#the rents are being raised also by like 10% my man is going through a joker arc or smt

[angelyuji]

mr. pines

stanley pines x f!reader

reader needs a job really badly and stanford pines gives her a job... with a couple conditions.

tw // noncon, power imbalance, older man/younger woman, old man stan being gross, slight misogyny (mostly the pet names), also plss lmk if i missed anything

18+!!!!!!!! pls!!! pls!!! mind the tw and tags (also this is posted on my ao3 acc as well!)

you’ve been scrounging around for a job since you moved to gravity falls. finally, after a couple of months of begging around, the diner waitress, susan, had told you that the stan pines might be hiring at the mystery shack. you had promised the landlord that you’d give them the rent as soon as you find a job, but you can tell they were getting tired of letting you stay rent free.

you had walked to the mystery shack, only a 15-minute walk from the apartment. when you walk in, you’re hit with the smell of sandalwood and glue. you walk over to the red-headed teenager at the cashier stand.

“hey, uh- lazy susan said you guys were hiring?” she looks up from her phone to think for a second.

“oh really? um i guess you can check with stan. his office is right down the hall. he should be in there right now.” she points down the dark hallway to your right and goes right back to her phone. you thank her and she gives you a smile in response. goosebumps rise on your skin as you walk down the eerie, dark hallway. you were starting to second guess your choice of jobs, but you knock on the office door before you chicken out.

“come in.” a gruff voice calls from inside. you swallow and open the door.

“hi! i’m here to apply for a job at the mystery shack.” you smile and shut the door behind you. the only light in the room from the windows in the office. he hums and doesn’t say anything. he gestures to the chair next to him. you sit down and look around the messy office. a taxidermized animal head, a statue of an owl, a huge safe, all sorts of odd things litter the office.

“what are some of your qualifications?” he grunts out, surprising you. you list out your old jobs and hand over the resume that you brought. he gives it a once-over before tossing it into the trash can next to him.

“oh i needed that ba-” he holds a hand up and you shut your mouth. you don’t say anything as he leans back in his chair.

“you’ve got potential, (y/n).” he nods, “but… i don’t really want to pay anyone and it doesn’t seem like we really need the people all that much.” he shrugs.

you start to panic, reaching out and grabbing his hand, “please, mr. pines. i really need this job.” you beg and you watch him think for a couple minutes before smiling.

he clears his throat, “you know what, sweetheart? come back after the shack is closed, then we’ll talk about a job.” he stands up, your hands falling back to your sides, and you realize how much taller he was than you, how much more intimidating he was.

you pause to think, but realizing you have no other choice, “sure, i guess i’ll be back around 10 then.” he opens the door, but takes up most of the exit. you squeeze out from around him.

“i’ll see you then, sweetcheeks.” you feel eyes on your ass as you leave the shack. unfortunately, time goes by quickly and you’re back at the mystery shack. your stomach turns, warning you to make the right choice. you quietly go inside and notice that only the lights in stan’s office were on.

you fumble through the shop to the closed door. “hello?” you knock. mr. pines calls out for you to come in. you enter and you see him sitting on his desk, waiting for you. you clear your throat, “hi mr. pines.” he quirks an eyebrow at you and gets up. you force yourself to not back away as he comes closer to you. he walks past you and closes the door. you hear the quiet click of the lock and you feel chills go down your spine. alarms start going off in your head as he goes back and collapses into the chair. he leans back in his chair, groaning.

“so, you want a job here?” stan raises an eyebrow. you nod, “hmm… maybe i can help you, dollface.”

you let out a sigh in relief, “thank you so much, mr. pines. i’ll do anything, i really need this job.”

“anything, huh.” he nods with a smirk. you nod, eagerly.

“i’ll scrub walls, wash your car, or work from open to close! i will do literally anything!”

“you don’t have to do anything like that, sugarpie” you tilt your head, suddenly hearing the pet names. “you’ll just have to do a small little favor for me.” you don’t respond, hoping he’d explain. he gestures for you to come closer. you walk over to his desk and he turns the chair to face you. “kneel down for me.”

you awkwardly giggle, “what?” mr. pines looks at you with an expression you couldn’t read.

“kneel down.” he stands up, you feel your heart drop. stan pines towers over you and grabs a fistful of your hair. he pushes you down and you yelp as your scalp stings. you try to crawl away, but he doesn’t let go of your hair. he uses one hand to unbuckle his belt and let his pants drop. his cock hangs, big and girthy. your eyes go wide.

“mr. pines. please, don’t. i don’t want to do this.” you beg, feeling the panic rise and tears start to well up in your eyes. he looks down at you with a smirk, but let’s go. you scramble up and back against the wall. he sits back down, nonchalantly.

“fine, you can leave, sweetheart.” he shrugs. you back away quickly, hoping to get out of the office as fast as possible. “but…” you pause as your hand touches the doorknob, “you need me, baby. suzie told me about you: new girl with no job, relentless landlord, and not a single friend in town.” he laughs, deep and unsettling.

“fuck. you. i’m going to the cops and i’ll tell them what you did.” you turn and glare, voice dripping in malice. you twist the doorknob, planning to get the hell out of the place.

he stares at you, a smirk resting on his face. you felt frozen in place. “and what then? the people of gravity falls know me, toots. they know of my… reputation. they’re gonna tell you that you should’ve known better. i mean,” he barks out a laugh, “you came to the mystery shack after hours to see me. you should’ve known.” your hand drops from the doorknob. you stare at your feet. “i could help you, (y/n). i’ll pay you good money as long as you meet my requests.” you look up, tears dripping down your face, and stan smiles. he gestures for you to come closer. you, reluctantly, come back to stand in front of him. you make sure to keep your eyes away from his undone pants.

“what-what do you want me to do?” you sniffle. with surprising gentleness, he grabs your hand and helps you to your knees. he cups your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“all you have to do is do what i say. it’s a win-win situation, toots.” you start to feel yourself going numb. his hand leaves your face and he leans back. you inch closer, carefully placing your hands on his thighs. you move one hand up to gingerly wrap it around his cock. you hear him grunt at your touch and your vision starts to blur as your tears flow harder. you steady yourself on his thigh and stroke his dick.

stan groans, but you hear more irritation than arousal. “you don’t have to be so gentle, sweetheart. it won’t bite.” he growls. you swallow back the bile rising in your throat and tighten your grip a little more. with each stroke, stan’s grunts progressively louder. you watch as pre-cum leaks from his tip and feel his dick get harder with every stroke. but as you feel his thighs tense, stan grabs your hand.

“come closer.” he rasped. you inch closer, “i need you to open your mouth, sweetheart.” you hold back a gag and shake your head. stan grabs you by the chin and pulls you closer, you tighten your lips. stan chuckles before letting go of your chin to pinch your nose. your eyes widen, unable to think or breathe. you open your mouth to take a breath and stan lets go of your nose to shove two fingers into your mouth. you gag around his thick fingers, “you are just so beautiful, dollface, i can’t wait to use you every day.” he whispered and you feel a sudden wave of heat in your lower belly. he pulls his fingers out and you try to look away, but stan’s hand tangles itself in your hair. your eyes trail down from his face to his other hand, gripping his thick cock.

“wait-” you choke out, but stan pulls your head forward and plows himself into your mouth. he moves your head frantically, you choke and gargle as saliva and pre-cum drips down your throat and face. tears flow freely from your eyes as you were used as a worthless sex toy. you can feel yourself getting wetter and you feel disgusted.

“oh god, sugar, you feel so good. so. fucking. good.” he groans out, punctuating each word with a rough thrust. you could feel the tip of his dick almost going down your throat. you could see black spots dancing in your vision and you hit stan’s thighs, praying for a reprieve. you swallow around stan’s cock, trying to bring yourself back to consciousness, and stan moans. “oh, fuck,” stan’s hips stutter and he pushes your head down. your nose hits his springy, gray, pubic hair and you can feel his cock pulse as he cums down your throat. his hand loosens from your hair and you lurch backwards, gagging at the leftover taste of his bitter, salty, hot cum. you stumbled to the ground, leaning back against the wall, with your knees pressed to your chest.

“oh god, oh god.” you sob. stan gets up, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt. he gets his wallet out and tosses forward a couple hundred-dollar bills. “consider this your signing bonus.” he pulls something out of his drawer and tosses a contract in front of you. “once you sign this, you’re a full-time mystery shack employee.” he walks to the door and opens it to leave, but looks back at you, “you’re a good lay, toots. i’ll see you tomorrow at 6. don’t be late.” he turns and walks out, leaving you shivering and humiliated.

[savnofilter]

Talk to Me | k. bakugo

           Fantasy AU!Katsuki Bakugo x [GN]Reader

WARNING(S): suggestive content, angst, lack of communication, abandonment issues if you squint, name calling, toxic dynamic (they're actually a fucking hot mess), making out, shifty hands, sex innuendos, established relationship.

COUNT: 3.4K words [10 mins.]

READ MORE: masterpost [students + bakugo masterlists]

A/N: bro a good bit of this was written in like 2019 n i had to come up with something. originally, this was requested by someone ion fw no mo but i wanted to finish it lol. 😭 i didnt want it to end up in smut (like it was requested) so now you have this like… angsty-vague thing! idk lol. this will be followed by a hc part two that is more ehhhhh mature. ALSO if youre relationship is like this, do not let it be, amen. 🙏🏽🙏🏽 thank for reading. 👵🏽

“Where the fuck is she, dunce face?!” Bakugo demanded, shaking the frightened dark-haired blonde who had his signature lighten bolt streak in it. The startled warlock tries to pry himself out of the explosive man's strong grip in irritation.

“I-I don’t know! She came around here like a week ago! How am I supposed to know?!” Kaminari exclaims, tears now beading in his eyes, whining desperately wanting to get away from his angry friend. Bakugo glares deeply into Kaminari’s eyes before letting him go, not passing up the opportunity to judge the space and ignores Kaminari rambling about his potions.

“There goes this week's rent portion…” He pouts cleaning up the bottles and trying to seperate them to put off to the side as he tries to fix the mess Bakugo made.

‘If you aren’t here now, then where the hell would you be?’ Bakugo huffs in thought as he leaves the small shop and looks around the area. The man’s anger quickly continued to scale up as he tried to think of something quick. As of now, he had recently been to every place you frequented, this shop being the last resort on his hunt for you. Suddenly he has an ingenious idea, the burst of thought sending him storming back into his friend’s store once again. Kaminari jumps as the door slams open and whimpers in protest pointing an angry finger at Bakugo.

“No get out! You already cause enough damage-”

“Does it look like I give a damn?! Use your stupid orb!” Bakugo growls, marching up to the frightened warlock with his fists balled.

“It’s not an orb, I've told you that!” A pout is seen on his lips, the warlock holding a stern look as a warning. He carefully scoops up the aforementioned tool and glares at Bakugo to protect it from his wrath. Kaminari scrambles in fear when Bakugo bucks at him, not wanting to provoke the haughty man any further. “Fine, fine! But it's not going to be free, nor will I let you smash my crystal ball.”

Bakugo mutters a few curses under his breath before digging into one of his pouches. It takes a few moments before he grabs a considerable amount and slams down a shit ton of money onto the merchant's counter. Kaminari purses his lips and hesitantly leans in to look at the lump sum, raising his brow a bit at how “little” the amount is. A few more curse words and snide remarks are set against him before he happily smiles at the new total.

“Who would you like to see, kind sir?” Kaminari beams.

“Whatever, that bitch who thought she could best me.”

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and tries to visualize what's happening in the distant moment. His brows raise a bit as he sees the familiar scenery, opening his eyes and a few sparks run through him as he looks around almost as if he was in the moment himself.

“I wh… Um it looks like they’re-”

““They’re?” Who are they with-”

“Yeah! This is the place I found them, he could hook you up with--Bakugo?” Kirishima asks, pausing as he stares at the disastrous scene before him. His left brow quirks as he could already tell Kaminari was using his orb. He grins with a chuckle, crossing his arms. “Who are you stalking now-”

“That bitch!” Bakugo fumes, pupils turning into slits as they land upon you. You cross your arms and step back each time he stomps towards you until he has you cornered up against a wall. Kirishima is quick to pull him off, Bakugo shoving him off as he glares sharply at you. “I thought thieves aren't allowed in this part of town.” Bakugo growls without paying any attention to his friends, his boiling rage making you scoff out a laugh.

“Is that how you talk to people, fuck face?” You cross your arms and tilt your chin up at him.

Bakugo immediately goes in to lunge at you, the other men in the room moving to get between you two. “You know you took my fucking money, bitch!”

His exclamation seemingly offends the other two although it wasn't directed at them, a round of dramatic gasps sounding from them. The red haired dragon who brought you in presses his hand against Bakugo's chest to hold him back, while the warlock behind the raging barbarian takes his place in holding his arms back.

“Bakugo! What's gotten into you?!” Kirishima asks before giving you a questionable look that undeniably had a look of sympathy behind it as well.

“They took my money at the bar and never paid me back,” Bakugo bucks at you with each word, a smug grin breaking out into your lips as you suddenly remember what had happened prior to his drastic outburst. “30,000¥!”

“You make a ton of money, you've probably made it back already.” You roll your eyes in correspondence.

Recently, Bakugo has once again felt trifled by you. You and Katsuki had known each other for quite some time now, and have a long wrap sheet with each other. Truth be told, Katsuki sure as hell made up the money you had taken in no time—but that isn't the principle of what you had done. Most importantly that he let himself get played so easily, especially from you.

About two weeks ago, on the night the notorious barbarian had come back from one of his tours, he had only one thing on his mind: unwind. Of course doing that was hard with his status and all, especially from all the promoting he had been doing for months. If there was one thing he could complain about, it would be about how tedious touring is, but that's not what we're focusing on here.

We're focusing on the fact you swindled him out of his fucking money.

That night at the bar was a bittersweet one—Katsuki’s only plan was to get in and get out.

He didn't want to talk to anyone (ever) or fake entertaining conversations and all that bullshit. Hell, if it was possible he'd have to commission Kaminari to make a device of some sort to handle that shit for him in his non-communicative moods. Thankfully, when he was like this , the stingy aura that came from him usually shooed people away from him. Everyone but you.

One moment Katsuki was inhaling the sharp and tangy scent of whisky in his glass as he downed that bad boy in one gulp. When he placed his glass down and motioned for the bartender to fill another, a familiar scent that wasnt the alcoholic beverage overtook his senses. Soon enough, the pressure of someone's body was against his muscled arm and similar limbs wrapped around his forearm.

“Katsu,” You whispered in his ear, smiling deviously as he didn't even try to hide the shiver that you elicited from him. “I missed you, why didn't you tell me you were in town?” You pouted and took a seat next to him.

“I just got back, how the fuck am I supposed to tell you that, exactly?” He grumbled, taking another sip from his glass to ease his stress.

“You could've lettered me.” You take his glass and have a helping for yourself, a hiss following after as you finish your serving. “I don't know how you drink these things -”

“What do you want, Y/N?” He finally faces you and snatches the glass out your hand and slams it down on the surface for another helping. A sharp look pointed at the attendant makes them quickly go to make another glass for him.

“Come with me tonight, haven't seen you in forever.”

The suggestion easily made his cock stir. It didn't help that your newly placed hand now sat at the top of his thigh, mischievous hands softly squeezing around the area but not reaching the place he needed you most.

You always had such an easy effect on him, something he hated. Which is why you two were on some fucked up on and off relationship that had no real direction.

You two would care for each other like devoted lovers, but then the next moment you two were arguing like there was no tomorrow. You would have amazing sex, and then jealousy would ensue. Various moments on where you two would find solace in one other was always drowned out by the toxic compatibility you two had going on. Just two individuals who had a lot to give but no clue how to healthily do so.

Irredeemably so, he liked what he had with you. It was toxic for sure and everyone was sick of it except for the two of you. He wasn't even sure how it even developed into this. Unorthodoxly Katsuki was always willing to do anything for you, as you would for him. Except he has resources you didn't, especially money.

That night when he let you come over to his place without second thought is the night where the longest beef you guys had in your “relationship” started. Your original idea was to bring him back to your place but seeing how fucked up he was before you had even got to the bar made you almost feel sorry for him. You begrudgingly dealt with his slobbering and drunk self as you tended to him, periodically swatting away his shifty hands and sloppy kisses.

“Mmnnn thought you’re gonna suck it..?” Katsuki tugged at your waist and pulled you into his lap, his boner proudly pressing into your hip.

“I'm not fucking you in this condition, Katsuki.” You roll your eyes and lay him back down on his bed and somehow manage to untangle yourself from his grasp. When you stand up again you press his shoulders back and point your finger at him as if he were a disobedient child. “I'm being fucking serious! Go to bed or I'll tie you up.”

“You're not my fucking mom!” Katsuki looked you up and down with angered sass, crossing his arms and defiantly looking away with a huff.

“Good, cuz you certainly wouldn't be acting like this!”

“Don't talk shit about my mom!”

“You brought her up first you dumbass!”

With Bakugo’s stubborn nature, he ended up arguing with you until he passed out. All your other attempts beforehand were as domestic as they could be, but of course this is the way you could get him to fall asleep.

You took a few moments to watch him sleep peacefully, his face as beautiful as an angel. His eyebrows that always furrowed in tension were eased and relaxed, the small wrinkles in his forehead smoothing as he fell into slumber. His eyelashes were a luscious and gorgeous batch although being short. His mouth was slightly agape as he started to snore, his body now completely in slumber from his extenuating busy job. You carefully leaned over to close his mouth to avoid the snoring and place a chaste kiss to his forehead before pulling back. It really was lost on you why you two couldn't just function normally but that was something to figure out on another time.

You quietly but hastily put together the things that could help him for when he wakes up in the morning, even cooking him up something that could be reheated without losing its quality. You carefully set everything up on his nightstand and left a little note for him to read when he wakes up. Getting ready to leave, you realize something sticking out of the pocket he was once wearing that night. You glance at him one last time before tip toeing your way to his pants pocket and light upon your discovery.

30,000¥

The way your pupils dilated in circumference gave you expert vision in being able to examine the money, and wasted no time whatsoever counting the dollars over. Shamelessly, you made your decision fast. In record timing you were stuffing the wad of cash into your shirt and happily trotting out of his place into the young night.

The two males who devotedly choose to stay neutral in the matter moved a little, their wary expression now falling on you for your rebuttal.

You look away with a bit of shame, pouting as you do so. “I needed it for something.”

“So you wait till I'm sleeping?! What'd you even use it for!”

“That's none of your business!”

“Hell yes it is, it's my fucking money!”

Kaminari swears under his breath and pinches the bridge of his nose as you two start your yelling match, looking over at the other unlucky bystander that so happened to be there. Kirishima deeply sighs and nods as he steps back from them, his friend doing the same.

“You know what? Why don't you two go settle this in the backroom,” Kaminari yells over you both and waves an arm between you two to gather your attention. He gives a forced smile and dramatically swings his arms to motion your attention towards the hall of the shop. “I'd rather you two be a nuisance where my products and eardrums aren't in jeopardy.” Although his words are framed as a suggestion, it's imposed as a command; he respectively grabs both of you and tugs you to his ‘meditation room' (he uses it for when he sleeps on the clock) and shoves you two in there.

A pregnant silence follows you two when your fate in the enclosed place is sealed by the sound of his friend’s footsteps walking away. There's no doubt you two are locked in here, Kaminari has done that several times as you guys more than often ended up having bickering sessions in his shop. You hesitantly look up at him as you two are a few meters away from each other. You, closer to the bed as he was close to the door. When your eyes meet with his, Bakugo charges at you with conviction.

With quick steps he's right in front of you and gripping your jaw in one hand, red eyes burning into yours. Without any prior notice he leans in to press a kiss to your lips with force, his plump lips softening the blow. You groan against his mouth and immediately wrap your arms around his neck, both of you in a fight for a dominance that neither of you want to give up. Angrily fighting against each other for different reasons.

His hands greedily grip at your hips and forces you to sit down on the bed, his handling breaking the rough kiss. Heated contact between you two doesn't halt yet, but neither of you move to remove any clothes, just simply trying to get close to one another. You chase his lips as he takes pride in starving you of the pressure of his lips, his actions prompting you to grab the back of his neck and cement him on you again.

As of now his body is completely pressed against yours as you two occupy the bed, tensions rising in the warm room. This time when pulls away for air you don't protest, allowing yourself to catch up with him.

“Tell me why you're angry, hm?” Bakugo asks in a low voice, lips brushing against yours tauntingly. His hands although so used to gripping your hips so roughly held your body so tenderly, his gaze stuck on your lips and his body pressed against yours. Your silence does bring a concern to his thoughts, eye flickering up to meet yours.

Your bottom lip quivers as you can’t find yourself to speak like how you usually do, not even a toxic or sassy remark to mask how overwhelmed you felt. There's only a short moment where you wordlessly try to come up with something, maybe some pathetic excuse to mask your worries but nothing comes up. Instead, you breakdown in a sob, heart clenching in humiliation as you ca longer hide your anxiety behind toxicity and anger. Bakugo coos at your burst in emotions, enveloping you in a hug as he knew better than to press for more information. Against your will, your body succumbs to his familiar heat, face nuzzled into the comfort of his neck.

“I really would've appreciated it if you were here with me when I had my diagnosis, Katsuki.” You start off not wanting to continue, already knowing that he wouldn't like what you wanted to tell him. “I know you told me not to go alone, but… months? You didn't even tell me when you were going to be back.”

You feel your lover’s body tense up as he pulls away, his face stern as he tilts his head to meet your eyes. “You know I told you not to go alone—”

“I know but I couldn't wait anymore. It was killing me,” You solemnly look up at him for comfort.

His eyes soften immediately as you look at him and he pulls you in for a chaste kiss on your forehead, letting you rest against him as he settles for holding you tight. Bakugo wasn't good at these things, saying stuff that could make you feel better. But one thing was for sure, he liked holding you and he knew that's something you needed right now. After a few moments of collecting his thoughts he speaks to you.

“I just don't want you going through this by yourself. I'm not mad at you, okay?” Bakugo reassured you softly, large and warm hand rubbing your back as you completely leaned on him. “I know we go through some shit but I know it was selfish of me to leave so soon.” You merely nod, giving him a squeeze as you can't find any words to formulate. “I guess I was also scared to find out, but I should've been here with you instead…” Katsuki takes a few moments to gather himself, nervously biting his lip as he mutters against your hair, “I’m sorry.”

A silence falls between you two, a comfortable one albeit the circumstances and atmosphere. There were many things that needed to be talked about but a silent mutual agreement settled between you two as you calmed your chaotic energies. You couldn't even remember the last time you and Bakugo did this—just basking in each other without the verbal fights between you two. You both had to admit that it was a weird but welcoming experience. Bakugo shifts as he attempts to readjust himself, clearing his throat as he does so.

“When's the next appointment?” Bakugo breaks the silence.

“Um,” You pull yourself up from his embrace, rubbing your eyes as you gather yourself up. “Tomorrow at three o’clock.”

Bakugo seems to think for a moment as he glances at the clock on the wall, eyes later searching for a calendar. He definitely had some stuff to do tomorrow but he was willing to clear some space for you.

“... Do you want me to come?” Your boyfriend looks down at you, features softer than ever. His expression was similar to his sleeping one, his calm and delicate features being highlighted. Your pupils dilate upon being asked and you quickly nod your head, not being able to hide the flustered smile sprouting into your lips.

“O-Of course!” You hold his hand. The blonde haired male looks away flustered at how endearing you look, rolling his eyes as he hesitantly lets you hold his hand affectionately.

“Oi, quit acting like that.”

“Like what?! Don't ruin the moment!”

“Acting all soft n’ shit, it's weird!”

“Don't fricken start with me, Mr. “I Don't Want You to Go Through This Alone!””

On the other side of the door, two nosy friends have their ears pressed against the door, a questionable glance being met as they slowly retreat from the door. Kaminari does a motion with his hand to silently unlock the door, a small sigh coming from Kirishima as he crosses his arms.

“You think they're good?” He whispers, not risking being heard from the couple in the room.

Kaminari snorts and leads the way back to his shop with a shrug, “They'll be just fine.”

    all rights reserved © do NOT steal, alter or copy this work.

