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separatist-apologist · 2 years

Text

They Say I Did Something Bad

Then why's it feel so good?

Summary: Eris Vanserra is in the house

Chapter 3: They Love Me

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Read on AO3

for @sjmkinkmeme

The estate Lord Vanserra possessed was nothing like Elain imagined. She’d pictured some backwoods cabin half buried in the ground. In truth, it was a sprawling marble thing that looked as if it ought to belong to royalty. The sun glimmered off the stone, reflecting outwards in a rainbow of colors scattered over the hilly lawn. The inside was just as lovely, open and airy which Elain preferred. No heavy curtains obscured the natural light and the furniture was arranged in such a way to maximize that sunshine. Lucien left her bags with his staff, lined up outside his home to meet their new mistress. She’d never seen so many people responsible for maintaining one household and the sight reminded her that her home probably ought to have just as many people. They could not afford it.

It was why she was Lady Vanserra instead of Lady Archeron. Absently, Elain wondered if her father had already begun to rebuild his empire or if he had turned his gaze towards his other daughters, having had such good luck with her?

“I’ll leave you to it,” Lucien murmured, gesturing towards his housekeeper. The woman was much younger than Elain had expected, and lovely to boot. Her blonde hair was twisted neatly against the nape of her neck, her blue dress modest despite the unusually warm autumn day.

“Lady Vanserra,” his housekeeper murmured, glancing at the other staff. Lucien’s steward and butler trailed after him, likely interested in updating him on what had happened in his absence. “This way, if you don’t mind.”

The housekeeper was typically an older woman, someone in charge of the female staff of the house. This woman couldn’t have been five years older than Elain’s twenty-two. “My name is Arina.” Elain smiled. She needed allies here, if nothing else. Everything she knew about Lucien centered around making his body feel good. Here was a woman who likely had known him her whole life, who had grown up on this estate and risen quickly through the ranks because she’d proven herself trustworthy. Elain didn’t want to make an enemy of her.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Elain assured her, following her through the halls.

“How is Velaris?” Arina asked, making small talk as they began the tour of the rather large estate. Lucien had not lied when he called it large.

“Unchanged, I’m certain,” Elain reassured Arina. “Please, tell me everything I need to know about…”

“The Forest House,” Arina supplied. “Absolutely.”

Elain didn’t expect this woman to tell her all of Lord Vanserra’s secrets. Arina, carrying a clipboard in her hand, seemed far too professional to risk making an enemy of the new Lady, besides. Instead, Arina walked Elain through a typical day in the house as she showed Elain all the most interesting places. A ballroom big enough to host at least two hundred guests, a formal and informal dining hall, depending on her preferences. A drawing room with a piano that led to the back gardens and even a library that would have made her eldest sister weep with satisfaction.

As they walked, Arina introduced Elain to everyone, from laundresses to gardeners, Arina knew them all. Elain could not keep track of the names and wished they wore name tags, or, at least, she had thought to write them down. As they walked, Arina passed Lucien’s study where he already sat, peering at a stack of papers with studious interest. He didn’t look at her at all, even when she paused and came to the doorway. Arina kept a respectful distance and when it was clear Lucien had no intention of acknowledging her, Elain pressed on.

“Do you require anything?” Arina asked, only stopping once they reached Elain’s chambers in the west wing of the house. “Where does the lord reside?” she asked. Arina nodded.

“On the opposite end of the house, lady. The west had traditionally been the domain of Lady Vanserra. Would you like me to move your things to his suite?”

“No,” Elain assured her. “No, I just…I was merely curious.” “Of course. If you need anything from me, I am at your beck and call.”

Elain was unaware of just how truthful the words would prove to be. She did not see Lucien for a full three days in any true capacity. She walked past his office every day to find him working. He never acknowledged her and Elain, unsure what, if anything, he required of her, didn’t bother to intrude. Instead she became Arina’s constant shadow. Arina managed household expenses, among other things, and with no prodding at all, offered to let Elain see the ledgers. No one had ever let her so close to figures and yet Arina cheerfully declared it was Elain’s right to know how money was spent.

Arina took Elain to the nearby village on her second morning. “In truth, we probably should have asked the Lord to accompany you,” Arina admitted. “But he’s been gone so long, I imagine there is much to consider.” “He said he did not like this house,” Elain confided, wondering if it was wise to tell a servant a secret. In the city, household help was notorious for gossiping , trading information like currency. Arina didn’t seem the type and still, Elain ought to have assumed she was, if only to protect her and her husband from scrutiny.

“I imagine not,” Arina interrupted Elains’ thoughts. “My mother was a housekeeper before me and I grew up in that house. The Duke was a cruel man, which I guess you must have realized and all his children were afraid of him. He brought them every winter for Christmas and departed each Spring. We were relieved when he passed the estate along to his son,” Arina added, her cheeks flushing. Elain wondered if Arina didn’t think him handsome. THe thought sparked the tiniest prick of jealousy in her chest.

“What was he like as a boy?” Elain couldn’t help but ask. Arina smiled.

“A menace. That’s what my mother used to say, anyway. You’ll forgive me for being so–”

“No need to apologize,” Elain assured her as they walked the dusty streets of the village market. Elain paused to examine a lovely bushel of red apples. “You can speak freely.”

Arina clearly did not believe that, if her narrowed green eyes were any indication. Still, Arina plucked a few coins from the pouch on her wrist so Elain could purchase what she liked. “He was wild. His mothers favorite. His father loathed him, of course—”

“Because he was her favorite?” Elain questioned. Arina’s brows knitted together.

“They informed you so poorly. How did you meet Lord Vanserra?”

“It was arranged for me,” Elain admitted, placing five pretty apples in her basket. She was resolved to make Lucien a pie and draw him from his work, if only for a moment. “We did not meet before our wedding.”

A pretty lie but Arina did not need to know everything. Arina nodded, sighing softly. “There have always been rumors, though I think if the Duke could prove it, he would have banished his wife long ago. Lucien does not look like his father, don’t you think?”

“That is a blessing,” Elain was quick to retort. Arina nodded her agreement.

“Yes, everyone thinks so, just as they believe he is likely not Beron’s son at all. A bastard,” she added, as if Elain was too simple to understand.

“But his father claimed him,” Elain protested, strangely outraged on the exhausted-looking Lady Vanserra’s behalf.

“Yes. To do otherwise was to admit his wife cuckolded him. I don’t think the Duke could bear the shame. He has always been particularly cruel to his youngest son, though, and this estate is proof of that. Lucien has made it prosperous once again, but when he inherited it, the village was impoverished and there was risk of true rebellion.”

“They seem to like him well enough,” Elain murmured, wondering if it was safe to be there. Arina nodded.

“Well…you’ve seen him. Lord Vanserra is kind. He has not raised rents like many others do and allows the farmers to sell outside of just this village. Taxes are also reasonable. In exchange, we get a much fairer price on meat and dairy. Everyone is very excited he’s brought home a wife as well. It means he’ll be around more often.”

Elain nodded, drinking in the cute little houses with their pointed red roofs and the cheerful little planter boxes now empty with impending winter. She pulled her silvery blue cloak a little tighter around her neck.

“Did you ah…” Arina trailed off, her cheeks pink again. “Did you happen to see Eris Vanserra before you left?”

“For a brief moment,” Elain admitted, studying the woman carefully now. “You know him, too?”

“Barely,” Arina insisted quickly, despite the blush of her cheeks. “He was older than me when I was growing up. He ah…how has he settled into marriage, then?”

Elain frowned. “Eris isn’t married.” Arina’s hands twisted nervously in front of her stomach. “No?”

“He was engaged and it ended. I’m told he was not kind about it,” Elain added, thinking perhaps she had been wrong as to which Vanserra Arina found to be handsome. Elain could not imagine it. To be fair, she had not studied the eldest of the Vanserras, given her focus was on the youngest. Perhaps Arina had an ill-placed crush that had never quite abated.

“Oh.” Arina said nothing more regarding Eris and Elain was not stupid enough to push. Chatter shifted towards other families and matters. Arina informed Elain that Lord Tamlin was rumored to be looking for a wife and wondered rather openly how he had managed to avoid Elain. She imagined, though she didn’t say it, that Tamlin lacked the money of the Vanserras.

Lucien was proving to be decent enough. On her third night, she heard his boots echoing down the hall late into the night. The handle to her door turned and Lucien stepped inside, shrouded in darkness. He was still dressed in one of his fine coats though his hair was unbound around his face. She did not move and after a moment, Lucien stepped out as if he’d thought better of the entire thing.

In the morning, Elain anticipated another breakfast alone. She was surprised to find Lucien waiting at the rounded table, the newspaper propped up on the mahogany surface. A plate of eggs and meat was half touched and a ceramic mug of coffee curled steam towards the unlit chandelier overheard. He looked over the top of his paper when she stepped in.

“Good morning,” he offered, gesturing for her to come sit beside him. Elain did, nearly tripping over her lilac dress as she did so. “Did you sleep well?”

“I–yes?” she asked, looking behind her at the open windows. Was she still dreaming? “Did you?”

“Leave us,” Lucien suddenly ordered the room, his voice clear and punctuated with cold authority. The servants immediately obliged, closing the wooden double doors behind them. Elain took a breath, wondering if this was the moment the other shoe dropped. Perhaps now that she was firmly entrenched in his life, Lucien felt comfortable treating her however he liked.

He set his paper to the side, pushing the food away from them so he could lean on the table. There were no fine clothes today. Lucien wore a white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a pair of well-fitted brown trousers.

“I sleep terribly,” he told her, eyes searching her face. “I have been neglecting you and by the time I realized you were living in my house, unfucked, you were fast asleep.”

“Oh,” she breathed, truly unsure where he was going with his little speech. Lucien studied her for a moment.

“I took myself in my hand instead and all the while, all I could think of was you,” he continued, unaware of how each new word was filling her with heat. “I decided I would have you for breakfast.”

“I’m sorry?” she replied, certain she must have heard him wrong. Lucien’s mouth curled upwards with amusement.

“Come here, Elain. Come sit on the table for me.”

“You’re mad,” she whispered, glancing towards the windows. “Anyone might see us.” “It is hardly a secret what happens between husbands and wives,” Lucien replied with a lazy smile, pushing his chair backwards across the swirling blue and green rug. “Please, wife. Don’t make me beg you.” “You wouldn’t beg,” Elain retorted just a shade too hotly. Lucien shook his head.

“Oh, but I would.”

Elain took a large gulp of air. “Then do it, Lord Vanserra. Get on your knees and beg.”She had the sense he’d say no. That it was a game she had taken too far and now he’d simply have his way. Lucien stood, the muscles in his forearms flexing, and Elain braced herself to be hauled up onto the table anyway, to be spread out for his amusement. Their eyes locked—Elain in her chair practically clutching the wooden arms and Lucien standing above her without an ounce of humor in his expression—before he sank to one knee, and then the other. Elain knew he heard the soft gasp of air expelled from her lungs.

“Wife,” he murmured, sliding the hem of her dress up her shins. “Please let me eat you for breakfast.”

Elain turned in her chair, raising her leg until her slippered foot was pressed against his throat. He was enjoying himself far too much. “You’ve been ignoring me,” she complained softly.

“Get on the table, wife,” Lucien said for the second time. Elain dropped her foot and Lucien, realizing what she was about to do, shook his head.

“I’ll catch you,” he warned just as she flew from her chair. Elain didn’t know what prompted her to do it. The thought of him racing her down the halls, of tackling her and having his way was so disturbingly arousing that Elain scrambled backwards, shoving the chair between them as she ran for the door. She didn’t make it. Lucien was faster, wrapping his arms around her torso and lifting her feet off the floor. His mouth was immediately on her neck, licking from her collarbone to her ear as he walked her deftly back to the dining table. Lucien dropped her on top of it, one arm pressed against her chest.

“I begged, just like you asked,” he complained, his eyes glittering with want. “And still you run from me.”

“Next time I’ll be quicker,” she whispered. Lucien grinned, tugging at the neck of his shirt before pushing apart her knees.

“Next time you should do it on the lawn,” he replied, sinking back into his chair. He pulled her to the edge of the table and for a moment, Lucien truly did look as if he were about to eat breakfast. Fascination crept through her stomach as Lucien wrapped his arms around her legs and dipped his head. He hadn’t bothered to remove her underthings—Lucien just licked straight through the fabric, apparently determined to tease her.

“Am I being punished?” she asked, writhing when he didn’t her underwear off her body. She wanted more, was hot and needy, had all but forgotten anyone might wandered by the side of the house and find the Lord of the estate taking his time with his spread out wife.

“Why don’t you come to see me at night?” he asked, his breath hot against her skin. Elain moaned.

“Because I hate you, remember?” “You hate my cock?” he questioned, licking another stripe over the cloth that covered her. “I don’t think that's true.”

