#hopefully somebody enjoys this half as much as I enjoyed writing it 😅

[paradisoperdita]

"I have measured out my life with coffee spoons"

'The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock' T.S Eliot

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Simeon X MC Fluff

MC is gender neutral

I wanted to write something about both Simeon and my favourite line of all time. Just trying to stretch my writing muscles again. Hopefully somebody out there enjoys this 💜

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Amber light embraced the café as the sun lingered just above the horizon. Flecks of refracted particles drifted through the sunbeams. The intricate dance capturing the air’s ebb and flow. Hushed conversations babbled effortlessly accompanied by piano music and the occasional squeaking of chair legs. In one hand, you held a pristine manuscript of a yet unpublished collection of poetry. In the other, a cup of coffee crafted by their poet. Both filling you with a warmth unique to Simeon.

Each poem carried a quiet intensity, much like Simeon himself. To read them aloud they appeared perfectly mannered: the meter, rhyme scheme, and cadence all in perfect harmony. Yet hidden in these lines were subtle oppositions. Certain words with the wrong number of syllables that tripped you up and stopped you in your tracks. Simeon gave you the poems to ask for your opinion, but he hadn’t told you that they were all love poems. Every poem was about the same subject; someone who had successfully captured the heart of an angel. Simply by reading these poems, you too found yourself falling for them a little. Your heartbeat quickening to match the rhythm of Simeon’s iambic tetrameter.

His voice plays out in your mind as you read, as well as reaching your ears as he greets his customers. For whom had Simeon written these poems? You watch him working behind the counter. His smile was wavering as the evening rush was nearing its end. None of these customers at least seemed to be the one he admired. His eyes meet yours across the room. The corners of his lips softened and his shoulders relaxed, yet the gold in his eyes shines brighter in the sunlight. He turns to tend to the espresso machine, covering his mouth with his hand; a habit of his when he’s trying to stifle a laugh. What did he find so funny?

You were completely oblivious. You had been holding an empty cup to your lips whilst staring at him for a solid minute.

With a freshly brewed pot of coffee in his hand, Simeon walked over to your table. He skilfully poured your drink, adding just the right amount of cream for your tastes.

“What do you think of them?” Simeon asked as he placed the pot down on your table.

“They’re really good! I didn’t know you could write poetry like this.” You said.

“Neither did I until quite recently.” He smiled cryptically and leaned over you to read the manuscript over your shoulder.

There was an unspoken question on the tip of your tongue, but would it be rude to ask it? Your eyes were glued to the page in the hopes that the answer would make itself known to you. That just maybe you could find it with a little more searching. A lover’s name concealed between the lines of an incomplete sonnet.

Simeon edged toward you. A hand slid from the back of your chair to your shoulder. Even through the fabric, he could sense your warmth. There were too many barriers between you and he needed to bring you closer still. A question played on your lips. A glimmer of hope twinkled in your eyes. Yet you dare not speak and you avoided meeting his gaze. Would he dare disturb the universe? His breath hitched in his throat. He brought his lips tantalisingly close to your ear.

“Wouldn’t you like to know who they’re for?” He spoke tenderly. A shiver shot down your spine. The heat rushed to your face. Completely flustered, you tried to move away to compose yourself. Your nose brushed against his. When did he get so close?!

And yet, despite the intimacy of your position, neither of you were inclined to move away. You saw none of Simeon’s usual mask; it had completely melted away with his question. A question you were too afraid to ask, with an answer he was too nervous to give you. Before you was Simeon: the real Simeon. A Simeon free from performance and pretence. Every line of his poetry was written on his face as he looked at you. You knew the depth of his feelings for you as well as you knew your own for him. The mutual recognition delighted you both. A comforting smile adorned your countenance.

“I think I might have an idea.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me simeon #om Simeon X Reader #om Simeon X MC #Perdita Writes #om gn! mc #can you tell I used to write poetry? #is this too specific? probably #hopefully somebody enjoys this half as much as I enjoyed writing it 😅