[ralphlanyon]

For the TC ask game: 2, 6, 10, 15, 17, 22, and 24!

2. Scene that lives in your head rent free.

So many! But I'll go with "Come and say goodbye to me," which speaks for itself.

6. Wackiest (but hilarious) Laurie opinion™.

Laurie trying to convince himself that Ralph and Bunny are happily in love despite all evidence to the contrary and that he isn't incredibly jealous and resentful of Bunny!

10. Laurie/Andrew and Laurie/Ralph: discuss.

Obviously I'm a Ralph Lanyon and Ralph/Laurie girlie through and through! I think they are just extremely similar and compatible, in terms of their personalities, their idealism, their values, their sense of humor, their beliefs and attitudes towards queerness and towards the war, their past trauma, their need to be needed, their intense loneliness and desire for intimacy and affection (and of course Renault makes it clear that they are very sexually compatible). They also both understand what it's like to be abandoned by a parent, to become permanently and visibly disabled by war injury, and to not feel a sense of belonging or attachment to anywhere. So many themes and parallels with their relationship - it makes the literature nerd in me happy. 🤩

Laurie/Andrew doesn't have nearly the same emotional pull for me, although intellectually I get its place in the novel and Laurie's development. Part of it is that for most of the book Laurie seems to be unconsciously projecting his fantasy of school-age Ralph onto Andrew (as well as various moral ideals), so I never felt like I got to truly know Andrew as a person (or that Laurie did, for that matter), just what Laurie thinks he is, or ought to be. It's not an accident I think that Andrew is the same age as Ralph when we first meet him (and when Laurie last sees him at school) and that he often feels less a fully fleshed out character than an ideal Laurie carries in his head.

15. At which point did you know TC was going to be One Of Those Books for you?

Haha, I will have you know that the first time I read the book, I was being perfectly normal about it up until the party chapter, and then Ralph showed up again and ruined my life and now I'm here eight years later still totally obsessed! If it had ended unhappily with Ralph dying or Laurie and Ralph not getting back together (which would have been the conventional Queer Novel ending back then), I probably would have just moved on, but it had the temerity to actually end on a hopeful/happy note so I guess I'm just going to be invested forever.

17. Most ??? passage (ambiguous/unclear/etc)

"As Laurie got up he found he was levering himself on a pile of hymn books; some almost submerged tactile memory remarked, Ancient and Modern, not Songs of Praise." I was not Raised In A Christian Home and still do not get why that distinction is at all relevant, lol.

22. What was the soldier at the party about to reveal about Alec/Ralph?

Hmm, I actually didn't interpret it as being about Alec/Ralph specifically, just about Ralph! I thought he was going to drop some salacious gossip about Ralph's sex life or kinks - like "The man acts all uptight and strait-laced, disapproving of everything going on here, but I hear this is how he really behaves when he's in bed..." And then Laurie cuts him off with, "I've known him for years," which the soldier interprets as, "I've slept with him," prompting him to ask Laurie for confirmation if the sex gossip about Ralph is true.

24. Most surprisingly modern aspect of TC.

I guess actually acknowledging that bisexuality exists, even briefly? Ralph rattling off the historical figures he considers bisexuals and Ralph and Laurie talking about Shakespeare being "normal plus, not minus" amusingly remind me of how queer people nowadays discuss their favorite queer historical icons.

[thevirgodoll]

Hey, Virgo Doll. This might be a question you don't typically get, but here it goes.

I'm a happily married man of 9 years this spring, 10 next spring. My wife, I love her so very much and I would move heaven and earth for her if required. We have been through the highest of the highs and lowest of the lows together. No matter what life has thrown at us, we have always remained monogamous, faithful, loving, and eternally committed. We have two small children together and I look so very much to being there with her through the years, raising and watching them grow up and then becoming old with her.

So, 10 years next April. I want to do something truly special for her. You've got a knack for new love. What do you have for old love? I really want to blow the socks off this woman. If it were you, how would you want your husband to really kick it up a notch and make you feel like a worshipped goddess, if even only for an evening out? I have thoughts but I'd like to hear and entertain yours. Budget to play with: try keep it within a couple thousand. I'm not a millionaire but I do well enough to gladly sacrifice a bit for her. Thanks so much!

I'm so late replying, so you might've decided to do something by now. But I would say that to commemorate the years you both have spent together, you could go to botanical gardens or somewhere with picturesque scenery and have a photographer take updated photos of you both. You can also do an activity or two that both of you loved when you first met. Women really love the thought and attention to detail. How many of her favorite things can you fit into one evening? Or even a weekend? What do you think, over 10 years, has conveyed your love the most?

Also, you can never go wrong with an expensive dinner. Maybe you could rent out the restaurant or go somewhere with a breathtaking view. But, honestly, since I am late replying I'd say the most beautiful thing you could do is a vow renewal service at the end of the month. What do you think?

[roscgcld]

HEADCANON + GOJO SATORU || the gojo twins

request: HELLO^^ so I’ve been wondering this so long but do you think it would even be possible if Gojo had a twin sister that also has the sixth eye ? Probably not but, I’d kinda want to know what the clans higher ups and curses react to 2 sixth eye user.

note: I am glad I am not the only one thinking about this lol. like what if they were two gojos? absolute chaos the world has ever seen. i love it, this entire prompt lives in my head rent free lol

pronouns: she/her

gojotwins!au masterlist

imagine the other clan’s reactions when they learn that not one, but two of the gojo clan’s newest heirs were born with the highly coveted Six Eyes?

gojo satoru and y/n - the newest members of the gojo clan, twins that are born with the Six Eyes. a first case that has ever happened in the family’s history. it was this monumental moment when the higher ups realise that things are going to be interesting

by the way - you’re the older twin lol. just so you can poke jabs at gojo for the rest of your life by using the line. “i’m the older sibling here!”

“only by like, two minutes!”

that being said though, over-protective twin brother who will scare all your boyfriends/girlfriends the first time they meet because of his height and overly nice personality that scares people even more

you’re just as bad though - if any girl or guy walks out of his room after a night of fun you will probably be a little bitch and make them feel awkward until gojo wakes up

“can’t you be a little nicer to them?” gojo groans after the person he slept with last night quickly left after an awkward cup of morning coffee with you. “I actually liked them a lot.”

but it’s all done with love, and if the other realise their significant other makes them happy, they will back off

the moment you two entered jujutsu tech, then yaga-sensei was about to hand in his retirement slip early with the sheer chaos that his year of students were bringing him 

ieiri was delighted that she wasn’t going to be the only girl at school; geto was amused how you two were basically copy and paste of each other, just in different genders

surprisingly enough, think you’d be the one who’d be the more studious and definitely more interesting in learning how to hone your skills better - gojo probably still has this ‘i am the strongest’ mentality that the elders planted in him because ✨misogyny✨

but he loves to compete with you - and you’re the only one who’d he ever admit defeat to, and will defend your honour whenever the elders talk down on you because you’re a girl. and to them, girls are just meant to be ‘a pretty face with strong genes to bring a strong generation into the world’

he’s probably the one who talked your elders out of arranging a marriage between you and an heir to another important family like the kamo clan - because there is no way in hell is he going to let some random ass man take you away from him

probably joking told you that if all else fails, to marry geto on the spot - and let’s be honest here, who wouldn’t? Geto looks so damn fine both the anime and especially in the Gojo Past Arch. rail me daddy-

*cough cough*

anyway - ever since that comment, geto and you might pretend to flirt with each other to get gojo riled up. playfully brushing your hand along his arm, playing with his hair between your fingers whenever you two talk, geto leaning close to you to whisper something in your ear with a smirk, or him resting his hand around your waist whenever he leads you about

it always gets gojo riled up, and he’d get in between the both of you; whining for you to give him attention instead

you probably sneak into his room, even as you got older, to hide in his arms whenever you have a nightmare - and he’d wordlessly just hold you close and cuddle you to sleep again no matter how old you two are

both of you share the same braincell - same reactions, expressions, and sometimes even finishing each other’s sentences. sometimes you two even say the same thing at the same time, to which you two just high five each other with a laugh 

freaks everyone out a little, since it’s just so random and natural for the both of you to do it 

nanami hates it whenever he has to accompany you two - as his senpais, he can’t complain much. he does learn a lot, yet at the same time, he can’t stand it when the both of you are sent on a mission together 

with you he’s fine; but he barely tolerates gojo 

ijichi loves you, since you compliment him on the smallest of things, or smile at him warmly whenever he does something right; may have a crush on you that he refuses to reveal to anyone

both of you probably have shopping trips every weekend; don’t tell me you two don’t splurge on clothing when you two can charge whatever it is you want to the gojo clan account 

you two probably got a lot of those roadside modelling offers - and sometimes you’d probably even joke about leaving the whole jujutsu world behind to become a model instead

“i mean - it pays. and all i need to do is sit and look pretty.”

a lot of ‘did not!’ and ‘did too!’ arguments all day long 

you two love to taunt the Curses together before you kill them - it makes them only more scared, but the ‘chase more fun’

“say, toru - it looks so weak for a semi-first, no?”

“must be a new born - how pathetic.”

bags of candies all over the place - somehow he got you addicted to candy as well, so whenever you two travel, you always buy different candies and different treats 

when geto betrayed you all in your third year, gojo turned to you as his pillar of familiarity; even more so when he was force to kill his best friend a few years later. the both of you leaned on each other as you start to pick the pieces of yourselves once more

both you and your brother share the same idea of changing the jujutsu world from the inside out, so you two decided to take up teaching together under the command of now principal yaga

poor man is deciding if he now regrets accepting both of your applications 

you took in megumi as your own by the way - so megumi respects you a lot since you’re like the mother he never had. but at the same time, he wouldn’t be surprise if he heard that you do something stupid with your twin brother

feel like gojo and you will spend your free time probably trying to unlock more secrets of the Limitless and how to use your Six Eyes better - and Gojo will teach you how to probably use Hallow Purple and how to use Reverse Cursed Techniques with the held of ieiri as well

you took in maki, inumaki and even panda as your own kids as well - teaching them whenever gojo is forced to go and solve some issue the higher ups throw at him; making the kids super protective of you

even when yuta came, you didn’t care about the special grade curse that was stuck inside of him; treating him like an actual person and training him up and build his confidence once more

when you heard what happened to the special-grade cursed object that megumi was tasked on taking the following year, you laughed your ass off for 10 minutes while megumi tried not to show his annoyance

“y/n-sensei, i almost died. it is not funny.”

but you still took yuji in as your own child, and when you were giving him a tour around campus, you raised an eyebrow when a pair of lips appeared on the side of his cheek

“even though i want to kill that white haired bastard, i might spare your pretty little face.” 

“hello to you too, sukuna.” you greeted with a smile while yuji slapped a hand over the mouth, apologising to you with a wild blush on his face. you just laughed and reassured the poor boy it was alright

when nobara came, you adopted her as well; and she loves you, and loves how in tune with the trends you are. you two even have a girl’s night where you talk about everything that happens and have a few rants about boys

all in all - highkey chaotic, but with more common sense then your younger twin brother gojo and knows how to act professional whenever you need to. you also tend to adopt all the students that walks through your doors, and they view you as a parental figure as well. you and your brother are a menace together, but you two get things done and no one can really complain

gojo is protective, but when it comes to you it’s worse lol. but you’re just as bad when it comes to making sure ‘your baby brother’ is safe. you two tend to be super sassy and throw shade at each other, but when it comes down to the basics, you two love each other a lot and will go the extra mile to make sure that each other are safe

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[alluringjae]

au cours de l’été - jjh

⤑ translation: over the summer

⤑ summary: this is a story of an exhausted painter who needed a breather from the hectic city life. so aside from moving to the countryside, the needed air in your lungs also came in the form of a person. this summer meant for pure relaxation, perhaps your heart may dive into him too.

⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader

⤑ word count: 15.2k (so much for saying that i’ll be writing shorter stories)

⤑ genre: fluff, romance, smut | author!jaehyun, painter!reader, strangers to lovers!au, 50s-60s!au, summer love in france!au

⤑ warnings: me inserting some french phrases because I want to practice (feel free to correct me if I made mistakes, i’ll appreciate them), fictional interpretations of real-life people, explicit language, jaehyun being such a romantic pls im in tears, mentions and scenes of burnout (the worst)

⤑ playlist: everybody loves somebody by dean martin | c’est si bon by eartha kitt | it’s always you by chet baker | les yeux ouverts by emilie-claire barlow | a sunday kind of love by etta james | the most beautiful thing by bruno major | try again by jaehyun and d.ear (duh) | free love (dream edit) by honne | petite fleur by jill barber | plus je t’embrasse by blossom dearie | so this is love by ilene woods and mike douglas

⤑ author’s note: this was an idea that just came to me after pinterest kept recommending me poetic beauty/try again jaehyun, so here we are! i intended to write less than 5k words but sometimes plans don’t go as planned once you really invest in the story yet i’m really happy how this turned out!

the romantic exhilaration in my bones are off the charts because this is jaehyun we’re talking about lol enjoy!

⤑ masterlist

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

3 juin 1957

The city life overstimulated your entire system, losing your brainpower and inspiration. Another exhibition that’ll feature your works with other influential painters was happening at the end of the year, and you had nothing prepared so far. You’ve crashed to the deep end of creative fatigue.

So you needed to get away again; somewhere quieter and surrounded by nature.

That’s why you ended up in the countryside down south, somewhere within Provence. It’s purely just for the summer, but extensions were okay as long you get back at least a month before the show. Filing that leave of absence at the studio you worked at was worth it.

You rented an apartment overlooking the marketplace, where the heart of the village was. After arranging things from your boxes and luggage the entire day, you found out that you lacked in the food department.  

So the succeeding day, the entire morning was spent on grocery shopping downstairs then stocking them inside your refrigerator, freezer, and pantry. Right after changing out of your pajamas into a flowy floral dress and sandals, you decided to bike to the bakery that locals suggested. A must-go place for newcomers, they all raved.

“Café des Étoiles Perdues.” (Café of Lost Stars.)

The clear chimes of the bell resounded through the small, cottage-like lobby as you entered inside. An old woman, whom you assumed was the owner, welcomed you openly.

“Oh la la, vous êtes belle! Vous vous appelez (Y/N), la nouvelle venue, n'est-ce pas?” (Oh la la, you’re beautiful. Your name is (Y/N), the newcomer, right?)

She complimented, making you shyly mutter your answer. Wiping off the flour from her apron, she introduced herself kindly.

“Je m’appelle Camille. Mes spécialités sont les macarons pisctaches et des croissants avec des amandes. Autre chose que tu aimes?” (I’m Camille. My specialties are the pistachio macarons and croissants with almonds. Is there anything else you like?)

“J'aime tout ce que vous suggères, Madame.” (I’d like anything that you suggest, Madame.)

A younger man, who went by Jaemin, was a part-timer barista who asked for your coffee order. As he directed you to the best seat of the café, which was outside overlooking the garden of blooming sunflowers, you pulled out your sketch pad so you could capture this dreamy view. It was nothing like you’ve ever seen in your life.

You’ve decided on a theme already for your exhibit thanks to your conversations with locals yesterday, which was related to freedom. After being chained to cities for so-called better living and financial standards, it’s actually how your inspiration to create squeezed the life out of you like a lemon. Although it was fun at first to see those tourist spots, it eventually got tiring.

Another matchstick to graze intensity through your bones was what you prayed for.

While you’re engaged in a rough sketch of the scenery, the dandy presence of a young man entered the café with his books. White shirt, red trousers with a matching beret, he sported freckles on his pale face. Despite visiting his favorite café numerously, Camille was overjoyed to see him and his serene smiles.

“Jaehyun! What brings you here?”

“Bonjour, Madame! I’m starving for your croissants because I ran out back home.”

“Not to worry! I’ll pack up some so you’re on your way.” She lightened him up like one of her kids, taking one of the bigger paper bags.

“No rush though, Madame. I’ll be reading and working here for a bit here.” Jaehyun affirmed, bringing it out his wallet and called out for Jaemin.

“Un café crème, s’il vous plait.” (One cup of cappuccino, please.)

Jaehyun’s usual chair was by the large window, overseeing the wide garden planted by the citizens of the village way before he was born. It was places like this he missed after moving to the city for his education and work’s sake. 

That’s the thing when you’re coming from a rich family; you don’t have much of say with what your parents order you to do. However, his recent request to stay in his childhood home (or mansion) again was fulfilled because he couldn’t search for what he needed in the cities anymore.

Jaehyun was a sucker for romance; an old romantic others would say. A lot of women mistook his kindness as flirting on many occasions, but ironically he just wasn’t looking for anyone yet. 

Starting as a novelist in the said genre based on real-life stories of people he met in Paris, Barcelona, London, and more, his stories were popular hits especially to young adults who aspire to find love one day.

However, traveling to the known places no longer felt fun as he got older. The stories he gathered were very similar, just in different languages. It took an enthusiastic dinner with his family, specifically his only older sister Krystal retelling fond stories from their younger years to get the idea of moving back for a bit. So consumed with the city life, he wanted to see things from another perspective.

What was the difference between a love story formed in the countryside than in the city?

It’s been a month since he arrived, but he didn’t hurry himself to do his research. He’s been reading books in his family library, revisiting monumental places, exploring around the village, and reconnecting with old friends as if he never left. 

Readjusting to his former life would make writing easier when he’s motivated enough to do it again. Besides, his books were profiting well enough to his taste; good enough for the next 10 years according to his personal accountant, Kim Jungwoo.

Jaehyun resumed reading this book his mother recommended him before he left. Entitled “Réessaye”, which was about a young man who reunites with his childhood sweetheart after his arranged marriage failed. After what she put her through, he’s hesitant whether to try again or let her go.

Jaehyun enjoyed reading books with realistic outlooks on love because he found them more meaningful, enlightening how exactly it makes you feel and do. Even if he enjoyed reading sappy, fairytale-like stories from time to time, he always returned to the real ones as they only displayed the truth.

That love isn’t always rainbows and sunshine, but something that can also break you especially if you go after the wrong person. This kind of mindset was how he toiled on his stories, which gained him a status outside of his unavoidable labels such as “the only striking son of the Jeong family” or “Valentine Boy”.

He diligently browsed through the climax, where the main male character confessed all his constrained emotions to his sweetheart. But it was until Jaemin pressed the bag of croissants in front of his face after placing down his childhood friend’s drink to disturb his peace.

“Reading again?” He taunted, snatching his book away and throwing the bag on Jaehyun’s lap. “When are you writing that book already? Everyone is practically dying for you to release something new again!”

Jaehyun flatly shook his head, drinking his coffee quietly. It’s not the first time anyone asked (or pressured) him about his next release, and it’s the last thing he wanted to think about. “Not in the mood right now, Jaemin. Now off to work before Madame Camille scolds you again.”

“You’re just stalling because you have nothing to write, don’t you?” Jaemin cunningly expressed, raising a brow. He’s known to catch onto the people’s bs easily; the last person you’d want to say your secrets too and Jaehyun realized too late. Though lucky for him, Jaemin shut the topic down right away so he wouldn’t pop a vein.

“Sais-tu de la nouvelle venue dans le village, d'ailleurs?” (Do you know about the newcomer in the village, by the way?)

“Une nouvelle venue?” (A newcomer?)

Being stuck at his mansion recently, news about village affairs were now late to him. Jaemin’s finger discreetly pointed outside the window, pertaining to a young woman sat outside painting her view in front of her.

That would be you, shading all the flowers in bright colors.

Seeing a new face amazed Jaehyun, especially when she was almost someone right out of a book. In a neat bun with white daisies printed in her dress, she crossed her legs whilst continuing her movements. She bit her lower lip, frustrated over an accidental smudge she made and trying to fix it by blending it with another color. When she accomplished it, she swapped brushes. A thinner one, to outline the shapes of the flower. Her lips curved to a smile after finishing another one perfectly with the rest.

“Jaehyun?”

Jaemin snapped his fingers to his distracted friend, zoning out the window. Still something he hasn’t stop doing, he pondered. With a final snap, Jaehyun broke away from falling hard from his abstract. Jaemin calculated the problem so quickly, analyzing his friend breezily like his medical school requirements.

“Elle est splendide, n'est-ce pas?” (She’s gorgeous, right?)

“Elle ressemble à une personne décente.” (She looks like a decent person.)

Jaehyun pushed it aside, flipping back to the page where he stopped reading. Before Jaemin responded, the door chimed open again to alarm him that a new customer came in. He excused himself to his friend, warning him that this wasn’t the last time he’ll talk about the newcomer too.

Jaehyun nodded along, not taking his friend’s cheeky words so seriously. However, the final result you attempted to create tickled his curiosity, so he slyly peeked from his book to the window.

You’ve freed your hair down, victorious to have started your collection this early in your break. A fantastic start, you let the paint dry first and munch on the croissant that served as your reward. However, you ‘re quick to notice a manly figure glancing through the window. From the side, his brown eyes appeared lively even if his entire face was hidden by the book.

Réessaye by Mark Lee; he must be a romantic. Every person in your studio read it, excluding yourself. Painfully beautiful, they’d summarize it.

Daring to meet more people, you locked eye contact with him. He didn’t expect it, almost flipping from his chair. Bashfully, you waved him a hello to somewhat break the ice. However, it broke his composure, and suddenly, he scurried off with his things from the café.

Now, you got quite worried. You checked your tiny mirror if he saw anything unpleasant with you, but you’d say you look relatively fine. Oh, maybe you could redeem yourself the next time you saw him. After bidding goodbye to Camille and Jaemin, the latter chased after you when you prepared yourself on your bike.

“By any chance, did you say hi to a guy with brown eyes and a red beret?”

“Well, more like I waved at him, then he zoomed out. Did I do something wrong?” You questioned with concern, putting your hands on the handles.

“That’s my friend, who’s quite reserved with strangers. I’m sorry on his behalf.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” You brushed it off politely. “See you again soon, Jaemin!”

Peddling away, letting the cool breeze fan you, your mind reverted its thoughts to that strange man. Maybe you’ll give it some time; you had a lot of it.

“Shucks, he was pretty cute.”

12 juin 1957

The world must really be on your side with these good decisions because you crossed paths with the strange man again in the café a week later. But instead of running away, he asked nicely if he could sit across your free chair in front of your table outside. It was a Saturday, and the place was packed.

“Joignez-moi, s’il vous plait.” (Join me, please.)

You insisted, giving yourself time to subtly observe his physique a lot more. Freckles dotted under his eyes like a constellation, bushy eyebrows, pink cheeks to match his pale complexion, and wearing a fuzzy knit sweater that meshed well with his green beret. He had some sort of necklace too; there was a heart pendant.

“Vous êtes une artiste.” (You’re an artist.) The small wooden palette of paint beside your small sketch pad was exposed, finding it as a great icebreaker.

“Une peintre, spécifiquement. Franchement, les visuels ici sont trés captivants qu'à Paris.” (A painter, to be specific. Frankly, the visuals here are more captivating than in Paris.)

“Je suis d’accord,” (I agree,) Jaehyun leaned against his chair, taking a better look at you with the remaining light from the descending sun.

“Oh, vous êtes comme moi. J’habite à Paris aussi.” (Oh, you’re like me. I live in Paris too.)

“Bon, je suis née à Londres. Puis, j’ai déménagé où je voulais en Europe depuis j'avais 18 ans. Mais oui, j’habite définitivement à Paris maintenant.” (Well, I was born in London then moved wherever I wanted in Europe for inspiration since I was 18. But yes, I live permanently in Paris now.)

You clarified, beginning to enjoy his comforting company. Initiating conversations with people you’re not acquainted with wasn’t in your range of skills, though he didn’t have an intimidating vibe. He looked too youthful to act like that.

“Je m’appelle (Y/N), d'ailleurs.” (I’m (Y/N), by the way.) You stuck out your hand as a sign of respect, which he enthusiastically obliged.

“Salut, (Y/N). Je m’appelle Jaehyun.” [Hi, (Y/N). I’m Jaehyun.]

He kissed it in a gentleman fashion, applying the manners he’s been taught since he was a child. Should you have been flustered, but no.  It’s been a long time since anyone greeted you like that, specifically back home.