“Is your cock independent of you?” she gasped, reaching for his hair. Lucien groaned softly when she yanked at the strands of his hair, pulling it from the leather strap he’d bound it with.

“Yes,” he murmured, hooking his finger through the band of her panties. “It has its own thoughts and opinions on things…you may insult me, but my cock is very fond of you and if you do not reciprocate its feelings, it will be very put out.”

He dipped a finger into her body, crooking it until he found the exact spot he was looking for. Elains back arched involuntarily and Lucien chuckled with satisfaction. “Say you like my penis, Elain.”

“I like it,” she panted.

“And they say romance is dead,” he murmured, kissing her cunt sweetly. She shoved his face closer.

“Stop talking,” she whispered, squeezing tight around his finger. Lucien obliged, utterly compliant whenever it came to pleasure. Suddenly, it didn’t matter who might see them or if it was wrong to desecrate the breakfast table as they were. It took a breathless minute to realize she was having fun. It was fun to be pinned beneath his mouth, his tongue taking its time swirling lazy circles over her clit. He was treating her like the finest meal and something about it made Elain happy.

Perhaps it was the attention he was suddenly paying her. He was busy, likely had other things he needed to do and yet there he was, carving vast pockets of time from his day to see her. He could have simply demanded she make herself available to him later that evening. She’d seen her father do that far too often when she was a child. Her mother would pale for a moment while she and her sisters immediately scattered to the wind, desperate not to get caught in her mothers resulting storm.

She always knew when Lucien’s control began to fray. His once patient, slow mouth became faster, more frantic, more concentrated on the nub of flesh apexed at her thighs. It was as if he were suddenly overwhelming hungry and could no longer control how he went at her. She liked his best this way, though she never would have admitted it. Elain moaned in encouragement, her orgasm cresting in bright white sparks just behind her eyelids. Lucien’s eyes snapped open, meeting her gaze and with a quick hook of his finger, Elain came with an embarrassing scream she was certain the whole house must have heard.

Lucien scrambled upwards, flipping her to her stomach as he fumbled with his pants,

“You can’t truly mean to…” her words died when he all but slammed himself into her body, using his booted foot to spread her legs as he bent her over the breakfast table.

“I mean to have you everywhere,” Lucien grunted, his hips snapping against her body. The union of their sticky flesh echoed around the room, shaking the silverware beneath them. “On the table, on the floor, against the wall,” he continued, fingers digging in her hips as he drove into her. “This house shall be haunted with the memories of it.”

Elain pressed her forehead against the cool table, her body still convulsing from his mouth. Lucien groaned loudly, his fingers likely leaving dimpling bruises against her skin. “I need you at night,” he continued when Elain began to move with him, angling herself so his cock continued to slide over the sensitive place inside her body. Lucien was always demanding she use him and she’d become far too accustomed to coming multiple times.

“You know where I sleep,” Elain replied, so close it was almost painful. “Wake me up if you must.” “I fucking will,” he whispered. They came within a second of the other, the squeeze of her body likely setting off his own. She liked when Lucien came. It was erratic and messy, so at odds with how controlled he seemed to be. It was as if he became a slave to his baser urges, driven purely by need and instinct.

Lucien pulled himself from her body, yanking her with him into the chair.

“What are your plans for the day?” he asked, his heart hammering against his skin. He was flushed, messy and undone. Handsome, she decided. Utterly, and impossibly handsome.

“I was going to bake a pie.”

That seemed to amuse him. “My wife can bake, can she? How charming.”

“No need to tease, Lucien,” she replied, some of her good will slipping into uncertainty. Lucien kissed her cheek.

“I am not teasing you. Not this time,” he assured her. “Bring me a slice when you finish?” “I would hate to bother you,” she hedged, catching the flash of disappointment in his features.

“You are allowed,” he offered. The post-glow of sex was wearing off, reminding them they were not friends. They were merely strangers with a bargain between them and would, at some point, be merely two people sharing a last name. It would be foolish to get too attached to him. Elain willed herself to ice as she nodded.

“I was also going to invite your brother down.”

Lucien went still beneath her. “Eris?”

“Yes, Eris. And your mother…my sisters, too? If you don’t mind hosting–”

“What do you need of Eris?” Lucien gingerly set her back to her feet, his distrust plain. Elain didn’t want to admit she was inviting him to see if he, too, had a little crush on her housekeeper. She was certain Lucien would not find it half as charming as Elain did.

“Am I not allowed to get to know your family better?” Elain asked, sitting in her chair from before. Lucien hesitated, his jealousy both obvious and absurd. She was married to him, was dripping his come down her leg, and he was stewing in the possibility that perhaps she meant to sample his brother, too.

It was offensive and it irked her. “It’s your house,” he finally dismissed. “Do as you like.”

“I have your permission?” she questioned. Lucien frowned.

“One day you will sit me down and tell me the truly ugly details of your fathers marriage. Until that day, however, please hear me when I assure you that I do not care who you invite to our home…so long as it is not my father.”

“So…don’t ask your mother?” Elain questioned, biting her bottom lip. Lucien exhaled, setting his fork back to the table.

“Their marriage is complicated and I don’t want him here…I don’t want him around you.”

That stung. “You truly think I am so depraved I would–”

“Not you,” Lucien interrupted, his expression dark, ugly. “Him. He cannot be around you.”

Elain swallowed. “Oh.”

“I will write to Eris and see if he cannot bring mother himself. Father likes to lose himself in his little affairs. Perhaps it will escape his notice. As for your sisters…perhaps a party to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what, exactly?”

Lucien’s expression shifted from anger to curiosity. “Your father informs you of matters quite poorly, doesn’t it?”

Elain’s stomach dropped. “I am already married.”

“Yes, fortunately for you. It seems Lord Tamlin has made an offer for your youngest sister—” “Feyre?” Elain exclaimed with a laugh. “You jest.”

Lucien chuckled, sipping his lukewarm coffee while Elain pulled a platter of fruit towards herself.

“I assure you I don’t. I wouldn’t wish the Baron on anyone, not even your feisty sister. We could host an engagement party of sorts.” “She will never marry him,” Elain said with supreme satisfaction. “I know her. She will run away before she ever walks down that church aisle.” Lucien shrugged. “Invite them anyway. Invite all of society. Let them see what a lovely match we make.”

Elain looked at him and Lucien shrugged. “Doting husband, remember?”

Of course. Elain was no longer hungry as she stood. “I should clean myself up,” she told him, watching his eyes drift down her body. “I will see you later.”

“You will,” Lucien agreed.

Elain didn’t dare to look back.

Lucien had hoped marriage would be simple. He could seek out his wife when he wanted her and ignore her when he didn’t. He made it all of three days before his self-control shredded and he fucked her on the breakfast table like an animal. He regretted none of it, other than his original avoidance. Elain was under his skin like a scratch he couldn’t quite itch. How long, he mused, until the urge to have her passed and he could get back to his life?

Never, at this rate. Far from slaking his lust, each new sexual encounter only made him want more. It was a new and not entirely comfortable feeling. He very rarely wanted the same woman more than once and to learn it was his wife currently driving him towards madness did not sit well with him.

Elain was utterly unaware, bouncing around the house without a care in the world. For two weeks she charmed his staff, planning the ball she intended to host in another two weeks. Time was moving impossibly fast even as it felt no time had passed at all. Elain made herself at home as if she’d always lived there, worming her way into his life as if she’d always been a part of it. Lucien could scarcely remember how he’d functioned without her which worried him.

The Forest House was peppered with the horrific ghosts of his childhood. He’d begun exploring the once familiar places, if only to see himself as a boy. He took Elain with him, showing her the path cut through the forest that would lead to the tall, iron gate at the very back of the property or walked her through the garden explaining his mothers careful care while Elain took literal notes on a clipboard.

In the village, men tripped all over themselves to speak to the Lord's wife and Elain indulged it all with a sweet smile. Women were kind, bringing her their problems which Elain immediately turned around and dumped in his lap with a scowl, as if he ought to somehow be able to read each villager's mind. He’d caught her out in the field one particularly chilly day with a gaggle of children, teaching them to braid little flower crowns while they giggled and shrieked. He did not know what to do with her or the knowledge that she charmed everyone else so easily…and had begun to charm him, as well.

For a well-bred Lady, Elain had no qualms about getting in the dirt. The steward complained she was often up too early digging weeds out of the garden with her bare hands and more than once, Elain had presented him with a beautifully latticed pie made entirely on her own. He found himself seeking her out more often than he wanted to, curious as to what she did and how she spent her time when he was not around. He wasn’t just the sex anymore, though he often found clever little ways to convince her to lift her skirts.

It was what dragged Lucien from his office that particular night. HIs brother and mother were set to arrive in the morning, which meant he’d have to stop fucking his wife at the breakfast table. The notion disappointed him. He wondered if he might convince her to move into his bedroom, at least until they left, so he could put them in the east wing where Lucien and Elain would not be overheard.

He found her lounging in her bed, dressed in a pretty pink night dress. Lucien’s head emptied of all thoughts at the sight of her clingy little dress just barely hugging the curve of her ass. “Did you bring the mask this time?” Elain asked, glancing towards the leather straps still hanging casually from her bedposts. He’d let her tie him up again the night before.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. What was wrong with him? “I saw Arina today.”

“I see her everyday,” Elain replied, setting the book she was reading on the night table beside her bed.

“Yes, you two are quite the pair, aren’t you?”

“If you’ve come to say we cannot be friends, I will–” “Stab me, yes,” he interrupted impatiently, catching the outrage in her expression. “Be honest with me. Have you asked to invite Eris because you want him and Arina to see each other?”

Elain’s cheeks immediately flushed.

“Of course not.”

“Liar,” he replied, crossing the room to sit on her bed. His fingers twitched with the want to touch her. “And here I was thinking you would be meddling in your sister's life.”

“Feyre can handle herself,” Elain insisted. “You’ll see. There will be no wedding to Lord Tamlin of all people. He’s so…so…”

“Bland,” Lucien agreed. Elain looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowing.

“You assaulted him, did you not?”

Lucien shrugged. “He had something to say about my mother.”

Elain scooted closer. “He said something about your mother?” she questioned. Lucien scowled. Tamlin had implied his mother would get hit less if she spoke more and Lucien, who’d seen the fresh bruises on her face, had lost his temper in a regretful sort of way. It only confirmed the worst rumors about him and his brothers—they were no better than their father.

“Feyre will hate him if he doesn’t respect women,” Elain continued when it was clear Lucien would not be expanding on why he’d spent an evening in the stockyards.

“Feyre will be given no choice in the matter. Lord Tamlin is well aware of her reputation and claims not to care. She should be grateful–” “Grateful?” Elain hissed, withdrawing from him as though he’d struck her. Lucien ran a hand through his hair, immediately irritated.

“Yes, Elain. Whether you like it or not, these things matter—” “Should I be disappointed, then?” she asked him, so close to the edge of her bed she seemed in danger of falling off. Lucien hoped she did, if only to inject a little comedy to the moment. Why couldn’t she ever assume good intentions? She almost imagined the least charitable interpretation of his words.

“You are disappointed, Elain. You remind me every single day,” he replied plaintively. “Come sit in my lap.”

“No! Feyre can do better than Lord Tamlin,” she added, unaware that when she crossed her arms over her chest, it made her breasts practically pop out of her night dress. Lucien was openly staring.

“I never said she couldn’t. I only meant she’s unlikely to get a better offer—” “Why does she need one?” Elain demanded. “I got married, did I not? Feyre and Nesta should be allowed to complete the season.”

Lucien shrugged, ignoring the way disappointment slid through his veins. She’d married him because she’d been made to, because she had no choice, and perhaps because she believed it would spare her sisters a similar fate. He wished, strangely, she’d also married him because he was tolerable to her.

“Perhaps your father ran the costs in his mind and decided it was more economical to marry you all off.” Elain’s anger seemed to melt right off her face, leaving genuine hurt in its wake. “That sounds like him.”

Lucien sighed. “Will you come here now?”

Elain looked up, dark lashes fanned around her even darker eyes. Lucien gestured for her, letting her see slick amusement and nothing else. She hesitated and he swallowed how much he hated her distrust, his fingers beckoning her. Elain relented, crawling quickly over the mattress until he caught her and dragged her the rest of the way into his lap.

“Are you happy now?” she asked, too rigid, too grumpy.

“With you?” he teased. “Never.”

She squirmed, scowling darkly for all it mattered. He merely tightened his hold.

“Tell me the truth, now. Are you meddling in my brother's love life?”

“She seems to care for him,” Elain admitted. Lucien poked her in the ribs. “She is…”

“Don’t you dare say it,” Elain whispered, twisting to look up at him. “She is lovely.” “Beron would kill her,” Lucien finished. “Even if Eris wanted her, which I’m not certain he does, Beron would kill him, and Eris knows it. You should have come to me first. All you’ve done is heap hurt onto Arina’s shoulders. She knows her station, Eris knows his.”

