening one of the cabinets and taking out two pills from one container. Then he goes to the water dispenser and fills a cup.

“Give me your hand.” You open your palm as he sets the pills there, lightly brushing his long fingers against your skin. “Take them. It will relieve the pressure on your head.” You set the pills in your mouth. “Water.” He hands the cup to you and you drink it. Then he reaches into his pocket and takes out a wrapped onigiri. “Then eat this.” You reply with a meek ‘okay’. “Good girl.”

He smirks and you nearly choke to death on another sip of water. Then you burst out laughing and you notice that the smirk is still adorning his lips. Surprisingly, he laughs along with you and you are forced to admit that the way his deep voice slurred with the words ‘good girl’ made your knees buckle and your body tingle in very unholy places.

“I'm sorry.” You start, as soon as the laughter dies down. “For overreacting earlier.”

“It's alright. I will blame your reaction on your abnormal state.” He says cheekily and you smirk back at him.

“By the way, do you carry all your fainting patients in bridal style?”

He scratches the back of his head and looks down, seemingly embarrassed. “Just the cute ones.” The blush spreads from your cheeks to your nose and you're left speechless. Where had the stoic doctor gone? There seemed to be a cheeky flirt in his stead, did he have a twin?

“Thank you, Dr. Trafalgar, for everything.” You decide to finish the conversation there since you're liking it way too much, which can turn very dangerous.

He nods. “It's Law.” You raise your brow at him. “My name, call me Law.”

“Law. Thanks.” His smirk turns into a slight smile that traps your gaze as you breathe slowly. Single, right? How?

Kaya’s soft harumph seems to wake you both from your trance and Law excuses himself with work he has to do. “Don't be a stranger.” He adds and then wishes you and your father well before leaving. You sigh as you turn to Kaya, who's watching you with a knowing look and a very silly smile.

“This was rom/com happening in real life, I swear. Girl, I'm dying here. You need to go on a date with him!” She squeals. “I don't think I've ever heard him laugh!”

“I'm not going on any date, Kaya.” You say, deadpan as you accept the receipts she hands you. “I'm off men at the moment, thank you very much.”

“Yeah we all heard your father. Sorry about your fiancé thing… Though maybe it was better to find out before the wedding actually happened!”

You nod. You couldn't agree more, actually. “I'm going to go now. Dad and I both need rest.”

You and Kaya exchange phone numbers, not wanting to fall out of touch with her, and wave goodbye. The exhaustion is taking its toll on you and you still have to try and convince your father to agree to the surgery. Maybe you'll leave that fight to another day, though.

As you walk to the truck you unwrap the onigiri and take a small bite. It tastes homemade. Delicious.

As scrumptious as Dr. Trafalgar Law, actually.

No, nope. Not gonna happen. You shake your head as you take your seat ready to face the challenge of driving with a stick yet again. And somehow, between driving with a stick and trying to avoid thinking about Dr. Law, the first one seems like an easier challenge.

#one piece #one piece x reader #op #x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #law x reader #reader x law #trafalgar law x reader #the meet-cute #law x you #Spotify

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coconut-dreamz · 9 months ago

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cornelia street

'i'd never walk cornelia street again' | tom blyth x reader

part one

a/n: i wasn't going to post a part two but i always wanted to write a story based of cornelia street and it worked so well !

you blinked a few times at his response. "you couldn't wait until morning?" you answer, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. he laughs at your comment. "maybe i should've, but i couldn't. i've missed you so much lately. i just had to talk to you." you were silent for a moment, you wondered how you had ended up here. it was just a few years ago when you first met.

we were in the backseat drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar "i rent a place on cornelia street" i say casually in the car

you and tom were in a cab headed away from the bar you had just met at. you had previously whispered into his ear between kisses, that you rented a place nearby. you were both more than tipsy and definitely not in the right mindset to be doing this.

but that didn't matter, you might have been tipsy on the drinks you had, but you were drunk off his kisses. you gave more than the necessary amount of money to the driver as you dragged tom out of the cab and up to your apartment.

we were a fresh page on the desk filling in the blanks as we go as if the street lights pointed in an arrowhead leading us home

you and tom were walking down the street hand in hand. you'd been seeing each other for a few weeks now. there was no official title on your relationship, you just went on dates and hung out and maybe did things further than kissing sometimes. everything about your relationship was rather spontaneous, but one thing that was constant was that you'd walk home together after every night out. walking hand in hand down cornelia street to your apartment.

and i hope i never lose you, hope it never ends i'd never walk cornelia street again that's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend i'd never walk cornelia street again

as time went on, tom officially asked you out and you asked him to move into your apartment. things were going amazing, especially since he had just landed the role of coriolanus snow in the newest hunger games movie. you were so proud of him, you always knew that he'd be successful, he was so talented.

as tom began filming for tbosas, a strange feeling filled your stomach. you weren't sure what it was at first, but quickly realized it was jealousy when you saw him and rachel interact over a facetime call one time. you knew that if things ended between you and tom, you might never recover.

to you, he was your soulmate, he was the one for you. he was everything. and because of that you knew that if things ever ended, you would never be able to walk cornelia street again. it would remind you too much of tom.

and baby, i get mystified by how this city screams your name and baby, i'm so terrified of if you ever walk away i'd never walk cornelia street again

despite having lived in new york long before you had met tom, the whole city reminded you of him. everywhere you went, you'd be reminded of him. it was both a blessing and a curse for you. he was still gone for filming and you missed him dearly, so it nice to be reminded of him. but every time you thought about how he was filming, you'd be reminded of who he was filming with. rachel. she was so beautiful and so talented, of course tom would rather be with her instead of you. it would be hard to avoid cornelia street if it all were to end.

back when we were card sharks, playing games i thought you were leading me on i packed my bags, left cornelia street

before you even knew i was gone

you'd had enough of the games you and tom were playing. all the constant fights which led to tom's indifference of your relationship. you were tired of it all. you needed to get away from it, you needed to get away from cornelia street. you packed up your bags and arranged to stay with a friend, indefinitely.

too bad tom had caught you as you left, which led to an awkward encounter where you told him you were leaving him and not to contact you for at least 6 weeks. in all honesty, you never expected him to contact you again after that. he seemed so checked out of your relationship lately.

but then you called, showed your hand i turned around before i hit the tunnel sat on the roof, you and i

"love? you still there? or did you fall asleep?" tom interrupts your reminiscing. "huh? oh yeah, sorry." you answer him, brought back to reality. "can i see you soon? i missed you so much. can we just talk about all of this?" he pleads with you. "sure," you almost immediately agree. you'd never thought you'd hear this from him, but it was a welcome surprise. "do you want to get coffee later today? my treat, for waking you up so early. i'm on a short break from filming so i'm back in new york right now." you just hum in response. you can hear a smile in tom's voice as he gives you more details and bids you a goodnight.

you never thought you'd be walking down cornelia street again, but here you were. walking towards the cafe you and tom would always go to, way back when. tom spots you immediately when you walk in. he stands up from his seat and envelopes you in a bear hug. "i've missed you so much." he whispers into the crook of your neck. it takes a moment for you to reciprocate, surprised by the affection and his confession. "i missed you too, tom" you answer him.

you hold my hand on the street walk me back to that apartment years ago, we were just inside barefoot in the kitchen sacred new beginnings that became my religion, listen

after coffee, tom invited you to come over. it felt weird being invited to your own apartment, but you just laughed it off. you had deja vu as you walked down the street with him, hand in hand. as you looked up to the window of your apartment, you remember how you would dance around in the living room together. you remember all of your firsts together in that apartment.

as you entered your old apartment, it looked just how you'd left it. "i couldn't bear the thought of moving anything around. i knew you'd come back so i kept it just how you like it," tom explains when he sees the look on your face. you just smile at this. "i was hoping you would."

"i rent a place on cornelia street" i say casually in the car

it had been a few weeks since you and tom started talking again. you both came to an agreement that since it was your apartment and he was still filming for the new season of billy the kid, you'd move back in and he could stay with a friend instead. you both knew it was too soon to move back in together. your relationship needed a lot of mending to be done to get to that.

tom was back once again for a short break from filming and you'd gone out to a bar with some friends. in similar fashion to when you first met, you whispered into his ear "i rent a place on cornelia street" in between kisses in a darkened hallway. he just gives you a knowing smile as you led him out the bar and hail a cab. it seemed you both would continue to walk cornelia street again.

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth fluff

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whitehotwild · 4 months ago

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i've never done an anon before so i'm so sorry if it sounds weird 😭😭 but do you think billy and his younger s/o would go to like, those summer carnivals? like, the ones that are at night? idk if that's js in my hometown tho 😭 she most definitely dragged him there and he reluctantly went bc he loves her, but lwk he ends up enjoying it. idkkk i js feel like there isn't enough soft!billy content on here and you are my only supplier of it 🙏🙏

OUUUUUUUU OU OU OU you just scratched an itch... im so giddy about this. (also ily and i'll gladly be ur supplier)

we only have fall carnivals in my town which sucks bc summer carnivals sound so much more fun.

you like... heard from a friend that there's this one in NJ, you try to convince butcher to go with you. you tell him that it's only 2 hours by way of penn station (nightmare nightmare nightmare), that he doesn't have to drive you, that you'll buy the entry tickets.

"let's just go to coney island, yeah? i'm not goin' to bleedin' New Jersey for a night just because you wanna ride some roller coasters. you got a ride right here..." he smirks, thinking he's oh so clever.

all it does is make you whine and go limp in his hold, "but pleeeeeeease??? It'll be fun! you're such a fucking party pooper."

it doesn't ever take much to make him give into you, that's his one weakness, "i ain't no fuckin' 'party pooper'. you're just a pain in me arse."

"okay... so are we going or not?"

butcher sighs with an unimpressed look on his face, "fine."

and then like when you're actually at the carnival, you make good on your promise to buy the entry tickets (wristbands whatever), and butcher pays for the games/rides.

after half an hour, he's spent only about $20, "I ain't spendin' over 50 bucks, got it?"

at the moment, you're more worried about what you're gonna get from the food truck than anything coming out of his mouth, "mhm. yup, got it."

you beg him to get on one of the rides with you and he finally gives in after a while, but the second you get off the ride he's looking at you like he kinda wants to kill you... just a little bit.

"you're tryna give me a bloody heart attack. i ain't doing that again."

(i'll die on the hill that butcher hates roller coasters just because i think it would be very funny.)

$100 and two hours later, butcher's finally cutting you off after winning you one of those big teddy bears from one of the game booths.

(yes, he knows he said $50. yes, he knows he's wrapped around your little finger)

"you happy, pet?" he asks you once you both settle on the train back to the city. there's no snark in his voice like you'd expect, just genuinely wanting to know that you had a good night.

you nod against his shoulder, your legs propped up in the empty seat in front of you, "yeah, i'm happy. you happy?"

butcher looks down at you, the way your head rests against him, the way your arm is snaked through his. he allows himself, just for a moment, to believe that he does deserve this... that he does deserve you and the joy you bring back to him.

"i suppose so. you like your bear?" he nudges you gently, motioning to where you sat the big stuffed bear in the seat in front of him.

"mhm... gonna name it 'billy jr.'" you tease with a tired smile, you're halfway to falling asleep and the train's barely left the station.

billy (sr.) huffs, unimpressed, but there's a small smile on his face, he untangles his arm from yours and wraps it around your shoulders, covering your eyes with his hand as he pulls you a bit closer into his side.

"ah, fuck off... you're delirious, go to sleep."