Throughout your talk, you learned more about who he was, his job, and what his life in the countryside is like. He was an author of romance novels, yet you’ve never heard about him prior. Heavily prioritizing your work, you don’t keep up with the new releases or trends at all. Though after mentioning his last name, it piqued your interest.

“Jeong? As in the business, Jeong Tea Inc.?”

“Correct.”

His family was one of the most affluent families in Parisian society. Old money immigrants from South Korea, they brought their tea business to France and it boomed successfully. You’re quite sure you’ve seen his parents in past exhibits, but never did you approach them because you were a rookie then. But he reassured you that it was fine, and to just treat him like you’d treat your friends. Plus, it came to your knowledge that he was the same age as you too.

He opened up how this village was where he lived his childhood, so he asked his parents if he could hand over their mansion for a while for rest. It then shocked both of you at how identical your reasons were for staying in the countryside.

“I’m burnt out from the city, so I’m trying to regain my spirit here hopefully. Besides, I needed a change of scenery after living there for 3 years. My longest stay yet outside of London!”

“I need new ideas for my books. The cities don’t charm me anymore, so I returned here for peace and quiet. Maybe let these ideas come to me rather than me going after them.”

From a bigger lens, people would conclude your interaction as a sight of two artists who passionately talk about their art. But to you, you’d interpret it as two relaxed, young adults in their twenties who simply wanted to run away from the pressures of their art and enjoy the summer as every young adult should.

Not cooped up in the studio or office, but innocently waltzing around with your youth while it’s still there.

début de juillet 1957

“Dépêche-toi, (Y/N)!” [Hurry up, (Y/N)!]

Jaehyun yelled at your open balcony from downstairs, parking his mini car beside your bike. He planned on taking you somewhere a little farther this time; to absolutely feel like one of the locals.

The countryside urged you to wear more dresses and flat shoes, so you took out a turquoise dress with a white scarf to wrap on top of your head. Like your relaxed fit, your mindset too was calm. Upon meeting him, he wore his round spectacles with a red knit sweater over a white turtleneck long-sleeved top. His fingers were adorned with silver rings, then around his neck was a thin black ribbon. He curled some of his hair again, a style you really liked of his.

You can’t lie, but this man could pull any trend or style and still look extra pretty.

Out of all the locals you’ve befriended in your stay, Jaehyun was always your companion. He took you to varying places that those locals don’t visit nor tourists acknowledge in their reviews for the past few weeks. For someone who hasn’t been in the village for a long time, his memory didn’t disappoint. His childhood was only filled with cheerful moments.

Today, he was taking you to a peaceful district of shops in the farther part of the village. It’s where he’d buy sweets, journals, and accessories with his mother, Krystal, and one of his housemaids every other weekend.

All the stores there were currently bombarded with blooming flowers along their alley, bringing more enticement to those who were roaming around. There was so much life here; the head waiter of one restaurant smiling at every passing customer, one florist handing a free flower to anyone who asks, and a young lady showcasing her jewelry collection to a bunch of women who looked like tourists.

“Cette librairie vendent des livres enveloppés dans du papier. Ma mère m'a offerte l'un d'eux pour mon anniversaire tous les ans comme une surprise.” (This bookstore sells books wrapped in paper. My mother gifted me one of them on my birthday every year as a surprise.)

He trained his attention at a rustic shop with open wooden windows giving a glimpse of their shelves.

“Avez-vous fini les lisant?” (Have you finished reading them?)

“Du début à la fin.” (From cover to cover.)

He took you to this rooftop restaurant overlooking the entire plaza. Since he didn’t arrange a reservation yet didn’t get rejected, he must know the owner. Especially how a lot of the staff gave casual hellos and high fives.

Speaking of the owner, he walked out of his kitchen to introduce himself to you. He went by the name Moon Taeil, another one of Jaehyun’s childhood friends whom he used to play at his house whenever his parents came along.

Gobbling up in the appetizing food Taeil prepared beforehand, Jaehyun brought up your painting exhibition again. He loved hearing artists talk about their works, wanting to know more about their driven mindset and what their imagination is like. After all, it does vary for everyone.

“So far,” You poked your fork through the chicken, taking a bite of it. “I’ve produced 3 paintings. The garden of flowers outside Café des Étoiles Perdues, the kids playing hopscotch in the alley, and the peach tree outside your house.”

“Woah, you’re on a roll.” Jaehyun clapped across you, pouring you another glass of water. He recalled the nights you ranted not having any clue what to do for the exhibit. Then after taking you to more places, he’s rewarded to see you be creatively active again. “How many artworks do you left to make?”

“Around 3-4 left. I have ideas already, but I’m still brainstorming.” You internally rejoiced, loving how much progress you’ve made. “How about you, Jaehyun? How’s your progress?”

Unlike you, Jaehyun still felt stuck. Although he did find couples around the village, none of them intrigued him as much as his past stories. But he won’t give up easily; that’s not in his work ethic.

“Still searching, but I’ll get there.”

Recently, you got ahold of some of Jaehyun’s books from him personally since they weren’t sold in the village. You wanted to understand how he became so well known outside the labels people put him under. Reading his first novel entitled “Des Papillons” (Butterflies), it was about a couple separated during World War II without contact or knowledge about their well-being. Yet whenever they saw butterflies on the day they parted, they took it as a sign that the other was alive wherever they were.

You’re always hanging on the cliff when the scenes revert back and forth to the main male lead getting stuck in intense war scenarios, rooting for him to get out alive each time. In the end, it took 7 years before they were reunited and wed.

Jaehyun had a wonderful way with his words and descriptions, managing to enwrap you in as if you’re also a character in the book. Like how you rooted for that male lead, you’re rooting for him to find his spark again.

Following this uplifting conversation, Jaehyun finally took to your greatly anticipated spot. It was the main viewpoint of Gordes, one of the most beautiful hilltop villages in the country. The sunset was about to hit, and the lights from the city across you slowly turned on like a bunch of dominos.

As you marveled at its aesthetics, Jaehyun leaned against the hood of his car. He sensed how in awe you were, more than you ever were in the city he assumed. So used to the city that being surrounded with nature became foreign to you.

He took out his polaroid camera from his trunk and captured a photo of you from behind. The shutter sounds were obvious, turning your back at the commotion. Jaehyun fanned the freshly printed photo to dry, giving a mischievous smile.

“What can I say? While you’re fawning over the view, mine was more enamoring.”

Although Jaehyun felt overwhelmed the first time he locked eyes with you, he can’t resist the power of his developing feelings for you. The more time he took you around, the more his heart found different details about you to admire. After listening to all those love stories in the past, the people he spoke to shared how there will be some distinct moment where your heart decides who they’re longing for.

That exact view of you by the cliff, he already knew.

He’s infatuated by you.

“Tu es très ringard, Jaehyun.” (You’re so cheesy, Jaehyun.) You scoffed sassily, with a hand on your waist.

“Un gentleman ne ment jamais, (Y/N). Allez, il fait nuit maintenant.” [A gentleman never lies, (Y/N). Come on, it’s night already.]

He cleverly responded, grabbing his car keys from his pocket. The trip back to the village was energizing, putting down the roof of his car to relish the chill breeze of the night weather. You even raised your arms in the air, losing your scarf even from the speed Jaehyun went at!

The two of you belted along to the songs on the radio when the fields were the only ones surrounding you, no neighbors to shout at your rambunctiousness.

The late-night hours drew by so quickly almost like dinner with more of Jaehyun’s friends didn’t happen. Arriving at the front doors of your apartment complex, Jaehyun raced over to your side to open your door. Always maintained proper observation of manners, you appreciated that side of him. Rarely anyone in Paris that you’ve encountered treated you that way because you were a foreigner.

“Bonsoir, (Y/N).” [Goodnight, (Y/N).]

“Bonsoir, Jaehyun. Quand est-ce que je te revois?” (Goodnight, Jaehyun. When can I see you again?)

“Demain et après-demain. Appelle-moi quand tu es libre.” (Tomorrow, and the day after that. Just give me a call when you’re free.)

With a short wave, you entered your building and marched up to the stairs. A good day only meant being tired to the core, ready to crash and fall in your soft bed. Opening your wide windows to let more of the cool breeze in, your eyes easily caught Jaehyun’s classy car still there. As for the owner, he didn’t move an inch from his leaning position.

“Rentre à la maison, Jaehyun! C’est tard!” (Go home, Jaehyun! It’s late!) You shrieked, peeking side to side to make sure none of the neighbors scold you.

Jaehyun laughed wholeheartedly, not budging at all. “La nuit ne fait que commencer, ma chérie.” (The night has just begun, my darling.)

“Comment tu m'as appelé?” (What did you call me?)

Either your ears were fooling you or he addressed you by a divine pet name. The gasp you swallowed, as your entire body tingled with exhilaration. Your mind would simply disregard it like his former teasing words, but your heart begged to differ.

Rather than responding with words, Jaehyun’s voice serenaded you with a wondrous song, C’est Si Bon by Eartha Kitt, that played on the radio earlier. Out of the blue, a random guitar accompaniment followed his baritone vocals.

“En voyant notre mine ravie,”

Against the railing of your wired balcony, your body shifted forward to watch him better.

“Les passants dans la rue, nous envient,”

Your hand perched on your cheek, admiring his talent.

“C'est si bon de guetter dans ses yeux,”

It was like a lullaby, and here you were drowning in its peacefulness. Sensing the passion he gives off in his singing, your heart couldn’t refrain the strings inside from being swayed and tugged.

This was your moment of realization: that you too were smitten.

“Un espoir merveilleux, qui donne le frisson…”

À la mi-juillet de 1957

“Hello, nature!” You greeted brightly as your legs raced the huge garden in his manor. It was the first time he invited you over, too lazy to go out of the city. His social battery needed a recharge for the weekend, so a picnic within his home would do the trick. Additionally, it was an excuse to bring you over after the numerous times you’ve begged him to.

Jaehyun merely shook his head, enjoying the rush of childlike fun in your veins while you squealed and grazed your hands through the flowers.

He carried a wooden basket full of treats his family maids cooked, taking his time to venture through the rows of flowers. They were growing healthily and phenomenally these days, sometimes riding his bike to personally water them since he became busy with writing again. Lately, he found inspiration again, and so he wrote day and night to set them free.

“Voila!” You yanked out a sunflower, sniffing it a little. “Come on, Jaehyun! Pick up a few for our lunch!”

He followed your order, picking out some he found ideal. But just for fun, he put down the basket and carried you from behind out of the blue. You tried kicking him away, but his muscular arms can’t compete with your soft ones.

“What are you doing?”

“You said to pick up a flower, so I did. The prettiest of them all.”

His flirtatious words were never serious, yet you took it as a compliment. That’s how high your confidence is. Only we define our own worth, not others. The two of you chatted more about your lives until the first rain of the season poured down, chilling down from the raging heat. None of you had an umbrella; the weather was too unpredictable.

Deciding to just run for it, he gave you the wooden basket to protect yourself whilst he used the blanket you’ve sat on. Running with laughter to return to his mansion in the muddy dirt, the cool drops shivered your figure yet felt fantastic.

If you were in the city, you’d panic because it’d mess your appearance and your boss would be infuriated by your unprofessionalism. But in the countryside, it didn’t matter at all. The condition of the rain wasn’t budging to improve, getting stronger by the minute. His entire house even lost power, his housemaids having to bring candles to his bedroom and your assigned one once night dawned.

It was hopeless to return home for you, plus it’s dangerous to drive in in the dark, narrow streets too. Jaehyun handed you some of his fresh clothes so you’d be free from flinching from cold dress sticking to your body.

“Get dressed and some sleep, (Y/N).”

Nodding, you excused yourself to find the bathroom. You’d assume it’d be easy, but this was your first time in his house; a mansion even. Doors from left to right, long corridors that seemed never-ending, no maids were within the vicinity whom you can ask for guidance.

Resorting to return to Jaehyun’s chamber for help, you were taken aback by what your eyes laid on. In front of his full mirror, he discarded his now-dried shirt. Even with the dim lighting, you could make out that he was fit by the transparent view of his abdomen. Peeping like this was wrong, yet you couldn’t turn away just yet. The heat in your cheeks was inevitable, finding composure in such an unholy sight.

Though a gear in you suddenly twisted; a gear that straightened your nerves. You’re taking a bold move on the chessboard of your feelings. Wholly opening his bedroom door again, you leisurely sauntered inside without warning.

“Oh, (Y/N)! Ne peux pas trouver la salle de bain?” (Oh, (Y/N)! Can’t find the bathroom?)

Unbothered as he stood shirtless, you on the other hand silently dropped his clothes on the floor. Holding intense eye contact, your fingers graciously unzipped the side of your dress. Inch by inch, the tension built up like the strong tiny flames lit on the candles around you two. Joining the pile of clothes, all that remained were your white lace undergarments. Unplanned for the get-go, it’s the ideal set for your earlier outfit at the picnic.

“Je me suis perdue, mais je pense avoir trouvé quelque chose de mieux.” (I got lost, but I think I found something better.)

Your fingers grazed your arm up to your collarbones, faking your naivety. From your lust-filled stare, the glint in Jaehyun’s eyes darkened. He gulped at the revealing sight of you, brushing his hair back to restrain himself.

None of you could utter a single word, only the vivacious rain being the only sounds ringing around you. Thus, you allowed your actions to pursue precisely what you desired to do.

Taking baby steps towards him to test the waters, he met you right in the center and closed the leftover space. His hands cradled your face, whilst yours clung to his chest. His lips tasted like red wine, watching him pour in a glass for himself earlier. He did offer, yet you declined.

Your tongue darted his lower lip, gaining access after. Sensing the edge of his bed, you plopped yourself down the cushion. His knee urged your legs to widen, letting his body slide in. From your face, his fingers lowered to the back of your bra, snapping the clasps open.

“It takes skill to accomplish that in one try, Jaehyun.”

“I lived in Paris too, ma chérie. You out of all people would understand and have the experience.”

His palms massaged your freed breasts, throwing your head back even more to his pillows as his lips ravaged down from your stomach until the fabric of your not-so pure panties.

“Call me that again, please.”

“Ma chérie, seras-tu mienne?” (My darling, will you be mine?) He kissed and licked the tiny ribbon in front repeatedly, where your now-swollen clit laid. It electrified your bones, pulling on to his ruffled hair.

“Tu peux m'avoir.” (You can have me.)

Sex in the form of one-night stands were all you’ve invested; upcoming artists like you weren’t capable to maintain long-term relationships. Les plans à trois even if you’re extra freaky or drunk from the afterparties of your events. All that these occurrences had in common were not seeing those men ever again after sneaking out of their apartments in the morning.

This time, it’s different.

When they said that doing the deed with someone you’re romantically entangled with was more special, they didn’t bluff. You could plan bits of your life, but it can sometimes change aspects of it when you least expect it. Sometimes for the best or the worst, but right now, it went beyond your expectations.

It’s rewarding that the man you’ve slowly fallen for within your stay returned your affections.

Around late 3 am that night, your brain jolted with artistic ideas that awoken your sonorous rest. There are no hopes of sleeping them off because they tend to bother you for hours until you do something about it. But you’re already so cozy having Jaehyun’s arms around you, skin to skin under the duvet. His lips daunted right above your forehead, recalling his endless kisses there that helped you fall asleep.

Well, these ideas don’t work themselves unless you do. Untangling him tactfully, you stepped out of the blanket and wore one of his long white shirts he gave you earlier before pulling out your sketchpad and palette of oil paints.

Luckily, there was still one available candle to use as the rest have melted indefinitely. You slid the matchstick again to the sand surface, boring a flame from the friction which you placed on top of the wick.

All your ideas that night leaned towards one thing, or person rather: Jaehyun.

You spent a few minutes retracing how he vividly looked at the picnic, leaning back from the chair of his work desk. His outfit of a turquoise turtleneck underneath a white button-top with trousers matching the said turtleneck looked good together, how his ears tingled red after you complimented his newfound inspiration for his book, and the prominent veins in his arms when he rolled his sleeves due to the heat.

The thin brush you held defined the shape of his face, then paying attention to the messy strands of his hair. Stroking in a circular way to outline his eyelids, a hoarse grunt disturbed the peaceful silence.

“Get back in bed, ma chérie.” His eyes drowsily opened, lying on his side. The moment he no longer felt your warmth, he worried something happened. Instead, you’re working late at night after quite a rough yet romantic night.

“Shush,” You shunned him down with your index finger. “Give me a few more minutes.”

“Perhaps, are you painting me?” He hunched from the covers. “Your eyes looking back and forth would never lie to me, would they?”

“Maybe…” You teased, batting your eyes at him without any risky intentions. Or not?

He deeply chuckled, sluggishly removing himself under the covers. In his pure nudity, he advanced himself towards you. You shrieked, covering yourself with your free hand.

“Jaehyun, stay back! I told you I’ll be there soon!”

Not listening, he carried your bridal style, making you drop your precious palette to the fur rug. Laying you carefully, he popped each button open. By the sight of his cock hardening again, you knew you were in for another round with him.

“Wet again, ma chérie? Oh, this will be fun.”

Fin de juillet 1957

So this kind of summer romance concept that everyone fantasized about… it became your present.

Together you’d stroll in the smaller streets and immerse yourselves in the unique culture of the village. Whenever anyone saw you together, holding hands, biking, or what-not, they’d praise in the name of love for bringing you both together. A romance like yours in the countryside was a lively sight.

Remember how extensions were a possibility if your search for inspiration wasn’t found? Well, it’s not a question that you’d make one, except inspiration found you instead. And he had one arm around you as he slow danced with you in the open grounds of the village, listening to the live band covering song classics.

In particular, Chet Baker. He was Jaehyun’s favorite artist at the moment.

There was an ongoing week-long festival dedicated to summer, giving more plants their bloom and spreading gratitude to the hardworking people. Especially the students, off on their break.

The faint radiance from the post lights as Jaehyun swayed you around, making you laugh as he tried to mumble the lyrics of the song. All those glasses of wine he tried earlier with you from the bartender offering it for free had its effects, and you weren’t off the hook from them either.

Blisters started to form from your ankles, adjusting to the new pair of heels Jaehyun gave (or insisted to buy) you a while ago after staring at them like lasers. You’ve always provided things for yourself that being spoiled by someone else felt weird to you.

“If there’s anything you want me to buy for you, just tell me.”

“How can I buy you if you’re already mine?”

His smooth talk often made you punch his shoulder, but it’s just a mechanism to hide the exhilaration.

Under each other’s spells in your dance, you laid your head on Jaehyun’s chest. Feeling the strong beat of his heart, you were reminded of how much life he’s filled with. And you became a part of it, in the same way he crossed yours.

Jaehyun’s lips sank to the top of your head, pecking it affectionately. The first-ever summer where he wasn’t stuck at his desk working or drinking his life away with his rich friends in their Parisian homes, it couldn’t get better than this.

“Oiii! Flirtez ailleurs!” (Oiii! Flirt somewhere else!) The distinct voice of Jaemin, handing out pastries to passersby, shouted at the both of you, making you flip your middle finger at him.

“Trouve une copine d’abord, d’accord?!” (Find a girlfriend first, alright?!) You shouted back jokingly, almost falling due to the ache of your feet. Your immodest behavior was censored by Jaehyun’s large palms, not wanting the kids around to see it. Whispering closely to your ear,

“Tu es ivre. Laisse-moi te ramener chez toi.” (You’re drunk. Let me take you home.)

You changed back into your sandals as Jaehyun led you through the different alleys. Your vision was too hazy to navigate, so he had one arm wrapped around your shoulders. The weather grew cold too, shivering your bones so he draped you in his blazer.

“Wait,” You stopped, making him do the same. But before he could ask for your reason, your hands yanked him by his suspenders and your legs walked backward to reach the brick wall. Standing in his 5’11 glory, you were overpowered.

Yet your lips captured his effortlessly, raising to your toes to press yourself closer to him. He moved fast, one arm hugging your waist while the other hoisted your leg up. Tangling around his waist, the urge to move your hips against his crotch couldn’t be contained any longer.

Everyone was probably still out at this time or sleeping. The sloppy sounds you’ve produced were beyond suitable for any audience. Not to mention, the nasty words Jaehyun’s pretty mouth spoke in your ears desired you to fall to your knees.

“Not afraid of getting caught, ma chérie? You want me to ruin you right here, right now?”

“God, Jaehyun,” Your hands tugged his belt forward, the friction it gave to your core twitched the naughty side out of you. “Do it, please.”

The idea of public sex thrilled your mind into overdrive, yet you’ve never done it. In Paris, a city where several people started to know your name, you didn’t need a scandal to be plastered in your resume yet.

Jaehyun himself included, and still opted not to give it to you.

“Another time, ma chérie. Your apartment, now.”

The moment you unlocked your apartment door, Jaehyun was far from gentle like in the mansion. Ripping you out of your frilly dress didn’t take long, so was unbuttoning his trousers down to the floor.

On your knees, his hand gave you a makeshift ponytail as your tongue flicked the slit of his cock. Then slowly taking him inch by inch on your mouth, you’d let out a loud pop when you needed to breathe. Your hands fondling his balls, he groaned from the edge of your bed and tightened his hold on you. Tears formulated in your eyes as you got to swallow him whole, uncontrollably bobbing your head.

He felt like putty when he released, your throat taking the salty base. You hastily unhooked your bra in front of him when suddenly, his hand flicked on the fabric of your panties, cueing you to stop your motion.

“Keep them on when you ride me.”

Straddling on his lap, his head laid against the headboard of his bed. His arms roaming around your back to stabilize you, your fingers pushed your panties to the side as you pushed yourself down his protected length. Your moans became shaky. Up and down, you bounced while bracing on his shoulders.

Against his ear, your moans were harmonious. His hips moved against your beat, hitting your g-spot like the sexual ace he is. His thumb rubbing your clit, you shuttered your eyes at the impending high approaching you like a bus.

“I’m close.” You choked out, the overstimulation overwhelming your nerves.

“Fuck, me too.” He grunted, slapping your butt that made you shriek.

Soon enough, everything hit you both all at once. The knot snapped, and so did your body falling on his chest after a single scream. Panting, Jaehyun pecked on your temple as his cock softened up. Once you returned to your senses, you lifted yourself from his length, laying bare beside him.

His eyes started to fall, but before they did, he muttered huskily. “Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

It was the first time he’s said those words in the way they meant, and he’s more than certain that it’s what he felt with you. Sure, it started as mutual infatuation, but now, it can’t leave. Not on his watch.

Love was a concept unfamiliar to you, but Jaehyun slowly taught you what it was and how it felt like. Books and films may give sneak peeks, but to personally give and receive it back was made possible by him.

From this moment on, you could conclude that yes, you reciprocated it.

“Je t’aime aussi, Jaehyun.”

16 octobre 1957

Autumn made its way to the countryside.

The leaves switched into red-brown shades, the weather in the south was warmer, and the wine harvest was highly anticipated. Jaehyun’s camera was a common item in your outings, taking as many photos as he could so the two of you had something to look back on.

Planned and candid, his range was wide. These were moments that proved that your youth was as happy as you wished it to be. You wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Painting in his mansion was a regular thing, having new canvases prepared at his patio. There were so many items that amused you there like you could base your entire collection on his home. It’s not like Jaehyun could argue; it meant more time with you whenever you came over.

“Jaehyun, if you smudge paint on me, so help me Go-” He refused to listen to your “threats”, smearing black paint on your cheek.

“You were saying?” He cockily pestered, showcasing his paint-filled fingers. You dipped one of your brushes into the new paint and chased after him without hesitation. The entire evening became a paint war, a laugh fit even after seeing your reflections in the mirror. But before you could clean yourself, Jaehyun’s camera was by your face and he pressed the button.

“Still breathtaking.”

But the middle of the season arrived, that’s where your planned extension you’ve reached its end. The exhibit was next month, getting calls from your boss regarding your return and the paintings you’ll present. You informed her that you already had them mailed to your studio way back, so there’s nothing much to worry about.