Elain’s eyes were so round and innocent, so utterly sweet he wished wildly for a better world, if only to stop seeing how disappointed she often was. Lucien couldn’t help himself as he caressed her face.

“I’ll help your sister,” he said despite his better judgment. “If your father needs money, I can send it.”

Elain exhaled a breath, relaxing against his body. Relief flooded his veins when she tucked her head beneath his chin. “That’s kind of you, Lucien.”

He would have done far more, he wanted to say. He was trying, he wanted to remind her. In his own strange, stupid way. He said nothing, unwilling to admit she was having an effect on him he didn’t entirely hate. He needed to get out of his own head.

“You will stop meddling,” he told her sternly. Elain rolled her eyes, flicking him in the cheek to punctuate her annoyance.

“Are you ordering me to?” she asked him, her eyes burning with sensuality.

“Be careful, wife,” he crooned, his body immediately taking notice of how she shifted in her lap so she was rubbing against his penis. He wasn’t hard yet, though his hand flew to her breast all the same, pinching her nipple through the thin fabric.

“Or what?” Elain demanded, teeth grazing the stubble on his neck.

“Or I’ll bend you over the dresser and spank you,” he all but growled. Far from fear, Elain offered a breathy little gasp and he wondered if she didn’t mean to run. He kept hoping she would, that he’d see her in the hall and she’d just take off so he could fuck her up against one of those ugly, expensive portraits of a long-dead ancestor.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Elain breathed, grinding herself against him. Lucien pushed her chestnut hair off her shoulders, nipping the skin beneath her ear. “Try me.”

“You’re a coward,” she goaded, the little minx. Lucien chuckled, so immensely pleased. Tightening his grip around her, Lucien dragged them both from the bed. Elain squirmed, playing her little game in which she pretended to resist him. He wondered what it said about him that he liked making her submit almost as much as he liked when she pressed her foot to his neck and demanded he beg to taste her.

Lucien bent her over the white wood of her vanity, enjoying the sight of her breasts pressed against the surface and reflected back at him through the mirror. He pushed up her nightgown, tired of constantly fucking her in clothes. Writhing against his hold did nothing to stop him from revealing her bare body—it only served to make him harder.

“You asked for this,” he reminded her, palming her curved ass cheek. For only a moment Lucien hesitated, suddenly afraid of what it would mean to strike his wife. Elain turned, looking over her shoulder with a soft expression.

“Do your worst,” she murmured, her eyes offering silent permission despite the unspoken rules of the game. “I’m not afraid of you.” His knees trembled when she said it. Lucien rubbed again, spreading her apart just enough to look at her, barred and quivering and willing.

He brought his hand down with a satisfying smack. Her whole body went tight for a moment, head dropping against her forearm. He couldn’t see her face, hidden beneath the loose curls of her long hair. “This is what you wanted,” he reminded her, admiring the print of his hand blooming on her cheek. “How many, Elain?”

“Ten,” she whispered, surprising him. “I’ve been so bad.” Lucien’s mouth dried, his eyes rolling backwards in his head. “You have,” he agreed, his other hand holding her waist. He landed another hit on the opposite cheek as his cock solidified in his pants, straining to be released. Elain whimpered, rising up on her tiptoes, legs spread wider. Lucien rubbed the little hurt with his hand, unable to resist sliding his hand along the long seam of her. His fingers brushed against the puckered hole of her ass, eliciting another gasp. He pressed his thumb ever so slightly, gauging her reaction. Would she let him use her this way? Or did Elain have a hard limit somewhere?

This wasn’t the place to push her, only to introduce her to the concept. He continued down, groaning softly when he felt the gathering wetness. “You’re not supposed to enjoy being punished,” he crooned, slipping his finger inside her all the same. He was a masochist, unable to resist feeling her clench around him.

“I hate you,” she lied, so tight he could feel it burning against his cock. Lucien withdrew without preamble, spanking her yet again. He caught her face in the mirror when she looked up, her cheeks flushed, eyes glowing with pleasure. She was absurd, so obscenely beautiful he didn’t know what to do with her. Lucien would be lucky to get to five, let alone ten.

“You want me,” he told her, leaning against her back so she could feel his erection. He gathered her hair in his fist, arching her back so he could lick the side of her neck. “You’re already soaked.”

Their eyes met in the mirror, their thoughts reflected back at them. Elain thrust her breasts forward, gripping the edge of the vanity so he could see the way her pink nipples brushed against the wood.

“Fuck, Elain,” he breathed, shedding himself of his clothes as she spread her legs wider and manuvered her hair so he could have a truly unparalleled view of her. Wishing there was a mirror on the floor so he could watch from every angle, Lucien slicked the swollen head of his cock through her wetness, teasing her clit with his sensitive, soft skin. Elain moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

It occurred to Lucien, as he pushed into his wife, that he might never tire of her. That there was no novelty to Elain, nothing inherently different that would eventually pass. Perhaps this was more than just lust. That, more than anything, terrified him more than he was willing to admit. Wanting her and knowing it would slow, that eventually he’d get bored and move on, made Lucien feel safe. Secure. She couldn’t hurt him if this was only temporary. He couldn’t lose her to another man, to time, to a cruel and capricious world that might one day decide to take her for simply no reason at all.

Elain moaned, drawing him back to the present. Lucien did what he did best and swallowed his concerns in favor of enjoying himself. There was nothing finer that being buried in her body, of feeling the proof of her arousal dripping against his cock. He was certain there were dozens of men who would have killed to so casually reach for her hip, to pull her roughly against him so he could drive deeper, could feel every glorious inch of her body. He was mesmerized by the sight of her, at her bouncing breasts and her flushed cheeks, her parted lips.

“That’s it,” he crooned. “Take what you need.” “I need you to touch me,” she panted, still on her tiptoes. Lucien reached for one of her legs, holding it in the air while sliding the other around to rub against her clit. Elain whimpered, clenching so tight he could barely breathe.

“Come for me,” Lucien demanded, dragging toward the edge despite his best intentions. She’d stolen his stamina like she’d taken everything else. “Elain, sweetheart—”

She screamed, nails scraping against the wood. He exploded beneath the sight of her orgasm, pumping hard release into her body. He was grunting, pulling her too rough against him and still Elain took it without complaint the way he’d once thought she might.

This was the part he hated. Pulling himself out of her body, the redressing and slipping back into the awkward, unsure pair too quick to fight. He’d leave her here when what he really wanted was to pack her things up and move her into his bedroom. It was not done, unheard of. Men thought it made them weak, stripped them of their most basic rights but Lucien wanted to wake up with her nestled against him like they’d been in the inn. She’d been so sweet, so warm, her cheek pressed against his bicep, her back curved against his chest.

He didn’t dare ask. Lucien merely pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well.”

“You as well,” she agreed, holding her nightdress against her body. Lucien willed himself to walk away.

Willed himself not to think of her at all.

Eris Vanserra arrived the next morning with his mother and no one else. As to what Lucien had said to entice him into coming, Elain did not know. The elder Vanserra was nothing like his brother and in retrospect, Elain wondered how she had never noticed. Lucien, who was tall and muscular, greeted his leaner, shorter brother. Not that Eris didn’t dwarf both the fragile-looking Lady Vanserra or Elain, but comparatively, Lucien was just large.

When had she begun appreciating her husband, she wondered?

“Little sister,” Eris crooned, every inch the gentleman. Here was the man who Nesta had rejected, who had the reputation of being just like his father. Lucien, too, had that reputation though over the course of a week, Elain was beginning to suspect the rumors were not as true as she’d once believed. “I hear you’re hosting a party next weekend.”

Elain looked at Lucien, who rolled his eyes behind his brothers back.

“Yes,” she agreed.

“She’s trying to find you a wife, brother,” Lucien teased, clapping Eris’s shoulder hard.

“And how is domesticity treating you?” Eris asked, his amber eyes firmly on Lucien as they walked from the foyer to the drawing room.

“Wedded bliss, as they say,” Lucien replied easily. Elain didn’t know why those words made her heart pound, why her cheeks suddenly flushed with warmth. Beside Lucien, his mother, who clutched his arm for dear life, beamed with happiness. Eris seemed less convinced.

“Better you than me, I suppose,” he argued, looking around the house with a guarded expression. Elain thought of what Arina had said of their childhood. Lucien had been particularly cagey around the details and Elain knew better than to press but judging by the way Eris walked and his paler than usual expression, she didn’t think this place held any fond memories for him.

Elain meant to warn Arina that Eris was coming. She stood by the door, intending to slip out when Lady Vanserra caught her by the hand.

“Sit with me,” she asked, beaming with such radiant happiness that Elain could hardly say no. She’d just dropped to the little floral couch when Arina came in, more familiar than she would have dared had she known they had guests. Eris immediately jumped to his feet as the room fell silent.

“Lady Vanserra,” Arina said with surprise, eyes darting from Eris to his mother. “Lord ah—” “Eris,” he said quickly, an echo of his brother. Elain looked to Lucien who, to his credit, was staring pointedly out the window behind him. Elain also stood.

“Excuse me, for just a moment,” Elain offered the room. She chanced one last glance at Eris, who genuinely looked as if he’d seen a ghost. Elain strode from the room, wondering if Lucien hadn’t been right when he told her not to meddle. Arina’s tanned face was just as pale, her green eyes just as stricken. Elain followed her friend down the corridor, pulling her to the library where Arina pressed her back against the wall.

“I haven’t seen him in so long,” she gasped, sliding to the floor, knees pulled to her chest.

“I’ll send him away,” Elain said immediately, grabbing Arina’s clammy hands. “I’m so sorry, I thought—” “No!” Arina shrieked softly, shaking her head. “No. Don’t…don’t send him away. I’m only surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think he’d truly come.” Arina blinked away the glassy look from her eyes. “Don’t send him away,” she repeated. “I want to see him…I just…I don’t want him to see me.”

“Why not?” Elain demanded. Arina was beautiful, the kind of woman who turned heads everywhere she went. She would have ruined every upstanding man in Velaris, would have brought that city to its knees if she’d ever had the notion. Elain had sent the butcher's son away on not one, but three separate occasions when he’d come inquiring after Arina. Why shouldn’t Eris see her?

“He is…” she trailed off helplessly. “If you see less of me, that is why.”

“I saw how he looked at you,” Elain insisted. “Like he’d seen a ghost.”

“I’m sure he thought so,” Arina agreed. “He made me swear I would leave this place. I promised, I…”

Arina bit her bottom lip, tugging at the skin with her teeth. “I didn’t know where else to go. I had no money and a poor education, I just…he left and I stayed.”

Elain nodded.

“Lord Vanserra—Lucien…he made me housekeeper when my mother passed and it’s been a good job. Better, even, since you came and it’s not just boring men traipsing about. I don’t regret it. Eris was just…” Arina’s eyes were dreamy for a moment. “He was, perhaps, better left to my imagination.” Arina stood, smoothing out the blue of her dress. “I shall be fine. Don’t worry about me. Focus on that husband of yours.” “You’ll tell me if anything changes?”

“Of course.”

Elain didn’t believe Arina, though she accepted her friend's promise all the same. Trudging back to the drawing room, she caught the fleeting look of hope that crossed Eris’s face. He was so painfully obvious, so openly apparent.

“No tea?” Lucien asked, one eyebrow raised.

“You know where the kitchen is,” Elain shot back, a plan forming in her mind. Lucien had demanded she not meddle, but if the only thing separating Eris and Arina was class, surely that could be rectified. How badly did Eris truly want to become Duke?

“Is everything alright?” Lady Vanserra questioned. Eris smoothed his expression into one of supreme boredom. He wasn’t fooling her.

“Perfectly alright,” Elain agreed. “The butcher's son is courting my housekeeper, that’s all. If he keeps this up, we’ll have another wedding on our hands before Christmas.” Lucien scowled from behind his brother's chair, eyes laser focused on Elain.

What are you doing?! His body language demanded. Elain didn’t care, too busy studying the elder son. His face was moody and dark, fingers gripping the arm of his chair so tightly she could see the whites of his knuckles.

Lady Vanserra, unaware of Elain’s manipulations, clapped her hands together with delight. “Oh, I remember that boy. You three used to play together. Lucien, Arina, and…what was his name?’ “John,” Eris all but ground out. “He was rather simple, as I remember.”

Elain sat beside their mother, hands in her lap. “Well, boys grow into rather dashing, intelligent men I think. John is wonderful. We are so fond of him.” “Perhaps too fond,” Lucien agreed with amusement. “I didn’t know you spoke so often to him.” “My husband is quite busy,” Elain explained. “Arina and I find all sorts of ways to amuse ourselves.”

Lucien snorted his agreement, turning his gaze back to the window.