୨ ♡ ୧

just wanna say sorry that im not getting to requests as quick as i'd like! got a lot of shit happening atm BUT im on vacay atm so hopefully i can pump some out this week! LOVE YOU BYEEEE!

#THIS GOT LONGER THAN I EXPECTED AND I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT #moral of the story...#i need him.#butch baby ౨ৎ #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys #billy butcher brainrot go brr #billy butcher the boys #billy butcher x you #wrote half of this in the car on the way to charleston... SUMMA TYME!!!!!

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gawkingatyourface · 9 months ago

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Sweetest Tail | Preview

summary: A new recruit, Sas joined the Hazbin Hotel after the extermination which made Charlie so happy that she was jumping with joy. This new recruit took the whole crew to their only family that was outside of Pentagram City. Not realizing what they were getting into or more like whom they'll meet.

pairing: Lucifer x reader , Alastor x reader , Azrael x reader

warnings: angst, swearing, violence

notes: hi guys! this is my side blog for Hazbin Hotel stories hehe I've been so obsessed with the show as well as the songs. Just everything about it, pulled me in lol anyway, this is just a little preview of a story I'm working on. Hope you guys like it! Let me know if it's good or not hehe

"Are we almost there toots? We've been walking for who knows how long?!" Angel complained as Husk chuckled beside them.

"We are. Just a few more." The new recruit named Sas said back as he looked around to see a familiar building.

Well the only building in the middle of no where.

Everyone looked at the building before looking at Sas with curious and judgmental looks.

He turned back at them and rolled his eyes.

"It might look bad from the outside but inside it's way better. Haven't you guys ever heard of not judging a book from its cover."

"Don't read books."

"Nope."

"What's a book?"

Sas raised an eyebrow at them and shook his head.

"Come on. She's waiting for us."

That caught Charlie's attention.

"She? Are we here for another recruit?"

Sas shook his head.

"I don't think she wants to redeem herself to heaven. She hates heaven for a reason that I can't tell you."

"Oh..."

That made Charlier sad as Vaggie comforted her.

"She's also my big sister so flirting is off limits." He said towards Angel whom just laughed and stick their tongue out at him.

"Well, he's got a point." Husk commented which Angel glared at him.

Alastor was quiet as he had never heard of this place. He eyed the place with suspicious as he kept silent. He even glanced to see Lucifer even curious about this place. He figured that he didn't know this place as well.

The King of Hell didn't know of this place, how odd.

Sas stood in front of the door and glanced at everyone for a second before he opened the door to reveal a well, styled place.

A café.

Multiple types of demons were chatting away their lives, not caring whom had came in.

Everyone was astonished at how well designed this place was. It was old fashioned. With paintings and sculptures all around the area. There was a small bar on the right side of the place. On the far left corner, there was a small stage that someone was performing with a piano which gave the whole place the old times vibes.

Alastor really liked it. It reminded him back when he was a human.

Charlie was amazed at how everyone was so chill and collected.

No bloodshed. No violence.

Just calm and enjoyment.

Vaggie also liked at how calm the environment was. She could breathe in peace and not worry about protecting Charlie and the rest.

Angel thought the place was cool and stuff but their eyes were definitely on the bar and the variety of drinks they had.

Even Husk was astonished at the bar choices.

Niffty was on Alastor' shoulder before dropping to the ground. Her expressions about the place was hilarious. She eyed the whole place like a little girl in a field trip. So excited to explore the whole place for roaches.

"This place is amazing! Where are the roaches?!"

Sas managed to grab her before she ran all over the place and caused a rukus.

"Calm down Niffty. I'll let my sister know first for you to find the roaches."

"Yay! Where is she?! I need to kill them roaches!"

Sas shook his head before he handed Niffty to Angel and made his way to the bar.

Lucifer stood beside Charlie as he was amazed at the place interior design. It felt homey. So comfy and relaxing. It somewhat warmed his heart.

Sas nodded at the bartender and went back to the group.

"She'll be here in a bit. While we wait, let's go sit and get some drinks."

"Whoo! Finally!" Angel said as they all went to a table on the far end of the place.

"So what's this sister of yours like Sas?" Charlie asked as she sat beside Vaggie.

"Yeah, you make her sound so mysterious."

"As long as she doesn't kill us."

Before Sas could say anything, a angelic voice was heard.

"I don't think killing my little brother's friends would do me any good."

Everyone turned around to see a rather exquisite creature in front of them. Aside from Sas that looked at her with a big smile and teary eyes.

Standing in front of them was [Y/N], a nine tailed fox that was wearing a rather comfy dress with rested above her knees. Her eyes staring at each face with curiosity and interest.

Just like they were all looking at her with interest especially two of them.

Lucifer and Alastor.

They couldn't keep their eyes off of her. It was like she was hypnotizing them with just her eyes.

"[Y/N]!"

Sas yelled out as he got up and ran towards her; hugging her so tight.

She giggled at his excitement as she wrapped her arms around him tightly. She surely did miss him.

"Well, is it just me or you've gotten handsomer since the last time I saw you? Was it a year ago or so?"

Sas nodded as he hugged her tighter. He had missed her so much.

She smiled down at him as she stroked his hair with care and loving.

Charlie looked at her with big, sparkling eyes especially at the sigh of her nine tails. She had never seen anyone with so many tails. They looked so amazing.

"Her tails are gorgeous." She whispered to Vaggie whom nodded at her in agreement.

"You must be Charlie."

Charlie froze as she noticed that she had been staring too long at her tails that she didn't realize that she just spoke to her. She quickly got up and bowed at her.

"Yes I am!"

[Y/N]'s eyes widen before giggled at how adorable Charlie was acting.

"There's no need to bow Charlie. After all, you are the Princess of Hell. It's an honor for you to visit my place." [Y/N] said with grace as she slightly bowed since Sas was still hugging her.

"Well, Sas wanted us to meet you. He said that he really missed you and I wanted to have a conversation with you as well."

That caught [Y/N]'s attention.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all as well and what would you like to discuss with me?"

She patted Sas head for him to let her go as they both went to sit down. She sat on the empty chair between Lucifer and Alastor which Sas didn't like at all. He pouted as he sat beside Angel.

Lucifer gasped a bit as he glanced to see [Y/N] up close which made her even more beautiful in his eyes. The way she carried herself was something that attracted him to her but his face turned to a glare as he noticed the Radio Demon looking at her as well.

Alastor kept his eyes on her with a big smile on his face. Yet, this smile was different from his usual one. It was softer, like he had fallen in love at first sight yet he denied it. He had a plan and goal to get his soul back. That was all he needed. He didn't have time to fall for someone like her. There's no way.

But he couldn't help but keep his eyes on her, watching her every move especially her tails.

They looked so soft. He had the urge to touch them. He even had the idea that if she lets him touch her, he'd gladly let her touch his. His eyes widen at the realization at what he was thinking as he glanced away from her, not wanting anyone to notice his infatuation with her.

But one did.

And they weren't happy at all.

The King of Hell had been glaring at the Radio Demon. Alastor couldn't help but smirk back at him as if it was a competition which they both decided that it was.

"Well, it's mostly about my dream to help my people. I'm sure Sas has told you about the Hazbin Hotel."

[Y/N] nodded.

"Well, it's a hotel for sinners to redeem themselves so they can have a better life and possibly go to Heaven."

As Charlie went on about her dream and the improvement that everyone has been doing; [Y/N] was lost in thought about her idea. It did seem like a good idea but knowing how Heaven is especially Adam and Sera; it wasn't gonna happen.

Everyone wanted to go up to Heaven because of the paradise yet for some it wasn't worth it.

It was quiet for a bit until [Y/N] felt a spark from someone touching her hand-well more like both her hands which got her out of her mind and blinked several times to bring her back.

"[Y/N], you alright?"

Before she could say anything, she glanced to see that Lucifer and Alastor were the ones that awoken her. She gave them a small smile but that quickly disappeared as she felt a presence that she hadn't felt in a while.

A long time.

She knew that Lucifer was sitting next to her whom couldn't take his eyes off her along with the wide smiled guy that was sitting next to him.

No this was someone else.

Someone that she's been trying to hide from.

Her eyes widen at the realization as she quickly got up which got everyone's attention.

"You all need to-"

A loud crash was heard at the front door which made everyone gasp as they all stood up.

[Y/N] looked at the bartender and gave him a signal which he returned as he took several of the customers to the back door for safety. Just from the explosion, she automatically knew who it was.

It was him. For sure.

"Sis, what's going on?" Sas said as he gripped onto her hand tightly, not knowing what was going on.

"I need you to take your friends out of here. Someone is here and they don't take lightly-"

"Oh sweet [Y/N]...are you here darling?" A mocking, sweet voice was heard.

One that she knew so well that she got chills all over her body.

Lucifer stood up as well, knowing that voice as well. He didn't believe that he'd be here. He couldn't be.

"There's no way that.."

"It is him."

She answered him, not even looking at him.

Lucifer's eyes widen as he looked at [Y/N] whom was looking straight ahead in a glare.

"How is that...why is he even here?"

[Y/N] kept silent as the cloud of dust started to disappear to reveal the person that they were talking about.

"My sweet [Y/N], oh how I've missed you."

The voice got deeper as the view got clearer.

"Dad, what is going on? Who is that?"

Lucifer stood beside [Y/N] as he couldn't answer Charlie, he was too shocked at whom was in front of him.

"Oh my, we have some company. How fun. Guess this will make my work even easier." The figure revealed to be Azrael, the Angel of Death.

"Azrael."

Hearing her say his name made his smile wider as he took steps closer to her.

"How lovely your voice sounds when you say my name, wifey."

Everyone was shocked.

WIFEY?!

...

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niteshade925 · 5 months ago

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April 11, Xi'an, China, Xi'an City Museum/西安博物院 (Part 1):

Since I didn't take pictures of all the plaques, and some of these artifacts can be near impossible to look up, I will not attempt to name all of them.

The entrance to the Xi'an City Museum, also called 西安市博:

Xi'an city used to be called Chang'an/长安, and was the capital city of 13 different dynasties, including Qin dynasty, Han dynasty, and Tang dynasty. This is a (pretty big) model of Chang'an city in Tang dynasty, including parts of the palace:

Various Buddhist statues from different dynasties:

And a statue of Guanyin (Avalokiteśvara) that's in a pose I've never seen before:

Stone column with a loong dragon and clouds carved upon it:

I didn't take a picture of the plaque, but if I remember right this is a bixi/笔洗, or a small bowl containing water where you rinse your brush, and in this case it's fashioned from jade:

A carved jade decor (from a belt?):

A Qing dynasty jade zhaijie/斋戒 tag. Zhaijie is usually translated as "fasting", but it's more than that, it combines temporary dietary restrictions (definitely no meat or fish/seafood or alcohol, I'm not sure about animal products) and abstinence from a variety of activities, like enjoying feasts, entertainment, and working on official business. Those in mourning may be exempt from zhaijie. This tag was worn by officials when there were major national ceremonies going on, for example the annual ceremonies at Temple of Heaven/Tiantan/天坛 where the emperor prays for rain and a good harvest, as a reminder to observe the zhaijie rules during the ceremony:

Painting from Republic era (1946). I can literally read everything on the upper left but the name of the painter.........................sigh. Can't find it online either. Anyway I love how the painter created depth here:

This painting is by Qing era painter Zhang Qia/张洽 in 1787. I love the brushwork:

Totally forgot to take a picture of the plaque, but I love this calligraphy:

Bronze ritual wine vessel (called hé/盉) with phoenix head spout, from Warring States period (475 - 221 BC):

Bronze wine vessel (called jué/爵), if I remember right, this is from Zhou dynasty (1046 - 256 BC):

Bronze bells, part of a bianzhong/编钟 set. Although pentatonic scale has been seen as a key characteristic of traditional Chinese music, the bianzhong can play in heptatonic scale. And for the physics lovers out there, this kind of bell is very interesting in that the cross section is almond-shaped, and a single bell can produce two different tones depending on where it is struck. The protrusions on the bell (called mei/枚 or zhongru/钟乳) apparently affect the frequency of the sound produced as well.