All your bags were packed in the private car Jaehyun rented. Here, you’re bidding your goodbyes to every friend you’ve made outside the doors of your apartment complex, saving your last words with Jaehyun.

The night before, he stayed over and helped you pack your last items in luggage bags. He even brought extra clothes for you so you wouldn’t work extra. You’ve talked it out the whole evening through what happens next to ease your worries. In your bed, he opened the wide windows and pulled you under the sheets.

“Write to me.”

“Call me when you’re free, or whenever you feel like it.”

Leaning against the railing of the stairs, watched the sorrow in your face over this parting. He sensed how bittersweet everything was, but he wouldn’t change anything about it. He’s positive that your story won’t end here, not right now.

Sauntering to him, you sighed whilst taking your bag he held the whole time from him. His touch was tighter as the two of you hugged tenderly, nuzzling his head on your shoulder. The scent of his citrus cologne that implanted in your brain felt comforting, despite the uncertainty of everything between you.

You hinted a minty taste from the menthol candies from his home as his lips brushed yours, colliding it timely. He waited when everyone left, relishing these last seconds.

Stepping inside the vehicle, you waved your summer love farewell one more time before the driver hit the pedal. Your eyes couldn’t stray away from looking back, the distance between him and your former apartment widening. Only when he was no longer in the frame, you shifted your focus back in front.

Your fingers fiddled with the charm bracelet he gifted you from the market. It was custom-made by a jeweler who was great friends with his mother in his younger years. There were two pendants chained on it: a paintbrush and the sun.

“A paintbrush to remind you of your passion, and the sun to remind you of the summer we first met.”

The man was like one of his romance books, in human form. He knew how to catch your breath effortlessly.

Your stay, for now, may have concluded, but there was always next summer. And the ones after that. The village felt like a second home, one you can’t neglect like the other places you’ve lived. Then having Jaehyun here, the more reasons to return.

Undoubtedly the best vacation you’ve ever been in your adult years, one that didn’t sacrifice for your art so you could compete with other artists. The weight on your chest poofed into thin air, and you felt ready for what the next steps as a painter were.

Appreciating the greenery you passed by, you peeked over the side mirror of the car only to find Jaehyun quickly biking in your direction.

Now, what was he up to?

You instantly requested the driver to slow down his pace, rolling down the window of the car. Not caring about the strong winds, “You fool, what are you doing?!”

Although he trusted your last words, he had the greed to see your face again. It would be a long time until he’ll see you in person again. So he pedaled as fast he could to still reach you. Oh, the things you do when you’re in love.

“Mon cœur bat la chamade pour toi, (Y/N)!” [My heart beats loudly for you, (Y/N)!]

You giggled at his silliness, throwing out flying kisses.

“Je reviendrai bientôt, Jaehyun!” (I’ll come back soon, Jaehyun!)

21 octobre 1957

Only your friends at the studio gave you a warm welcome back, receiving comments like “get back to work” from your first encounter with your boss. Popping a champagne glass open after work hours on the rooftop of your studio, they interrogated you with all the questions they could think of.

“So this village in Provence…. was it beautiful as the tourists said?” Ten, who moved from his home in Thailand to Paris at a young age, expressed his curiosity whilst leaning against the railing overlooking the Eiffel Tower.

“Beautiful is an understatement, Ten. I miss it dearly!” You heaved a sigh, twirling your glass.

“So this inspiration you were looking for…” Amélie, your dear friend since your university days, created some tension as she prolonged her last word. Playfulness twinkled in her eyes, crossing her legs. “Was a person involved by any chance?”

For a moment, your throat almost gagged on the sizzling alcohol going down.

“What do you mean?” You acted clueless, pouring your now empty glass with more booze. But the moment Ten gave you the troublesome look coordinating with Amélie, you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. These two were such gossips in and out of the studio.

Ten took the seat across you on the table and leaked all his pent-up information.

“So you know Seo Youngho, the only son of the Seo family. Rich, socialite, a total hotshot… yeah, all that jazz.” He dived in, seeing you nod over knowing that man. Someone in the past you’ve slept with, but that’s another story. “Well, Amelie and I attended one of his parties at his large penthouse. He had his usual crowd there; Kim Doyoung, Lee Taeyong, Nakamoto Yuta, and Lee Minhyung. But fun fact: there’s another member in that friend group who doesn’t go to these kinds of events.”

“Here’s where it gets interesting,” Amélie excitedly took off like the pipelette (chatterbox) she is. “Youngho, who was talking to us for a bit, asked where you’ve run off. Poor him, he must’ve missed you in his bed but anyway! We told him that you went down south somewhere in Provence for a break. Oddly enough, he mentioned how the mentioned member moved back there for the same reason.”

Ten and Amélie gave each other another frisky look, merely to piss you off. So predictable of them.

“Get to the point please!” You screeched.

“Jeong Jaehyun, ever heard of him?” Amélie imitated your tone of voice. “I mean, you should since you made a whole painting of him.”

“H-How,” Speechless, that’s what you were. Ten went on a fit of giggles, signaling the build-up of his intoxication.

“Youngho visited the studio to find a specific painting for his home, and we helped him in choosing. Then when your deliveries of paintings arrived that day and were unwrapped, the look on his face when he saw Jaehyun’s painting was priceless. Things started to add up, especially when he told us that he called up Jaehyun prior, he said that Jaehyun was seeing a girl during his stay there.”

“A young, burnt-out painter from Paris, to be specific.”

They’ve put you on the edge of the cliff, and it was too close to call it a coincidence. Of all things to be revealed, this had to be the first.

“Well, I was waiting for another time to tell you guys about him though.”

Their gasps of joy could give you guys a noise complaint by the neighbors, telling all about your escapades of him and you. During it, the more you missed seeing him daily either on his bike or his car. It was stuck in your routine, but now it’s reverted to your old one.

Could the next summer come any faster?

14 février 1958

Perhaps your newest collection at the Louvre was your most successful one yet.

Entitled “Inspirez, Expirez” (Breathe In, Breathe Out), your sceneries during your stay in the village varied. An old couple slow dancing under the night sky, and the quiet district of shops Jaehyun took you, those were some of your last additions.

A multitude of positive reviews on the newspapers and art magazines came in, commending on taking on a fresher, brighter outlook for a change whilst finding your spark again. As fulfilling it was, what you longed the most was the one responsible for it.

Lately, it’s been tough to contact him. His maids always answered the calls, informing you that he was busy with work or family matters. It’s so rare for him to act like this. Whatever it was, it wasn’t grand or serious hopefully.

Back to your collection, tonight was the last night of it. Just in time for Valentine’s day, where numerous socialite lovers embarked on this event, but you’re more fixated that it was also Jaehyun’s birthday. A boy full of love born on the day dedicated for it, things made more sense. In case, you’ve sent your birthday wishes to him through letter and passing the message to one of his maids. Even on his special day, he hasn’t reached out to you.

But to momentarily forget about that, there was a closing ceremony held for this exhibit with the other artists involved, and it was your turn to give your final remarks. More esteemed socialites and journalists were present, which didn’t halt your nerves the slightest. You were a professional after all, holding pride in your craft as you stood in front of the microphone wearing your new favorite custom-made gown.

There are perks when you have close friends in the fashion industry, specifically Kim “Key” Kibum from the House of Key. After defending him from a disrespectful client when you were picking up a dress for your boss during your internship years, not only did you earn his respect, but an invite to his shows and first claiming of new items from his collections. Dining in expensive restaurants in the metro was a plus, catching up on your lives. Sometimes calling each other out for your sexcapades too.

Speaking of him, he was in the crowd that night, ordering every photographer to take photos of your gorgeous self in one of his dresses. Or in your opinion, bribing some by how he stuffed a few thick stacks of Euro bills down their pockets.

Only one of it ever made. A dark green satin v-neck off-the-shoulder gown, where diamonds adorned your neck and ears and white stilettos kept your perfect balance. Also courtesy of Key.

Because it’s the winter season, he gifted you a limited edition white fur coat every socialite tried getting their hands on. Your hair was styled in a bun, emphasizing your dark tinted lips from this new lipstick Amelie insisted you buy.

Most people would get the first impression that you were one of the socialites, a child from one of the affluent families even. But you were a lot more remarkable than that, having inborn talent in the arts that you specialized over your youth and rising to the top without any parental help.

“Thank you to everyone for their endless support towards the magnificent collections of each artist present. As for mine, I am grateful to rechannel my creative side by taking a break. Rather than romanticizing overworking our bones to the core, there’s nothing wrong with taking a step back from the pressure. Being alive is a blessing, realizing further how our youth won’t stay with us forever. Being away from the boisterous cities, I found relaxation in the countryside of Provence.”

Your lips quirked into a grin as every single memory during that time reeled in your head like a movie. “The beauty of Provence cannot be simply put in words. The muses I’ve encountered were more than lovely, especially the man behind the Poetic Rose. With that, I sincerely thank everyone from my bottom of my heart and I hope to continue to support me in the years to come.”

The applause roared once you stepped down the platform, shaking hands with every esteemed guest with more gratitude as they praised you. These days, socializing with them was a lot easier. You’ve even taken more initiative to greet people first before they do, conversing with them easily about anything.

Key definitely noticed that as you toured him around your section, holding his nth glass of wine for the night.

“You, Madame (Y/N), transformed into a social butterfly.” He nudged your shoulder, smirking once he got a better view of his favorite painting from you. “I guess that’s the thing when you’re in love.”

“I beg your pardon?”

With this free hand, he motioned it up and down at the painting in front of you. “The Poetic Rose is none other than the youngest son of the Jeong family, whom I’ve met through his older sister, Krystal.”

“Am I really the only one who doesn’t know him?!” You stressed, jokingly. Key was elated to capture you in his trap, the changes of your personality too evident in his eyes. Figuring it out that it was love took a while, but being acquainted with Krystal, she’s the one who told him that her younger brother was in love with a painter in Provence. Do the math.

“I’ve met him through his older sister, one of my highly favored clients. He’s not much of a socialite like her, so I don’t really blame you for that.”

Searching for a waiter to refill your wine glasses, a surprise emerged the both of you.

“Madame Krystal, you’re absolutely stunning.”  Key complimented her, giving the engaged heiress of Jeong Tea Inc. kisses on the cheek as respect. Her recent engagement to Kim Donghyun, her childhood sweetheart and also the heir of Kim Couture, was the talk of the town.

They arrived at the event together, drawing the attention of everyone in the room earlier. Now, he was speaking to a few influential socialites he made a deal with this week about the art collections present.

“Key, you never fail to look fantastic,” She remarked positively, poking his necktie before placing her undivided attention on you. “So you must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’re beyond bewildering in that gown.”

“Flattered to hear that, Madame Krystal. Such a pleasure to meet you.”

The three of you chatted as if you were the only people there. From art, passion, and love, pride filled in your chest when you toured your collection. It was like walking down memory lane for her, adding out how she used to climb the peach tree with her younger brother during their childhood. Once her eyes laid on Poetic Rose, she took her time admiring it.

“My younger brother grew up well. That’s all I could ever hope for as his only older sister.” She paused, noticing how silent you became when you stared at the painting along with her. She observed the passion lit in your eyes, yet there was longing behind it by the way your lips pouted briefly. “You must really love him, do you?”

“I do, truly. After meeting him, not only was I boosted with so much ideas, but my heart embraced him for what and who he is in this universe.” You professed confidently, earning an approving smile from Krystal.

“If that’s how you feel, why not tell him that yourself?”

Her fingers gestured you to turn around. Stood in a grey suit with his brown hair slicked back, it was like seeing a completely new person. A handsome one though. His fashion in the countryside heavily differed from his fashion in the cities. So sophisticated and refined, he looked like a prince straight out of a fairytale.

Your fairytale.

“Jaehyun.”

It’s like everything stopped once he sprinted towards you, pulling you off your feet for a snug hug. Your arms threw themselves on his neck by instinct, not wasting a single second in his grasp. Your nose inhaled the woody scent of his cologne, something more formal than his usual fruity scent.

The smell of aftershave in his jaw couldn’t go ignored either, assuming that he must have had plans to go out tonight. Nonetheless, you squealed as if you were back in Provence, giggling at his boldness. Once he put you down, neither of you could get your hands off each other.

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you’d be in Paris!” Clutching your waist, you gazed at him with doe-like eyes, instilling confusion.

“J’ai voulu te surprendre, my chérie.” (I wanted to surprise you, my darling.)

He chuckled, pushing some straying strands of your hair behind your ear. His eyes evoked so much endearment towards this elegant look you prepared, making his heart race as if he were in the gardens of his manor again.

Hearing his petname for you again attacked your heart every time no matter how much time passed, he lifted your chin high. Jaehyun urged himself to kiss you senseless right there, leaning lower. And yes, you anticipated it by how your eyes instantly closed.

Only if it weren’t for Krystal to clear her throat, obviously ruining the mood. Flinching away from your sensual lover, you rubbed the nape of your neck. Towards an heiress like her, it must’ve been unprofessional.

“Couldn’t you at least wait until I left, younger brother?” Her fingers flicked Jaehyun’s forehead, a teasing trick they used to do as kids. Even if she was a lot shorter now, it didn’t mean the impact was weak. He cursed under his breath, covering his forehead.

Stifling your laughter was a failure, crinkling your eyes to unleash your emotions. So this is what their sibling dynamic was like?

“Now excuse me, older sister. You didn’t tell me you were visiting the exhibit after my birthday dinner with our parents?” He crossed his arms, exchanging a judgmental look. For his sake, he wanted to maintain his pride. “All you said after dinner was that you were going straight home with your fiancé after all the alcohol mother gave you because it made you lightheaded.”

“Well, you know Key and his persuasiveness. He insisted I attend this event last minute because all the collections were amazing.” She explained, shedding a subtle glance at you. “Plus, it’s an excuse to finally meet this lovely girl you raved so much through your letters.”

Jaehyun kept his family life private, so this piece of information was new to you. The unpredicted way the fluttering feeling drew in your stomach, all you could do was smile from the flattery.

“He spoke about me to you?”

“More than speak, my dear. He practically professed his love for you, asking me advice on how to court a girl, make them smile, etcetera. You’re the first girl he’s been this affectionate with, and I completely understand now.” She patted your shoulder, hopeful. She had such a strong older sister vibe, reminding you of your older siblings back home. “You’re a clever, talented woman. I look forward to seeing you more often.”

As you nodded in approval, she turned towards her brother with her recurring teasing look. “Yah, Jaehyun. You better take care of her. If she ever sheds a tear because of you, I’m hunting you down in the gardens.”

“Harsh of you, Krystal.” He planted his hand on his chest, feigning pain. “But no worries. Having you and mother around me kept me well-mannered towards women growing up.”

Playfulness aside, Krystal felt honored towards her younger brother. Men these days maintained their sexist beliefs and rudeness, especially those who doubted her high position in the family business once her father stepped down. Nowadays, it’s men like Jaehyun who could really challenge the patriarchy and make women pursue a lot more than being limited as a housewife.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now please excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

Krystal waltzed her way out without tripping from her slight intoxication, which Jaehyun worried about earlier. But anyway, that left him alone with you. Filled with so many questions, you didn’t know where to start.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to Paris? Why didn’t you acknowledge my birthday wishes to you? Why aren’t you answering my calls and letters?” You blurted without wasting a breath, weren’t trying to come off as needy, but it became peculiar when he was contacting you like usual.

You pushed off thinking of the worst scenarios, not wanting it to ruin your drive and your emotions either. Yet you trusted Jaehyun enough to know he wasn’t the type of person either.

“Okay slow down, ma chérie.” His hands maneuvered for you to stop for a bit. “Ask me one by one and I’ll give you a solid answer for each while we roam around.”

He arrived in Paris last week, which was initially for work. Then his birthday clashing was a coincidence. It would be too lonely to go home and celebrate his special day alone, so he extended. But again, it’s his work that caused his abrupt contact.

When you were too busy delving into the success of recovering your inspiration, he also found his spur to write again too. Day and night, his mind kept him tedious with an endless trail of thoughts and words. Overall, he finalized it then brought the end product to the same publishing house where his books in the past went through.

In fact, he decided to publish them specifically today on his birthday. The only day in his itinerary he planned, where after publishing, he’d hang out with his friends, have dinner with his family then run off to reunite with you.

“I didn’t intend to make you feel like a second choice, so please forgive me for that, ma chérie.”

“All is forgiven, Jaehyun.” You held both his hands, kissing them tenderly out of habit. “I’m overjoyed that you rekindled your creative side again.”

You were so understanding and empathetic, and Jaehyun aimed to act that way too. He learned so much from you as his friend before being his lover. Quickly enough, you’re both back to his portrait in the center. Like a critic, he narrowed his eyes and scrunched his nose. Tapping his chin with his finger,

“This man in Poetic Rose, he’s quite dashing.” He commented with conceit, walking closer to it to view it better. “His freckles are on point, his dimples and dazzling eyes too. Why exactly is he described as a Poetic Rose?”

“Well sir,” You stood beside him, imitating his actions. “This man here always spoke so eloquently, like he had a very poetic approach on life. He reminded me also of a rose by his rosy tinted cheeks and his beauty. He was alluring inside and out.”

“Is he your favorite muse?”

“I never quoted him as a muse because he’s more than that. Muses can be replaced once they no longer serve purpose towards the artist. Though with him, he’s the never-ending flame that I want to keep for the rest of time."

You held on to his hand, interlocking your fingers with his. The apparent reddening of his ears proved that he was flustered, yet you spoke no lies.

“Joyeux anniversaire, ma flamme.” (Happy birthday, my flame.)

“Merci beaucoup, ma chérie.” (Thank you, my darling.)

Something about his new release piqued your attention so you brought it up again.

“So tell me about your new book.”

“Let me show you instead.” Inside the blazer, there was an inner pocket that sealed a small hardbound book. Taking it out, he handed it over to you. “This is your copy.”

The cover of the book had an illustration of two young adults running down the fields under the bright sun, with the title written in cursive and placed in the center.

“L’Été de 1957.” (The Summer of 1957.)

Like a child who received a new gift in the mail, you flipped the book open. Seeing the table of contents and credits to other important people involved in the process, there was a detailed dedication right before the starting chapter. It’s an unexpected page, noticing that he never put anything like this in his last works.

“Pour ma chérie, qui a peint les couleurs manquantes de ma vie.” (For my darling, who painted the missing colors of my life.)

Although Jaehyun planned to write about the couples he met in the countryside, he chose to change his perspective. Instead, he based this new book on your summer romance, installing more original characters who made your romance blossom more.

“I was once so engaged in listening to people’s love stories, hung up on what they felt.” He expounded, pacing around the floor whilst you skimmed through the pages. There were black and white photos from your adventures too to wrap the reader further in the story.

“While I was struggling to find the next story, I realized late that my story with you was a perfect choice. When I fell in love with you, it’s like I didn’t have to fret anymore about anything. Everything slowly yet surely aligned into place for me. Like how we found inspiration in each other.”

A poetic speaker meant having a poetic, wise mind. You kept an open mind whenever Jaehyun shared his thoughts on life with you, an intimate time that didn’t require using your bodies. Whether you were stargazing or drinking wine by his patio, his soulful personality never changed.

“So I recapped every single memory we had and compiled them,” He resumed, taking a closer step towards yours. His warm hands grasped your waist again, catching a glimpse of your astonished face. Mostly, towards your lips that he missed feeling against his.

“This book expressed my own take on love this time, the one I want to grow in.”

You’d care less if you dropped the book and your coat right there, your major desire to kiss him again was driving your senses to the edge of a cliff. Nothing could’ve braced yourself the second you fervently collided your lips with his. It didn’t feel like you were in this exhibit, but somewhere back in his mansion engulfed in each other’s presence.

Your legs almost melted by your daring move, if it weren’t for Jaehyun’s arm moving upwards to your back to stabilize you more. Your body tingled with goosebumps due to his relaxing fingers all over your body. His tongue caved in your lips, and you couldn’t ban its access.

Such an explicit sight, it felt forbidden as you were inches away from the public crowd. Yet it was the least of your worries if they made a big fuss over it. Jaehyun was here again with you, and that was more valuable to you. He savored every trace of your touches, taking his delicate time with you. No past birthday could defeat this, especially when it’s the first one to celebrate with you. The first of many.

As much you wanted to keep this up for hours, your lungs started feeling constricted of air so your lips timidly let go. Though your hands couldn’t, your overwhelmed eyes couldn’t shift away from the heart-stopping view of your lover. Wherein even after such a fearless session, his eyes fused with love and need with his plumper lips.

“Everything about Provence, especially you, that’s the life I want.” You confessed this concealed secret that’s revolved your head for a while now. Yet its certainty was true.

“Are you sure, ma chérie? What about work?” As an artist, he believed you should stay where everything is accessible. Yet as his woman, he wanted you to follow your heart. Jaehyun didn’t want you to choose or struggle.

“I’ve grown out from the idea that the city life was the only life meant of an artist like me.” You replied, confident enough to discuss it after deep thought. “Cities like Paris hold exciting, vigorous flames that will have you clinging on to them. But then, they’ll eventually die the longer you stay. You get burned in the process too. However, I stand by what I said earlier. I found an endless flame when I met and began loving you, Jaehyun. It doesn’t sting at all; it illuminates strongly every living day.”

Urging him to lower his stance with your fingers, you stated one last phrase. “Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

“If that’s the case,” Jaehyun acknowledged, sticking his arm out for you. “Let’s get out of here.”

Astounded expressions crowded the socialites in the event as they watched the both of you exit together. If the news of Krystal and Donghyun weren’t crazy enough, some journalists figured the mysterious man behind The Poetic Rose and spread it like wildfire.

How was the youngest son of the Jeong family turned renowned romance novel author connected to the impressive, up-and-coming painter from London?

What really went down in Provence?

“How can you miss out on the signs? Did you not see them share a kiss earlier?” Key protested to those who weren’t approving whatever relationship you guys had. He loved his tea but hated those who simply were money hungry. Wanting a chance to be a part of the rich family, only to fish them out of their riches sooner or later.

Meanwhile, the winter season didn’t stop any of you from roaming the streets of Paris. Moments like these were a preview of the future you’ve envisioned with Jaehyun. Youthful, free, and fiery, a love between two artists created more magic not just in their crafts but to those around them.

Promenading a street overlooking the Seine River, Jaehyun took out a smaller instant camera from his pocket and took a candid shot of you. Stunned, you slapped his chest with your bag.

“Hey! Just how many more things are hidden in your blazer?”

“Just my wallet and a few condoms. Why’d you ask?” He raised a suggestive brow, feigning good intentions.

You hummed, faking your deep thought mindset. “At this rate, I don’t think we’ll make it back to my apartment alive.”

Jaehyun tugged you by your coat, his lips hovering your ear to whisper. “If we call a cab right now, I can finger you in the backseat.”

You chuckled at his vulgar idea, but it seemed ideal. You loved the thrill of getting caught or having someone overhearing you two, just like him. Besides, his fingers don’t match up to yours when you touch yourself alone in your apartment. You bat your eyelashes, giving in.

“Deal.”

6 ans plus tard (1964)

Summer returned, the sun strongly smiling down to the plentiful flowers at your family garden. By the patio of your home, your canvas was already laid by the easel stand. Shades of yellow were applied first to symbolize the brightness of the day, following the outline of your desired scenery for this piece.

Dipping the brush in water to change colors, you took another glance at the breezy sky. Light blue with clouds resembling soft pillows, you inhaled gently as your brush faintly stroked the canvas again.

Your hair was tied in a bun, meaning that you’re in for a busy session. But a more soothing one as the jazz music flowed from the vinyl player inside. Stress was the last thing you needed right now.

“What’s madame artiste up to right now?” Your husband piped in from behind, placing down a tray of tea and crackers. With some top buttons of his white top left unattended, you glimpsed on his toned chest when he leaned down. But you mustn’t pry whilst working, even when temptation was calling your name repeatedly.

“The summer sunshine healed me of my discomfort, so I think it’s about time I painted again.” You chewed on the snack, looking back and forth to the view. As enchanting as all the flowers you and him planted over the years grew, you’re more amused by a little boy strolling around it with his magnifying glass and tiny wooden basket with his furry puppy by his side.