“It’s lovely to see the two of you getting along so well,” Lady Vanserra murmured, taking Elain’s hand in hers. “It makes me happy to see you both radiant and in love.”

Elain swallowed the panic that rose in her chest. Lucien didn’t react at all, eyes moody just like his brother.

“It is easy,” Elain replied, not daring to look at him as she assured his mother, “To love your son.”

“He has always been a good boy,” she agreed. “A good man, too.”

“Come, mother. Your sentimentality embarasses him,” Eris interjected with more than a little amusement. “Give us a tour of the house brother. I haven’t seen it in ages.”

Elain intended to let them go together as a family, to prepare for her own sister's arrival in a few days and the party that she was wholly unprepared for. As Lucien went to the door, he caught her around the waist. She expected him to offer her snark, to say something hurtful for claiming to love him.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, drawing her close for an unexpected kiss. “Oh,” Elain whispered, looking him in the eyes, nose brushing his own.

“Behave yourself,” he murmured, kissing her again, softer than before. It was affectionate, touching her in a place she hadn’t known existed. Elain swallowed hard, nodding while wishing he’d keep his arm around her body. He didn’t, releasing her without a hint of disappointment on his end.

Elain watched him go with a shake of her head, wondering what was wrong with her. It was only Lucien. He touched her constantly without asking, was always pulling her into his lap or pressing his mouth against her own. The air was easier to breathe once Lucien vacated it and Elain busied herself with the morning's preparations. Her sisters were coming early, chaperoned by Lucien who was the only man their father apparently trusted their care to. He had written, stating he was far too busy to do more than drop them off.

She supposed business had gotten better with Beron Vanserra’s patronage. If it kept Beron out of her home and let Feyre and Nesta run wild in the countryside, Elain hardly cared. The Lady Vanserra—or Amera, as she insisted Elain call her—also seemed to bloom far from her husband's dark cloud. She was all smiles, tucked between her sons as they made their barbed jokes and relived more pleasant days in the house. Elain wondered if she couldn’t keep Lady Vanserra forever. Surely Beron, who Lucien swore was always mired in one affair or another, would be grateful not to have to support her?

It was that thought that pulled Elain from her bed that night. She slipped down the halls, making her way in near darkness with nothing but a candle until she found his room. Lucien’s was the largest in the house, a series of interconnected chambers where he could work and lounge and bathe without having to be bothered. He was in bed, propped up on a wall of pillows without a shirt on. The white sheet was tangled about his waist, one bare leg pulled closer to his chest, offering Elain a mind-emptying view of his muscular thighs. Lucien looked over at her when she appeared in the doorway, setting the book he was reading in his lap.

“Is it my birthday?” he joked, immediately gesturing for her to come to him. Insatiable, was what he was and yet Elain could not help herself. She still remembered waking in the inn, tucked safe against his body. Some part of her still wanted that, though she would never have admitted it. Not when Lucien retreated back to his own bed after coming to hers for sex, not bothering to even look back at her. Elain could not make herself vulnerable in that way. She hesitated, even though she wanted to go to him. She always did, every time he beckoned her. It was a game she played with herself, telling him no. He could not have everything while he gave her so little. He could not have her unguarded affection.

Lucien sighed, running a hand through his lovely hair. “Do not make me beg,” he said, his expression plaintive. “I have been imagining you in this bed since we arrived. Indulge me.”

“When is your birthday?” Elain couldn’t help but ask, taking the tiniest step onto the braided rug his bed sat atop of.

“October thirtieth,” he answered, gesturing again for her to get into his bed. He pulled back the sheet, revealing himself to be utterly naked and this time, Elain could not resist despite her exhaustion.

“I don’t want to have sex tonight,” she complained, letting him snatch her the moment she reached the side of the bed. Lucien pulled her into the bed and yank the blanket up over her body until merely her face remained open to the dim air.

“You came all this way to decline my advances?” Lucien asked, brushing hair from her face. Elain swallowed hard, hating the way her heart fluttered at this new softness. When she’d once imagined being married, she had pictured moments like these. Lucien was so good at making her feel cared for. Cherished, even. Sometimes she caught him looking at her with a fondness that made her chest tight. Some part of her wanted it to be real and not the product of a too-romantic imagination.

“I came all this way to ask you if your mother could live with us permanently,” Elain replied, dragging her fingertips over the sparse hair on his chest. Lucien sighed, pressing a kiss to her scalp.

“Ah. Father would never allow it.”

Elain twisted to look at him, desperately trying to ignore how handsome he was in the firelight. “Why not? You say he is having affairs. Would it not be easier with his wife out in the countryside?”

“And who will organize his dinners? Warm his bed when his mistress is not available?” Lucien countered. “She is his most prized possession, Elain.” “She is a woman–” “She was the daughter of the most powerful Duke before he died. Father coveted her, he was obsessed with her…he still is. It would draw far too much attention to the pair of us to beg for mother to live here. When you are pregnant and it’s coming close, I intend permission for her to come and tend to you and that will keep her away for part of the year but it’s dangerous to ask for anymore.” “I do not understand,” Elain complained, settling back against him. Lucien threaded his fingers through her hair, combing softly.

“No, I imagine not,” Lucien murmured, pressing the curls to his nose. “An invitation for mother is an invitation to both of my parents. Beron will not come for the birth of a grandchild but he might just to insert himself somewhere he does not belong…to remind us both that we are still under his care and control. We are far better outside of his awareness and if I am being completely honest, I do not want him anywhere near my wife.”

Elain shivered. “She seems so happy here.”

Lucien nodded, kissing her forehead again. “You are kind to think of her. She had nothing but questions about you when I took her through the house.”

“I miss my own mother,” Elain admitted, unsure if it was wise to do so. Lucien shifted, both arms wrapped around her body. She felt heavy, head nuzzled against his arm so she could better inhale the scent of him.

“How old were you when she died?” he asked.

“Eleven,” she whispered, dragging her lips over his skin as she said it. She didn’t want to have sex…she merely wanted to touch him without the expectation of anything else. Lucien didn’t make a sound as she kissed the muscles against his ribs, her hand flat against his stomach.

“What happened?” “Influenza,” Elain replied. “It was slow and for a while we thought she might get better.” His hand rubbed against her spine. “I’m sorry.”

Tracing the coarse line of hair from his belly button downward, Elain let herself reflect on that time. “Nesta begged father to take her to the hospital or the countryside…she would get better only to get worse, over and over. It was terrible and…” And he’d said no. He’d ignored them, making his daughters work in shifts to keep her hydrated and fed and cool. Elain had listened to Nesta rage and scream, twelve years old and already far angrier than any child should ever be. Feyre had begun sneaking out of the house then, unable to stand the tension or the way death clung to everything. Elain had been left to smooth it all out, to help in the kitchen, the garden, anywhere her mother would have overseen.

She supposed her father decided it would be easier without the wife who hated him. Nesta was certain he had purposefully let her die and Feyre had been too traumatized to ever consider his motives at all. Elain wondered if her father hadn’t begun setting her up for her own marriage years before. She had no expectation Lucien would ever take care of her, even as she clung to him, desperate that he might.

“I should go,” she said, pushing away from him. Lucien tightened his hold again.

“Stay,” he whispered. “I promise no sex, just…”

Their eyes met and she saw her own same pulsating fear radiating through his own eyes. Her chest constricted, heart pounding terribly in her chest. Say no! Her mind screamed it at her, reminding her she would read too much into this evening, would project her own slow blooming hopes onto his actions only to be disappointed. He did not want her, had been perfectly clear the day of their marriage.

People could change, she told herself stupidly. “Okay,” she agreed, watching his relief. “Just for tonight.”

Lucien nodded.

“Just for tonight.”

#elucien #elucien fic #elucien fan fic #elucien fanfiction #gee i wonder what is going on with elain and lucien #theyre like huh i feel weird #and my face is hot #is it the flu???#NO ITS LOVE YOU IDIOTS #god theyre so stupid i love them #elain x lucien #also welcome: feysand subplot #brought to you by: the lonely barricade drinking tequila in my comment section #and Rhysand High Lord of Night Court and a man who likes to cause problems on purpose #injecting a little drama into chapter 5 #as always #this is not historically accurate

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shepards-folly · 11 months

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A wc!birdsibs doodle cause they’ve been in my head. [alt without the wet cat text under the cut]

#shep arts #i keep changing my mind on things so if you ever see me post art of them that looks different uhh that’s just part of the swag #honestly idk why i drew it this way it could go with any of them in the front lol #really just depends on the context of what's going on...#they’re all a bit pathetic (affectionate)#i love them so much its stupid #i have like ideas of things more current in the timeline but tbh i want to flesh that out more aftr i finish watching all the povs #im working thru joeys rn #been having a hard time watching things cause my focus and energy have been shot recently #like taken out back like old yeller if you catch my drift #anyway im practically paying them to live in my head theyre in there so rent free #honestly i prob wont tag any of the posts related to this au properly unless they include the witches. im just not in the mood tbh #just skfkskfk i love my lil family of cursed idiots but goddamn they are not the focus of the au im just fixated on them </3 #i mean cursed in a literal way. all three of the siblings are cursed and oh boy do i use that to stab myself in the heart #im a sucker for stories abt people trying so very hard to escape their predetermined destinies #fighting tooth and claw to help and heal when you know your destiny is to hurt and be hurt…#knowing you WILL cause pain for others and still going and being like: I'm going to keep trying to be more than that just hits different

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hajiberry · 1 year

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VOICE-MEMOS THEY SEND WHEN THEYRE DRUNK

Kirishima- “baaaaaaabe, hiii I’m out and well I mean I’m not really out anymore I’m on my way home. In an Uber cause no drunk driving duhhhhhh but actually I’m not even drunk so I actually could’ve driven but somebody I won’t name names was being a bit of an asshat and wouldn’t let me drive. But oh my god I love yousomuch like you know I love my guys but god I miss you every time I go out. And yes I know I’ll see you when I get home but your gonna be sleeping and I’m gonna be sad but honestly might wake you up because I wanna kiss you. Okaaay pulling up to to the cribbb noww BYYE”

Deku- “okay let me start by saying I’m only slightly under the influence right now. Like honestly barely, I didn’t even drink that much but sometimes I feel like because I never had a college experience to build my tolerance up I’m still a lightweight at 24 but anyways I’m on the way home and I keep thinking about how much I love you and I miss you so much and oh my god I don’t know what I’d do if we ever broke up. Not that I want that to ever happen but like oh my god how could I even function? I’d probably drop from number 1 to like in the hundreds 'cause I’d be that useless without you.” *starts crying and the rest of the audio message is him crying*

Todoroki - “y/n, I’m currently in midoriyas car because he’s driving me home because I accidentally drank too much at the after-party for the award show. I’m so sad you couldn’t come, like I know the anniversary party for your parents is really important that’s why I’m flying out tomorrow to be there for it. Shit, that was a secret. I hope you don’t listen to this because then you’ll know I’m on a plane coming to see you in like 3 hours. Honestly don’t know how I’m going to function hungover on an airplane but I think I’ll manage, I mean it’s not like it’s a commercial flight so I should be good. Damn it well I was originally going to say I love and miss you. Which still stands but I’m gonna go now because I think I’m going to throw up” “TODOROKI NOT IN MY CAR PLEASE”

Bakugou- “fuck. I’m so drunk right now and I hate even admitting that but that’s how shit-faced I am right now that I can even admit that I’m drunk. This is why I should never go out with my idiot friends, they make me drink and then I end up talking about you and that’s so beyond embarrassing. Not that you’re embarrassing I just don’t need them to know my business like that. Kirishimas driving me home right now which I feel like speaks volumes about my lack of good judgment right now. I don’t even know what the point of this message is I just wanted to say you’re one of the most tolerable person I’ve ever met and I really fucking love you. Okay bye this idiots smiling at what I’m saying and it’s creeping me out.

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wooahaes · 8 months

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svt - pick-up lines

pairing: non-idol!svt x gn!reader

prompt: reader hitting on their partner with pick-up lines. for funsies.

genre: fluff. comedy? this is so silly.

warnings: bad pick-up lines. goofy silly hours teehee!! established relationship in all of these.

daisy’s notes: ive had these plans for a while. this is just me enjoying pick-up lines. theyre so silly goofy sometimes.

choi seungcheol

“cheollie,” you called out from your end of the couch. he looked up from his phone with a hum, and you kept a straight face. “do you believe in love at first sight?”

to your surprise, he mused over the question for a minute. “what? i don’t know, i think--”

you spoke up over him, trying to quell your urge to laugh: “do you believe in love at first sight, or should i walk by again?”

and he stared at you, brows furrowing together before it clicked. ah. you must have found pick-up lines online or something. “honey. we’ve been dating for two years. you don’t need to hit on me like this--”

“answer the question, cheollie!”