The Bianzhong of Marquis Yi of Zeng (曾侯乙编钟) is the oldest playable set that has been found so far, discovered in the tomb of Marquis Yi of Zeng (died 430 BC). A full album was recorded with this ancient bianzhong set in 1989.

Early currency....yep these are shells. This is the reason why Chinese characters with the shell radical (贝/貝) usually have to do with money or treasure (ex: 财, 寶, 购, 赎, etc etc):

Different coins from different states in the Warring States period:

Different coins and molds after Qin dynasty (the weirdly shaped ones are apparently all from Xin dynasty/新莽):

Different seal stamps. I love the one with the turtle on it

#2024 china #xi'an #xi'an museum #西安博物院 #chinese history #chinese art #chinese painting #chinese calligraphy #chang'an #history #art #calligraphy #china #edited since the bell physics article link keeps dying....hopefully I've fixed it for good

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hoeforhao · 1 year ago

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🏷 Kidult ▪︎ Choi Seungcheol Fic ▪︎ pt.3

↷ pairing: dad!seungcheol × fem!reader (feat!jeonghan)

↷ genre: smut with zero to no plot, just a bonus stand alone sort of to the angsty previous parts.

↷ warnings: MINORS DNI!!!!explicit language, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving ), mostly fem pleasuring, thigh kink?creampie, breeding kink, biting and marking, slightly bratty seungcheol, lots of name calling. Tell me if i missed any!

↷ summary: what happens when your husband finally caves in to his mistakes and gives you an unforgettable night as an apology.

↷ part: 3/4 pt.1, pt.2, pt.4

↷ w.c: 2.3k (how can just smut be this long lord)

↷ author's note: last part finally lord yayyy!!! after much procrastination it's here at last. I suck at writing smut and specially breeding kink, so pls bear with me♡

Permanent taglist : @feat-sun @joonsytip @dinonuguaegi

If your two day old self saw you now squished under seungcheol's bulk figure, his veiny hard length pumping restlessly around your soft pink walls while his head rested in the crook of your neck,his sweaty forehead rubbing against your collarbones and his small wet stubby nose grazing against the back of your earlobes.....she would've definitely thought it's a severe case of fever dreams!

"You're my wife y/n and even...even more the bane of my existence, you...you can look at me as long....as long as you want baby" cheol's mouth reverbed against the length of your jaw, imprinting his very own mastered piece of red and purple marks onto any exposed face of your honey skin.

"Cheollie" your gentle dovish coo brings out cheol from the nest of your shoulders and instead lands his dewy melon eyes onto your sultry cat ones.

His ears were refusing to believe what was entitled upon them.....you called him 'cheollie', the very name you used to call him everytime before he fucked up the things with you, the one you cried out while holding onto his hands with your entire life as you gave birth to the daylight of his life, and that exact same name you used to moan under him while he pumped his juices deep inside your womb.

"Can, you, keep, on, calling, me, that, throughout, the, entire, night, today, pls, love?" with each word leaving his mouth, his lips left a following kiss on your face, the last one landing on your forehead.

"You don't know how much I've missed hearing you call me Cheollie, how I've missed your little giggles these days, your cresent smile, those round cheeks pooffing up whenever you become sulky - my second adorable child!" Seungcheol's hands now traveling up your waist through over your dress, the cold metal rings drawing in a sensation you forgot you even had the ability to feel, and finally resting on the bow that was the only lock to the mystical city beneath.

"But most of all, you know what I missed?" bringing up his face from the enchanting sweat of your skin, his eyes now bore their venom into yours, hands still wrapped around your torso. "The taste of this pretty little body of yours"

Even before you could flash him with the red of your cheeks, cheol's hands shift from your back to your hips, landing a tight squeeze on the right one to let you know what your next step is going to be; and as an absolutely obedient wife you quickly catch onto his signals and push up a little to wrap your thighs around his tiny midriff.

Seungcheol walks back with you clutched onto his body like a koala, lips never leaving yours swollen ones as his legs finally hit the footboard of the queen bed.

Twirling on his feet and placing you down upon the satin sheets, oh so carefully as his you were the one last piece of Lorenzo's sculptures; something he can never afford to even tolerate a scratch on; cheol dropped himself on his knees against the velvety red rugs, hands now fixated onto your bare thighs.

"A man is said to be the lucky when his lady has thighs as thick as the towers on a monument" his lips now land onto the soft jiggly mass of your upper legs, hands slowly creeping up towards the boundaries of your panties. "And me? I'm the luckiest to have these supple smooth brawns all to myself"

"Che...cheol ahh fu-" a sharp sting grazes the heat of your skin as seungcheol bites down onto a small mound of your inner things.

"What did I say darling? Didn't i tell you to call me Cheollie, huh? Do you want that slutty cunt of yours to go unattended tonight then princess!" his words make the awaiting river in your pussy finally run free down its source.

"S-sorry cheollie, but ple..please touch me already, I can't take it anymore" your own lewd words were ringing in your ears, making those rosy cheeks become rosier by the time.

"Touch where baby? I need clear words" cheol's mouth is now dangerously close to your throbbing core, while your thighs are left stained with all shades of purple and blue.

"At...at my...ummm...you know" it wasn't your first time having sex with him after childbirth, but it was definitely the first time of him catering to your pleasures and edging you to the brink, which thus made you swallow your words down your throat again.

"Hmm?" another attack from seungcheol finds its targets on you, but this time along the linen of your already wet panties, as his teeth sharply grazed against your clothed clit.

"Fuck it! I need you to touch my pussy please cheollie, it's literally aching at this point!!!" you were never a woman of prolonged patience and that showed up quite well when you brought one of your hands from the sheets to pull onto cheol's freshly smoothed locks....the other staying back to support your arched up back onto the bed.

"That's like my girl, so horny for her man's touch!" seungcheol's hands finally find the hem of your panties, pulling them down your knees meanwhile prepping his fingers to dive right into cunt.

Teasing your sloppy folds with the tip of his slightly outgrown nails, driving you literally nuts from the painful pleasure running throughout the entire length of your sweet petals, the grip on seungcheol's hair getting tighter with every

You were brought out of the lecherous utopia with the sudden contact of a pair of soft silken lips onto the wet ones of yours. To your utter disbelief, cheol was now sucking down on your cunt, something he has done only once, on your wedding night.

"Cheol....Cheollie, what are you-" a finger coated in your slick lands on your ever so talkative pair of crescent flesh.

"Ssshh y/n! You don't know how much I've craved to have the taste of your juices on my tongue!" seungcheol was a secret master of giving oral and now you were brought to acquaint that fact as his tongue worked wonders on your clit, flicking it like it was some piece of food particle stuck in his mouth. With his every suck onto your pussy, your grip of cheol's hair kept tightening to the near extent of pulling the roots out of his scalp.....but he was too drowned in your wetness to even pay heed to his own pain.

"Cheollie I...I am nea...shit" you flooded up his face cavities with your warm discharge, completely unannounced. As cheol slowly brought up his face from the home of your pussy, your eyes got hooked onto the absolute beauty infront of you.

Your husband's face painted finely with your white secretes , a proud smirk creeping up his cum stained lips seeing how insane he's already driven you just with his mouth alone, your skin glowing like a firefly from witnessing your slick is dripping down his chin down to his lap.

"That spawn of devil bestfriend of yours can surely bring a smile on your lips, but bet he can ever see this pleasure stricken face of yours!!! It's only mine to view and only mine to keep. My pretty little slut, aren't you love?!" cheol finally gets up from the floor only to throw himself onto you, his lips entwining with yours for the umpteenth time. But this time there was a kick to the usual hungry approach.

He bites onto your lips, forcing them open just so that he can make you taste your own sweet nectar on your tongue, realise how heavenly your insides taste, why he was driven crazy to devour your cunt you after two years.

"You know even the flowers would wither away from jealousy if they get to know that their honey is nothing compared to yours" seungcheol's hands now playing with the bow of your dress, lips never leaving yours. "But alas they'll never. Cuz I'll be the only one to know how sweet my lady tastes"

"Cheollie I feel empty...i want it now please". From the moment cheol layed down his entire weight on you, you could feel his strained bulge against your stomach, hands finding an excuse to palm them at least once. So as to fuel in your cravings, you tug onto the back of his head to pull him up from your lips and fix his gaze onto your pleading kitten eyes.

"Want what baby?" seungcheol absolutely knew what he was doing, pushing you towards the edge of the cliff only to hear you begging for him or more appropriately his dick . How could you even think that he didn't notice your hand ghosting over the tent in his pants.

"This? Is this what my princess wants?" he takes your hands in his and brings them towards his crotch to finally rest them on this clothed dick.

"Y-yes please. Can't wait" you whimper under him, hands impatiently rubbing circles on his hardness until they're swished away by his, just so that he could finally bring out his aching length to the spotlight.

"This desperate for me honey? Guess I've no other options than to mend to my sweet wife's needs" the smug visible wide on his face as cheol lines up his dick infront of your hole, hands traveling up your torso to undo the bow of the dress and let it fall aside freely; your tanned glazed body now completely bare to his eyes.

"Ready love?" how you wish you could capture the exact moment cheol's eyes turned from all teasing to so soft, asking for your consent to go in, and then turning hungry again when you give an ok nod at him.

Even after being almost moulded into the shape of his cock, your pussy still clenched like shit around his length, as if trying to suck out the last drop of life from his genitals.

"Taking me in so well baby, so fuckin tight" cheol groans between thrusts, feeling your walls close up onto his dick ; hands now playing with your breasts, kneading the supple flesh like a dough with occasional twists of your nipple between his fingers. "Fucked by me so many times yet still not perfectly framed for my cock"

"Guess I've to now leave my dick curved hole into your womb for you to harbor it easy from the next time, or" his eyes light up at the sudden mischievous thought. "Or even better, fill you up with a child so that my imprint is left in there forever, so that i can see you now enjoying your lost childhood with two of my seedlings, so that we can finally change Hana's name after making her an older sister, what say love?"

Your cheeks heat up at his comment. The sheer sight of you carrying his second child, birthing again and giving Hana a sibling just instantly feels you up with pure delight and content.

Your shy little smile and that dreamy expression on your face was enough fuel for cheol to start pumping into you at his maximum pace, putting the bed at a risk of collapsing down under the intense action.

"Gonna look as heavenly as the dawn angel with my child swelling in your belly and as sultry as the night siren with my cum filling up your dirty little hole" maybe it was his words or his high thrusts that you were now close to your second orgasm of the night.

"Am gonna cum cheollie" you look up at him with the most endearing eyes one can ever witness, even in such a lewd position.

"Cum for me baby, cum on my cock, show me how good your husband makes you feel" he picks up his pace again anticipating his own climax soon.

"F..fu-fuck ahh" and with that one last thrust both of you come undone on the cream satin sheets, the thought of paying for the damages next morning never bothering the two as seungcheol was a literal walking atm.

Seungcheol's eyes stay fixed onto your legs at the sight of his cum filling up your gole to the brim and leaking down your marked up thighs. He pushes himself in you for the last few times, making sure to nestle his precious seeds deep inside your womb.