His tiny legs often troubled the two of you because he enjoyed spending time with nature. Only God knows what he found in the garden this time.

“Adrien est explorer encore. Devrais-je lui dire qu’il change de place, ma chérie?” (Adrien is exploring again. Should I tell him to change places, my darling?) Jaehyun cautiously asked, not wanting his 3 year old son to impair your perspective.

“Non,” (No,) You held on to his hand, kissing it sweetly. Although you peeved any unnecessary details found in your scenery in the past, Adrien was an exception. As his mother, it’s hard to say no to him unless necessary.

“Il est un garçon curieux, alors il devrait explorer et flâner où il veut.” (He’s a curious boy, so he should explore and wander wherever he wants.)

Life ever since you returned to the countryside shifted into something more precious than you imagined. From moving places constantly, you found a home to settle in for good. A home with overflowing love and inspiration. A home within Jeong Jaehyun.

Recently, you halted your work-related activities in Paris and came home because you were heavily homesick. It even affected your health as a whole. So you made adjustments with your schedules, postponing appearances to events to next year.

On the plus side, you could be more active as a mother to Adrien. It felt like you burdened Jaehyun to take care of Adrien most of the time because he mainly worked from home, wherein important people who wanted to meet him would have to fly out to the countryside.

Back and forth to Paris, your presence towards Adrien often lacked. Here came your biggest fear, which was Adrien forgetting you. But Jaehyun told you over and over again that it wasn’t the case. As he listened to every wrenching thought you had, but he’d combat it with heartfelt words of reassurance so you wouldn’t overanalyze things.

He vowed to love and take care of you when times get hard, and he will continue doing so.

Remember when you said how his mansion felt too big?

It no longer did after getting married.

It gave more room to grow and breathe more life into it. When Adrien was born, he was the prime reflection of your and Jaehyun’s love. He mirrored his father’s physical traits but with a daring personality like yours. A perfect mixture, the world worked amazingly to bring a boy like him into your life.

“Maman! Papa!” Adrien bolted to where you and Jaehyun stood. From the clothes he wore, it’s very much clear that his father was in charge of it whilst you slept in the entire morning. Suspenders, capri shorts, a white shirt, and a red beret, he deserved his title as Jaehyun’s mini-me.

Jaehyun swelled with pride and love for his only son, peeking over what he brought to show and tell you both. “Oh Adrien, what do you have for us today?”

In his basket, there were 3 sunflowers stuck out from the edge. It’s been a while since you’ve seen some in full bloom, lowering your stance to get a more vivid view. He took them out to hand them to you and your husband.

One flower for Jaehyun and two for you. You let out a gasp, scrunching your brows to the center. He always gave one of each item to you and Jaehyun, never more or less.

“Ooh, deux fleurs pour Maman. Pourquoi, Rien?” (Ooh, two flowers for Mama. Why, Rien?) Jaehyun let his nickname out for his lips while you grasped his small hand.

“Well, I heard from Olivier next door that on his birthday, he gave extra flowers to his mother so he could have another sibling. And it worked!” He spoke so innocently, yet it hitched a choke from Jaehyun’s chest. Your eyes widened from disbelief. The information he collected due to his curiosity, no boundaries truly.

“Le mois prochain, c’est mon anniversaire. Je me demandais si je peux avoir un frère ou sœur comme Olivier? Tu es toujours occupée, comme Papa. Je ne veux plus être seul, alors je veux une amie aussi.” (It’s my birthday next month, and I was wondering if I can have a sibling like Olivier? You are always busy, like Papa. I don’t want to be alone anymore, so I want a friend too.)

You exchanged looks with Jaehyun, not knowing how exactly to respond. Although you and Jaehyun did agree that you wanted more than one child when you were younger, neither of you brought it up again since your careers were always loaded with plans.

Adrien was a surprise child actually, conceived on the night where you and Jaehyun celebrated after L’Été de 1957 was announced to be the best-selling romance novel of the decade in the country.

In Paris at his family home, where his parents brought out all their prized liquor, the two of you drank the entire night away to the point Krystal and Donghyun had to push you away from each other from your public affections because their children were present.

But it didn’t stop you two once you reached his bedroom, far away from everything and everyone. And you’ll never change it.

“Oh, Rien,” You eased in, consoling him. “Je suis désolé. Mais c’est franchement une grande demande, n'est-ce pas?” (I am sorry. But that’s quite a big request, right?)

“Mom and I will think about it first, okay? Another kid is a big responsibility, and you’ll be their older brother. That’s another important job, can you do it well?”

“Yes, I can, Papa!” He beamed with glee, his covered head patted by his father after. As you placed the sunflowers beside your palette, Adrien then proceeded to ask you if he could paint with you like old times.

Never you refuse especially with his sparkling round eyes and chubby face that makes you want to squish every time.

As you lifted his light body to sit on your lap, you placed your brush between his stubby fingers and carefully aimed in whatever angle seemed fit so the painting process would run smoothly and perfectly. He let out sounds of amazement when the strokes get bigger, jumping slightly too because the picture became more vivid. You’d smile and coo at him, commending whenever he followed instructions well. As his mother, you only encouraged your child in whatever they want to excel in.

Adrien was the child of two artists, so it was only natural that he had an artistic side in his veins.

Too caught up in your fun, hearing the automatic shutter of the camera from your side was delayed. The source was none other than Jaehyun hiding behind his camera. Jaehyun’s heart soared at the heavenly view of the most important people in his life, wanting to treasure the moment as a lovely memory.

“Hey!” You shouted, placing down the messy brush by the palette. “Je suis très laid!” (I am very ugly!)

“Shh! Tu est rayonnant, ma chérie. Papa est juste, Rien?” (Shh! You are glowing, my darling. Papa is right, Rien?)

Jaehyun politely quizzed the peppy boy, nodding excitedly. His dimples deeply showed up, the main trait he claimed from his father.

“Oui, papa! Maman est toujours belle!” (Yes, papa! Mama is always beautiful!)

He exclaimed, pecking your cheek numerously. You squealed, attacking him with tickles and kisses back. His shouts of delight, then he was suddenly carried by your tall husband in the air like he was flying in the sky. Adrien enjoyed that motion highly, ending up on Jaehyun’s shoulders shortly after to play by the garden again.

“Go paint. I’ll take care of him now.” Jaehyun persuaded, roaming through the long rows of flowers in full bloom. Though seconds after adding some strokes to your piece, you let down your hair, put a hat and sandals on, and ran to the cute duo to join them.

And that’s how your family spent the entire afternoon. By the garden, running around and taking photos and short videos from Jaehyun’s camera. Freezing these valuable memories, this was truly the life you loved so much.

After your break, you could convince the company you worked at that you’d prefer fewer trips to Paris and stay in the countryside longer. How badly you’ve wanted to hold your exhibits here instead. Plus like Jaehyun, let influential people visit you. You’ve already made a big name for yourself now, so that should be valid enough.

Dinner time passed by quickly too, eventually putting Adrien to a smooth slumber as you massaged the roots of his soft hair while Jaehyun sang him a lullaby. This was your joint parenting technique with him since he was a newborn, and it worked quickly as lightning.

You redressed into your silk nightgown after bringing your canvas to the master bedroom, opening the balcony doors to invite the cool breeze in. You tweaked some bits of your painting, including a silhouette of your small family. Regarding where to place it, probably by the living room as it matched the theme.

“What a spectacular day, don’t you think, ma chérie?” Jaehyun conversed, admiring the calm movements of your brush. He noticed a quirky smile grace your lips.

“It’s been a long time since we had quality time like that with Rien. He’s a feisty ball of energy these days.” You replied with a nostalgic daze. “It’s so crazy how one day, he was still crawling to us. Now, he could outrun the both of us.”

“Comme le temps passe vite, hmm?” (How time flies fast, hmm?) Nodding, nothing braced for what your husband had in mind. You almost dropped your brush mid-way. Jaehyun’s lips impatiently devoured your neck, his huge hands fondling your breasts. Violently throwing your head back against his chest, a needy moan parted your lips.

“Jae-” His touches reaching south to where you desired him highly, dampening hastily as your legs naturally spread apart. Rushed exhales, “À quoi tu penses maintenant?” (What are you thinking about right now?)

“Rien se sent seul,” (Rien feels alone,) His hot breath whispered against your ear, his fingers dangerously trailing your thin panties up and down. With your hands tightly clutching on his bicep,

“Alors, donnons-lui une amie.” (We should give him a friend.)

Ever since Adrien mentioned such a daring topic, it hasn’t left Jaehyun’s mind the whole day. After seeing you in utter bliss with your son earlier, he found you so majestic and radiant. It’s a different kind of happiness, especially for parents.

Now you went on hiatus, he thought that it was the right time to have another. He enjoyed his younger years with Krystal, and he wanted Adrien to experience it too. 3 years was quite a wait, and it seemed ideal to try again.

From his nude chest, you flipped around to intensely clash his lips with yours. Draping your arms behind his neck, Jaehyun lifted your entire figure from the chair. His hands gripping on your butt, he delicately lowered you down your bed.

Drowning into his sensual kisses with his hands all over you, this could prolong for hours. Reddening love marks started to resurface whilst your fingers tugged on the drawstring of his pajama pants. Jaehyun’s fingers dove under the fabric of your panties, his index finger rubbing figure 8s the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You struggled to swallow your moans, not wanting Rien to hear it. You wouldn’t want to repeat history, covering it as Jaehyun massaging you after a hard day.

“I know you want one too, ma chérie.” His fingers began to drape down the straps of your gown, presenting your breasts in its full, perky view. But before his lips could suck on your erect nipples, you parted momentarily from him and got up on your feet. Pulling up your straps again, Jaehyun simply laid down but he wasn’t pleased from how you left him hanging.

“Où vas-tu, ma chérie?” (Where are you going, sweetheart?)

He was growing impatient. You were never to interrupt such a sexy atmosphere ever.

From one of your drawers in your vanity table, an important, half-opened envelope was hidden. You were supposed to give it tomorrow but now seemed like a perfect time. Reading it as soon one of the maids handed it to you gave you the jitters, but in a positive way. Sitting back down on the edge of your bed, you exhilaratingly passed it to your husband.

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” (What is this?)

“Ouvre-le.” (Open it.)

Jaehyun slowly opened the edges and once he took out the contents. Reading it thoroughly, he couldn’t believe it as his jaw dropped, pacing from the letter and you back and forth.

“Vraiment, ma chérie?” (Really, my darling?)

It was from a doctor you visited in Paris a few days before you left, who confirmed just exactly what caused your health to go feeble suddenly. You already had one certain suspicion, which you addressed in your leave of absence letter. Amelié, who finally got the position as the head, couldn’t believe her ears and insisted you take all the time off you needed.

“On dirait que Adrien a reçu son cadeau d'anniversaire en avance.” (It looks like Adrien received his birthday gift early.)

Overall, it turned out the headaches and repeated vomiting you mistook as motion sickness from traveling was a surprise hello to your second child.

A girl specifically, thanks to the blood test she recommended.

“Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

“Montre moi combien tu m’aimes, Jaehyun.” (Show me how much you love me, Jaehyun.)

The whole night through, the two of you vigorously celebrated with the moonlight from the windows and a few scented candles set in the room. Wet kisses left on your collarbone, words of devotion exchanged, holding his hand as he groaned from heartily thrusting in you, the number of moans from your lips overlapped with the vinyl playing in the room. The intimacy between you two increased, almost as if you made love for the first time again all those years ago.

Excluding being drenched from the rain.

Once the two of you grew tired, Jaehyun lied down beside you. Wrapping one arm around, one hand trailed down your naked skin again. His wedding band flashed your eyes, reminding you of the commitment you promised each other. For better, and for worse.

Jaehyun promised to love you endlessly as a woman and his wife, and it didn’t cease when you became the mother of his children. He respected how strong you are, physically and mentally. He helped you in any way he could as you endured the struggling process.

At the end of the day, his family was his biggest priority. More than ever now, you needed him as you go through the pregnancy phases again. Specifically, his index finger lingered on your stomach. There was no bump or other signs of showing, except for that glow he complimented you earlier on.

“We met and fell in love over the summer, got married in summer, had Adrien mid-summer, and now found out about our daughter at the start of summer.” He smiled, blessed at all the good he’s received during this time.

“The summer gods must adore us.” Your vacant hand with your wedding band topped his. To love and to cherish. “Ils m'ont amené à toi.” (They brought me to you.)

His power on you was simply addicting, as if your early twenties revisited you. You straddled himself once again, your fingers caressing his face sweetly. When it reached his lips, he placed longing kisses there and pulled you closer again for another kiss on your lips. In between, you mumbled in a silvery tone,

“Then they led us to say I do. Pour toujours et à jamais.”

copyright © 2021 by alluringjae.

[raisinghellonstarbug]

Stumbled Into Laughter, Stumbled Into You - A James Acaster x Reader Story

Basic plot: The year is 2019, and life has been quite dull for you since working in a job that you hate for the past two years after graduating from university. You used to do stand up comedy at uni, but you’ve been putting off pursuing it due to lack of confidence and motivation. Your best mates decide to encourage you to try a comedy mic night for the first time ever and while there you incidentally run into an old mate of yours, comedian Rhys James. That’s when your life gets turned around as you end up diving into the world of the comedy circuit and becoming close with other famous British comedians. In the midst of it all, you end up meeting a particularly distinctive red headed fellow who might end up being the very thing that brings meaning to your life again.

*

A/N: Hello Acaster fans!

So this was an idea I have had in mind for the last few months and I finally finished the first chapter of my story!

Just so you know, the first chapter does not include James, but be patient as he will appear soon (but maybe not quite as soon as you hope). I do reckon it will be worth the wait for his appearance, or at least I hope the story is still enjoyable! It is a slow burn so if you are an inpatient person, then this story might not be for you ;)

You can read this chapter below or if you prefer, there is also the link to the chapter posted on Ao3 right here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33748507

-

Rating: M

Chapter 1 word length: 2326

Characters: James Acaster (duh), Original Female Characters(s), Original Male Character(s), Rhys James, Ed Gamble, Nish Kumar, Josh Widdicombe

Relationships: James Acaster x Reader/you, Original female character/Original Male character

Story tags: Romantic comedy, domestic fluff, slow burn, fluff and smut, British comedy, eventual relationships

Tagging: @laurabeech @rilannon @jasclearwaters @marklily @queensantiagoofthe99

Chapter 1 - Summer 2019

You were sitting at your desk at your mundane job, practically ready to blow your brains out on the usual, dull Thursday afternoon. It was really warm and stuffy inside the fifteen story office block building situated in Canary Wharf. This was a place you found yourself five days a week, doing the typical 9 to 5 hours. A usual day for a usual person.

Your job wasn’t a particularly riveting one. As an underwriter for an insurance company, some days could get especially boring. You knew how to do the job well, but it was not something you really loved. It involved all kinds of clients and claims in paperwork and it sometimes felt tedious and unfulfilling. But hey, it still paid your share of rent and bills. At least you could say you could manage in the hustle and bustle of the London lifestyle.

It was nearly hometime and you were itching to get home and relax. But before that could happen, there were those last set of insurance cover forms you had to copy to get sent to the HR department. And so you typed away on your laptop, clickety clack, clickety clack… the minutes went by like a chalk on a blackboard, scraping away at a snail’s pace.

You put your full force of concentration on the documents on the screen until it was finally done. A sense of achievement was necessary in these moments despite your lack of enthusiasm. It was in the little victories you reminded yourself. You rubbed the sweat from the July heat off your forehead.

* * *

The last 2 hours eventually passed by and it was soon the rush to get out of the door before you got held up by your colleagues. They were nice enough, but sometimes they could hold you back for half an hour chatting when you just wanted to get home, or your manager might try and get you to stay an hour overtime.

Thankfully you did get out promptly, and as you ran and dashed out of the office building saying brisk goodbyes to coworkers, you managed to make it to the tube with the train just arriving on time. But not without being moderately sweaty and hot though. Bloody stuffy platforms.

As expected it was still a busy train with plenty of 5pm finishers getting themselves situated on the half crowded carriages, but as it was only 10 past, it wasn't the worst time of day for commuting yet.

You perched yourself on one of the tube’s seats and let your shoulders drop, having held the tension in your body from sitting at a desk all day. You placed your head slightly back, balancing it on the window of the train. You looked up momentarily above you and then lifted your head back up to look at your phone and choose a song to listen to on Spotify through your wireless earphones.

The streams of sound from one of your favourite songs began to play softly in your ears and you smiled, knowing that the song gave you a little bit of wistful joy. You started mouthing the words.

Call it all for nothing, but I'd rather be nothing to you. Than be a part of something, something that I didn’t do (Best to You - Blood Orange).

The words half mean something but not necessarily anything. You began to wonder about being part of something that you’re not.

I just wish I could float away from my unexciting existence… you thought to yourself.

It sometimes occurred to you that you might have wanted something more out of life, but weren’t entirely sure what. It doesn’t make you dreadfully sad, but you know that life for you hasn’t exactly been the best it could be, and that perhaps something was missing. You wish you knew what it was.

You sighed, ignoring the feeling of sorrow wash over you momentarily and propped yourself back up in the uncomfortable seat of the train. You tried to keep yourself awake so that you wouldn’t miss your stop. The music continued through your ears.

* * *

You opened the door of the three bedroom flat that you had been residing in for the last two years with your flatmates and sighed with relief that you had finally reached home. You hurried to get your handbag off your shoulder and your shoes off, placing them on the rack next to the front door and walked through the hallway.

The minute you poked your head through to the lounge, bellowing a faint hello to whoever was around, you were suddenly greeted by one of your best friends and flatmates, Grace.

“Ahh Y/n! You’re home. Thank christ!”

She grabbed you and reached her arms around to embrace you tightly. You were perplexed by this gesture as it was so random and unusual given that Grace lived with you and saw you everyday of the week. You frowned and reluctantly placed your arms around her to return the hug.

As she then let go, she looked at you with urgency in her eyes and shrieked with excitement, “Oh Y/n guess what? It looks like I’m up for a promotion! Can you believe it?”

Now processing the reason for such an embrace, you raised your eyebrows in glee and smiled proudly, gushing back to your best mate who was obviously chuffed by the matter.

“Oh wow Grace, that's fantastic! I mean, finally. It is about bloody time!”

She smiled, “Yes I guess it is. But I mustn't get too excited. I haven’t officially got the promotion yet.”

“Ah but no. I’m not having any of that. You will get that promotion. It is a guarantee. They would be idiots to not give it to you.” Grace rolled her eyes and bit her lip. She reluctantly nodded and agreed.

The smell of food distracted you momentarily from the conversation. It was a particularly appetising smell.

Grace uttered, “Yes that smell is good isn’t it? Theo insisted on cooking us a nice meal for me as a celebration.”

You smiled knowingly, having known about how Grace and Theo had been in relationship limbo ever since you three became close friends at university. You knew they both had feelings for each other but often danced around the subject, completely oblivious to one another’s obvious attraction to the other. You reckoned they had to do something about it one day.

“Thank fuck. I wasn’t prepared to make dinner tonight. I am too tired for that.”

Grace then had her worried face on. She instantly knew, as she knew you too well, but funnily enough never picked up on Theo’s emotions despite constantly wondering about them, that something was wrong.

“Are you ok babe?” she asked with a look of pity that you scornfully resented.

You sighed, half lying, “Yes. I’m fine. Just tired is all.”

You made a beeline for the couch knowing full well that you were going to talk about it whether you liked it or not. You knew that Grace would see right through your dishonesty and insist that you told her the problem.

So you waited until Grace inevitably sat next to you and gave you that sympathy look she always gave you before coming out with the concerns that were floating around your brain.

“OK fine. I know you won’t leave me alone unless I tell you.”

“Ahh, you know me so well…”

“Yes, just as you know me. I’m just- I’m fed up. Work was slow. I don’t really feel like I’m associated with my life. I feel... disconnected, I guess.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

You shrugged and looked down at the floor and then back at Grace smiling sheepishly, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not- not fulfilled? I just don’t thoroughly enjoy my life right now.”

Grace nodded and put a hand on your leg. You twitched your face in slight discomfort. You hated it when you were given sympathy for something that seemed so miniscule. It wasn’t like you were dying.

It was times like this when you just wanted to curl up in your bed, eat a tub of ice cream and watch your favourite comedy programmes. 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown sprang to mind.

As you sat in momentary silence for a bit, Theo came waltzing through from the kitchen with his silly apron on that had a naked man’s body printed on it, and a spatula in his hand. He smiled at you.

“I thought I heard your voice. I hope meatballs for dinner are good tonight. Not mine of course,” gesturing to the apron as he said it.

You shook your head at Theo’s poor dad joke and stood up to hug him. You realised that you must be really down in the dumps to be hugging Theo. It was his turn to be confused. He looked towards Grace wide eyed.

“She’s had a particularly tough day. But mind you babe, you’ve kinda been like this for weeks now.”

You let go of Theo and turned to Grace, frowning and feeling slightly defensive. You placed a hand on your hip.

“Been like what? I’ve just been a bit fed up, that's all.”

“Yes but it’s not just a bit fed up. You said so yourself you feel disconnected. We’ve been waiting for you to say it.”

You looked to Theo and he nodded gently in agreement.

“Ok… but, nothing is really wrong exactly. My life is fine.”

“Fine, yes. But not amazing. We know it’s getting you down. And the job is the problem.”

“But I’m good at it. And it pays the bills. What else am I supposed to do?”

Grace then looked away from your eyes then, twitching her lip and looking as though she was holding something back. She then sighed and began to admit something you had not been expecting.

“OK look. We know what you can do. Theo and I have figured it out. We can manage money wise. It will be tight, but if you quit your job we should be able to help you out for a little bit.”

Your eyes grew wider than large saucepans. You were totally bewildered and your mouth slightly agape.

“What? Quit my job? Why? What work would I get instead?”

“Well, maybe you won't quit your job yet. Maybe you’re right, that's too hasty. Perhaps what I’m trying to say is-”

Theo then chimed in, “-what Grace is trying to say is…”

You smirked to yourself. How do they not realise that they’re already a couple but without the sex? They’re practically married for christ sake.

“...we reckon that you need to pursue your passion. Perhaps stop wasting your talents in an office job that you hate.”

Grace continued, “yes exactly. We have had an idea in mind. See, we want you to go to this thing… it’s no biggie but well, we’ve already booked it for you.”

Your mind was racing. You couldn’t understand anything that they were saying to you. It was all too much for you to manage.

“Booked what for me? What the hell are you both going on about?”

They both looked at each other with reluctance, pondering the moment and whether to tell you the whole truth. They both shrugged and Grace was then pulling her phone out, this whole conversation beginning to appear as though they had been trying to practice it.

Suddenly Grace’s phone screen was wavering in your face. You moved your head closer to see a photo on the screen. It was a comedy club night poster. Incidentally, it was an open mic night event happening on Saturday night. You began to then put the puzzle pieces together. You folded your arms and frowned heavily.

“What the fuck have you two done now?”

Theo softly spoke, “We… booked you a slot to do that comedy open mic event thing, on Saturday night.”

“Wait. As in to perform? You can’t be serious-”

Grace tried to reassure you and grabbed your arm.

“Look, we know it might seem daunting, but we just wanted to see you happy again. It’s been two years since we graduated and you haven’t performed since then. We thought it might be good to encourage you to perform again. You were always funny to us. And people at uni thought so too. You have the stand up talent, Y/n.”

You could not process anymore. You shook your head in disbelief and placed your head in your hands, rubbing your eyes from sudden exhaustion. You then threw your hands up in exasperation. It was not possible. You could not do that again.

Fucking no way. I can’t be on stage again! It’s too scary. University pub nights are one thing but a comedy club?

You shook your head again and placed your hands on your hips. Grace tried to speak up again seeing the frustration painted across your face. In fact it was anger that your friends chose to do this without your say so.

“Y/n…”

“No. Nope. I’m not doing it. No.”

“But Y/n, we were also going to tell you that Theo is also thinking of doing the same thing! He wants to do his music again. What harm would it be for you to rejuvenate your comedy skills? Surely you can write a quick couple of gags. Nothing strenuous. You have your old material from university, right?”