“no!” he laughed, “if you’re going to hit on me, then do one that makes sense!”

yoon jeonghan

jeonghan hummed as he focused on cooking dinner... yet he heard the telltale sound of you making your way over, and glanced up. “hi, honey,” he said, before going back to his work. “it’ll only be a little longer--”

“hey. jeonghan.” he could hear the way you’re trying not to crack up over whatever you were about to say. “i hope you know CPR... because you’re taking my breath away.”

he looked up, half-expecting to see you holding your camera up, but instead you’re just smiling like an idiot. at least you’re his idiot, if anything. he gave you the tiniest once-over, before going back to his work. “your hand looks heavy... can i hold it for you?”

and immediately you cringed--something he caught out of the corner of his eye--causing him to laugh.

“you won’t win!” he said, looking at you. “i memorized some the moment i saw you googling them last night!”

“you cheater!” you said through your giggles, making your way over to steal a kiss from him. “ugh, you’re so mean!”

he chuckled against your lips instead. “and you’re still laughing.”

joshua hong

joshua had been doing the dishes when you sidled up to him with this goofy smile on your face. he glanced up for a moment, about to ask why you were smiling so hard all of a sudden, only for you to speak up.

“are you from tennessee--”

“babe. i’m literally from california,” he chuckled.

“no, shh,” you reached up to cover his mouth, “you’re ruining it--”

he chuckled, pulling your hand away, “i know.” and he abandoned his work, turning to you as he laned in. “and i’m gonna keep ruining it--”

“what? no!” you whined, “you’re so mean--just let me finish the line--”

he kissed you anyway, giggling when he felt you smile against his lips. when you started to try to finish the line when he pulled away, he merely kissed you again.

(you weren’t going to finish the line... but you didn’t mind it so much when every attempt was met with a kiss).

wen junhui

jun had been curled up on the couch, a book in his hands when he heard you call out to him.

“jun. junnie.” he looked up to see you approaching, phone in hand. “if i were a cat...” you looked up, smiling hard, “i’d spend all nine lives with you.”

oh no. oh NO. you were CUTE. maybe the pickup line was silly as hell, but you were adorable and it made him start to giggle. he buried his face in his book. “i thought we were past this stage!”

“are you a cat?” you pulled the book down as you crawled over, “because you’re purrrrfect--”

again, he started to giggle over your silly pickup lines. of course you’d pick cat ones. this man had a weakness sometimes and it was cats. the fact that you looked incredibly pleased with yourself only made this worse (or better? jun couldn’t tell which: your joy was great, but how was he supposed to live after this?).

counter attack time. he dived forward, quickly kissing you before breaking into more giggles. “are you happy now?”

with a giggle, you leaned forward, about to kiss him again. “very.”

kwon soonyoung

“soonyoung!”

your boyfriend looked up from where he was getting a drink from the fridge, suddenly caught off guard. did he do something? or... maybe you asked him for something and he was about to forget it? soonyoung could be a little forgetful, and usually you approaching him like this either meant he forgot something, or he did something. slowly, he pushed the fridge close, still staring you down..

“if you were a song,” you said, “you’d be the best single on the album.”

the fridge shut, and he could hear that hiss of it being sealed back as he continued to stare at you. wait. single? “are you breaking up with me?”

“what? no, soonie, i’m hitting on you.”

what the fuck were you talking about...? “honey... we’re already dating.”

“soonyoung--”

“ohh, right,” he twisted the tap of his water bottle. he lifted it to take a sip, pausing long enough to finish the thought, “you’re still bad at flirting.”

“soonyoung!”

he set the bottle aside as he made his way to you, “it’s okay,” he giggled. he reached out, pulling you into his arms. “i still love you and your bad pick-up lines.”

jeon wonwoo

wonwoo had been standing in the middle of the bookstore when you suddenly approached him, giggling. he could see from the twinkle in your eyes that you had something planned, and you reached out, patting his arm with a “hey, hey, wonwoo,” that told him immediately you’d been distracted while looking up the book you were looking for.

“yes?”

“on a scale from one to ten,” you said, “you’re a nine, and i’m the one you need--”

wonwoo blinked at you. “you’re not a one, though.”

immediately, your head shot up as you stared at him, suddenly embarrassed. as you swat at his arm, with a pouty “wonwoooo,” wonwoo giggled at you.

“you’re so cute,” he said. “did you find the book we’re looking for?”

he could see the light bulb over your head as you went wide-eyed, suddenly reminded your mission. “oh, right!”

lee jihoon

“jihoonie?” you called out, immediately getting your boyfriend’s attention as he was comparing two boxes of cereal. “if you were words on a page... you’d be fine print.”

... what the hell? he just stared at you, saying nothing as he tried to figure out what you were doing. was soonyoung around the corner? had you run into him and he pitched this idea...? or maybe it had been vernon. or mingyu. or... honestly, he had a lot of friends who teased him because his face went bright red whenever you teased him.

“if you were a vegetable,” you continued to read off of your phone, “you’d be a cute-cumber.”

this was even more confusing. he could see you were smiling. were you planning something? this had to be a prank. his face kept growing warmer by the second: of course you’d find cute pick-up lines to use on him. you didn’t even do this when the two of you started dating.

“if you were a fruit--”

“why are you hitting on me? we’re already dating.”

you had smiled to yourself again, that twinkle in your eye telling him that you were about to tease him again. yet when you looked up, you saw how red his face was getting. no point in letting this go to waste. “you’d be a fine-apple,” you finished.

and that immediately netted you jihoon whining at you with a quiet “stop, i’m going to die and then you won’t have a boyfriend anymore. do you want me to die?”

(... and of course, that meant you’d hit him with an angel-themed pick-up line minutes later after you found a suitable one.)

lee seokmin

"hey. are you a chicken?”

seokmin looked up from where he was sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through his social media on this lazy afternoon. he furrowed his brow, thinking over your words again. you knew as well as anyone else that seokmin wasn’t the greatest with stuff like horror movies. he clung to you the entire time you went to a haunted house with him, after all. “i--”

“because you’re im-peck-able.”

he snorted after a moment, already smiling. “ah--really? you’re hitting on me like this?” he paused after a moment. “... aren’t you tired?”

you giggled, “nope! i still have more--”

“because you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

immediately, you yelled before diving forward, burying your face in his shirt. “that’s not fair!”

he laughed, bringing you into his arms as he sat up. “joshua told me that one once,” he giggled, “and i thought i missed my chance to use it on you.”

oh, of course he wanted to use it on you. what a dork. at least he was your dork.

kim mingyu

mingyu had been in the middle of cooking dinner when he heard you come in. he called out to you, asking how your day had gone. you’d made conversation easily enough as you slipped out of your shoes and into your house slippers, making your way into the kitchen. you leaned against the counter, watching him drop long noodles into boiling water.

“gyu.” yet when he merely hummed in response, you called his name again until he looked at you. “are you parents bakers?”

he furrowed his brows. “what? you know what my parents do, we’ve--”

“because you’re a cutie pie.”

he stared at you for a moment, words sinking in before he threw his head back and laughed. the pick-up line wasn’t so funny as much as it was his love for you that made him laugh. mingyu was utterly and entirely endeared to you in every way, and that included laughing at your silly little jokes. before you could even try to say another one, he made his way over to you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you.

“you’re so cute,” he giggled.

“it wasn’t that funny, you know,” you wrapped your arms around him. you’d save the other pick-up lines for later.

he squeezed you tight. “it was. because it was yours,” he said, giggling again. “really... i love you. you’re so cute.” he let go of you, stepping back to watch dinner. “dinner should be ready soon, by the way.”

you smiled, leaning against the counter once more. “i almost said something about your cake, you know--”

(which only earned you him yelling, laughing a little as he did so. god, he loved you.)

xu minghao

minghao had called out for you to come in once he heard you knock on the door of his art studio, and he’d nodded to you politely as you came in. without thinking twice, he continued his work, now acutely aware of the audience he had. he didn’t mind working in front of you--he trusted you to know that art was a process and the vision truly came together toward the end.

“hao?” you asked, sounding genuinely confused. “did you do something to my eyes?”

he furrowed his brows, looking over to where you were standing. “no? is something wrong--”

“because i can’t take them off of you.”

immediately, all concern for you evaporated because he saw the way you were smiling, the way you barely concealed your giggles now that he was looking at you. “are you done?”

your smile faltered. “oh. sorry, are you busy? i didn’t mean to--”

he giggled a moment later, so soft and airy. you’d always told him he had a cute laugh. “you don’t have to flirt with me,” he said, beckoning you over. he leaned in, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “i’m already yours.”

boo seungkwan

seungkwan had been sitting across from you, coffee sitting in front of him, as he scrolled through one of his social media accounts. he’d been looking for a specific post to show you, listening to you ramble on about your day as he searched.

“hey. do you have a name?” you asked all of a sudden, immediately earning a confused look from seungkwan. “or can i just call you mine?”

his nose wrinkled as he gave you this look of disgust. “what? we’re already dating. what are you talking about?” he paused, looking around. “is someone recording this?”

you just giggled, watching him. “did the sun come out? or did you just smile at me?”

seungkwan, who was very much not smiling at you, actually cracked one at that one. “really? should i wait for you to be done?”

“yes.” you glanced back down at your phone, “do you play soccer? because you look like a keeper--”

seungkwan grabbed his coffee, getting up to leave you there. he heard your “hey!” as he walked away, smiling to himself. all too soon, you’d chased after him, taking your hand in his.

“i’m done,” you giggled. “but you are, y’know. a keeper.”

“i know,” he smiled, squeezing your hand. “and i’m yours, too.”

he’d have to find a pick-up line to use on you later, just to give you a taste of your own medicine... you’ll just never see it coming.

chwe vernon

vernon knew you were up to... something. you’d been skulking around, this devious smile on your face as you wandered to and fro, giggling to yourself. at first, he thought this had to be some kind of ‘look at this costume i bought our child’ (your cat) deal, since that had happened before (which was why you owned a sonic the heggehog onesie for said cat). yet you had leaned over the couch, watching him for a moment.

“hey.”

he raised a brow. “hey?”

“if you and i were socks, we’d make a great pair.”

he rolled his eyes, settling back into the couch. “i think we’d have like. a sick pattern, too, actually.”

you pouted slightly, apparently not satisfied with his reaction. “if you were a triangle,” you said, recovering well enough, “you’d be acute one.”

he looked up at you again. “babe, i don’t remember geometry.”

“oh my god.” you buried your face in your hands for a moment. again, you recovered. “hey. what’s it like to be the most gorgeous person in the room?”

“i dunno,” he leans up, “what’s it like?”

you shoved your face into your hands again, letting out a groan as he laughed. this was what you got for leaving your phone open to a page of pick-up lines with a boyfriend who was more than ready to beat you at your own game. he’d only hoped you’d try to hit him with something like that last one.

“vernonnnn,” you drew out his name in a whine. “i hate you.”

he giggled, leaning up to pull one of your hands away from your face, and pressed a kiss against your cheek. “love you too,” he giggled.

lee chan

chan had been standing by the produce when you came back to him with the bread, setting it into your cart. he stood right where you had hoped he would be, looking over sweet potatoes since they were on your grocery list.

“hey. channie.”

he merely hummed in response, setting another sweet potato into the bag.

“if you were a potato,” you nod toward the one in his hand, “you’d be a sweet potato.”

he looked up, a little confused. “okay? thank you?”

“if i could rearrange the alphabet--”

“oh no.”

“--i’d put U and I together.”

chan let out a sigh, a smile breaking out as he hung his head for a minute. he looked at you again, still smiling. “are there more? i’ll wait if there are.”

you just wrapped your arm around his, pressing your side against his. “nope,” you said. “just wanted to see your face.”

he chuckled, shifting just enough that he could comfortably continue gathering sweet potatoes. “you didn’t put these on the list so you could use that line, right?”