"Couldn't let even a drop of it go to waste, right?" his face paints itself with a victorious smirk as he finally pulls out of you and plops down on the bed by your side ; arms locking you in his embrace as tight as possible while his sweat stained forehead rests on the crater of your shoulders.

"Y-you won't change back again na cheollie?" the post sex doubts hit you and you're now curled up like a ball along his abs, hands gripping onto his with your entire life.

"I know I've fucked up bad y/n and no words of assurance can heal it so soon, but please let me show you through actions now, that how much both of you mean to me. You two are the literal gems of my life love, my most beautiful princesses." cheol gently releases his palms from your hold and places them on the back of your head instead, circling soft gentle pats onto your silky cascades, like a parent comforting their child.

His eyes feebly shoot up to see why you aren't replying, only to find you snoring like a kid in his warmth.

"My cute little kiddo. I will give my everything to protect this family y/n" and with that he places a soft kiss on your forehead before drifting off to his own slumber.

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hazza-bear-care · 1 year ago

Text

Ironic

Hayden and Reader met and fell in love while filming a movie. After a four year break, you go on the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, and he points something out.

gif not mine; credit to the owner!

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Actress!Reader (established relationship) age gap (Reader is 28, Hayden is 41)

Warnings: Fluff, dad!Hayden, twins are a boy and a girl, pet names (honey, sweetheart), is jimmy fallon in new york or la? hes in new york for this one. mentions of pregnancy, abortion, and childbirth

~~~~~~~~

You were scrambling around the condo trying to make sure you had everything you needed before you left for the night. You kissed your babies as they slept, quietly slipping downstairs to see your husband. He looked amazing, dressed in all black, his hair slicked back and a smirk on his face.

"You look great, honey. Do you have everything?" Hayden asked, ever patient while you ran through your mental checklist, confirming you were ready to leave. He held out is arm and led you to the car, the babysitter told to make herself at home and not to wait up. Your heels clacked on the concrete path, unconsciously chewing on your bottom lip as the driver opened the car door, sliding quickly into your seat. Hayden followed, grabbing your hand to comfort you.

"I'm okay." You mumble, feeling the lingering stare your boyfriend was sending your way. With a chuckle, he pulled your hand up from your lap and kissed your knuckles.

"I know. I'm still here, sweetheart." The tender moment made your heart skip a beat, tummy now flipping for a different reason, a welcome distraction from the nerves.

"Thank you, honey." You responded, sending him a loving smile. He nodded and kissed your hand again, letting you turn to look at New York whizzing by. It was a rainy November day, the anticipation of snow thick in the air and the condensation on the window blurred the city lights as you got closer to your destination. You hurried into the building, clutching tightly to Hayden's hand as he confidently led you through the double doors. A crewmember corralled you into your dressing room backstage seeing as you were about half an hour early and you took a deep breath to help calm down. Hayden grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and cracked it open before handing it to you, which you gratefully accepted.

Thirty minutes later, you and Hayden stood behind the curtain, waiting for Jimmy to introduce you. Your knees were wobbly and your palms were sweaty, anxiety settling in a ball in your belly.

"Please welcome Hayden Christensen and Y/N Y/L/N!" As the curtain opened, Hayden squeezed your hand three times, a silent I love you. You smiled and waved to the audience, excitedly hopping over to your seat and clapping with the audience.

"Oh my God, I've missed this!" You gushed, a bright smile on your face.

"It's great to have you back! How are you? How have you been?" Jimmy asked, his eyes flicking between the two of you.

"I've been good! Lots of changes, a few new surprises, but it was definitely what I needed." You responded, glancing at Hayden as you spoke. He returned your gaze, smiling at you with so much love and support it almost made your heart explode.

"So you two met on a movie, correct?"

"Yes! It was a cheesy little rom-com called Maybe, Probably. It took about a year and a half to film, and it was a wild ride from start to finish." Hayden answered.

"In a good way?" Jimmy asked, leaning over his desk to hear better.

"In the best way, Jimmy." You responded. A chorus of 'aww' rippled through the audience and you blushed, biting back a smile and turning back to face Jimmy.

"So what was your first date like?"

"Oh it was pretty great despite the circumstances." You giggled slightly at the memory. "I was sick the day of. I spent all day filming outside in, like, 30 degree weather, and I had rain pouring on me. I woke up the next day feeling like crap and I did everything in my power to feel better by the date, but nothing worked."

"Oh no! What happened?" Jimmy urged.

"I called Hayden and apologized. He accepted, then asked me if there was anything I needed. I thought nothing of it, he was just being nice, until about an hour later when he showed up at my place with soup, medicine, and my favorite movie." You gushed, once again blushing as Hayden held your hand.

"Which is funny because her favorite movie is Revenge of the Sith." Hayden commented, laughing with you and the audience.

"Aw that was so sweet! So you took a break soon after Maybe, Probably. Why?"

"I was getting burnt out, in all honesty. I've been in the industry since I was 18, and after six years of non-stop working; filming and interviews, and traveling, It was just time for a break."

"Hayden, how did you feel during that time?"

"I agreed and supported her choice. I know what it's like to work until you're bone tired, and you suddenly stop that routine, you don't know what to do with yourself." Jimmy nodded, listening intently.

"I got cabin fever pretty early on. I deep cleaned the house, read all the books I had, went for walks. I did whatever I could to keep myself busy for about two weeks, before I eventually just hit a wall. One day I think I slept until like 2 in the afternoon, I was just that tired."

"Wow! So you're feeling better, right? Ready to get back into acting when the time is right?" Jimmy asked, flipping through his notecards to keep the conversation flowing.

"Oh yeah, of course! I'm already working on a few new things that I can't talk about just yet, but so far they're pretty amazing!" You answered quickly, wrapping your hands around your knee as you crossed your legs.

"You mentioned some new surprises earlier on, would you care to elaborate?" Jimmy asked, a knowing smile on his face. You glanced at Hayden, who slightly nodded at the question hanging in the air.

"After two years of being together, I found out I was pregnant right around Valentine's Day." You revealed, the crowd going wild shortly after they heard the word 'pregnant'.

"Oh that's amazing! What was your reaction to that?" Jimmy asked.

"I was terrified! I went back and forth for weeks about what I wanted to do; keep it, don't keep it. I ended up calling my mom to tell her, and of course her first question was 'have you told Hayden yet?'. My answer was no, because we hadn't discussed having a baby. We weren't even living together at the time, so I practically chewed my lip off as I debated having this conversation with him." You answered, popping your knuckles anxiously.

"When she finally did tell me, I think we had just missed the cutoff to abort, but I didn't care. I knew I wanted another baby almost as soon as Briar was born, so when Y/N told me she was pregnant I practically jumped out of my skin."

"So about four months after I found out, I went to the doctor. I had an amazing OB/GYN, and she supported my craziness and my paranoia on days when Hayden couldn't be there. Anyway, this was a routine appointment, I'm laying on the ultrasound table, and all of a sudden she gets this weird look on her face. My heart drops and I immediately think the worst; I had lost my baby.... until she looks at me with a smile and pushes a button on the keyboard. The sound of not one, but TWO heartbeats echoed around me and Hayden and I just remember looking between him and the doctor with wide eyes." You giggled.

"You guys had twins?" Jimmy asked, jaw on the floor in shock.

"We had twins, a boy and a girl." Hayden answered. The crowd cheered along with Jimmy, who came around the desk to wrap you in a hug.

"Congratulations! What are their names, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Thank you! It was quite a debate trying to pick their names. I called them Ross and Monica, Jim and Pam while I was pregnant, but none of them really stuck. I think we were about to be discharged from the hospital, getting all packed up and dressed, and I looked at my babies and it all just clicked. Our son is Theodore Isaac Christensen, aka Theo. Our daughter is Matilda Sage Christensen, aka Tilly." You gushed about your babies, tearing up slightly as you thought about them at home with the nanny, almost feeling guilty that you weren't there with them. Hayden noticed your voice beginning to crack, so he took over talking.

"They just turned one in October, and we had a cute Star Wars themed birthday party. We invited friends and family, Briar loves being a big sister, it just all worked out so wonderfully. I couldn't ask for a better family, if I'm being honest."

"Y/N, at what point did you realize that you had twins with Anakin Skywalker?" Jimmy asked, throwing his head back and clapping as he watched a wave of realization hit both you and Hayden.

"I never connected the dots! Haha, Natalie, I had his twins and survived!" You commented, Jimmy laughing harder at the joke you made.

"Alright, when we come back, we're going to play some games with Y/N, Hayden, and our next guest! See you soon!" Jimmy called to the camera, signaling a commercial break. The rest of the show went by in a flash, the games you played with your boyfriend, Jimmy Fallon, and Blake Lively helping you realize just what you were missing during your break.

You loved acting. You got to do your dream job every day, no matter how tiring it was, but nothing could replace the feeling of going home at the end of the day and spending some quality time with your little family.

Maybe you should take a break more often. Probably not.

#anakin x reader #hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen fluff #hayden x reader

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separatist-apologist · 3 months ago

Text

The Thing About Mor

I'm gonna say this and then I'm gonna shut up about it.

I don't think it's necessarily the fandom's fault for the way they read Mor, just as a disclaimer. Nor am I saying you are required to like her. Please reread those sentences before we continue.

The thing about Mor is that she's originally set up to be both a foil to the traditionalism of the Spring Court and a counterpart to Feyre's friendship with Lucien. Feyre is immediately struck by Rhys naming not Cassian or Azriel- who seem terrifying to her- as his second in command, but Mor.

Mor is also placed directly between Cassian and Azriel in what I think was originally supposed to be some kind of love triangle for the three, with the ultimate pairing as Mor and Azriel. I think the narrative of ACOMAF sets Mor and Azriel up as potential mates just waiting on a snapping bond, with Cassian as maybe her first choice given how she slept with him as a teenager.

Throughout ACOMAF, we see Mor as someone who can hold her own against the men in her lives. When they go to Hybern, Mor is the only warrior left standing and is the one who ultimately rescues them. She's also the person Rhys trusts to get Feyre in the Spring Court (ignoring the strange "politics" of why Rhys' second-in-command can break into Tamlins manor but the High Lord can't).

She is ALSO the person who goes to Feyre once Feyre realizes Rhys wasn't honest about the bond, and she's the one who asks "would it really be so bad to join our family?"

I don't know what changed for SJM. I think the nessian of it all ended whatever potential love triangle might have happened with Cassian-Mor-Azriel, and I've heard rumors she was getting a lot of pressure to make her stories more diverse (who was asking SJM, of all people, to tell a compelling queer story?). Regardless, somewhere between ACOMAF and ACOWAR, Mor's trajectory changes.

This is seen so clearly with the rise of Eris who, up until ACOWAR, is an undisputed villain in the story. Not just Lucien's story, but the story as a whole. We're told he holds Jesminda down while Beron beheads her, and he participates in tracking Lucien down with the intent to kill him. He gleefully watched Lucien tortured in the second trial UTM, and is willing to give up Feyre's name to Amarantha IF he knew it.

And in the beginning of ACOWAR, Eris is still the villain. He chases Lucien and Feyre across multiple courts at the behest of his father, presumably to hold Feyre ransom back to Tamlin in exchange for who knows what, and see Lucien executed. Eris's cruelty on the ice sets up a truly cinematic moment for Cassian and Azriel to come swooping in and save the day, and once again highlights our good guys (Lucien especially) and our bad guys.