You had to get out of the room. Nothing that they were saying to you could be fully accepted at that moment.

You then gave them no choice but to let you go with your head in a flurry. They both watched you leave the room, mumbling something along the lines of I’m not really hungry anymore, I’m going to bed. Soon after, you darted across the other end of the hallway, ill-tempered and almost seething, and slammed your bedroom door shut.

[jay-and-dean]

Don’t look down, Baby   Part 1/3

Dean x reader

Summary :  Dean told her to ignore the “thing” between them and to jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but him.

When we think of a guy our Y/n could be with, longing for Dean, it’s usually a nice dude, a little boring, right ? Because who can compete with Dean ? Now, what if this guy was as badass as Dean ?

Characters : Dean Winchesters, Sam Winchester, Reader, Abraham Hale (OC)

Warnings : Angst, jealous Dean, Smut (unprotected sex -you’re smarter than this !-, oral, also kinda lame sex if it’s a warning), cheating, swearing, smoking, drinking... More warnings in the second part.

Wordcount : 6k (yes, just the part one... now you get why I cut it.)

Note : So for the Aestetic, I used the face of Jax Teller from Sons Of Anarchy, and you have to know, even if Abraham Hale looks like him, he is totally an OC.

This is writen both in Reader and Dean’s Pov. Dean’s thought are in italic. 

Text divider by the talented @talesmaniac89​

Jay’s Masterlist

September 16, 10:33pm

 Dean’s POV

           I always thought that when Y/n finds a guy, it would be the perfect douche I wanted for her. Some nice dude named Robert, a cop maybe, or a realtor with a friendly family.

           He would annoy me to death with his stories about growing up in a farm, and call her Pumpkin. He would worry a little when she goes out with us because he thinks we drink too much when we’re together.

           He would tear her from me and I would hate him for that. She would skip a hunt to meet his parents, another to spend a few days in the cabin he rented… But even if it breaks my heart, it would be exactly what I want for her, so I would let her go.

           I had it all planned.

           But, of course, she didn’t play by the rules.

           And that guy is no Robert…

           His loud manly laugh tears me from my thoughts. His tattooed hand wraps around his whiskey glass and I turn my head to that waitress that always gives me warm smiles, she’s staring at him now, with the sweetness that was once for me.

           Abe.

           Ex-gang member, Abe. Bad guy turned good. Raised by the widow of a gang member, in a violent environment, he already had a criminal record at fourteen, started selling guns before he was officially allowed to drink, ended up in prison at Twenty-two.

Sweet smile Abe. Reformed bad boy with an attitude. Became a hunter after he met a vampire gang and slew them to the last. Now defender of the good citizen, he found his fight, and the hunters talk about him as one of the bests.

Afraid of nothing and ready to fight, charismatic, alpha Abe. His muscular arm in the back of my girl, his long blond hair falling on his face when he lights up a cigarette in a grunt of content while she touches his neck.

Abe. My new nemesis.

“So Dean” he says with his deep voice hoarse from smoking too much. “How did you meet my girl ?”

I met her on a hunt, invited her to my room and took her on that wall. Do you remember, Y/n ? Don’t look down baby, look at me.

“On a hunt.”

“That’s how I met her too” he smiles and kisses her temple. “Seems like we have a lot in common.”

“Looks like we do” I state.

           Her eyes darken and she turns her head, I know how to read her, she is pissed, and I don’t even know why. I did nothing, I said nothing, and her rock-and-roll version of prince charming is worshiping her, so what causes that bitterness ?

What is it, baby ? Am I missing something ?

“So I heard your brother and you have this fucking palace ?” he gives me a corner smile, smoke coming out of his nose.

“Who told you that ?” I grunt.

What is the point of a secret bunker if it is as secret as a freaking tweet ?

           He chuckles and takes a sip of his whiskey, not answering.

           Abe never answers all the questions he is asked, maybe it is some cool thing for guys like him, maybe it is his way of look mysterious or powerful. What is sure is, as annoying as it is, it freaking works. But each time he smirks with his eyes lost in the bottom of his glass in a little huff instead of speaking, I get closer to losing it and smashing his pretty face on the table.

“I told him” she says almost coldly. “Like you did all your friends, Abe is my boyfriend, Dean.”

I nod. What can I say, she’s right after all. She’s always right…

           She was right about that cop being the bad guy the first time we hunted together, right about the fact that my so-called bond with Amara would fade the second she gets whatever she wanted. She was right about Jack being a good kid but dangerous enough to need to be watched and educated instead of pushed away. Right about Mary hurting me more than I admitted…

She was right when she said I was wrong. The day I told her we shouldn’t sleep together again, that she should just ignore that thing between us and jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but me…

I really say that : any of them. I did.

Did you choose Abe just to annoy me, baby ? To prove a point ? You had to bring a guy who would beat me at my own grumpy-loner-badass-crap-drink-too-much game, right ?

“That place sounds sure awesome, because Y/n keeps coming back to it” he states, not letting me know the true meaning he puts in that sentence, his piercing blue eyes free of any emotions on the surface.

“Well it’s home for her” I say, and that bastard chuckles. “Is it funny ?”

“Not at all !” he says with a warm and kind laugh, and a friendly tap on my shoulder. “You should relax Dean, you look like the bar is full of demons !”

I stay stern, I know I should probably look friendly, but I rarely hated someone nice that much.

           He gets up and kisses her head before he walks away, his manly way to move catching women’s attention, and some men’s too. One of his hand goes through his blond hair while he walks to the bathroom with the other hand deep in his jeans’ pocket.

“So… Abe, huh ?” I ask, the second he’s gone.

           I should be more coherent, I know. I want her gone, but I want her for me. I was sure I was ready to see her with someone else, it’s been three years. Three years ! After we only made love six times. She is not mine, she never was.

And I thought calling her Baby in my head would make me strong. It’s a weird feeling, like I could let her be happy, but still feel special. I would have been the passion of her youth, the one that died young and of which she would think a little when she rocks her baby in her pretty house…

I had somehow romanticized my heartbreak.

But that doesn’t feel romantic at all. And all I can think of is that he is passion too, I’m not dead, and I just have to see him touch her and imagine them at night…

“Yes” she says, still with that bitterness in her voice. “You could make an effort, Dean. He has been nothing but nice, and you act like he’s an enemy.”

“I haven’t decided if he is one yet.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disapproval.

I recognize hurt. My Y/n, when she’s hurt, she gets angry. Always. And I made her angry so often. Her irritation is growing, I can see it in her burning eyes.

“You can’t do that” she says low. “You can’t treat him like that, no one gives you the right.”

“And him ?” I dare asking, staring at her reddened face. “Does he treat you right ?”

Her eyes fills with tears again and her jaw clenches.

“Better than you did, you mean ?” her words feel like a stab in my heart.

 Reader’s POV

           I didn’t want to say that, it came out by itself.

           I’m thin-skinned lately. I feel like I could cry or scream any moment, all the time. My emotions have always been loud, my sensibility overwhelming, but for a few weeks I’m drowning.

           The fact that I decided to try to get over Dean Winchester probably caused that.

A long time ago, I thought living with Dean without ever having him would be the worst, then I saw him with other women and was convinced I was mistaking before : the worst was definitely that. How wrong was I ?

           The worst is having had him. Not once, but several times, each time a little more intimate. More kisses, more touches, more suspended seconds watching in each other’s eyes… Until we spent that night together, that last night, and he fell asleep against me for the first time.

           It was over. It was too much for Dean, and not enough for me.

           Dean Winchester can’t belong to anyone, not again. He doesn’t want to be a boyfriend, and he doesn’t want me to be his girl ; who am I to insist ?

“Well, that’s a minimum” he answers in a soft groan after a little while, and my heart breaks because I just did what I swore I would never do : Reproach him for any of it.

“I’m sorry” I sigh, thinking of those weeks after the last night, when I had to hide the worst pain I ever felt because I didn’t want him to feel bad about not wanting me.

I still do... -feel that pain and try to hide- because Abe or not, I still live with Dean and he doesn’t deserve to carry my pain on top of the world on his shoulders.

“Can you at least try ?” I beg, low, seeing my boyfriend getting out of the restroom but stopping next to the door to talk to someone he obviously knows.

“Yes” Dean answers. “I’m just… He’s a hunter and…”

“He’s a good man” I assure him, looking at Abe walking toward us above Dean’s shoulder. “He comes from a dark place, like us, but he is a good man.”

 September 21, 08:12pm

 “That place is crazy !” Abe says, sitting at the table of the library. “I have never seen anything like this.”

           While Sam tells him a little more about the bunker, I look at my boyfriend.

           I stare at him, trying to get rid of that uncomfortable impression, that feeling screaming that he doesn’t belong here ; because if he doesn’t belong in the bunker, then he probably just has nothing to do in my life.

           A lot of memories cross my mind, like it happens a lot lately.

The memory of entering the bunker for the first time and deeply knowing that, as long as I am welcome here, this would be my home. Because it just feels right and because, even if I’m not the granddaughter of Henri Winchester, he trusted me with this place, as much as he trusted his family. That man actually welcomed me like Mary never really did, like I was just as legit as blood.

At his frank smile, the memory of meeting Abe crosses me too. I was alone in this hunter bar, trying to get information for a case. I hadn’t told Sam and Dean that I would go there, because I know how much uncomfortable the hunter community makes them. And I was introduced to him : Abraham Hale. I found him so beautiful, with his mischievous smile that seemed to mock the entire world, his wheat blond hair and his tattoos. Something felt so safe about him, not because he looked like a bad boy, but because he was light and happy, laughing at everything and taking nothing seriously… All that Dean wasn’t.

I loved his wild energy right away. Abe was like the drums in a rock song, like summer wind. In his arms, I forgot about Dean for a few seconds a day during the first weeks. We spent days sleeping and having sex behind the curtains of that motel room, hiding from summer heat, and nights drinking and listen to rock music...

But now I look at him, his bright blue eyes seem pale next to the deep green looking back, and his beauty is bland.

“Thank you for showing me your home, Treasure” he says, putting a tender hand on my back like he always does.

And my eyes cross Dean’s.

           I know what he’s thinking, he’s cringing at the nickname, and that reminds me why I am with Abe : Dean never gave me a nickname, he never called me anything else than my name, he will never and even when others do, he thinks it’s lame and cheesy.

 Dean’s POV

           That hurt on her face again.

Baby, you can’t look at me like that each time he calls you Treasure . I don’t like it, but you’re supposed to do.

           This is much harder than I thought, and I was aware it would be impossible.

           Each and every one of his actions makes me face my own contradictions : The more loving he is, the more I want to push him away from her. But the more she seems distant and to have her head in the clouds, the more it eases the pain. Am I selfish enough to hate her happiness even though I love her ?

           I was in control, during those three years not touching her, my heart was aching with craving and my soul was screaming at me to make her love me. But as much as the heartbreak was constant, I had chosen it. I was in control.

           I never realize that it was only bearable because she was still here, my partner, my best friend, my roommate. Mine.

           Now she took it back. She raised her middle finger right in my face and decided she wouldn’t be mine anymore.

And that is a whole new level of pain.

           I don’t sleep when she’s not home, and sometimes food just won’t let me eat it. She texts during our movie nights and wears that pendant he gave her. I hate that pendant because it reminds me I never gave her a present. Not once in all those years.

“Another drink ?” Y/n asks him with the bottle in her hand.

“Don’t you drive ?” I cut him before he answers and I see her eyes shoot me with imaginary bullets.

I’m sorry Baby but it’s movie night tonight, can’t he just leave already ?

“He’s right” she says giving me a little hope that she will ask him to leave soon. “You should stay for the night.”

My breathing gets stuck in my lungs.

No Baby, don’t do that to me. Please.

“With pleasure !” he smiles.

 September 21, 11:49pm

 Reader’s Pov

           He grabs my thigh to lift it a little and grunt in my ear. His kisses are hot on my neck, his heavy body moving cautiously on top of me.

           My eyes are on the ceiling, my hands on his sweaty muscular back and I wait.

           Damn, what is happening ? He’s close, I am going to fake it ? I swore I would never fake, I swore if the guy can’t get me there, he should know, but… Abe is not the problem, I am.

           I just watch the ceiling wondering what is wrong with me. He did everything right, nice foreplays and those love words he always has for me. But nothing seems to turn me on anymore, and without the need and the pleasure, his thrusts are just uncomfortable and I feel weird.

           Come already.

           I sigh. I know what is making this impossible. Dean. This fucker is the last I had in my own bed, the only one in fact. And everything reminds me that Abe is not Dean fucking Winchester !

“You okay Treasure ?” he pants in my ear, nibbling at it.

I’m not a freaking snack, what is it with his mouth and teeth always ?

“Yes” I fake a moan. “I’m close Abe, come.”

Just don’t be loud, that would be so awkward.

           When he loses rhythm, I close my eyes at the relief, it won’t be long now, make it stop. He shakes a little and grunt loud, filling the condom inside of me ; and, to make my fake moans credible, I clench my walls around him one time or two, rolling my eyes at his proud groan.

           Sex with Abe used to be so much more than this. I'm getting frustrated. Did I break something in me ? Why can't I enjoy anything anymore ?

           He rolls on my side, panting, and smiles tenderly at me. He’s beautiful, I have to admit that, and he’s nice and loving.

“You’re amazing” he hums. “I guess I can’t smoke in your bedroom ?”

“I don’t mind” I answer sincerely. “The air co is magical, just, don’t smoke more than one.”

           He sits on the bed to get his pants, his beautiful tattooed back on me. The smoke flies in pretty wreath. I put my hand on the lion tattooed on his back. It suits him, with his solar attitude and his confidence, his beautiful blond hair…

           Yet I keep longing for my wolf.

 Dean’s Pov

           Now I know I could kill him. And now I know what the limit amount of pain I can take is.

           I pace my room like a crazy man. He is taking her, my Baby. He is sinking inside of her and stealing pleasure. Does she wrap her legs around him like she always did with me ? To push me deeper. Is she as responsive ? As lost in pleasure as she was ? With that way only she has too beg for more with her entire body, voice strangled and arms caging me the best she can…

           Is she…

“F-fuck…” I whine, holding my heart.

I think I just felt it break.

Baby…

Breathing is painful now, I feel like I’m drowning.

Baby… Why did you have to do that to me ? I know I hurt you but your revenge is unbearable.

I sit on my bed, still holding my chest.

I can’t take it, you know.

“Shit” I grunt.

How can this kind of familiar panic attack be back ? How can this hurt so much ? It’s not Hell, it’s not Purgatory…

“It is Hell” I say out loud.

Loosing you, Baby. It’s Hell. Do you love him ? Because…

“Fuck, I love her” I whine.

 September 28, 06:05pm

             Sitting in my “Fortress of Deanitude”, I wait. The tray with snacks is there, beers too, and Netflix is ready for our next episode of Stanger Things.

           But there is a big chance she won’t come. Our movie nights are getting rarer and rarer, like our time together in general. And this place is slowly becoming a Fortress of Solitude…

           You never know how much you need something until you lost it, right ? I was stupid enough to think I could be stronger than the need for her and now look at me, alone in that big empty room in a bigger emptier bunker.

           All I can think of is how much each day pulls her closer to him and further from me. They are building memories in which I’m not, they are building an intimacy that I lost three years ago. She will forget me and he will have her, maybe even make her change a little, until one day she is among those people who talk about their personal tastes by saying “we”. “We prefer red wine”.

           Ew.

           Is he going to change my girl, for real ? Make her love Led Zeppelin a little less, make her a little less her, make her want other things, another life, need me less ? Our things will become unimportant and be replaced by all kind of other things I have no idea about.

           I take a long sip of my glass. It’s not like I had my word to say anyway. I lost her. I lost her in the worst way possible : willingly.

           But just when I’m about to get up and go put the snacks away, she opens the door, panting a little, like she had ran.

“Dean” she says entering the room. “I’m sorry. There was an accident on the road and the traffic was disturbed.”

You were at his place, Baby, and you ran to me ?

A little smile lights up my face when her presence revive my heart.

“It’s okay” I say.

“I’m late, but I have…” she takes her hand out of her purse. “Giant skittles !”

“You found them ?” I smile, sitting straighter when she hands me a bag.

Our things are not all gone. And she still cares about me and about our time together.

“Yup ! I made Abe stop in every shop yesterday.”

So you think of me when you’re with him, Baby ? Have you ever thought of me while he was inside of you ?

“Sit” I pat the armchair next to mine. “Let’s find out if Dusty’s girlfriend exists !”

“I really hope !” she exclaims, taking off her jacket.

I try not to look at her, but when she quickly takes off her jeans to slip in her pajamas pants, I swallow hard. Those thighs could have been for me, and I could have watched the show while holding her.

           She sits with her knees up against her chest in the big chair next to me, and takes a beer. My eyes are glued to her, looking for anything unusual, and fearing it more than anything in the same time.

“What ?” she calls me out of my thoughts.

“Nothing, I…” have no idea how to finish this sentence.

“I’m still okay you know ?” she says without looking at me, playing with the label of her beer bottle. “You always stare at me like something had happened to me. I know what you think of Abraham, but he doesn’t treat me bad.”

 Reader’s Pov

“I’m sorry” he sighs. “You know how protective I can get. Especially with you…”

A chuckle escapes me and I know he doesn’t like it, but protective with me ? He broke my heart. He ripped it and threw it on the floor because I had said those words.

“Yeah…” I nod, nibbling at my lip. “You won’t find bruises on me.”

He doesn’t answer.

           When did we become like this ?

           After a silence, he hands me candies and presses play. But, chewing on sugar and my eyes on the screen, I keep my full attention on him.

           I have everything any girl would want : A lover with hot blood, beauty and a heart of gold. But I'm not any girl, and the only thing I want is Dean Winchester. The genius who thinks he's dumb, the scared little boy who lost his mom, the leader, the victim of his fate, the killer, the loyal friend, the rebel, the torturer, the perfect brother, the wary hunter, the crappy dancer ; grumpy Dean, childish Dean, stubborn Dean, all of Dean...

           I look at him and my eyes travel down his neck, his beard is fighting to grow back there but I know he won't let it. The slow movements of his chest are mesmerizing. My eyes go down, to his thighs and crotch...

           I really shouldn't let myself look there but his smell and aura are like a mermaid song and I'm drowning. His strength is radiating of him and I feel myself respond to it in everyone of my heartbeats.

           He could make me scream. He always did, so easily. Dean made me cry of pleasure more than once, sometimes without any effort, the brushes of his fingers, the burning of his kisses... And when he finally buried himself inside of me, it was like a firework in Heaven. He never had to do anything really special...

           And now I wonder : Is something broken about me ? Abe is passionate and loving, we used to work great, he was easy as whiskey. And he loves me. Why am I unable to enjoy any of it lately ?

           My eyes trace the bump in Dean’s pants and I remember the simple ecstasy of feeling his cock twitch for me. Dean... I bite my lip to hold back the moan hanging on my tongue. His thigh moves a little, strong muscles hidden in his jeans, and I think of his stomach contracting that time he came on my tongue. I…

“I see you” his deep serious voice hits the air like thunder.

I look up to meet his eyes and realize I have been staring at his crotch, licking my lips and probably visibly holding back moans.

“Do you need something ?” he asks with a proud aura on his face.

I want to punch that expression off of his perfect features.

           I look down and sigh. Yes, I do. I need him, not only want like I would like to think, but need indeed. I need him to feel my body, to make it alive, and to hear my soul breathe again.

“Dean…” I just say.

Like it was an answer or reproach but of course, he hears it for what it is.

           A call.

           So he gets up, suddenly so tall that he eclipses the TV, the light and my will. He comes in front of me, standing there, making me look up timidly through my lashes. His strong hand lands cautiously on my cheek, gently holding my face while I lean on his touch.

           I can resist him. I can.

           I think of Abe's sweet smile, of his deep voice and his arms around me. I think of this night he told me about jail and I tried all I could to make him feel safe again, that was a beautiful moment... We are something beautiful Abe and me. We are going to make it right, to make it count. Right ?

           As my heart fights itself, playing all the love songs I know at once in my head in a deafening dim of emotions, my eyes fill with tears. I know what is going to happen, and the cruel god writing my story can stop there, the end is already obvious.

           I can't resist Dean. I just can't.

           And Abe will cry, right ? He trusts me. He will take his bag and yell maybe, the sun inside of him will get clouded, he will drive away. Then I will let my body slide on the door frame, unable to hold my weight up, because I will have broken the only man that ever truly loved me.

           I look down to hide the pain from Dean, but he knows me better.

"I can leave" he says.

But it's the last thing I want because I miss him, I miss him like a part of me died years ago and I still feel empty and cold... I miss him when I'm alone, and even more when I'm not.

           When he's about to move, take a step back to leave me alone, I grab his belt and hold him in place firmly. I have no plan, no solid thought, but I know I can't be away from him for now. He smells both like the most familiar home and the wildest dream.

           My other hand grazes the fabric of his jeans on his thigh, I close my eyes for a second and a little whimper escapes me. I started touching Dean less than a day after meeting him, and it seems I can't be around him without having my hands on his body.

           He hums, staring down at me, bow legs slightly parted like he needed balance, like he was gripping the floor for both of us. Dean had always been my anchor. His shoulders look wider from down here and I want nothing more than letting my hands grab his butt to rub my cheek on his crotch like a cat marking its territory.

"Touch me like you need it, Baby" he murmurs and a little sob escapes me unexpectedly.

He never ever called me Baby.

           He never gave me any nickname like he never gave me the place I thought I could take in his heart. And Abe, he calls me Treasure. He welcomed me in his heart...

"What's wrong ?" Dean asks like he didn't know.

Dean Winchester is the world's greatest hero, saved basically everyone's life without any reward, and for this he is a saint ; and still, he's the one that is going to be the end of me. Hero or not, he's my villain.

"Everything is wrong, Dean" I answer in a broken voice. "Everything."

He squats in front of me and my hand panics at losing my grip on his belt so it grasps his flannel like my life depends on it.

"Not everything" he whispers, bending to let his poisonous lips graze my skin.

My treacherous mouth opens in reflex at the proximity of his, making him respond by biting my lower lip. I whimper again and pull him closer.

"I got you" he states, letting his burning lips trace down my chin and my neck followed by his thumb, scratching my skin with his short nail. And I catch fire.

I let my head falls back and I surrender totally.

           That's how bad he is for me : I could let him break my heart again without an hesitation, after it took me years to recover just enough to just function. And oh, I will. I will shatter the heart of the man that trusts me just to let Dean selfishly remind me how much I love him.

           His breath is burning my skin, spreading in the fabric of my t-shirt when he buries his face on my chest, opening his mouth wide to pretend to bite my breast, hand cupping my sides like he had missed me for real. I let go of the plaid fabric to grip the short strand of his hair like I can.

"Dean..." the moan I have been holding comes out, filling the room with sin and the echo of future lies.

"I got you" he repeats.

His hungry hands seize my jeans and tear it open, fighting the metallic button's resistance brutally. The fabric hurts my lower back in a last resistance but is ripped off of me the second after, taking my panties in its way.

           And before I can sit straighter now that I'm on the edge of the chair, before I can talk, think or breath. Dean's anaconda arms grab my thighs firmly and his burning breath is on my folds.

"Wh-" I start but what can I say now.

He kisses my folds like no men ever did : like he was in love with that part of me. An open mouth kiss, tongue eagerly lapping my juice from my entrance to my clit.

"AH !" I scream, arching my back but Dean doesn't take a second to breathe, burying his face on me.

I squirm, licking my lips like I was kissing him back but the place he is devouring can only respond with throbs and getting soaked, which is does.

           I'm panting, I'm being eaten by the flames of that indescribable pleasure that is back. My stomach is shaking, my temples are beating so loud. I suck a breath when he sucks at my clit, moist hand gripping the leather of the chair.

"Dean" I moan again in the subdued light of the warm room.

He answers with a hum, and his nimble tongue pushes at my entrance, making my thighs shake violently in the vise grip of his arms.

           I can't escape what Dean does to me so I let go.