“nope,” you hummed. “just seized the opportunity.”

he chuckled. “good to know,” he planted a quick peck on your cheek, still smiling to himself. at least he found you cute.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @synthetickitsune @wonuziex @gyulbabie

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shakirawastaken · 1 year

Text

dsmp if....they fell in love with you at first sight

lowkey this sucks im so sorry but number 6 has been written dream:

- this happened before he face revealed - so he went out to the grocery store or smth with a mask and sunglasses so if anyone recognized him they wouldn't like see what he looked like - pulled a ranboo fr - anyway he entered the cat food aisle looking for the best cat food for patches our beloved - and was so enthralled in the cat food that he didn't hear you walk by with your cart trying to get past the aisle - "excuse me sir can u please move???" "*is looking at cat food*" "sir?" "OH IM SO SORRY" - moves immediately but not before he makes eye contact with you through the glasses - his eyes widen comically, he thinks ur gorgeous - takes advantage of that fact that you cant see his eyes and continue to admire your face as you laugh and wave ur wrist in the air, swatting away the awkward interaction just like that - you walk away and he forces his mind to go back to the cat food - but god ur imprinted in his brain and he knows he cant just let you leave - so he grabs whatever cat food he sees and runs around the store looking for you - sees you leaving and went "NOPE" - in his head - RUNS to you but slows down before he gets to you so u don't fucking murder him - "hey uh" "oh hi!" "i thought you were really cute...and i couldn't just let u leave the store without tryna get ur number" "oh :) thanks! but idk what u look like.." "right" - whips that shit off in the middle of walmart mask off challenge succeed - ur face: :O - "yeah u can have my number" "LETS GO" - speedran that shit basically

sapnap: - met u in highschool me thinks - in the peak of his i play minecraft everyday era - just showed up at school to be there yk - and you were there but never really interacted with him - until one day you had to sit next to him in english class - life OVER for him tbh he made eye contact with you and nodded like an idiot as you introduced yourself - “wow ur pretty im nick” *facepalmed internally* - youre like aw - u become friends - seating chart friendships and romances >>> - now he actually has a reson to go to school events like hoco and prom and stuff - “sorry dream ive got to to go homecoming” “motherfucker with who?” - you ask him to hoco as friends cause yk he hasnt been out much and he gratefully accepts - awkward dancing in the back - as the year progresses the two of you keep in contact even as you got moved apart in the class you sat next to - you met dream and george that was nice - prom came around and he new brother knew he had to do SOMETHING - so he made a prom posal that was like “will you be MINE(craft) at prom” or something like that - and u were like “finally” - fast forward some years and ur doing whatever u want and hes doing what hes doing now - he never formally asked you out but its implied youve been dating for years - this one sucked mb

george: - god the british - hate them/j - youre not british in this story okay - and if ur british irl,,,im sorry for ur ailment/j - ANYWAY - youre a tourist ur visiting the good old u of k - ur in london obv - and george never leaves his flat there - except to get groceries - so he walks to the nearest grocery store bc he literally cant drive - and bumps into you its the classic omg so sorry i bumped into you romance - except he thought that was awkward and kinda went “sorry” looked down at the ground and sprinted forward - you were like “the british are.....odd” - george then realized that was worse and turned around to apologize to you - and then fell in love with you - u were taking a picture on ur camera of just like the scenery of london - and we like “omg theyre cute and they appreciate the little things” - gets on discord and texts sapnap “im in love” and then sapnap goes “me too with ur mom” - logs off discord now - walks up to you sheepishly and was like “haha sorry for doing that it was a dare by my friend” and u were like “its ok:)” ad then hes like “yk what isnt a dare” and u were like “hmm what” and he was like “me asking for your number cause ur so cute” - and u were malfunctioning cause u didnt expect cute british man to ask you on a date while u were in the u of k - but u said yes and then he realized ur accent and was like “ar eyou not british” and u were like “no.” and he was like “thats okay! im skilled with long distance relationships ;)” - unknowingly flirts with you - you skull emojied and then joined him on his trip to the grocery store IDK this one was bad im sorry

karl: - YOURE IN A MR BEAST CHALLENGE - oh oh OH the amount of things in my brain running through - anyway u were a subscriber of Mr jimmy beast so he was like "come be in a video" - its one of those last to leave the circle loses - each cast member is paired with a participant and whoever wins gets 50,000 and the cast member gets like 10,000 or smtn - and jimmy had them all pick a name out of a hat to make it simple - and karl didn't pick u - nolan did - but when they walked out to meet the participants and karl made eye contact with you for a split second - god he fell right there - couldn't help but imagine what loving you would be like - knew he wanted to experience that - but he couldn't do that if he wasn't even paired with you - so he BEGS nolan to switch - "dude please cmon" "what do i get out of it??" "if i win ill give you the money" "oh shit ok" - now he's paired with you HE MASTERMINDED THAT SHIT LIKE TAYLOR SWIFT - anyway you were like "shit he's cute ill win now" - ur dynamic is amazing jimmy loves it for the video - the whole time u both are playfully flirting and just being yourselves around each other its amazing - he tries to cheat to help you LOL but gets caught with a sheepish smile on his face - that's when u fall i swtg - anyway - the filming for the video goes for like 2 and a half days so you spend a lotttt of time with karl dearest - you lose in the end tho bc in ur sleep u accidentally kicked ur foot outside the circle - you're a bit defeated - after thanking u all jimmy sends you off - and u smile and thank him and karl and head off - but then you hear a "PIT PAT PIT PAT" of feet slapping concrete behind you - "wait can i have ur number? :)" "i thought you wouldn't ask :)" and u give him ur number number for number - jimmy mischievously smiles in the background before returning to his beast lair

quackity: - LAW SCHOOL LAW SCHOOL LAW SCHOOL YOU MET THERE STOP STOP STOP - stop college romances kill me for real - guys - k I'm good - met at orientation i feel - or not met - he laid eyes on you from across the room and he was like oh shoot this place is better than i thought it would be - LOL - runs across the whole room to snag the seat next to you - "hey I'm alex, whats your name?" "oh I'm y/n!" - bro squealed inside - "i like ur name!" "thanks :) urs is nice too" - u both talked for the rest of the welcome ceremony thing - compared schedules and had...nothing together for the first semester - thATS OK you still exchanged numbers - and you kept talking and hanging out even if u didn't have class - but as friends. - AAAAAAAAAAAAA you fell for him somewhere in the middle but both of you were like - we need to finish law school first in your heads - so u both skated on the line between romance and friends - like the song boyfriend by ariana grande - but when the end of law school was in sight? quackity didn’t waste a single second - BAM got ur number BAM took u on a date BAM yk

wilbur: - fell in love with you at first sight except you didnt see him he just saw you - here’s the thing right hes the biggest hamilton fan - so when he went to see hamilton with tommy and all them - YOU WERE THERE you were in the cast you played angelica/eliza/peggy literally one of the three female main characters - ANYWAY you were screaming the lyrics to one of the songs and wilbur kinda just went “woah” - didnt see anyone else on the stage but you when you walked out - tommy was like “did u see the bullet wil” and he wa slike “no” - forced tommy to stage door after the show - prayed to all the theater gods that you came outside - when you did? game over for him - he stood there stawstruck awstruck jawstruck - aND the same happened for you!!! bc u knew who he was ofc - u had a lovejoy poster in ur dressing room duh - so by the time you came round to him and tommy you were like “heheheh” and giggling “hi omg im a big fan of your music and stuff :)” and he was like “mIne?” - his voice cracked - you giggled and you both took pictures with each other on your phones - then u invited him backstage - and he wa slike LHJSKHFSDFKGHJERT - LEFT TOMMY AT STAGE DOOR - you showed him around including on stage - and this went on for a while hed just show up a stage door and youd let him in - one day you were both on the stage and he started humming helpless and you both started dancing - and then he was like “i rlly am helpless for you, id like to try and make this something more if ur up for it” - and you were like WOOOOOO yk

#dreamwastaken x reader #sapnap x reader #georgenotfound x reader #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #wilbur soor x reader #dream x reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #x reader #shakira shakira writes #dsmp imagines #mcyt imagines

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letmeaddalittlebitofspice · 9 months

Text

GO season 2 spoilers!!!

“Aziraphale rejected Crowley”

Did we watch the same show???

Ever since 1941 with the books, Aziraphale has KNOWN that he is head over heels in love with Crowley. Michael Sheen said it himself!! Between the two of them, Aziraphale realized his feelings first. Of course he felt like he shouldn’t because that little angel is jam PACKED with religious trauma and catholic guilt. He never wanted to be without Crowley. Because they are the only two who understand eachother. And oh yeah- they’re GAY.

When Metacunt asks Aziraphale to be the new head angel, Aziraphales FIRST response is “but i don’t want to go back to heaven” because he doesn’t think he can take Crowley with him (and ofc bc he loves earth). When Meta offers that Aziraphale could make Crowley an angel too, Aziraphale starts to consider the offer. Crowley had helped Aziraphale understand that Heaven was toxic, but now Aziraphale has a chance to change it. He sees this as his chance to fix Heaven, save the Earth, AND be with Crowley, all at the same time.

But Meta knows Crowley won’t want to become an angel. He sees Aziraphale and Crowley working together as too powerful, together they are far too strong. We saw that with the massive miracle they combined on. BUT if Meta can control Aziraphale, he can control Crowley too. All he needed was the opportunity to take Aziraphale away from Crowley.

Aziraphale goes back to Crowley with what he thinks is the perfect solution to all of their problems. Crowley shuts him down, because he thinks that there is no saving Heaven. He likes the life that they have carved out for themselves on Earth and doesn’t want it to change. It’s the same argument from season 1. Crowley wants them to run away together and damn the rest. Aziraphale wants to stay and fix things.

When Crowley confesses, Aziraphale doesn’t say no. He never says that the feeling isn’t mutual. Want he’s saying is “yes, and we can be together in heaven.” But Crowley doesn’t want that. The miscommunication is Aziraphale thinks Crowley hates Heaven more than he loves Aziraphale, and Crowley thinks that Aziraphale loves Heaven more than he loves Crowley. AND THEYRE BOTH WRONG. Nina and Maggie were right, these two idiots don’t talk. Not about what really matters.

The kiss is angry. It’s full of frustration and regret. It’s Crowley saying “look at what you do to me. why can’t you stay for me.” Aziraphale kisses him back. He’s holding him close like he doesn’t want the kiss to ever stop. Cause once it does, Crowley will leave. They’re both shaking because there’s so much emotion in these 7 minutes. And isn’t that so human.

Back to my main point. Please note that Aziraphale is not the one that pulls away from the kiss. It’s Crowley that breaks it (always the first to run away, huh). And GOD. Aziraphale looks so hurt after the kiss. Crowley leaves and he touches his hand to his lips like he doesn’t want that feeling to go away. Meta walks back in, and for a short second Aziraphale thinks it’s Crowley, but when he sees it’s Meta he turns away and wipes his tears.

They are so perfect for eachother but holy fuck they really need this break so they can GET THEIR FUCKING SHIT TOGETHER.

anyways. i love them.

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seivsite · 9 months

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okioki so i was listening to "from the start" by laufey and started daydreaming to it LMFAO

so im thinkingggg maybe a drabble with blade or dan heng where reader secretly pines over them. one day reader is alone in a room and theyre listening to this song and they start singing along and getting really into it. then when they turn around they see blade/dan heng watching them and they're like "so who's this about?" (or smth idk you can change it) and reader gets really embarassed but confesses anyway

PHEW ok im done im sorry tjis was so long ACK

FROM THE START .ᐟ

includes: dan heng x fem!reader. soft bf dan heng, can be interpreted as imbibitor lunae, not proofread — wc: 691

(Name) was listening to her playlist in her room, engaging in various activities such as reading and tidying up her space. The song “From the Start” by Laufey began playing, causing her to halt in her tracks and swiftly turn up the volume. She sang along to the lyrics, using a makeshift microphone hairbrush, and complemented her performance with gestures that mirrored the song’s sentiment.

Unbeknownst to the eyes of another person observing her, she sang the lyrics aloud, her voice carrying the melody of the song as her body gracefully moved to its rhythm, lost in the joy of the moment.

Have to get this off my chest

I’m telling you today

That when I talk to you, oh, Cupid walks right through

And shoots an arrow through my heart

As she sang, she made a makeshift arrow with her hand, delicately gesturing as if it pierced through her heart, adding a touch of emotion and artistry to her performance.

And I sound like a loon, but don’t you feel it too?

Confess I loved you from the start

Confess I loved you

Just thinking of you

I know I’ve loved you from the start

Startled by the unexpected claps, she froze up, slowly turning towards the door where the applause came from. There he stood, leaning against the doorway with a gentle smile on his face. “So, who’s this song about?” he inquired, his eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of intrigue.

With a fond gaze, Dan Heng observed how she immediately blushed and hastily sought refuge under the covers of her blanket, attempting to escape his gaze.

“It’s rude to ignore someone who’s talking to you, you know,” he playfully chided, moving towards her form, gently patting her head above the blanket.

“Stop it, this is so embarrassing,” she whined, trying her best to avoid Dan Heng’s teasing but finding it rather difficult to resist his affectionate gestures. The playful banter between them brought forth a sense of warmth and familiarity, making their bond even stronger in that intimate moment.

Dan Heng chuckled at her response, settling himself more comfortably on her bed as he persisted with his question, “So, back to my previous question, who’s this song about? I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“I don’t think you’d wanna know,” she mumbled, her voice muffled as she hid her face in her pillow.

“Why?” Dan Heng inquired, curious to uncover the mystery.

“Because it’s...” she hesitated, the ending of her sentence inaudible to Dan Heng’s ears.