And I do feel like somewhere in this passage, SJM falls in love with Eris and begins to give him the Rhys treatment at the EXPENSE of Mor. Rhys, who we're told, respects Mor over nearly everyone, unilaterally decides that they're going to trust Eris. There is no discussion to be had here. I think this creates a specific moment for readers to be like, okay well if Rhys did this without talking to Mor, then maybe he doesn't trust her. I don't even think its an explicit thought- but implicitly, whatever Eris shared with Rhys is enough to convince him of Eris's goodness over Mor's hatred. And I think that lends itself to a lot of the "maybe she's lying" theories that come about, ESPECIALLY after ACOSF and Eris telling Cassian that there was more that happened than Mor has shared with them.

Additionally, Mor is supposed to oversee Hewn City which means this deal SHOULD have included her because Kier's Darkbringers are part of her jurisdiction, but unless I misremember, this deal is brokered by Rhys, Eris, and Kier. So Mor's position in Hewn City feels ceremonial-I think this is partly because SJM ascribes to a very narrow definition of masculinity and power, and even though Rhys claims to share it, what she shows us does not match with the telling. Rhys decides what happens in Hewn City and he can make decisions without Mor's input so what's she even doing down there besides acting like decoration?

This is also where, I think, a lot of people get frustrated and confused because the "court of dreamers" are sold to us as a family. And in the confession between Mor and Feyre, we suddenly learn Mor is afraid to come out to the people she claims are her closest family. In our current understanding of the world and what it often means to be queer, your found family are supposed to be your safe people, the people you can be unapologetically yourself with ESPECIALLY when your blood relatives reject you. And here Mor is, telling us she is too afraid to come out to the point she sleeps with men specifically to keep Azriel off her back (unclear how that's helping) AND to not arouse suspicion.

So like- it's not a leap to understand why the fandom writes Mor off as a liar or someone that can't be trusted because SJM has inconsistently applied her personality in order to suit her narrative versus telling a consistent story with consistent characterizations. The fandom is left to string it all together and creative a cohesive story and I do think the problem with that is we don't agree.

Interpretations of the text vary, so on one end you have "I think Mor is lying because the narrative, whether it means to or not, is implying Mor shouldn't be trusted. Rhys no longer trusts her and is keeping secrets for her, and its through Rhys we're told Eris CAN be trusted." and on the other its "Mor isn't responsible for the men around her and is held to a different standard than the other characters who are better fleshed out (in part because they're associated with a man)."

Again, a lot of this is speculation. I don't know what SJM's true original plans were, nor can I speak with 100% authority why she changed them. I can say that SJM is notorious, across all her works, for changing motivations and characterizations to fit her narrative and that ACOTAR feels the most egregious. I don't think she ever had a solid plan for ACOTAR beyond the feysand romance, and everything else has been slapped together based on how she feels in the moment, which leads to a lot of the arguments and frustrations we currently experience around most of the characters, honestly.

#it has been a long time since i wrote anything like this in the fandom- i had to turn the reblogs off the cassian one #I know we all joke that SJM will do whatever she wants regardless of her own set up story but like #i do think it becomes frustrating because it creates all these disjointed pieces #and it causes these arguments that get vented toward other fans vs the real villain (the author)#sjm critical

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accidentally-in-fictional-love · 6 months ago

Note

📖🤹‍♂️🔞, pretty pleeeaasee ?

Collared But Untethered - Abner Krill/Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, slowburn, slight exhibition (Belle Reve), touch-starved induced desperation, making out, sudden smut, handjobs.

Wordcount: 2970

Summary: Even with every personnel in Belle Reve questioning why you wanted him, you kept coming back for more so long as they kept letting you touch him just out of sight.

Notes: Even when I try to drabble I still can't resist the buildup cause I love him so much oop- This is the first request I've ever gotten/filled so here we gooooo :'D I hope you like it, thank you so much for sending something in 💗💗💗

You were 100% certain that everyone had caught on by now to what you two were doing, but it was hard to care when orange fabric was bunched under your hands and the sound of his poorly quieted voice was in your ear. Belle Reve was well known for its lack of care towards its residents, so at first you’d both assumed that someone would barge in at any second to tear you apart, ban you from ever returning, but you were going on your fifth visit now with no one disturbing you, so even if you weren’t as perceptive as you’d thought and they were watching on a camera you’d missed no one made it known.

You’d first seen him on TV, shakycam footage barely capturing him as he and the other prisoners briefly designated as ‘Heroes’ made quick work of the current bigger threat destroying the city, and the way his powers had lit up the area in a rainbow of colours had instantly drawn you in, made you forget all about the danger as you hid in your apartment and waited in terror for it to be over, trembling hands clasped together in front of your heaving chest as you prayed you’d be safe. He’d destroyed that threat singlehandedly the second he was sure no one else was in his way, the others chiding him in the footage as he’d closed up on himself and apologized, having forgotten their goal of taking the villain alive so he could join them in their home.

He was so unlike anyone you’d ever seen before, a timebomb of danger wrapped up in a polka-dotted bow, hands fidgeting and head downturned nervously while the destruction of what he could do showed all along the street up to where gory remains decorated the open main road.

As the reporter took over the submitted shakycam with her own live footage, people circled the villains to thank them, albeit keeping their distance even as they reached out to shake hands, pat backs, give gifts that would definitely be confiscated as soon as they returned. No one thanked him for killing their target, everyone too afraid of the gauntlets holding back bright lights and coloured dots, worried that he’d turn them on the crowd next even as the infamous Harley Quinn herself showed off the gun she’d stolen from one of the fallen policemen to a couple kids who’d wandered up to praise her without their parents’ permission.

That wasn’t fair at all, he’d needed some thanks too.

So you’d left your apartment and hurried down to them, the fight just a couple blocks away, the still burning circles in the buildings and pavement growing in number the further you got. They were already starting to get into the armoured vehicle that brought them there by the time you’d arrived, and you didn’t know his name so you could only call past the gathered guards making sure they didn’t run before he disappeared out of sight. He turned to face you, one of his teammates elbowing him to go when it became obvious that you were there for him; he walked back down the lowered ramp to approach, looking apprehensive that you’d want to talk to him when the others were right there, so you’d extended your hand to shake his, prove that you weren’t afraid but rather thankful for his help as you reached as far as you could between the two guards keeping you at a distance for your own safety.

The moment his hand touched your own you knew that you could never let him get away again.

Visitors to Belle Reve were always heavily inspected and supervised, no one ever allowed to meet face to face for fear of what could happen to either party as well as those around them, and they made that explicitly clear to you as you passed their inspections and were ushered down the hallway to the partitioned phones. The moment you told them that you were there for the Polka-Dot Man so they knew who to get they’d hesitated, turned halfway down the hallway to look at you like you were crazy, some weird thing to be studied for wanting to see him of all people. You’d just simply shrugged and told them you wanted to thank him for the other day.

He’d never had a visitor in all his time being there, and the moment he’d seen you holding the phone opposite of his own he’d gone red in the face, a mix of embarrassment for the continued support and obvious confusion as to why you’d sought him out a second time. It was cute, and while the conversation had been short, his voice low and answers coming out in single worded sentences as he thought about what to say, it still brought butterflies to your stomach until your time was up, your final question asking for his name before you were forced to hang up.

‘Abner…’ he’d told you, like he hadn’t said it in a long time. ‘Abner Krill.’

The second time you visited you asked for permission to talk to him face to face, as his voice barely carried over the phone and he had a tendency to forget he was holding it as he talked to the desk. Request denied, but they’d think about it for the right price, it wasn’t like he was going to escape his birdcage when it kept him safe from himself, the shiny collar around his neck stopping the kaleidoscope from painting the walls in cinders. That conversation had come easier, the guards getting bored and pulling out their phones as you talked about everything and nothing at all, his words flowing a little more freely.

The third time you’d gotten your request with the handing over of a few steep bills slid under the table, Abner looking around at the room before seeing you and smiling. There was a little more space between you compared to the phones but the wall was gone, and you almost missed his questions about your life as you watched his mouth speak, hands rubbing and fidgeting on top of cold metal in his persistent nervousness. The moment you’d started talking about yourself the guard watching over you had sighed loudly in annoyance and walked out, leaving the two of you alone to both of your surprise, the camera whirring in the corner telling you that they were still watching from afar at least.

You shook his hand again when time was up, and he trembled a little less as he stood before you, your bodies dangerously close for a quick moment before the guard rushed in to put a little space between you with an utterly confounded look shot in your direction.

The fourth time you looked around to see if there were more cameras than just the one over your shoulder before he was brought in, his eyes instantly brightening in your presence as they’d recently started to do. He looked more alive, his face less sunken like he was taking better care of himself so you wouldn’t worry, and you longed to hold him as the table became a deep crevasse between you. He wasn’t chained to it this time, they didn’t care enough and he knew better, he was well trained by now, and the moment you were left alone again you’d moved your chair to the empty space on the side, a little closer but not touching, testing the waters as you shot a glance to the camera to see if this was okay.

Nothing happened. No one came. Hands rested in sight as they reached but never touched, the crevasse a little smaller as the space between turned from feet to inches, then centimeters.

When your pinkies linked together it was like a bridge formed instantly, the two of you meeting in the middle as he closed his eyes and just breathed, completely calm as his free hand ran over his arm to make sure the gauntlets were gone, make sure he wouldn’t hurt you. He was touch-starved, that much was apparent as long fingers crawled over your own to create more points of contact, Abner fully holding your hand and forgetting that you were supposed to be talking. Your heart raced as you wanted more, wanted to see what other reactions you could pull from him if just this was enough to make him lean towards you, eager to invade your personal space, or perhaps invite you to invade his.

It was a space he guarded dearly, you’d learned as much over your visits as he told you about how the other inmates treated him, your touch so gentle compared to their punches, both of your chairs sliding over the floor as you closed the gap even more. Still no one came, your eyes going to the door to make sure they weren’t watching you through the wire-meshed glass to see what would happen next but the space on the other side was empty, the camera blinking red high above you as your legs made contact, a buzz of electricity shooting up your spine.

He tried to pull away, surprised by his own brazenness, or maybe it’d been an accident since he was so much taller than you, but you refused to let him, your leg pressed into the cold table leg almost painfully as you pulled him right back. The knowledge that you wanted him close, wanted to touch him even though he could burn right through you in an instant without the collar controlling him, made his chest start to heave then, eyes searching your face for fear but finding none.

Your hand unlinked from his before sliding up his arm, feeling the way he shivered as you reached his elbow, his bicep, muscles tensing under loose fabric just out of sight, a sigh leaving his lips as your fingers carefully trailed over his collar up to his cheek. He leaned into you, slowly at first, like you might change your mind and pull away at any second, his eyes closed tight as chair legs scraped over the ground. The gap closed more and more as you stood, leaned in close enough to see the scars of his time in this place, the way his lips parted ever so slightly as he let out shaky breaths, how long his lashes were as they fluttered in anticipation of what you were going to do next.