           My whole body falls backward when I come, harder than I have in years, holding his hair so tight it might hurt him, legs shaken by electricity, back arching and chest fighting itself to breath. My sensible clit seems to have nerves in my whole body and I fall silent, covered in sweat, suffocated by a forbidden crushing orgasm.

           I whimper desperately, limp and lost, panting in the chair like I didn't realize yet what just hit me. But Dean knows what he's doing, he knows where this goes.

           He opens his jeans, I can feel it even though I don't see him, my head still back, moaning at the caresses of his tongue on my neck. I bite my lip hard, hand moving from the arm of the chair to his, to feel his eagerness.

           And he grabs my thighs harshly, making me fall on the floor with him and holds my back when I can't, keeping me against him.

"So wrong..." I whisper in a dying echo of my disgrace.

His hand grasps my face firmly and makes me look at him. His eyes have this fire in them, he clenches his jaw when I roll my lips a little, wetting his craved cock on me, dying of being finally filled by him.

"Keep your eyes on me" he groans, grabbing his length to guide it at my throbbing entrance.

"Dean..." I moan, fingers reaching his stomach under his clothes to feel it tremble.

"Eyes on me baby" he repeats low.

 Dean's Pov

           She can't think of him. Not now. I need her with me, I need her for me.

Feel me, baby.

           I smile slightly when she dives her unfocused pupils in my eyes. She's perfect and I love her ; but I must say when she seems to surrender so completely to my touch, that's when forgot why I asked her to stay away.

           When I enter her, her phone lights up once again in her back, on the floor. I groan loud as she wraps me like only she can, like she was trying to suck me inside her core. She's shaking, she's fighting to keep her eyes on me and I'm fighting that urge to grab her phone and shatter it in a million pieces against the wall.

           She gasps, her body threatening to fall back so I hold her.

That's it baby, stay with me, feel me, let me take you like I used to when you were mine.

My hand fists her hair and my mouth gets attracted to her pulse point so I bend to suck at it, barely thrusting for now, just enjoying to be inside of her, feeling her pulsating with desire, the concrete hard floor digging in my knees.

           Her arms wrap around me, she cling to me and I try to ignore my jealousy shouting at me.

Baby, you try to ignore me but can he do that to you ? Can he turn you into a purring cat like that ?

"Dean" she moans, clenching around me, her thighs trying to get herself even closer so she takes me impossibly deeper.

"Say you want me" I murmur against her skin in a voice I barely recognize.

"I want you" she gives in, exhaling in my ear.

           Behind her, her phone lights up one more time with a text : "I found us a case in California, Treasure."

=> PART 2

FEEDBACK IS GOLD

Tags : @parinarain @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496 @daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld  @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @stormchasingchick32 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n  @lyss-dw79 @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid​@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj​ @i-love-superhero​ @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks​ @mrspeacem1nusone​ @stylesismyhubs​ @deanwanddamons​ @jawritter​ @peridottea91​ @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart​ @vicmc624​ @teresa-67​ @jessie-michael​ @doctor-hp-mcu​ @hawkerz12​ @mariaenchanted​ @hobby27​

[rhysismydaddy]

Casual Ruin Pt. 1 (Elriel)

Elain’s part of the Damnation Series

Hello, and welcome to an unapologetically kinky, 90% smut / 10% plot mafia fic for Elriel. 

Blanket trigger warning for ALL parts (although the first is very vanilla and sweet): this is for adults and contains both sex and violence. If you are not a fan of those two things, or the mild combination of them, scroll along. It contains things that might be triggering. It’s a dark romance.

______________________________________________________

“Wake up, dolce mia.”

The words are a soft, accented whisper pressed against my ear during the darkest part of the night, followed by sinful lips pressing a kiss to my skin that jerks me out of my sleep.

Despite the rush of heat that floods my system, I keep my eyes closed and groan, pushing his face away. My body’s exhausted, and despite wanting nothing more than to wake up and let him make me even more tired, I need sleep. 

A rough chuckle escapes him, but he’s apparently inhuman, doesn’t need sleep, and isn’t giving up this easily. 

Dodging my weak attempts to push him away, he drags his mouth down the column of my throat, stopping to suck and nibble on parts that are especially interesting.

A soft sigh escapes my lips as he finds the junction between my shoulder and throat, but I still keep my eyes closed.

The cold metal of his chain raises goosebumps as it glints down the valley between my breasts, and his mouth follows, almost like he’s unable to help it. 

He’s all over me, scent surrounding me and making it impossible to truly fall back asleep, no matter how tired I am. 

He’s put my body through every possible sexual position known to man tonight, somehow pulling every ounce of pleasure from me.

But, like always, I want more.

He’s a drug, more potent than anything on the market, and I’ve come to crave the feel of him against me in the three weeks I’ve known him.

“Wake up, bellisima,” he murmurs, rough voice like a song that ignites a fire in my blood. 

I shake my head, and he smiles against me. I regret not opening my eyes a little, because while nothing about him is unattractive, his smile is something I could never get enough of and I hate missing it.

Calloused, scared hands ghost down my body almost reverently, and then he’s kissing a trail across my ribs, over my stomach, and up to my breasts. 

His tongue swirls around the peak of one, hand coming to mold the other to his touch, and I use every ounce of willpower to say still. 

I’m proud to say I make it a full two minutes before I can’t take anymore and give in. “Fine. I’m awake.”

I say it as if it’s a struggle to be awoken by him and not the best part of my day.

My eyes open to find his, the warm hazel taking my breath away like always. 

He gives me a slow smile, coming down to press a kiss to my lips. He tugs on the lower one with his teeth, then smooths the small hurt with his tongue. 

I can’t help the small whimper that slips out as his tongue meets mine, because I’m honestly powerless to the way he kisses me. 

Slow and deep and perfectly controlled, but also possessive and a little desperate. He’s a selfish kisser; he kisses me exactly how he wants, turning my head just right, nipping my lips when he wants, only breaking when I’m breathless. 

A  palm goes to my thigh, guiding it around his trim hips, then he’s grinding against me, letting me feel him against me, hard and ready and so tempting my eyes cross. 

I resist the urge to arch up into him long enough to tease, “Egoisto bastardo.” Selfish bastard.

“Egoista,” he corrects, smirking. 

I roll my eyes, caring less about adjectives and more about the feel of his hands on my hips. I roll my hips slightly, watching as the hazel of his eyes darkens to black. 

“Was there a reason you woke me up?” I ask innocently, reaching between us and palming him in a blatant attempt to drive him half as crazy as he does me. 

He nods and pushes into my palm. My hand instinctively wraps around him, and I guide him to the apex of my thighs, running the head of him against me in a way that makes us both shudder. 

He pushes my head to the side with his chin, then runs his mouth up the column of my throat, stubble making goose bumps rise in his wake. His teeth nip at my skin before he whispers roughly, “I want to fuck you, Elain. I want to feel you around me, hear you call out my name, watch as you come on my cock. So stop teasing me and let me make give us both what we want.”

I don’t respond with words, being completely unable to find them. I just tilt my hips and slip him inside me, watching as the brown in his eyes fades to black. 

Jaw tight, he pushes into me fully, causing me to arch up into him. My legs go around his waist, and he hums in satisfaction.

He pulls out the tiniest amount, then thrusts back in harder, pulling a moan from my throat. “You feel so good,” he praises, teeth finding my earlobe and biting down softly. I moan his name, my body on fire for him, and he murmurs, “I love the way you say my name.”

He pulls out all the way, then slams back inside me so hard I feel the reverberations in my hip bones. “But I want to hear you scream it.”

My head rolls back against the mattress, and I can hardly breathe around the feel of him inside me, filling me so perfectly. Somehow I’m still not used to it, not used to how it somehow feels so right.

My breasts bounce as he works me, sensitive nipples brushing against his chest with every thrust. His head raises and his eyes drop, watching. 

“Minchia,” he curses, reaching up to palm my one roughly. “Cosi bella.”

If he keeps talking in that husky, deep voice, I won’t last another two minutes. I’m already shaking, but I push the impending release away, desperate to make this last as long as possible.

He moves faster, hands sliding down to my backside to lift me up exactly how he wants. His pelvic bone brushes against my clit every time our hips collide, and it’s almost too much. A low moan escapes me as he kisses my neck, sucking the skin hard enough to leave a mark.

His hands tighten on my ass, and then his palm is connecting with my skin with just the right amount of pressure. I cry out, arms wrapping around his shoulders as I bury my face in his neck. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he growls, even though it’s obvious I did.

I nod, mouth too preoccupied with kissing his jaw to reply. 

Like always, he gives me exactly what I want, using the other hand this time to spank me. The sharp sting pushes me over the edge, and I yell his name yet again as I come.

He doesn’t come with me, just releases my ass to wrap one arm around my shoulders to keep me in place as he takes his own pleasure. His hips are harsh against mine, and I know I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I take everything he gives me and want even more.

My nails rake down his back, and he mutters a curse against my lips as he kisses me. His tongue meets mine, and I can’t stop myself from sucking on it, completely lost in him. 

“Fuck, Elain,” he growls, bracing a hand on the headboard I hadn’t realized was so close. His fingers are tight on my shoulder, lips brutal against mine, thrusts so hard I’m practically screaming.

But it isn’t any of that that makes release find me again. 

It’s him groaning, “Ti senti cosi bene,” then leaning down to press the rough translation to my ear. 

I come apart entirely, and it’s a miracle his lips stifle the helpless noises I make, otherwise I’d wake up my cranky old neighbor. Again.

I tremble beneath him as his movements get a little sloppy, then still entirely. 

He kisses my again as he comes, and it’s a rough, almost bruising sort of kiss that makes me want to do it all over again. 

He eventually slows to a stop, looking down at me with enough heat in his eyes I melt. 

“Fatto per me,” he whispers, running a knuckle over the curve of my cheek. 

My sluggish brain works overtime to figure out what he said, eventually finding the translation. 

Made for me. 

~Three weeks ago~

The opera house is unsurprisingly packed, opening night drawing in over two hundred well-dressed patrons. 

I had to pull together three months rent for the ticket alone, a ridiculous expense I’d normally never allow myself, but coming here has been on my bucket list for over nine years, ever since I first heard Cecilia Bartoli on a friend’s radio. 

I pinched pennies, picked up extra shifts, and only ate Ramen for the month leading up to my trip here--a real crime, considering my profession--so I could come. 

And even though I broke out in a cold sweat from the expense of this night, I have to say it’s already worth it. I have a huge smile on my face as I make my way through the lobby, stopping to look at the program and take in the portraits of the performers. 

By the time I go to enter the auditorium, there are only a few people left in the lobby. I want to use the restroom before the show starts, so I hurry up the stairs to the upper floor to look for it.

Except it’s nowhere to be found.

I search down every hallway, the stress of missing the show forcing me to almost jog. A man in a red jacket steps into the hall right when I’m starting to despair, and he turns to me and raises a brow.

“Excuse me... where’s the restroom?” I ask in the most atrociously broken Italian he’s probably ever heard.

His eyes skate over me from head to toe, then he says something back, way too quickly for me to decipher. 

I assume he’s asking if I have a ticket, so I hold up the crumpled paper I’ve been guarding for months and smile. 

He gives me a strange look, extending an arm and gesturing for me to follow. I nod, and we start off down the corridor, stopping in front of a plain white door. 

“This is the restroom?” I ask, not understanding why it isn’t labeled or anything. 

He mumbles something I can’t hear, seems to hurry me on, then opens the door and practically shoves me inside. 

And straight into a man’s chest.

Which makes this the strangest women’s room I’ve ever ventured into. 

He steadies me with two hands on my shoulders, and somehow I know, before I even look, that this man will be devastatingly handsome.

Too curious not to, I look up. And up, and up some more.

And I realize I was both right and wrong, because the man before me is devastatingly handsome, but he’s also so much more, to the point where those words aren’t enough to describe him.

He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

It’s a classic sort of look, one that will never go out of style and never be considered anything but perfect.

Hazel eyes rimmed in dark black eyelashes meet mine, narrowed at the edges with amusement. His full, all too kissable lips are turned up in a smirk and surrounded by a day’s worth of stubble I know would scratch at the fingers I’m tempted to run over it. 

He’s so tall my neck starts to cramp, but I’m a deer in the headlights, unable to so much as blink. 

He’s monochromatically dressed in black, from his suit jacket, shirt, slacks, and polished shoes. We’re still pressed against each other, and the differences between us couldn’t be more obvious. 

He’s sin incarnate, the perfect picture of a fallen angel, and I’m the naiive girl dressed in lilac and unable to stop blushing. 

His dark hair slips over his forehead as he leans his face further to mine, and for a strange second, I think he’s going to kiss me, but then he takes a step back and regards me with assessing eyes.

“Stai bene?”

The sound of his voice--a cool, deep balm that soothes my nerves--throws me for a second, but even my American self can understand that simple question. I nod.

His lips twitch. “Sei sicuro?” Are you sure?

I nod again. 

“Tu parli?” Do you speak?

My eyes narrow a little at the teasing note in his voice. “Si.”

“Cosa stai facendo qui?” 

My knowledge of Italian is limited to the Duolingo I’ve been cramming in the last couple of months, so I tell him I don’t understand. 

He waves a hand around us, his eyes growing a shade darker as he prowls toward me. He says something in a low voice, the tenor in his voice giving me goosebumps. 

“It was an accident! I was looking for the restroom,” I blurt when he takes another step toward me.

He stops. Understanding dawns. A smile breaks lose that threatens my sanity with its beauty.

“You’re American,” he says in surprisingly perfect English.

It isn’t a question, but I answer anyway. “I am.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m at the opera,” I state stupidly. 

His lips tip upward, and I mentally slap myself for the dumb response. “You are. But what are you doing here?”

Oh. For the first time since I was shoved in here, I take a look around. I’m in one of the dark boxes on the upper floor of the opera house, the ones usually reserved for royalty or billionaires or people willing to spend an entire paycheck. There are two seats, a table in between them, and a perfect view of the stage from the slight balcony. 

I gasp when I realize the lights are dim, meaning the show has either started or is about to. “Have I missed anything?”

“No. Now answer the question.”

God, he’s relentless. I sigh and explain, “I was looking for the bathroom, and a very unhelpful attendant pushed me in here instead.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowed. Like he’s trying to tell if I’m being serious or something. Honestly, who would lie about going to the bathroom?

“Listen, Mr...” I realize I don’t know his name, so I just keep talking. “I don’t know why you think I’d lie and sneak in here, but I’m not, and I didn’t. And I don’t want to miss anything, so I’ll just head down to my regular seat and get out of your hair.”

With one last look at him, I make my way to the door. Only to be stopped by a large hand shooting out and a softly murmured, “Stay.”

I start to deny that knee-weakening request, start to tell him it would be crazy to sit here alone with a stranger. But then a woman steps onto the stage, and everything changes.

“Oh my God, it’s her,” I whisper, practically shoving him out of the way as I hurry over to the balcony. 

Cecilia Bartoli’s on the stage, wearing an elaborate gown, dripping with diamonds and confidence, effortlessly belting out lyrics I’m too dazed to even try to understand.

For a moment, I’m so lost in the music I don’t notice when a warm hand lands on my elbow and guides me to the chair behind me. I sink down, eyes still trained on the stage.

I’ve listened to her on my phone or the radio for so long that it’s surreal to hear her live. 

I’m breathless by the time the song ends, and it’s when I hear a deep breath I remember I’m not alone. “Sorry. I... I’m a big fan of hers.”

He presses a button on the table I hadn’t noticed and an usher immediately brings in a fresh glass of champagne and a tumblr full of amber liquid. “No apology is necessary. I’ve never met an American fond of Italian opera; it’s refreshing to meet someone with good taste. I’m surprised you don’t speak Italian, though, given your passion.”

“You don’t have to understand what someone’s saying to understand what they’re feeling,” I point out.

He grins like I’ve said the right answer to a difficult question. “True.”

The next song starts, a backup singer effortlessly building he crowd’s energy, and my gaze is torn between the man beside me and the stage. I want to stare at him and listen to him speak in that strangely sexy voice, but I’ve also been looking forward to this show for almost a year.

“I’d like to propose a deal,” he says, surprising me.

My eyebrows quirk at the practiced way he said that, and I debate if this is a good idea. Curiosity wins in the end. “A deal?”

“I leave you alone and stop interrupting your experience, and you agree to have a drink with me after the show’s over.”

I purse my lips to give the appearance of being deep in thought. “I could always just leave and sit in my own seat.”

He nods. “You could. But you won’t.”

“Awfully confident, aren’t you?” He should be.

He smiles, hazel eyes on mine as he takes a slow sip of his drink. For some reason, my stomach ties itself in knots and my thighs press together at the look in his eyes. He smirks like he knows what happened, and says, “You don’t want to leave. In the five minutes you’ve been here, you haven’t stopped blushing. And let’s not forget the spell of speechlessness.”

I blush again, making him chuckle. 

Then I murmur, “Fine. Deal.”

He takes my hand in his, shaking once and sealing it in metaphorical stone.

“Enjoy the show.”

Cecilia starts singing again before I can respond, and I become lost once again to the vibrato of her voice.

I don’t like all opera, and I don’t like all opera singers, but there’s something about her that makes you feel every single thing she’s thinking about while singing. It’s the rawest form of art I’ve ever experienced, and it’s impossible to look away while she tells her story.

That doesn’t mean I’m not overly aware of the man next to me.

His eyes are on me the entire time mine are on the stage, acting like I’m more interesting to watch than the show he undoubtedly paid thousands of dollars to see. His gaze burns a hole into the side of my face, but I can’t be bothered to care because I just can’t believe I’m here. 

The last song before intermission concludes, leaving the audience in suspense of what happens next, and I find I’m almost breathless as I watch the curtain sweep closed dramatically. 

A condition that does the opposite of improve when the man beside me says softly, “You’re beautiful, you know.”

“You’re charming,” I say back, my skin warming like it always does with compliments. 

He grins like that’s amusing.

“What’s your name?” he asks, facing me and crossing his long legs. I do the same, leaving less than an inch between our knees.

“Elain.”

“Elain,” he repeats, drawing the syllables out in a way that makes me bite into my lower lip. 

“What’s yours?”

He tilts his head, almost in preparation, as he answers, “My name is Azriel Pacino.”

He says it with finality, like he’s a person of importance and is used to being treated accordingly. I mean, it makes sense, considering the private booth we’re sitting in and the instantaneous service the waiter brought our drinks with.

I realize something I’d pushed to the back of my mind. “Why did the man from before bring me in here? He seemed like he was nervous or late or something.”

“He was,” he chuckles. “He was supposed to bring me my companion for the evening, and he was late.”

My jaw snaps shut. “Oh. So... you’re still waiting for her, then?”

At this point, she was very rudely late, but that’s absolutely none of my business.

He tilts his head and smiles, the sight too much for me and causing me to take a long swallow of champagne. “Are you asking if I’m single, Elain?”

My mouth opens and closes a few times to his amusement, but I end up whispering, “Yes.”

“I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if I wasn’t.”

I feel a strange sense of relief, but I don’t have time to read into it before the curtains sweep back open and the lights dim, meaning the show’s about to start.

More singers are with Cecilia now, their voices joining to create a sound so moving, I have to bite my lip to hold back the tears. Which grows harder as the scenes progress, and it becomes obvious this story will end in a tragedy. 

By the end, I’m helpless. My eyes are watering, and I have a death grip on the arm of the seat I’ve all but forgotten I’m sitting in. The last song is the one that breaks the dam, and when the performers bow and the lights come back on, my cheeks are damp.

I wipe them with the backs of my hands, then stand and clap so hard my palms hurt.

Taking another large sip of champagne to calm myself, I turn back to Azriel, finding him watching me once again. I normally would feel a little guilty about completely ignoring a man for over an hour, but hey, we have a deal.

“Was it everything you thought it’d be?”

“So much more,” I answer, laughing incredulously. “I’ve wanted to see her perform for years.”

A thoughtful look crosses his face, then he stands with fluid grace I could never hope to have and extends a hand. “Come with me.”

I remember our deal. “To get a drink?”

He shakes his head but offers no other explanation, and even though it might be a bad idea, I accept it.

Azriel pulls me from the booth and leads me down the hallway I ran through earlier, and I notice the people on this floor give him a wide birth, looking at him with round eyes. 

Maybe he’s famous here or something.

I shrug it off, deciding to live in the moment as his arm goes around me and his palm lands on my waist. 

We come to a stop at an elevator I hadn’t noticed, and once inside, he presses B instead of the button for the lobby. 

I’m confused as to why until the door opens and I see a flurry of people bustling back and forth, carrying props and costumes and other important stuff. 

My eyes shoot to Azriel’s, but he stays silent, just guiding me from the lift and down a narrow hallway. 

He knocks twice on a door, then opens it and tugs me inside.

When I glance around him to see what the surprise is, I almost hit the floor.

Cecilia Bartoli sits on a plush sofa, holding a martini and looking so beautiful and classy I almost start crying all over again. 

She looks up at us and raises an eyebrow, and I’m about to... I don’t know, apologize for barging in unannounced or something, when Azriel speaks.

It’s in Italian, so I can’t be sure what he’s saying, but then he tilts his head towards me and says simply, “Elain.”

She gets to her feet and comes toward us, bypassing him to grab my shoulders and kiss my cheeks. “Buona sera, Elain.”

I take a shaky breath, half convinced I passed out and this is all some elaborate dream. “Buona sera.”

“Did you enjoy the show?” she asks in heavily accented English, smiling at me kindly. 

“Oh, my goodness, yes. It was the most moving thing I’ve ever seen. I’m a huge fan of yours. I bought my ticket and have looked forward to this for months, and it was perfect,” I babble, not able to shut up in her presence.

“Gazie.” Her eyes shoot to the man beside me, and she asks kindly, “Would you like an autograph, dear?”

My mouth drops open, because I have to be dreaming. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

She waves a hand, grabs a program from tonight off the dressing table nearest us, and signs, “Elain, It was lovely to meet you. Cecilia.” 

Then she hands it to me, not possibly knowing how much it means, and says, “Come back anytime.”

I nod overzealously, too stunned by the events that have gone down in the last ten minutes to say anything witty besides, “Thank you so much. It was so wonderful to meet you.”

She kisses my cheeks again, nods to Azriel, then moves back toward the couch. He says something else that has her rolling her eyes, but he pulls me from the room before I can try and decipher it. 

As soon as it shuts behind us, I turn and smack his shoulder. 

He looks adorably confused, but I’m on an adrenaline high and don’t stop to appreciate the expression.

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you know her! Or that that’s where you were taking me! I could’ve... I don’t know, fixed my hair or something!”

Smiling, he smooths a hand over the slightly curled locks resting on my shoulder and shakes his head. “She’s an old friend of mine. It’s why I came. And you look perfect.”

I ignore the tingly sensation that statement gives me. “You’re friends with Cecilia Bartoli.” 

I say it as a statement, but it still sounds ridiculous. 

He shrugs. Shrugs. 

I shake my head in bewilderment, not knowing what else to do, and he chuckles. “Come with me”

I do.

He leads me upstairs and outside, then down the Sicilian streets until we find a beautiful, quiet bar close to where I’m staying. It’s candlelit and romantic and this entire night sounds like a fairytale. 

We take one of the many abandoned booths and order, then he leans back, drapes a long arm over the back of the booth, and looks at me like he’s content to do just that all night long. 

“Why are you in Sicily?” he finally asks as our drinks are being set in front of us.

I take a sip of wine and respond, “I start at the Culinary Institute on Monday.”

Two days from now, and I could hardly freaking wait.

“You must be a talented chef, then. That’s one of the most prestigious schools in the world.”

“I guess. What about you?” I ask, desperate to talk about him instead of me. “What do you do for a living?”

He pauses, takes a drink. “I’m in security.”

That would explain the fact he could blend in at a boxing match or a board meeting. 

“How is your English so good, by the way?”

Another pause, this one longer than the one before. “I lived in Chicago for a while.” I’m about to ask why he moved, or maybe why his expression got darker when I asked him that when he beats me to it. “How long does the program last?”

It’s my turn to pause and stall with a sip. “Just the summer.”