“Hmm? Can you repeat that?” He teased, finally catching a glimpse of her red face, though only the top half was visible due to her continued attempts to shield herself. The playful exchange between them brought a sense of lightness and comfort to the moment, allowing them to share a connection that transcended mere words.

She suddenly groaned and tried to turn away from him, “It’s you, idiot,” she whispered. Dan Heng froze in his spot, hearing her confession, before swiftly moving to be on top of her lying form, gently trapping her between his arms.

“Are you serious? (Name), oof—” Dan Heng began to say but was interrupted as she smacked him in the face with a pillow, causing him to fall down beside her.

Her back turned towards him, Dan Heng felt an overwhelming desire to cuddle her and shower her with kisses. Cautiously, he hugged her waist from behind, finding comfort in the fact that she didn’t push him away. He continued to cuddle into her, basking in the warmth of their affection.

“I like, no, love you too, my dearest,” he declared with sincerity, his heart brimming with affection.

He was taken aback by her sudden movement, now face to face. Dan Heng couldn’t resist the urge any longer and asked, “Can I kiss you?” to which she nodded in consent.

Sealing their lips together in a passionate kiss, they immersed themselves in a tender embrace, embracing each other with gentleness and devotion. The world around them seemed to fade away as they expressed their feelings through that intimate connection, creating a cherished moment that they would remember forever.

NOTES. aaa i rly liked writing this, i’ll post a blade version probably later heheheeheh so soft n tiny dan heng bbg

TAG LIST. @rintosei @yanqingisim

LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! ‹3

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flowerui · 1 month

Text

♫ three little words (dedicate them to me), cyj

fluff, 4.8k words ୨୧ oh my god they were roommates :0 sorry to any academic weapons reading, im projecting a bit as an academic failure lol

wherein it only takes you about twenty-nine years to realize you're in love with your best friend... at least you got there!

꒰ requested. gender neutral reader (no pronouns or gendered terms used), reader is younger, unspecified age difference (but its implied that theyre very close in age), childhood friends to lovers, nonidol au, roommates, idiots in love, time skips, aging up, alcohol/drinking, a bit dialogue heavy, vomit is mentioned a few times, friend group ot4 ꒱

It’s hard to recall a time without Yeonjun; he appeared one day and stuck to you, almost as if he were a stubborn thorn in your side (said endearingly, of course).

It must’ve been when you were still in kindergarten—right, Yeonjun and his parents had moved in next door, and your moms both became friends and arranged a play date. Yeonjun had brought his PlayStation over and let you play it with him, so, obviously, to five-year-old you, that made the two of you best friends right away.

“Are you almost done?” Yeonjun bemoans from your bedroom floor, urging you to look up from your piles of textbooks and worksheets finally.

“No, I told you I needed to study and that you should go to your own house, you bum. Just ‘cause you don’t give a shit about your education doesn't mean I don’t.”

“You almost flunked last year. And you’re only studying because your mom saw you got a three out of a hundred on your algebra test,” Yeonjun deadpans, “how do you even score that bad?” Ugh, lucky, naturally academically gifted asshole. You roll your eyes and toss a pencil at his stupid face.

“Whatever,” you grumble, it’s not your fault you can’t be an academic weapon, and that school is whooping your ass instead with academics as a weapon. “I feel like my brain is about to start leaking out of my ears anyway, wanna go to yours?”

Yeonjun grins, sitting up from your floor with a start, finally regaining some of his earlier excitement before he had to wait nearly four hours (all of which were spent pestering you) while you attempted to study. “I ditched school yesterday to get a copy of Resident Evil 4 from GameStop.”

“What the hell—and you didn’t invite me?” you whine, “That’s cold, you better let me try it first.”

It’s hours later into the evening when you’re watching Yeonjun attempt to get through the wretched cabin section that you died approximately… thirteen times trying to get through, that he says, “You remember that guy, Taehyun, right? In my AP History class.”

“Mhm,” you hum, blinking your bleary eyes at Yeonjun’s TV screen from your very comfortable spot on his couch.

“He doesn’t usually talk a whole lot to me, but today, I couldn’t get him to shut up,” Yeonjun huffs a laugh as he maneuvers the character, Leon, up the stairs on screen, seemingly making it farther than you could. “He was complaining though, ‘cause he was partnered with this person who was into me. He couldn’t get any work done, they were just bugging him about me.”

You tear your focus from the TV to look at the side of Yeonjun’s face, you can see part of his furrowed brow and pursed lips. “Oh.”

It doesn’t surprise you that a lot of people seem to be interested in Yeonjun at school. In middle school, people started coming up to you, asking if you’d put in a good word for them with Yeonjun, because they ‘like-liked’ him, and you were his best friend. Then, it was at the end of eighth grade that you started telling those people to grow a pair and talk to him themselves.

You suppose you kind of understand. Yeonjun’s nice when he’s not being a little shit… and he’s not horrible to look at, one might even say he’s good-looking.

“Are you into them?” The question seems to roll off your tongue easily, but you’re not even sure why you asked, you don’t think you want to know. For some reason, thinking about it churns your stomach a bit.

“...No, I mean, they’re pretty, but,” Yeonjun sighs, tossing his controller to the side as he dies a second time. “they seem kinda… much. I dunno, Taehyun said they literally wouldn’t talk to him about anything besides me the entire class. It kinda weirded me out.”

“Hm, yeah.” You hum, a weird feeling of… relief washing over you. Yeonjun’s mom comes in to ask if you’re staying for dinner before you can think about it too hard.

Later that night, when you’re stuck staring blankly at your ceiling, you decide you were just relieved that Yeonjun wasn’t going to end up with some overly possessive weirdo. It’d suck to lose your best friend that way.

“Please do not throw up, because if you throw up, then I’m gonna throw up.”

“I’m not gonna throw up,” Yeonjun insists, but it doesn’t sound all too credible with the way he slurs his words, maybe you’ve also had too much to drink, but you swear he looks a little green. “I… am perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

“Uhuh.”

“Don’t ‘uhuh’ me,” Yeonjun grumbles with an attempted glare, you find that you can’t take him all too seriously, though; the flush on his cheeks, his inability to keep his eyes open for more than five seconds, and his perpetual pout make it all too difficult. “Oh, I—I think I’m gonna hurl.” He braces himself against the bar, eyes suddenly more awake.

That would be the reason you end up in a grimy bathroom on your twenty-first, making sure your best friend’s hair is out of the way as he empties the contents of his stomach into a toilet bowl.

“Why’d you drink so much, you know you’re a lightweight.” You ask when Yeonjun seems to be done, frowning as you wipe off his mouth with a paper towel.

“Am not,” he protests petulantly. “I was just—I just felt like it ‘cause I thought it’d make me feel better ‘nd I could stop thinking about other shit.”

“Did something happen?”

“...I stopped seeing that person I told you about.”

“Why? I thought it was going well?” ‘Well’ might be a bit of an overstatement. Like most of Yeonjun’s partners, you didn’t hear a whole lot about this new one, met them once for a brief moment, then didn’t hear of them again. It seems to be a common theme in Yeonjun’s relationships—his fleeting interest, you haven’t figured out if you should say anything about it.

“It was just, um. ‘M not over someone…. I didn’t feel right staying in a relationship knowing I’m still not over someone else.”

Oddly enough, that felt rather sobering to hear. You hum, stomach feeling a little off—you hope you aren’t going to throw up next… “You haven’t told me about that, wanna talk about it? It might feel better than drinking too much and throwing up in a disgusting bathroom. Don’t quote me on that, though.”

Yeonjun blinks slowly, then chuckles, “I’ll tell you about it some other time, I just really want to be in bed right now.”

Instead of getting an Uber or something, you trudge down the sidewalk with a clingier-than-usual Yeonjun, who barely manages to walk in a straight line. You internally celebrate when your apartment building comes into view; one of you seriously needs to get a car.

You have to convince Yeonjun to shower before you, almost like a petulant child.

And apparently, wanting to be in bed means taking up most of your mattress and hogging your blankets for the night, because when you finish showering, you return to your room to find your bed occupied. You could just steal Yeonjun’s bed for the night… but you end up just crawling into bed beside him, listlessly trying to reclaim your covers.

He never ended up telling you about this mystery person he’s not over.

“I just don’t think it’s going to work out.” You sigh.

“But why? I thought things between us were going great, I—”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see this relationship progressing any further.”

“But, I—I told my mom about you! You can’t leave me, I love you!”

“Ugh, you asshole,” you cry out as Yeonjun pretends to cry hysterically and shakes you by your shoulders, “You’re supposed to be taking this seriously and helping me!”

Yeonjun cackles as you shove him away, “I mean he could react like that, couldn’t he?” Then, he sighs and places his hands on your shoulders—not shaking you this time. “Okay, seriously, it’s going to be fine, you’ll be in a public space, so worst case scenario, he embarrasses himself.”

“You’re right… ugh, I’m gonna be late.”

“You’re the one who wanted to rehearse the conversation again.”

Before sending you off, Yeonjun smushes your face, cooing, “Okay, go dump your boyfriend, my duckling, I’ll be waiting here with takeout and beer.”

“You are a grown-ass man.” You deadpan before you’re finally off.

It’s been a good few months since you started seeing this new guy—his name’s Mark, you realized you liked him enough to make things more official after several good dates. But, you’ve already been considering breaking things off with him for a while now; you seem to have this recurring issue when it comes to relationships… You just can’t seem to envision a future that includes your partner, even when it’s going well you ultimately lose interest.

Mark seems like a good guy, too, which makes you feel worse, but it’d be even worse to just lead him on, right? That’s what you continue reminding yourself as you trudge into a nice café that will be tainted by the memory of you dumping a nice guy for the rest of your life. You’ll never be able to enjoy the sweet treats of ‘Arcadia’ ever again.

“Hey, there you are,” Mark smiles as you take the seat across from him.

“Yeah, uh, sorry, I had to help my roommate out.” A fib, even though your mother tells you honesty is the best policy. Well, she lied about Santa and the tooth fairy; besides, your fib sounds nicer than ‘I was rehearsing how to break up with you with my best friend’.

“No worries.”

“Um,” it’s better to just get it over with, you remind yourself, just rip the bandaid off, “so, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Uh oh, that doesn’t sound too good,” Mark chuckles, then clears his throat and continues when you don’t laugh, “What’s up?”

With a deep breath, you let it spill out all at once, “I don’t think this is going to work out, I just don’t see us—this relationship going any further. I’m sorry and I hope you can understand.” Okay, that wasn’t too scary, if you’re ignoring your shaky, clammy palms against your knees.

Mark nods, then looks down at his lap, then back at you, “I guess I should’ve seen it coming, I mean, I’ve seen the way you and your roommate look at each other.”

“Uh… you what?”

“You don’t have to play dumb about it, it’s obvious the both of you are in love. Guess I just liked you so much I hoped I could change your mind.” Mark sighs, “I think I’m gonna… go, sorry.” He says, then leaves you to spiral.

‘Obvious the both of you are in love’? You and Yeonjun? That’s ridiculous, right?

Leaving what was once your favorite café in a daze, you’re suddenly glad that you’d decided to walk instead of drive; you barely register entering your apartment complex, and unlocking your door.

“Hey,” Yeonjun is on the couch, takeout and a pack of beer spread on the coffee table as promised, “how’d it go?”

“It went fine,” you say with a smile that doesn’t quite make its way to your eyes, “he took it as well as he could have.” It’s weird, that you don’t just word vomit out every small detail, like you tend to with Yeonjun. But somehow, something about divulging everything feels weirder, so in a rare twist of events, you keep quiet.

Seemingly taking the hint that that’s going to be all you say for the time being, Yeonjun changes the topic, “Go change so we can eat, the new episode of The Vampire Diaries is literally about to start in like two seconds.”

“What the hell! I didn’t think I was gone for that long!” You shriek and make a run for it to your room to change out of your outside clothes.

Yeonjun snorts when you return, plopping onto the couch while trying to catch your breath. “I lied, there’s still like half an hour.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you hiss, and pummel him with the nearest throw pillow.

“I’m starting to think I’m gonna end up alone,” with a grunt, you tug your blanket up higher, “why’re we both so bad at relationships?”

“Rude,” Yeonjun flicks your forehead, and if you weren’t so cozy, full of food, and three cans of beer drunker, you might’ve sat up to take your revenge. But alas, moving even a mere inch feels like a herculean effort.

“You’re rude,” you stick your tongue out at him childishly. “Y’know I didn’t mean it like that, though, right?”

“I know.”

“Mm. Maybe…” You focus your bleary eyes on Yeonjun’s face above you. Even from this unfortunate angle, from where your head rests on his lap, he looks so… “If we’re not… If we’re still single by the time we’re thirty-four, I think we should just marry each other.”

Yeonjun laughs, “Okay, I think it’s bedtime, don’t you have work in the morning?”