The door opened before you could make that final leap, the men who rushed in looking just as confused to your actions instead of angry, and while they weren’t rough with you they did tease him all the way down the hallway as he tried to hide the fact that he’d wanted you in those last seconds, your face flushing as pure longing rushed right to your gut at the sight of something hidden behind shaking hands as he was led to the showers to cool off.

The fifth time you’d come in you’d stared down everyone you passed as they whispered and nodded in your direction, not caring as you headed for your visiting room, no one stopping you even as they shook their heads and questioned your life choices. They still let you wait by yourself, your heart pounding as he was brought in and the door was closed behind him, the guard locking it muttering to himself about how he didn’t get paid enough for this. Abner didn’t even get a chance to sit down as you stood up and grabbed onto his shirt, pulled him down to continue what you’d started with a chaste kiss, testing the waters as he let out a surprised noise against your mouth before it turned into a moan, his hands hovering over you as he tried to decide what to do.

‘Touch me,’ you told him as you parted for a breath, the end of the collar pressing into your own throat as he groaned and kissed you back, dry lips parting to let you in as you ran your tongue experimentally over his bottom one. His hands wandered all over you, touching whatever he could now that he knew you wanted him to, his back hitting the wall and the collar scraping against the brick as he arched against you wantonly. It was like the floodgates had been opened, touch-starved desperation making him want more before you were separated again, your body ready to follow his every command should he ask, wanting nothing more than to make him feel good before he was forced to go back to his solitude.

You palmed him over his pants and he keened needily, hips moving to feel you more before he stopped himself with a choked whine, he was asking too much too soon, surely you couldn’t want him that badly, surely now would be the time you’d come to your senses and see him like everyone else did. You nipped at his bottom lip, got him to look at you before you glanced up at the camera; it was facing the table, the two of you probably just in frame, so you led him to the corner directly underneath it, in its blindspot as you played with the hem of his pants.

‘Do you want this?’ you whispered, voice low so anyone outside wouldn’t hear, Abner’s eyes shut tight again as he nodded his head, slowly at first and then a little quicker as you made contact against his bare stomach. He was breathing so heavily, the growing tent just under where your hand rested making you lick your lips; they were bound to stop you before it got too heated but you could at least give him this, all your fantasies from the past month coming to life as you felt hot skin under your fingertips.

He sighed and let his head fall back, hands gripping you like a vice as you touched him, and you couldn’t help but wonder when the last time anyone else had touched him like this had been, if anyone ever had; it made you a bit jealous to think about the former, of someone else making him look this way before you, so you couldn’t help but selfishly wish you were the first as you wrapped your hand around him. His knees shook, he wasn’t used to it, your name falling from his lips as he started to buck desperately into your hand.

He was beautiful as his jaw went slack, so open with what he wanted as he held you close, your own pleasure building just from watching him come so easily undone like it was the strongest aphrodisiac. His quiet voice came in handy as he moaned out his desires, how good it felt, how he needed more, pleas to not stop sending shockwaves all the way down to your toes as the words started to cut off the closer he got. You felt your throat tighten as his tongue peeked out to wet his lips, needing to taste him again as you swallowed and leaned up to capture him in a deep kiss, his tongue dancing over your own and refusing to let you get away in such a lewd way that it made your head spin.

He didn’t last long between your kisses and your hand attacking him at the same time, his hips jutting with a broken cry of pleasure into your open mouth as he came into your fist, palm gathering as much as you could for his sake. You didn’t realize you were panting as well with how turned on you were as his expression softened into one of pure bliss, a need filling your gut and making you burn with desire unlike anything you’d ever felt before as you wanted more. You pulled your hand free, mouth watering as you felt the sticky substance leak through your fingers, Abner just staring at you through half-lidded eyes as you raised your hand to your mouth, tongue darting out to taste when the door suddenly opened, two guards rushing in.

‘Alright, that’s enough of that,’ one of them said, your fist held by your side as you were pushed out of the way, Abner letting out an actual whine at not being able to return the favour before he was dragged out the door. Once he was out of sight you were led to the nearest bathroom, the guard not fooled at all by your attempted nonchalance and letting you wash up, your hand shaking as you still felt his heat against your wet skin. You wouldn’t do anything about your own situation until you were home, the guard just shaking his head as you rejoined him and followed him to the front doors, the detour allowing you a glimpse of Abner as he walked down a connecting hallway.

Despite the cuffs around his hands and the collar around his neck he looked relaxed, free, not even reacting as one of the inmates passing by tried to insult him, sharp canines biting his lip as he just stared the men down. You grinned, proud of him as you walked out of sight of him again, the highly protected doors leading to the outside world coming into view moments later. You didn’t leave right away, turning to talk over your shoulder as your escort waited impatiently for you to go, a gleam in your eye as you stared into his mask.

‘I’ll be back again next week,’ you promised, everything that came with that unsaid but understood, and he sighed before giving you a shove, everyone around you already whispering about the day’s visit as you just grinned and walked out into the warm Louisiana sun.

#Ray's Readers #Ray's Requests #david dastmalchian #abner krill #Abner Krill x reader #literally woke up and instantly wrote this in a few hours I was so happy QwQ #as soon as I got to the actual smut I stretched and looked up and saw my Abner collection on my desk and just instantly started blushing lo #one of these days I'll write something short and without exhibition I swear I promise I can do it guys trust me #was listening to Dark Speed as I wrote this one that song is so damn good

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billthedrake · 1 year ago

Text

THE VETERAN

(This is an idea I've been batting around for a while. Thanks to @maturedadsandmen for the inspiration to see it through.)

"This round's on me, Ackerman," Jim Bowers said, with a quick squeeze of my shoulder before he went to get us another round of beers. His blue eyes twinkled, and I could see the wrinkles and crows feet on his weathered, tanned face. Bowers held his liquor better than me, but he was definitely buzzed, too.

It had been a long week, but the summer MLB draft was now complete and a lot of the front office guys - and gals, too, but mostly guys - were out celebrating. Only now, some of the guys were heading off to dinner or going home. A few were in a corner trying to hit on some women at the bar. Which left me chatting with Bowers.

I don't know why Jim had decided to be buddy-buddy with me. Over the last month, the sarcastic putdown of calling me Moneyball had somehow turned into a friendly nickname, when he wasn't calling me by last name. But I leaned into it. The man was a former professional player and a legend in Royals history. He'd coached for a good decade once the boredom of retirement finally sunk in, but then the wave of analytics pushed him out the door. So now he was a special advisor to the GM and the face of the business side of the organization. Not exactly a mascot, but Jim brought in more when his gravitas and old-school knowledge of the game mattered. Which wasn't all the time, and Jim knew that.

I tried not to have the hard-drinking ways that a lot of guys in baseball do, but it was a good occasion to let loose. I was feeling good, and I'd probably get drunk by nighttime. Thank god for Uber.

It was well-earned, but the problem was my sexual thoughts were coming to me with less filter than usual. Jim was making those sexual thoughts come hard and fast. I didn't even go for older guys, at least not that much older, not older like Bowers. The man was in his late 60s, old enough to be my granddad. But there was something powerfully sexy about the man. 6'2" and still had a decently muscled build from his daily gym routine, even if yeah, Bowers was getting his granddaddy on, more by the month.

And, damnit, that day, he was going commando in his shorts. I didn't try to scope him out, I swear, but Jim Bowers had a huge package. Thick, heavy genitals that looked obscene in his khaki shorts. Maybe the man was a show-er and not a grower, but the part he was showing looked pretty damn oversized. I'd forever think of him as Big Jim now.

I wasn't some green virgin. I was 28, with one long term relationship under my belt. I'd gotten my PhD in Applied Math at Minnesota and a plum job with the Royals right off the bat. It was why I'd studied what I'd studied. It was my dream job, doing analytics for a major league baseball team. From my little league days and collecting baseball cards, through playing baseball at my prep school to too many hours spent at college playing fantasy teams... it all led up to this.

My boyfriend Tom wasn't eager to switch jobs and move, and I wasn't eager to do the long-distance thing. We talked it out and, a week before I packed up my belongings, we broke up.

Breakups suck, but the consolation prize was rediscovering the world of hookups in a new city. I'd developed a fondness for Midwestern guys, and as a somewhat nerdy Jewish dude from New England I had fun having a different blond hunk every other weekend. I even hooked up with some older guys. I preferred guys my age but responded to a guy's personality and a shared sexual vibe over looks. And sometimes a daddy fit the bill.... Different looks, different body types and different sexual energy. It was all great.

But for me, Daddy meant like 40. Jim Bowers was rearranging my self-identified age range. Or maybe it was the beer.

"Here ya go," he said as he sauntered back with two beers in hand. Goddamn, the veteran looked FINE. I mean, no one would mistake his body for a 40 year old's or even a 50 year olds. It was mature muscle, but fit. Platelike pecs beneath the man's team-logo polo shirt, and pumped arms stretching the tanned, almost leathery skin that was covered in gray hair, matching the thicker silvery fur on his legs.

And, damn, that package: I could make out the contours of Jim Bowers' junk. There had been rumors of his heyday with the groupies. For all I knew he still had 'em, though maybe not like the current players.

We clinked glasses and the man looked me in the eye and said, "Now that the draft is done, you gonna stop being a workaholic, Moneyball?" he teased. "Maybe you can finally get a goddamn boyfriend."

Everyone in the front office knew I was gay and that was never an issue, but I also didn't make it an issue. No talk about my private life, no mention of the gay thing unless it was brought up. I was the epitome of professional, and when it came to happy hour drinks, well, I'd learned straight-dude male bonding as a way of blending in years ago.

"Come on, Jim," I said. And he knew exactly why.

"I know you got your work self and keep the rest private, buddy..." he said. "But, man, you're not as different as you think sometimes."

I don't know that I resented his words, but they rubbed me the wrong way. How was Bowers to know what I dealt with? Maybe if I hadn't been perving on the guy, I would have been more bothered.

"How so?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Take Campbell," he said, referring to Mitch Campbell, who was one of the scouts. "Good looking guy. Goes on dates all the time, but can't think of a goddamn thing to talk about to girls except baseball." Jim gave a smirk. "Girl doesn't call back, and Campbell's back to Square One."

At another moment, Bowers talk would be too old-school I-told-you-so in its condescension. Now, I was amused as hell. "You got Mitch all figured out, huh?" I teased.

Jim's blue eyes lit up some. "Tell me I'm wrong, Moneyball."

I smiled. "You're probably right," I conceded. Then, feeling my guard let down, I added, "You know, with gay guys, they like the idea of a baseball dude, but it's more the fantasy than the reality, you know?" I blushed as I spoke, but something about the drunken happy hour moment was removing my filter. "Maybe if I were a player, they'd be into the jock thing."

Bowers laughed and gave a smirk. He'd been the recipient of jock worship, even if it was from women. "You're just like Campbell, Moneyball... deep down." He patted my back. "But you're a good looking dude, and a good kid... any man would be lucky to land ya, buddy."

I ate up the words but had to reply, "Not the pep talking I was expecting tonight, Jim."

He reflected a second. "Yeah, I guess I dish out the advice easier than I can take it." Bowers had married three times and was now divorced and, as far as I knew, single.

Our conversation shifted subjects, but we got caught up in talking. I ate up his stories from his pro days, and Jim asked me about the math stuff I did. Maybe the man was right, I wasn't good at talking about much other than baseball, but he was a lifer and his whole life was the game, too.

I emptied my pint glass and had to do a mental calculation if I was gonna have another. I was on the fence. I should go home, but if Jim was having another, I knew I would too.

Instead he gave me a questioning look. "Feel like coming back to my place, Ackerman?" he asked. "We can have another one there."

The last part felt like it was added on to save face. In case I wasn't on the same wavelength. Maybe I'd been dumb in not reading the signals. Maybe I was misreading them now. But that was my first inkling that Jim Bowers was making a pass at me.

I blushed as I replied. "Sounds good, Jim," I said. "But neither one of us is driving."

"Yeah," he admitted. He was buzzed all right. He patted my shoulder. Kind of paternal but with a definite look of sexual interest in his gaze. Damn, this was not what I'd been expecting. He broke that look as he pulled out his phone to get an uber.

The guys had all gone by then and we stepped outside to wait for the car, it was getting dark out. We'd been in there a while.

"Damn, I'm starving," Jim said. "Maybe I can order us a pizza."

"Sure," I said. Hands in my pockets out of nervousness more than anything. This was probably a really bad idea, but I felt crazy attracted to Bowers, more than I'd let myself admit before tonight. This was playing out so different than a gay hookup, so I was feeling out the dynamic. But his touch between my shoulder blades as he guided me first toward the car... that touch alone was enough to make me chub.

Jim's place was big, too big for a bachelor. But it felt surprisingly homey.

"Let me get us some waters," he said. I wasn't overly drunk but he was right, it was good to drink something besides beer.

I chugged down a few sips from the plastic bottle and looked at Jim. "Nice place," I said.

"Thanks," Bowers said. Then with a soft voice, he added, "Damn, you're really fucking cute, Dave." He set down his bottle and stepped up to me.

I hadn't expected Bowers to be into dudes, at all, and I definitely didn't expect him to kiss. But he had no hesitation pulling me into a soft, wet kiss. It was a little drunken, but it was the surprise sexual attraction that made my head light. Fit as he may be, Jim was a mature guy, and I knew I was kissing a 60-something man, a man nearing 70. It was a strange thrill.

"You're into this, right?" the man hissed as he pulled back, giving me an up close view of his handsome features: roman nose, round cheeks, and gray hair growing more silver by the year, cut in a medium-short style. His hairline receded just a little but remarkably he still had a full head of hair. "I'm not looking for any HR issues," he chuckled.

"Oh I'm into it," I answered. "I guess it's just between us, right?" I was asking for his assurance as much as I was giving him mine.

"Absolutely," he said. His eyes were on me but his arm was reaching down. In my peripheral vision I could tell he was unzipping. And pulling out his dick. His grin cocked. "I'm really horny, man," he said.

I looked down. There it was, that pro-veteran baller cock. Heavy was an understatement. Jim Bowers packed a very thick, powerful 8 inch tool that jutted out of his open crotch. It was big and spongy and rock hard all at once. I wondered if he took a pill for his erections. I didn't fucking care. Bowers had an amazing cock.

I gave him one last look, a playful, sexy look, then crouched in front of him. I reached out and touched that meat, holding it. It had a soft give to the erection, but also twitched in my hand. It was my first mature cock, and I decided I liked it. Jim was hot to the touch as I angled his erection down to my lips.

"Oh yeah, buddy..." he hissed. "Lick my cock... like that."

The more I ran my tongue up and down his shaft, the bigger and heavier it felt. He tasted salty but then as I bathed his dick the flavor was cleaner. I finally figured I'd given enough foreplay and pulled that dong between my open lips.

He had enough girth to challenge me. I liked sucking dick, but I wasn't an expert at it. I guess lately I'd gotten more into anal and more into topping in my hookups. Even if I still went down on a guy, as foreplay or the main event, Bowers was bigger than I'd encountered.

But it was like riding a bike, I suppose. My initial difficulties gave way to a steady bobbing on his fat rod, feeling a good four or five inches push the confines of my throat with each motion of my mouth. It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling.

Nothing compared to the pleasure Jim was feeling. "Oh God... hell yes... work my fucking cock, man.... like that, yeah.... "

As I bobbed up and down I could see the silvery hair in his crotch, just a few darker hairs among them. And my hands felt up his mature legs, still strong, and now very furry. I was sucking a 68, maybe 69 year old and I realized I fuckin' loved this.

I always figured old guys took a long time to cum. Jim wasn't a quick cummer, but after about three minutes of giving him head I sensed the telltale signs. The urgency in his voice, the quiver in his quad muscle.

"FUCK! Here comes my fucking load, bud," he announced.

That heavy fat mature dong jerked in my throat as Bowers fed me his seed. I did my best to keep working him through that ejaculation, accentuating his orgasm with my mouth and suction.

He finally pushed my off with a friendly laugh. "Easy there, man... I think you got it all."

I looked up, knowing I felt proud. More than I'd been with my hookups. If I was honest, happier in sex than I'd been with my ex Tom. "Fuck, that was hot," I hissed.

Jim nodded. Face flushed red, his gray hair looked whiter. He somehow looked younger and older at the same time.

"Give me a second and I'll take care of you," he announced.

Not what I was expecting but I wasn't going to turn down the offer. I stood up, feeling drunk and light headed from the BJ. I started undoing my shorts and pulling them and my briefs off.

Jim grinned and reached down to grip my boner. "You 27 year olds are always rock hard," he teased, pulling my dick down to let it thwap up at the release.

"28," I corrected. "And how many have there been?" I laughed.

"Enough," he grinned. He gave my meat another look then said, "All right." And like that, the former baseball star, a man whose card I'd collected as a kid, was now getting down to suck me off.

If it hadn't been for the alcohol, I would have blasted in 20 seconds. Instead, now, I enjoyed getting head from Bowers. The slow suckling, the gentle bobs, the vision of his mature muscled bod in front of me. I ran my hands through his silvery hair.

Grandaddy was gonna work for my load, all right, and that idea was enough to get me to cum.

"Jim!" I gasped, surprised at how quickly orgasm snuck up on me and wanting to warn him.

He was a trooper, readying himself or my cum and then steadily sucking it down as I shot good and heavy into his mouth.

"Like I say," he teased when he finally pulled off. "You fucking need a boyfriend, Moneyball." He gave my leg a gentle pat then stood up. Reaching over he picked up his water bottle. To rehydrate or to wash down the flavor of cum, I wasn't sure.

Sheepishly, I pulled my underwear and shorts back on. Crossing some boundaries with Bowers had been naughty fun and all, but this part felt awkward. I started imagining what life was going to be like in the clubhouse from now on.

But Bowers stood in front of me, unabashed being naked from the waist down. His pJim hung fat and heavy, past his low-hanger balls covered in silver hair. He was definitely a show-er, even if his hard on had measured big.

"The offer for pizza still stands, Ackerman," he said, his blue eyes now normal friendly rather than lusty in their gaze. "If you wanna stay."

"You sure?" I asked.

Jim shrugged. "I'm not gonna be offended if you dash off," he said. "I've done it plenty, you know."

"It's not that," I started to say. Then, "Well, maybe it is.... but if you're OK, I could definitely eat."

That made Jim chuckle. "All right. You a peperoni man?"

****

The drunkenness was wearing off as we scarfed down the pizza. As I worked on the last slice, Jim came in with a freshly opened beer can for me, and one for him.

"I promised you a drink," he said.

"I figured that was just a pick up line," I replied. Something about sex made me feel I could be familiar with the man.

"Oh, it absolutely was," he said. "I'm not the most original guy in my lines."

I looked at his body. Relaxed on the couch. I calculated how his current body compared to a couple decades ago. I liked what Bowers had going on now, the contrast of hard and soft, muscled and aging. "You don't need killer lines when you have a killer bod," I said, flirting some.

Jim laughed but seemed into what I was saying. "You think I have a killer bod, Moneyball?"

I nodded. "Definitely." I looked at him openly. I wasn't gonna bone for round too but I was still feeling sexual. "That bug you?"

"Not at all," he said. He took a sip of beer and seemed to be looking me over, too. "You into older guys?"

"Not really," I answered. "At least not before you." I blushed as I admitted that. "Let's just say you're expanding my horizons, Jim."

He seemed to take that in. "You know, I haven't seen all your goods, Ackerman... feel like showing off a little for me?"

"You wanna see my body?" I confirmed.

"Yeah, I wanna see your fucking body," he said, leaning back into the couch cushion and spreading his legs.

I set down my beer and stood up. I peeled off my T-shirt, then undid my shorts. I spent a lot of time in the gym and had a pretty good body. By most standards it would be considered a great body, but being around professional players, I seemed more ordinary in comparison.

"Nice," Jim said. Genuinely into what I had going on. "Not just a pretty face, huh?"

I blushed. "I try, Jim."

"You do more than try... turn around," he instructed. He took in the view of my backside and my ass, before I turned back to face hi.

"Sorry, I'm getting a little chubbed." My dick was rising up and fast.

"That's hot," he said. With a concerted look he peeled off his polo shirt. I practically gasped when I saw that white-furred muscle. It was magnificent and everything I imagined Jim Bowers would be bare chested. Still had a lot of that ball-player power to him.

"Wow," I gasped. My dick was standing full up at the sight. "OK... I definitely have a thing for older men," I said. Then, "I hope you don't mind my saying that, Jim."

He gave a soft smile. "I don't mind, Dave." He leaned back and showed off his upper body some, inviting my gaze before he reached down to undo his shorts once more. They slipped off easily. I noticed that his legs were strong and sinewed but he had more muscle loss there than his upper bod.

His prick was fully and semi-firm but not throwing hard. "Think I can feel up some of that 28-year-old muscle?" he asked. Scooting down, he lay on the couch, face up and bared in his magnificent nakedness.

I took the invitation and went back to the couch to lie on top of this former star. I still had to pinch myself this was happening. The sex, but the whole evening. We both groaned as I made body contact, my hands on his chest and his on mine, while our cocks touched.

"So, Jim..." I started. "I don't wanna kill the vibe, but what's your deal?"

His hand traveled along my upper chest and over my arms. "I guess I reached a certain age and decided to stop having hang ups. Sex with guys is just easier these days."

"Yeah?" I asked.

He nodded. "A young guy... you can fool around with and he doesn't expect anything, you know?" I could feel his dick move against mine and instinctively I knew our heartbeats were synching up. "I'm not gonna lead you on, Ackerman.... not looking to date or anything, you know?"

"No offense, Jim," I said. "But I probably should stick to guys closer my own age to date."

"Probably, yeah," he laughed. His hands were now openly feeling up my back muscle as I lay on top of him. He was taller than me by two inches and had some more weight to him. It felt comforting and relaxed being naked in this position. Sexual but not we-gotta-fuck-now sexual. "If you ever feel like having fun with an old man, though..." he started.

"I definitely do," I answered. "I didn't think I'd be into this, actually," I blushed.

"Be into what?" he asked.

"The age gap," I said.

He got an impish look on his face. "You into the Granddaddies, huh?"

Fuck, I hissed. It was such a naughty thing, but it made my dick jerk, which made Jim laugh.

He patted my bare ass. "Listen, bud. I'm 69. I'm not gonna be able to get it on twice in one night. But if you feel like staying over..."

"Yeah, I'd like that," I said.

He kissed, softly. And soon we were making out. Feeling each other up. I could have gone for a round two for sure, but I didn't need to. And that made this all the better, just connecting nude body to nude body with Jim's mature veteran-baller build.

By the time we got up off the couch, I was dripping precum heavily on that swirl of silvery hair on Jim's stomach. I was rock hard as I helped him up and helped him tidy up everything and take plates and cans back to the kitchen. Eventually my erection flagged but Jim didn't make a move to put clothes back on, so I didn't either.

I was starting to second guess myself. This was a man I'd see around work. Maybe this was gonna get complicated, real fast, even if we weren't looking for anything serious.