If you hadn’t fallen asleep right then, you might’ve clapped back with a witty response, or you might’ve sat up, and looked at Yeonjun dead in the eyes and told him that you were serious.

“No, Mom, I am still not in a relationship,” you pause, then sigh, “Yes, I know I’m not getting any younger. And, no, I’m not gonna—wait, what?”

“You heard me, I asked when you’re going to give in and just marry Yeonjun. I like him, he’d be a nice son-in-law, he practically already is at this point!”

Only mothers would have the audacity. You have to pull your phone away from your ear to stare at the outgoing call screen in astonishment. “What… are you talking about?” You ask when you bring your phone back to your ear.

“Oh, c’mon. You’ve been living together since you were what, nineteen? Neither of you dates anymore, you spend all your free time together…You may as well get hitched at this point, instead of denying your poor mother the opportunity of watching her child get married any longer.”

You perk up at the call of your name, seeing two of your coworkers rush over, “Hey—random question—how early do you think is too early to get engaged? Lia’s only been with her partner for like three months, and they’re already engaged! You’ve been with your boyfriend for years, right? And neither of you has proposed?”

“Uh? My… boyfriend?”

“Yeah? Your boyfriend, his name’s Yeonjun, right?”

“Oh, he’s not my… He’s just my best friend.” You’re not sure what’s more embarrassing, the fact that all this time, it seemed like you and Yeonjun were dating, or having to tell two of your coworkers that you are actually painfully single. It doesn’t make it any better that the majority of your coworkers, while nice, are known for gossiping—all mostly harmless.

You expect your mother to make you feel bad about your relationship status (out of love), but not your coworkers.

“It’s weird, lately, I’ve realized that people think me and Yeonjun are together…? My mom even told me to just go and marry him, like?”

“Oh, you poor sweet summer child…”

“Have you still seriously not realized?” Taehyun pipes up beside Kai who regards you with a pitiful look. What’s up with everyone lately? You’re starting to feel like you’re the only one missing something.

“Realized what?”

“Oh, you’re hopeless.” Taehyun laments, looking as if he’s about ready to tear his hair out or reach across the dining table to knock some sense into you.

Ideally, you’d like to think you’re not at all oblivious. But, after many strange occurrences, you can’t help but consider: that you’ve never properly thought of Yeonjun that way—in a romantic sense. He’s always just been Yeonjun; the only person who you know for a fact you can trust with anything, and the only person who will stick with you despite all of your bullshit, like a stubborn thorn you can’t seem to be rid of (not that that’s an issue). He’s your everything, really.

When you imagine your future, you always see him fit in there somehow—but it occurs to you that as someone who’s never had a complete interest in marriage, or any romantic relationships for a long time for that matter, you could imagine walking down the aisle with Yeonjun, and more. Not only that, but you like imagining it.

Oh.

How dense can one be to fail to realize they’ve been in love with their best friend all this time? After nearly three decades of friendship, it’s seriously taken you this long to get to this conclusion? All those failed relationships you tried so hard to make work, it was all for nothing, because you couldn’t realize what you felt for what you already had! So much time wasted…

“Are you feeling okay?” Yeonjun apparates beside you, a palm carefully tracing circles over your upper back.

You feel bad for how you jolt away from him, seeing the surprise and mild hurt pass over his features in a split second. If you didn’t know Yeonjun like the back of your hand, you might’ve missed it. “...Sorry, I dunno—I’ve been kind of out of it lately, I think I just need to relax.”

“You haven’t been overworking yourself again, have you?”

“No…”

Yeonjun gives you a look as though he doesn’t quite believe you, but drops it. This time, you don’t jump away like frightened prey when he touches you—wraps around your side. “Let’s watch something tonight? I’ve been hearing about this new Kdrama called ‘My Demon’.”

“That sounds straight out of Wattpad… I’ll order the food.”

“Happy birthday,” Yeonjun sings as he saunters into your bedroom at… way too early in the morning. But all’s forgiven with the realization he comes bearing gifts—food. “What’s that, thirty-four punches I’m gonna have to give you, now? Fuck, you’re old,” he says as he sets down a delectable-looking plate of your favorite breakfast on your nightstand.

“Shut up, you’re older than me.” You narrow your eyes, sitting up to reach for your birthday breakfast.

“And if you punch me thirty-four times, you will not live to see another day, Choi.”

Getting older has meant that your birthdays have become a lot less eventful, but you haven’t quite minded it. They’re spent with your favorite person, anyway, so no complaints on your end.

Yet, somehow, you end up on a beach on the night of your birthday, sitting on a beach towel Yeonjun had neatly spread out and admiring the night sky. You’d had a simple plan to laze around at home all day, eat something good for dinner, drink a little more than you should, and then sleep like the dead. However, Yeonjun had other plans when he’d announced the night before that he was taking you on a day trip the next morning. ‘It’s only a six-hour drive’, he’d said, because he’s insane.

You suppose you had a little more to your original plan… you guess you also intended to profess your newly realized love for your best friend, and potentially ruin about twenty-nine years of friendship if things happened to go wayward. Well, you still intend on getting that over with.

“Happy birthday,” Yeonjun says once more, as he returns from the car with an unopened bottle of wine and two wine glasses. Huh, you guess that’s why he took so long to grab something to drink from the ‘cooler’, actually... do either of you even own a cooler? “Better appreciate this wine, it was pricey.”

“I distinctly recall telling you not to spend much on me this year,” you sigh, but you’re staring down the bottle, “and you already arranged this impromptu trip.”

“Well, I wanted to, it’s not every day you turn thirty-four.” Yeonjun doesn’t add anything else, as he hands you the bottle of wine; you decide not to call out how he can’t meet your eyes properly.

Cabernet Sauvignon 1999, the bottle reads. You don’t know much about wine—you’re not that old yet—just that it usually tastes good. “Is it good? I don’t think I’ve tried Cabernet Sauvignon, have I?”

“You haven’t, I think you’ll like it. It would’ve gone well with dinner.”

You hum, taking a corkscrew handed to you, as Yeonjun takes a seat beside you.

A couple of glasses later, you blurt, “Thanks. For this—the trip, dinner. And the wine. I like it a lot.” It’s not quite what you’d meant to say, in such a stilted manner. You guess you need a little more liquid courage, as you pour yourself another glass.

“I can tell, that’s like your third glass.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, as Yeonjun snorts into his glass. Cheeks warming, you start internally motivating yourself—if being alive for thirty-four years has taught you anything, it’s that everything’s worth a shot. You miss a hundred of the shots you don’t take… or whatever the saying is. “Do you remember that time I said we should just marry each other if we’re still single by thirty-four?”

After a pause, Yeonjun raises a brow, “Yes?”

“I’m surprised you remember that, considering you passed out right after… Are you saying we should get married, then?” Something passes over his features before he turns to you, and laughs something that isn’t exactly humorous, “I think that might be enough wine for you.”

“I’ve only had two glasses.”

“Two-and-a-half,” you correct after glancing down at your half-full glass. “I’m not drunk, maybe a teensy bit tipsy, but—fuck, that’s not the point.”

“What is the point you’re trying to make then? Yeonjun laughs, it almost looks like that familiar glint has returned to his eyes. You’d appreciate it if you weren’t about to implode.

“I, uh,” you clear your throat. Yeonjun continues to regard you with amusement; you vaguely wonder if he’ll still be amused once you manage to get the words—your confession out, or if you’ll go and ruin everything because of some stupid feelings. “Fuck, this is kinda difficult.”

“Okay, um,” maintaining eye contact is a test of your mental strength, which is why you avert your gaze even though you’ve turned to face Yeonjun, as you utter your next sentence, “So, it’s taken me an embarrassingly long time to realize that I’ve, uh, sort of, kind of been in love with you for probably forever. No, I—”

“I’m in love with you,” you rephrase more confidently, yet you end up shrinking in on yourself when the only response you receive is Yeonjun blinking blankly at you. “So, um, you could say something… right about now. Like, you hate me and are kicking me out? Well, ideally, you could say that you feel the same and—”

“Breathe,” Yeonjun reaches over to squeeze your clammy hand. Taking a breath as instructed, you realize you have not been breathing properly since you began speaking. “I was just—you’re being serious? You aren’t just drunk, and you aren’t fucking with me?”

“Two-and-a-half glasses, I’m tipsy at worst,” you reiterate, “and I’m not fucking with you either.”

“Oh.” Yeonjun breathes, which does nothing to assuage the anxiety that feels like it might have colored your face pallid, as it incessantly knocks against your ribcage.

“Oh? C’mon man, I just confessed my love to you, give me a little more than ‘Oh’, I’m nervous as shit right now.”

“Sorry, I was just…” Yeonjun laughs, the asshole laughs. “We really are best friends, huh? I spent all week trying to figure out how to make your birthday special, and confess my love to you at the end of the night. And here you are, beating me to it.”

“You… oh.”

“C’mon man, give me a little more than ‘Oh’, I just told you your love is reciprocated,” Yeonjun laughs as he repeats your previous words, teasing, “I’m nervous as shit, too.”

So, you down the rest of your glass before setting it aside and scooting too close for comfort, and ask, “Can I kiss you?” Because if thirty-four years of life has taught you anything, it’s to not waste any more time.

“Uh… yes.” Yeonjun’s widened eyes dart from both of your eyes, to your lips, and back.

And, so, you close the distance to kiss him.

Maybe it’s not magical, maybe you don’t feel any supposed sparks or fireworks. But it feels right, like it’s meant to be as you cup Yeonjun’s cheek and shift to curl your hand around his nape. It feels like caressing the petals of a burgundy rose.

(“Have you just always known you loved me? Even when I threw up on you the first time we got drunk?” You ask, a few hours, and a couple more glasses of wine later.

“Ew, but yes, I knew I loved you even then.”

“...Huh. Would you still love me if a witch cursed me and I turned into a worm tomorrow?”

Yeonjun snorts, “A worm?” then he hums in thought, “I would buy the biggest terrarium, and the nicest dirt I can find, and take care of you. I’d find the witch and make her turn you back into a lovely human, too.”

“Good answer,” you smile, leaning over to kiss Yeonjun again, he tastes a little like remnants of Cabernet Sauvignon, deep and red, urging you to kiss him a little deeper. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips when you part.)

Upon thinking about it, not much changes between you and Yeonjun; apart from the kissing, consistently sharing a bed, sober I love you’s, and the other ‘unnecessary PDA’, as Taehyun so kindly put it, while Soobin had fixed the two of you with a disgusted look (you know that deep down somewhere, he’s happy for you both), and Beomgyu shot a thumbs up before going back to hogging the cookies Soobin baked—Kai was more focused on trying to steal some cookies, which he managed.

Your mother had practically wept out of joy when you told her the news, ‘I’m going to see my baby get married! I thought the day would never come!’ she’d cried out, and rushed to tell anyone that would listen to her. Overdramatic, and a little hurtful, by the way… You didn’t even say anything about marriage, either!

“Hm?” You reluctantly blink your eyes open at the call of your name, to see Yeonjun looking at you with a suspicious grin on his face.

“I love you.”

“...What did you do? I love you too, though, even if I have to become an accomplice.”

“I didn’t do anything bad, I just love you.”

“Mm, you loser. I love you more.”

“Hm, are you sure about that?” Yeonjun hums, your eyes follow him as he sits up and reaches for something from his nightstand, “‘Cause I think I love you more? So much that I’m asking if you’d do me the honor of marrying me.” He says so casually, contrasting how he carefully opens a small, velvety box. It gives a quiet creak as it pops open, revealing a simple silver band. A ring. An engagement ring.

After blinking the fatigue out of your eyes, and confirming that you’re not seeing or hearing things, you sit up with a start, “You—

“You dick, why would you propose to me while I’m half-asleep?!”

“Well, if you said no, I could’ve just written it off as you being tired and mishearing me… I’ll get you a nicer wedding ring, too, if you say yes, that is. Well, I already have one—”

Yeonjun grunts as you throw yourself onto him, “You’re such an idiot, I love you. Yes, I’ll marry you, there’s no question about it.”

You can’t recall the moment you started loving Yeonjun; maybe it was the day you met and he let you play his PlayStation. Maybe it was in middle school when more people started to see him, or maybe it was in high school…

Maybe you can’t pinpoint the exact moment, maybe you’ve just always loved Yeonjun. It’d be hard not to love him; he’s as beautiful as a white rose—inside and out—one that you’d pluck from the dirt with your bare hands, thorns and all, just to keep to yourself, even if for a little while. Maybe that’s selfish, but you think that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

You part from Yeonjun as your friends and family cheering fills your ears. Feeling like words can’t do your feelings in that moment justice, you kiss him once more, in hopes to convey them a little better.

“I know. I love you,” he says, because he knows you best.

Grinning so happily that your cheeks begin to ache, you properly part from Yeonjun this time, and walk hand-in-hand down the aisle.

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