He had a spare toothbrush for me and set out some towels if I wanted to use them. I looked in myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. I often went back and forth in my self esteem, feeling cocky about my looks, then feeling all sorts of self doubt about my body and how I compared to whatever perfect guy I imagined or lusted after. But I saw myself in Jim's eyes. Maybe he went for me because I was an out gay guy, maybe an easy target. Maybe he liked that I had that nerdy but fit thing going on. Whatever it was, I was glad I'd spent the last couple of years hitting the weights and eating well.

He was already under the covers when I joined him in the king sized bed.

"Thanks for a fun evening, Ackerman," he said, his voice now sleepy. It was later than I realized.

"God, Jim, it's been wild."

"I don't normally have guys sleep over," he said. Maybe wanting me not to get any ideas.

"I don't always sleep over when they ask," I said.

He smirked. "All right, bud... ready for some sleep?"

"Yeah," I said.

And I watched his thick muscle bunch as he leaned over to turn off the light.

"Hey buddy," Jim Bowers said as he ushered me inside. I didn't always come over to his place. Sometimes the legendary veteran would swing by my condo for some no-strings fun before work, or after playing golf. I'd enjoying giving him a nice BJ - it was kind of my big challenge and thrill, getting used the girth and length of Big Jim's meat and getting off on our age gap. The latter was just as thrilling when Jim would have me kick back for his turn at reciprocating.

We even snuck in a BJ in a parking lot once, but while the risk felt fun, it was, well, risky.

I'd worried this would mess up things at work. Bowers wasn't my boss, but he held a senior position in the front office org chart, an advisor to my big boss. Yet the man was completely normal after our first hook up. It relaxed me for when he hit me up for a second time. Then another.

Sometimes it felt like a booty call, sometimes we grabbed a bite and a beer after sex. It was all good.

But today was different. Big Jim said he wanted to fuck me.

He was looking incredible now, shirtless and showing off that mature muscle, dusted with silver hair.

"Hey Jim," I said, stepping in. We met for a quick kiss, which became not a quick one. I could tell the ex-pro was really worked up today, and despite my nervousness, I was, too. We laughed a little at how horny we were when I finally broke the connection and stepped back.

"You look amazing," I said.

He flexed a little. Best of all, I could see that heavy dick in his mesh shorts. Not hanging either but boned up into a hard ridge. The man was in heat.

"How much you work out?" I asked. It had been on my mind for a while. For a man his age, Bowers was very well preserved.

Big Jim didn't miss a beat. "A hell of a lot, Moneyball," he said with a smirk. He cocked his head back toward his bedroom. "Feel like getting down to it? Or you want a drink or something?"

My heart fluttered a little bit. "I'm horny as fuck," I replied. "But I won't lie: I'm a little scared."

"Scared? Why?" Jim asked. I realized he was sincere in his question. Like it hadn't occurred to him.

"For starters, I don't bottom much," I said, then nodded down to his crotch. "And then there's that beast you got between your legs."

That made Bowers smile. I probably wasn't the first to compliment his endowment and wouldn't be the last. But the ego boost was appreciated. "You seem to like it."

"Hell yeah I like," I said. "I love it," I added in admission. "But that's a lot of dick to take."

He chuckled, stepping up to me, and running his fingers along my cheek. "You're overthinking it, Ackerman. Let's just enjoy this."

Easy for him to say, I thought. But something about him was charming me. The weathered face, the sea blue eyes, the craggly voice. I was gonna go with it. "All right, lead the way," I hissed.

I peeled off my T-shirt and shorts as I stepped into his bedroom. I'd learned to go commando for these hookups and as I freed my meat, my dick firmed up quickly as Jim pulled down the sheets and then slid down his shorts.

I saw one reason for that massive hardon. Bowers had a cock ring on, which made that dick firmer than normal. He saw where I was looking. "Hope you don't mind the ring, bud. Just gives a little more insurance at my age."

I crawled on the bed and showed how little I minded it. Scooting forward, I let Big Jim guide that hard meat to my mouth.

"Yes...." he grunted as I sucked in a few inches, then choked down another. I was getting better at this. My face blushed as I sucked, my bare ass up for Jim's gaze. I wasn't used for being so bottomy, so open in servicing with a guy, but it was a fun new mode. Particularly as I smelled Bowers' clean soapy scent and could see the silvery crotch hair in front of me.

He put his hands on his hips and let me do the work. The man loved a BJ. I mean, who doesn't? But Jim seemed to really crave oral sex. I half thought he'd change his mind today and let me get him off with my mouth. I'd cleaned myself out and prepped for anal, but a part of me wouldn't have been upset with a change of plans.

But I felt his hand on my head, nudging me back.

"Lie back," he urged.

I scrambled back, letting Big Jim see my naked body. The man got off on my youth, on the fact he had a 20-something stud in his bed. He'd told me as much, but his eyes confirmed it now as he stood next to the bed and pumped some lube into his hand, fisting that rock hard granddaddy meat.

"I hope to god you don't think you're just gonna ram that thing up me," I said in a nervous joking tone.

He grinned and shook his head. "Relax, Ackerman, I know what I'm doing." He got on the bed, his core contracting as he shifted his weight forward. Our lips met for a second and I took a moment to feel up that mature brawn. It was still a head fuck that I was having sex with THE Jim Bowers. Even if he wasn't quite my main childhood idle or on my favorite team growing up, I used to watch watch him play all the time, and it felt like I was in the presence of a legend.

He leaned up and I took in that view of Bowers's strong shoulder muscle and thick arms. He gave a couple of soft kisses along my abs as he scooted down. "Lift 'em up, buddy," he urged.

I was nervous but I wanted this, I decided. It had been a solid year since I'd bottomed, but I was getting in the mood now. As I pulled back my legs, Big Jim was gonna get me all the way there. He leaned in and I felt his breath and his five o clock stubble before his tongue darted out to lick me.

Here was a man of surprises, all right. Jim Bowers was really into eating ass. It tickled at first, and I fought to keep the tickling sensation from overwhelming me. It was just my body's defensiveness. It was half mental, but also the unfamiliarity of having my ass stimulated. But Jim's tongue pressed deeper in, and the feeling changed. Rawer, more overtly sexual.

"God," I grunted. It was a mind fuck, too, looking down at this older man, almost 70, going to town on my hole. And me letting him.

He took his time but I could tell he was horny now. After a minute or so he leaned up and let out a soft growl of approval. "Hot hole, Dave," he said, timing the pressing of his first finger perfectly. It was lubed, and I enjoyed the thickness of his digit entering me. He dug around some, worming my sphincter open more before diving in for another rim job.

"You got nice and clean for me, buddy," he said with approval.

"Yeah," I replied, holding my legs back and letting him prepare me. Alternating rimming with more fingering. Pretty soon he was focused on the latter, two then three then two then three fingers, drizzling more lube at the connecting spot.

He looked down at me, horny. Maybe that cock was viagra-ed up or maybe the cock ring was doing all the work. But it was steel rigid.

He pulled his hand back and lined up that heavy, hard meat. "You got this, man..." was all he said, before I felt that dull stinging of his penetration.

"Fuck!" I cried. Not in pain but more in fear.

He held steady, an inch of that fat dick wedged in my ring. "You're tight as hell," he observed. "Just relax, Ackerman."

"I'm trying!" I laughed.

Jim smiled. God he was so handsome and sexy. I didn't think I'd ever be into a guy pushing 70, but at that moment I knew I really was. He pulled back and fisted that big meat. I felt bad I was extra work to get in. But he leaned in and kissed me some. Sensual, tongue-heavy kissing while his fingers went back down to work my hole again.

I was ready this time. He broke the kiss but didn't pull back entirely. Deftly he placed that dong at my hole and applied just the right amount of force. And like that I had three solid inches of Jim Bowers' fatness in me.

I clenched my teeth and gripped his biceps in automatic response.

His eyes challenged mine. "You got this," he assured me. More confident than I was. More pressure was pushing that very wet, very lubed phallus into me. I was tight but also enjoying that stretching feeling. Maybe because Big Jim was going slow.

He nodded at me, his face now serious, not very sexual and horny. "You feel SO fucking good on my dick buddy," he growled in a low voice. That gravely Bowers voice. "You gonna make your Granddad feel good?"

We'd tossed back the granddaddy term. For me it was an extension of "daddy" - a daddy with a few extra years. Mature like Jim. But now that term hit me in a pervy place. My bowels unclenched and welcomed all of that magnificent cock into me.

"Yeah you are," Big Jim hissed.

"God, Granddad..." I moaned, hesitant at first, trying it out.

"I got ya, boy," he said, more aloud as he began his first thrust. Not hard, but a real fuck thrust into me. With Jim's size, it felt like a lot and was rapidly rearranging my previous assumptions - of being mostly top, of not being into grandpas.

His hips swiveled slowly as I held his muscular body and welcomed him into me. I felt like we weren't just having sex. We were mating. I was being owned from the inside out. I didn't normally feel whorish with a guy, but Big Jim was pushing some button deep inside me. Physically and psychologically.

"Fuck me, Jim!" I said, more assertively now. "Fuck me, Granddad."

His lips curled up and he threw more force into his thrusts. I was ready for it now. Unbelievably I was enjoying this. It was intense as hell, like it could become uncomfortable at any moment, but my ass felt alive, and I felt alive beneath this man, who was fucking for his pleasure. The lube on his cock kept my guts from clenching down too hard on his pistoning shaft, or when I did they didn't have anything to grip onto. The man was fucking me unimpeded.

I looked into his wrinkled, weathered, handsome face. Imagining how many groupies he'd nailed over the years. How easy it must have been for him to get laid in his prime. How easy it was for him now.

I didn't think a hands-free cum was a possibility for me. Maybe technically it wasn't since Big Jim's soft belly fur and belly were rubbing against my rigid cock. But I started cumming hard.

"Jim!" I exclaimed, feeling that immense pleasure rising up from deep within me.

That excited him all right. He fucked me and fucked me hard. Fast even, eager to maximize the sensations on his mature cock. "Right behind ya, kid," he grunted.

The idea he was gonna nut in me thrilled me and made another shot of cum push out of my cock.

I love watching men cum and seeing Big Jim in full orgasm was incredible. His older muscle tensing up and his voice sounding older as he cried out. Then him relaxing in tired stillness on top of me for a second before he moved his head to give me a soft kiss and pushed up to relieve the brunt of his bulk on top of me.

I felt that thickness retreat and plop out of me. I felt slutty and maybe not in a good way as Big Jim's cum ran out of my used hole. But in every other way I felt happy and satisfied. Especially seing the smile on the man's face as he rolled off and lay next to me, nudging my chin playfully.

"You were a trooper, Moneyball," he said finally.

"I don't know if I should have enjoyed that so much," I admitted.

"Why the hell not?" Big Jim challenged me.

"Long answer or short answer?" I replied.

"Let's start with the short."

"Maybe I'm a little kinkier than I realized."

Jim shrugged and leaned up, sitting back against one of the pillows. "Nothing wrong with that, fella."

I copied his move, but not before shaking out the cramps from my legs. My ass hole felt loose and wet but the new sitting position made it less exposed. "So the Granddad thing..." I didn't even know what I wanted to ask, but I knew I had to check in with Jim.

He chuckled. "Seems to get you going, buddy. It's a little weird, I guess," he added. "I mean, I have grandkids and all. But I figure this is something different altogether."

"It is," I assured him. I looked down at my body. Dick well sated, cum smeared on my belly and chest. "I'm a fricking mess."

Jim agreed. "Let's get you cleaned up, Moneyball." He slid out of bed and extended his hand to help me up. At that moment, despite being much younger I felt weaker from the sexual exhaustion. "If you have evening plans, that's cool, but I feel like I owe you a nice dinner for putting out like that."

I enjoyed this camaraderie and enjoyed the shower we shared together. A chance to soap up his mature body. A part of me worried if I should be seen in public extensively with Bowers, alone with him, but we did work together and I'm sure could come up with a reason if anyone saw us.

Then as Jim soaped me up from behind and pulled me into his sudsy wet body, that fat dong there, the one that had given me what felt like a second deflowering... I realized Big Jim was right. I was overthinking it.

#drakestories

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