He nods, taking that in stride, even though it feels much more dramatic to me. Of course I’d meet someone handsome and kind and interesting when I’m only in town for three months, two weeks, and six days. 

Suddenly, I’m worried he won’t want to continue this date, knowing it’s all but pointless, considering I’m not here permanently.

“Stop thinking what you’re thinking, Elain.”

I look back up to find him studying me, hazel eyes serious. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

He reaches over and taps my bottom lip. “I know you’re frowning. And you’re beautiful when you frown, caro, but I much prefer your smile. So stop worrying about it and just enjoy the moment.”

“Okay,” I agree, vowing to do exactly that.

“Okay,” he parrots, taking another sip of his drink and tilting his head. “Why Cecilia Bartoli?”

I take a deep breath and try to think about how to phrase this. “My mom died when I was younger, and I lost my dad when I was fifteen. It hit me hard, and I couldn’t find the will to live, much less smile. And then one day, I was sitting outside the restaurant I was waitressing at, and our chef played a song by her.”

“And it was just... one of those life changing moments I’ll never forget. Her music got me through the hardest part of my life, and I’ve grown to appreciate it even more over the years.”

He smiles sadly. “Thank you for telling me that.”

I shrug, once again a little uncomfortable. “You’re easy to talk to.”

“So are you. I want to get to know you.”

We spend the next to hours talking.

We talk until the place is empty and I’m sure the owner is ruing the day we were born, but I can’t bring myself to stop. His dry commentary makes me laugh, his occasional smile makes my knees weak, and the way he looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world makes my heart pound.

The music is still playing, even though the bartender is nowhere to be found, and since I’ve had pretty much the best night of my life and am just tipsy enough to be bold, I stand and offer my hand. 

“Dance with me, please.”

His lips twitch, even as he says, “I don’t dance.”

I frown, and his eyes narrow. “Well, if you want me smiling and happy, I suggest you change your policy.”

He snorts but gives in, sliding from the booth and taking me in his arms gently. One of his palms is cradling mine, the other is on the dip of my spine, and for a moment, we simply sway to the crackly sounds coming from the old stereo.

We dance through the tables, and he turns out to be much better than I expected, twirling me and leading me effortlessly. Or maybe that’s just him. 

He’s obviously a born leader, someone who’s always in control, and it’s refreshing to be with someone confident but not overbearing. 

My head rests against his chest, and the steady beat of his heart soothes an ache in my soul I never realized I had. “You smell good,” I tell him, very matter-of-factly.

It’s a weird thing to say, but I kind of can’t help it. 

He smells like smoke and spices, the combination so addictive it’s all I can think about as we move together. 

The hand on my back moves to the back of my head, and it quickly shifts from dancing to being held in his arms. We’re still swaying, but it’s more of a hug, both of us simply enjoying the feeling of the other against us. 

His hand glides through my hair, and it feels so good I close my eyes. 

I try telling myself I’ve known him a handful of hours, but it’s no good. He’s somehow transitioned from a stranger to someone I’ve known for years, someone I’m comfortable around. 

So when he pulls back and mumbles, “I want to kiss you,” against my ear, I let him.

And when he walks me to the townhouse I’m renting, kisses me slowly, and gives me a business card with his number on it, I promise to call. 

____________________________

Part 2

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @highqueenofelfhame @ireallyshouldsleeprn @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @elorcan-trash @emikadreams @swankii-art-teacher @biggestwingspan-az

[sylvie-writes]

Long Haul

word count: 1694

pairing: harry styles x female reader

summary: just some fluffy moments along Harry and (y/n)’s trip back to England. 

author’s note: this is my first time writing for harry, hopefully it is okay! it’s taken me forever to convince myself to write anything for him! if all goes well, i might write for him more often :)

please excuse any mistakes! 

Globs of people swarmed the airport carousel, anxiously waiting for the buzz that would signal the first round of luggage. It was already dark out since the flight was what some would call a “long-haul.” A few lonely stars were peeking through the large glass windows and the shuffling of people had started to dwindle down. 

Half an hour had passed since (y/n) and Harry had landed and unfortunately, it was one of those nights where the baggage was taking forever to arrive. Since (y/n) was ridden with sleep, she softly laid her head on Harry’s shoulder that was now clad in a black sweatshirt. The two had just flown back from the States where (y/n)’s cousin had her wedding. It was very clear that the man was handling the sudden time change much better than his girlfriend who hadn’t been on the road as much as him. Her sunken eyes would occasionally peer up at his glasses-covered ones, silently asking if anything had changed. When she noticed that nothing had changed and they were still stuck waiting, she’d just go back to leaning against the slender man as if he were a wall. 

Granted, from the small sum of people that surrounded them, a few still recognized the tall, famous brunette. To shun their stares, he’d just turn his head and look at his phone or place a kiss on (y/n)’s head before anyone could be sure that it was him. Harry was never one to be rude to those who recognized him, but as any normal human, the last thing you want to do at 1 am is take a picture after having sat on a plane for twelve or so hours. 

Finally, close to an hour after the flight had landed, a loud whirring awoke (y/n) from her mini nap on Harry’s shoulder and she looked up to see people crowding the metal carousel. Harry, too, noticed the commotion and looked up from his intense staring at the ground, now snaking his hands from his sweatshirt pocket to grab one of (y/n)’s hands. The two of them then hurriedly made a beeline straight into the crowd where their own bags passed by just in time. 

With their flight having landed at such an early hour, neither (y/n) or Harry wanted to trouble any of his family members by asking to meet them at the airport. Instead, they opted to use a rental car which now led them on their next task. Fortunately, (y/n) had dug out the papers earlier while on the flight which now allowed for them to easily decipher which stand to approach. Luckily, not many people were renting cars at this hour. Looking to make an excuse to run off, Harry quickly excused himself to “run off to the loo,” seeing as (y/n) was capable of handling this herself. 

Instead of actually running to the bathroom, the man took a slight detour and rather made his way to a small coffee stand that seemed to be open. He knew that (y/n) hadn’t eaten anything in a couple of hours and also knew that cinnamon rolls were one of the many ways to bring a smile upon her face. Oh how he loved seeing that gorgeous smile. It always made his day, albeit even if it was currently nighttime. 

The exchange was quick, but not quick enough as (y/n) apparently had the same plan in mind. Harry turned to see the woman approaching his way and he couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle underneath his breath. She was halfway to the stand when she noticed her boyfriend, along with a coffee and cinnamon roll in his hands, causing her eyes to light up. 

(Y/n) smiled brightly as she handed the large luggage to Harry and he exchanged with her the two goodies. While the woman indulged in the snacks that would hopefully give her energy, Harry leaned down to softly kiss the crown of her head before throwing an arm around her shoulders, guiding them both to the parking garage. 

Once a second wind had hit Harry, he was a piper as a tiny dog while (y/n) struggled to keep her eyes open behind the wheel. She had been driving for some time now having convinced Harry to let her drive first, once they had left the airport. After some time of his own pleading, Harry was able to get the woman to switch seats with him at this gas station, ignoring her stubborn remarks. Normally on long drives, the two would take different “shifts” and technically it was now his turn to drive, despite (y/n) protesting that it wasn’t. The minute the man was in the driver’s seat and they were out in the road, (y/n) was more than alert. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Harry and his driving because he wasn’t a bad driver per se, but he was just a bit…too confident when he drove. Maybe it was the fact that he had a lead foot that made (y/n) physically push herself to keep her eyes open. For whatever reason, she just wanted to be awake, in case of anything that could suddenly occur. She’d much rather arrive at Anne’s in one piece and she was sure Harry would concur on the matter. 

To stay awake himself, Harry had turned up the stereo and teasingly sang off key to some 90’s pop song, giving (y/n) a bit of a laugh (and minor heart attack, as he kept looking away from the road.) She’d uneasily laugh to shake his gaze off and he knew very well what she was doing, having been with her so long that he knew her actions (and thoughts on his driving) like a second nature. So, being the man of humor that he is, Harry would purposely do little things to get on her nerves while knowing very well she wasn’t actually angry and rather playing along with the charade. 

“You alright there, (y/n/n)?” Harry, one hand on the wheel, placed his free hand on her thigh. He couldn’t help but slyly smile when (y/n) cut her eyes at him, the moonlight making them sparkle the slightest. “Just keep your eyes on the road, Styles.” (y/n)’s facade then broke, causing her to chortle a bit while a smile broke onto her lips. Harry noticed and his shoulders raised up in some laughter of his own. Eyes back on the road, the man blindly dragged his hand up her thigh and now into her lap, searching for her hand. Having found it, he intertwined their fingers, bringing the back of her hand to his lips. Needless to say, they stayed that way for the rest of the trip. Occasionally, the sleep deprived pair would participate in some off-key car karaoke of their own thanks to their current clouded judgement.

It was getting closer and closer to early morning by the time they had arrived. At this point there really was no point in sleeping as the day was about to begin anyway. Regardless of the time, Harry and (y/n) practically rushed out of the car wanting nothing more than some sleep. Leaving their unnecessary bags in the car, Harry fished out a key for the house, resting his hand on the small of (y/n)’s back, quietly ushering her inside. 

Like teenagers sneaking back in after a night out, (y/n) and Harry tip-toed up the stairs, careful of the creaking, and safely made it into his childhood room without waking anyone. 

In no time, (y/n) and Harry, arms wrapped around each other, were zonked out in the twin size bed. To save space, (y/n) pretty much threw a leg over the man’s hips while his own legs kinda fell off the side of the bed. It was very much comical and something out of a movie, but most of all, something they’d both feel later in the morning. 

-

10 am. 

BEEP!

The twinkling sound of Harry’s alarm went off, waking only him seeing as (y/n) was like a log to his side. Muttering a raspy “damn,” Harry quieted the annoying (and apparently forgotten) alarm. Never able to fall back asleep after waking, he opened an e-book that he had been dying to finish after months not having been able to, now relishing in the sun peeking into the room while his love peacefully dreamt beside him. 

Not too far into his book, Harry noticed the door slowly opening to reveal his mother, a small smile on her face. Finding the best way to get out without waking (y/n), Harry padded across the floor, meeting his mom in the hallway where she stood with a breakfast tray. 

“I saw your car out front and figured you two might want something.” Anne lifted the tray to show an assortment of breakfast goods. Scanning the tray, Harry noticed two lonely cups to the side, one of tea for him and one of coffee for (y/n). He gently chuckled at his mom’s attention to detail and thanked her with a kiss to the cheek, the two of them exchanging words of delight.  

Going back into the room, tray balanced in his arms, Harry noticed (y/n), now sitting up in the bed and sleepily rubbing her eyes. A cheesy grin was on the man’s face as he climbed into the fluffed up quilt, setting the tray in the woman’s lap. Leaning across, he quickly pecked her lips, “Good morning, m’darling girl.” 

“Morning, H.” She smiled at him, sounding well rested and chipper. (Y/n) gasped in excitement at the breakfast before her, going on about how Anne always thought of them and that they needed to repay her somehow. 

Harry just nodded, listening to her every word as if it was gospel, an uncontrollable smile on his face the whole time. As the two shared breakfast in bed, both Harry and (y/n) thought to themselves, “This couldn’t get much better.”

✰ hi! i just want to say thank you if you made it to the end of this haha! lemme know what you thought! i know there wasn’t much dialogue or loads of fluff, but hopefully it was still up to par! 

✰ if you guys ever have any ideas, feel free to send them my way and i will try to use them! xo. 

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 5]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, use of toys(sybian), squirting, the long awaited chapter 5 😳💕 do they finally meet?!?!?!?! hehehehehehe also sorry for not being able to post this yesterday, had a busy week and when I tell ya I woke up at 3pm today 😗 💕💕💕💕 as always, thank you so much for your continued interest!! I'm already writing ch 6 and im SOOOO EXCITEDDDD hHEHEHEHEEHEH 💕💕💕💕💕 HAVE A GREAT REST OF YOUR WEEKENDS! 🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ? 

“You guys! I--you have to see this!”

You can’t wipe the smile off of your face when you shimmy to the side, excitedly showing off the new gift that Seungcheol had sent in the mail.

sleepy_wonu: holy hell

universe_WZ: that mustve costed hella

alphagyu97: nothin like feelin extra poor amirite lads

angelhan: it was only a matter of time before dom.cheol was untouchable lol 

You giggle slightly as you adjust the camera so that you and your new sybian are in frame. “Hey~ Don’t say that!! Y’know it’s not the amount of money you spend on me… I’m glad you guys are always here with me~” The sound of coins clinking goes off in the back as you read a few more comments.

dom.cheol: well princess, don’t u wanna show them how you use your new toy? ;)

tangerine_kwan: fuck i bet it can get u to cum so fuckin fast

hoshi_tiger_xx: yessss

dom.cheol has donated $100

hoshi_tiger_xx has donated $50

“Hmm~ How many times do you think I can cum with this? Oh! Why don’t we do this~” You pause, sliding your wet panties down your legs before tossing the material to the side. You grin, swinging a leg over the toy until you’re straddling it. “Rapid fire question! Whoever guesses the right amount of orgasms I can take before I call quits… Wins a special unreleased photoset of me! Go!”

dom.cheol: 5

universe_WZ: 4

sleepy_wonu: 6

angelhan: 3 artist8hao: 5

alphagyu97: everyone took all the good numbers already!!! 7!!!!!

gentleman_josh95: DMAN IT 3

tangerine_kwan: 8, fuck

kitty_junjun: ugh i was gonna say 4!!!!

xcaliburDK: i was gonna say 5!!!!

therealchan99: 2? thats so low tho….

chwenon: as if anyone is gonna say 1, lmao. Uh 6…. If sleepy_wonu happens to disappear

hoshi_tiger_xx: im gonna say 10, but… seems… risky

Reaching for the remote, you situate yourself until the raised part of the toy sits directly on your clit. A shiver runs up your spine at the feeling; already excited for what’s in store. “Um, to be fair I haven’t tried it myself yet so I’m not sure either... Hehe, but I guess we’ll find out together, huh?”

Gulping, you set the sybian to its lowest setting, the air getting knocked out of your lungs immediately as your body lurches forward. “H--holy shit!” The vibrations are already harsh on the lowest setting; your fingers gripping the remote tightly as you try to adjust to the feeling. “O--oh my g-god, I--”

dom.cheol: aww can ur cute lil clit take it?

xcaliburDK: maybe one of the lower numbers was right lol…

The moans spill freely from your lips, garbled noises getting lost in the mix when you start to grind against the vibration. “Fuck, it--it feels suh--so good, hah, already feel like ‘m gonna cum…” You whine, already getting lost in the pleasure. For a second, you’re tempted to raise the vibration intensity but you hold back, letting your wetness coat the toy as you continue to grind down onto it. The sound of donations and comments sound fuzzy to your ears; only the sound of the sybian buzzing reminding you that the camera was still even on.

“Ngh, g-god, I’m--I’m gonna cum!”

tangerine_kwan has donated $75

xcaliburDK has donated $50

dom.cheol has donated $200

dom.cheol: cmon, lets see that pretty pussy cum

Your legs shake as you cum, only a squeak coming out of your mouth as you lurch forward atop the toy. The grip you have on the remote loosens while simultaneously trying to turn it off in the midst of your orgasm.

dom.cheol: awww cumming so hard on the first setting? Cute

therealchan99: lol baby is in trouble now

angelhan: maybe 3 was right lmao

“I--a-ah, fu--fuck!” You cry, shaky fingers finally managing to shut the toy off. Your body immediately untenses; chest heaving with how sensitive you already were and it had only been your first orgasm and the lowest setting of the toy. “O-oh my g-god, I--I didn’t know i-it was that s-strong…” You mumble, body buzzing with the remnants of your orgasm.

sleepy_wonu: well mr dom.cheol did pay top dollar

gentleman_josh95: imagine if u had this for yesterdays show lol

“Oh god, if--if I had this for yesterday’s show, I would’ve been too boneless to do today’s show!” You laugh airily, slowly grinding against the toy already. “It feels really nice though… I’m already super curious about how strong the other settings are…” Trailing off, you reach for the remote again, throat dry as you fiddle with the knob.

kitty_junjun: what if u set it to the max setting

chwenon: idk if her cute lil body could take it

dom.cheol: its okay baby, take ur time. I wanna see how sensitive that pussy of yours can get

“But ‘m already so sensitive~ I dunno how much more I can take~” You tease, biting your lip when all the comments flooding the chat are words of encouragement.

You knew when you started camming that it’d be no easy job. Building up your fanbase and subscriber count had taken you months upon months to even get within the thousands and camming was physically exhausting. Some days your viewer counts were low and some days they were above average and sometimes you didn’t make as much in one show than another.

tangerine_kwan: was therealchan99 right with 2 then? Heh

therealchan99: finally FINALLY ITS MY TIME TO SHINE

Giggling, you slowly start turning the knob; body twitching when the vibrations kick in at full force.

Seungcheol watches in amazement at the way your body jerks atop the machine.

He can see the way your legs twitch unbearably when you cum for the third time; your brows furrowed at the intensity of the vibrations and your taut body when you can barely manage to turn the machine off.

Licking his lips, he slowly thrusts up into his closed palm, spreading the precum down his shaft as he watches you catch your breath.

“I--ngh, fuh--fuck, I---I don’t--don’t know if I--I can cum a-again…”

Seungcheol moans at your breathy whimpers; the arousal in his body pooling up quickly when he sees the fucked out expression in your eyes. His eyes flit to the wetness that coats the silicone portion of the toy, smirking when he realizes how much you really seemed to enjoy the gift he’d gotten you.

Mentally patting himself on the back, he praises himself for making the right decision.

angelhan: please tlel me im the winner im begging

universe_WZ: NO

dom.cheol: is the princess tired already? ;)

You catch your breath, not wanting to give up despite how fuzzy your head was getting and how much your body was buzzing. “I dunno… We still haven’t tried the last setting, you guys… And I’m just so curious...” You whisper, hazy eyes staring into the camera.

hoshi_tiger_xx: god u look so pretty like this, all fucked out

artis8hao: right? fuck, id kill to be that guy who can get u off like this

xcaliburDK: goddamn same

The sound of coins clinking mixes with the ringing in your ears; fingertips already on the knob of the remote.

You take a deep breath, letting the adrenaline kick in as you quickly set the knob to the highest setting, a high pitched cry spilling from your lips when you let go of the remote in favor of holding onto the machine instead. Grinding down onto it, you meet the toy's harsh vibrations as it quickly forces another orgasm out of you in the matter of seconds.

Choked cries spill from your lips as your entire body tenses up; body twitching uncontrollably as you cum for the fourth time. You lean back with whatever energy you have left, bracing yourself on the back of the toy as you relieve your swollen clit of the buzzing machine. Your orgasm refuses to stop and you can already tell how obscenely wet everything’s gotten when your head starts to clear.

alphagyu97: fuck you squirted all over the toy baby

universe_WZ: fuck fucki fuck

universe_WZ: wait did i winf kjfhdsjk

You shakily slide off of the machine, resting on your side as the machine still buzzes with life next to you. Your entire body won’t stop shaking, head muddled as you fight the urge to shut your eyes and sleep for the next 5 days. “I’m--I--” You whimper, still feeling the phantom vibrations between your legs.

“I--ho--holy fuck, I, w-wow, I--I don’t--that--I’m, I’m just… wow.”

dom.cheol has donated $400

dom.cheol: knew you’d like it ;)

universe_WZ: THAT MEANS I WON

universe_WZ has donated $150

angelhan has donated $150

therealchan99: well, at least some of us got close

hoshi_tiger_xx: fuckin speak for urself man i said /10/

You end the show after letting ‘universe_WZ’ know you’ll contact him soon, shutting your eyes as you lay on your soiled sheets.

You can still feel your fingertips twitching when your eyes slide shut, chest heaving in deep breaths as you try to relax yourself, momentarily cursing yourself for pushing your body too far for tonight’s show. 

Groaning, you reach for your phone, the screen lighting up with a text from Seungcheol, a simple ‘don’t forget to drink water ;)’ in your notifications and you can’t help but pout.

Seungcheol was nice, almost too nice. Definitely not in a murderer kinda way though, you think. 

He bought you expensive gifts and never asked for anything in return which made you feel bad sometimes. And while the donations and tips you’d made through your camshows was enough to get by with, Seungcheol’s generous donations helped you always make your rent and bills on time without worrying if you’d have enough or not.

You quickly text him back with a smile on your face; hoping that he’ll like what you had to offer.

Seungcheol feels the exact same way he did when you first contacted him offering him a free show, except maybe ten times worse. At first, he’d been a little sad that he hadn’t won your quick little game but this made up for it 20-fold.

The six simple words read ‘want to meet up next friday?’, a small heart emoji next to the question and he’d almost thrown his phone when he read it, hands shakily responding with a simple ‘I’d love to.’ to make it seem like he was calm when he was most definitely not.

His immediate next order of business after replying was to text Namjoon despite how late into the night it already was, begging for the day off and offering to take any shifts or pay cuts in exchange for it. 

All he needed was one day and he swore he’d never miss a day of work ever again.

Namjoon responds with a quick ‘sure, why not’, momentarily confusing him as to why his boss was awake while simultaneously sending Seungcheol into complete panic when he realizes he finally gets to meet you.

The week goes by extremely quickly to Seungcheol; his mood on a completely different level when he offers to pick up Yoongi’s Sunday shift without a complaint. He cleans up all the messes around the roller rink and even offers to do jobs that aren’t his which have Jeongguk raising a brow at the older male.

In the days that lead up to your meeting, Seungcheol looks up a few cafes that you might be interested in and even goes to get an STD exam, not that he’s expecting anything. Safety first, he says.

Your Wednesday show comes and goes, Seungcheol too excited to even get off when he watches you and he even donates an extra $600 at the end of the show; travel spending money, he offers.

And Thursday comes without a hitch and he all but skips to the employee backroom once his shift is over, humming a tune while he changes out of his uniform.

“Hey hyung, no offense, but are you okay?” Jeongguk rests against the locker next to Seungcheol’s open one, brow raised at the blue haired male that beams back at him. “I’m scared, why are you so… giddy. You even offered to take Yoongi-hyung’s weekend shift? What the hell was that about? I’ve never seen him that giddy either.  Man, this place is getting weird, maybe I should quit...”

Seungcheol can’t help but laugh, patting Jeongguk on the shoulder before shutting his locker.

“I have an important meeting tomorrow, that’s all. And don’t quit, ‘cause who else is gonna give me free food.”

While the excitement had him since Saturday, now that it was finally Friday, he was downright nervous.

The two of you had agreed to meet at 2PM in front of the cafe that Seungcheol had picked out and you’d gotten a hotel in town to make it easier on yourself instead of trying to get back to your place too late. Seungcheol had offered to come pick you up, but you had politely declined; instead opting to meet him first before letting him do anything else for you.

And by nature, Seungcheol gets to the cafe 15 minutes early, fidgeting and continuously running his fingers through his hair as he patiently waits. He can feel his palms getting sweaty when he rubs them against his jeans, mentally trying to keep calm and his head floods with all sorts of thoughts; mainly, how he even got into this position with you in the first place. And he gets so distracted that he doesn’t realize you’d be standing watching him zone out for the last 5 minutes.

“Wow, not sure what’s got you so focused but you’re standing so still!”

Seungcheol hears your cute airy laugh that follows, a cherry blush on his cheeks when his eyes meet your smiling face. “I--oh my god…” He whispers, taking in your appearance.

He feels his face buzzing, fingers twitching when he sees you in a cute simple  sundress. “W-wow, you--you’re just… so beautiful. I mean, you’re beautiful on cam too but just, wow, in person? Incredible.” The blush reaches his ears when he realizes he’s rambling, a nervous laugh spilling out of his lips.

“S--sorry, I, uh, usually I’m more chill than this but y’know…” He trails off, to which you nod. You step closer to Seungcheol and he gets a hint of your sweet smelling perfume, mentally groaning when your cute eyes peer up into his.

“That’s okay! I totally understand~ I’m kinda nervous myself too, to be honest…” You pause, a pink blush coating your own cheeks. “But let’s talk over some food, huh?”

Seungcheol doesn’t want to pry, but he’s not sure if he should address you as ‘Cherry’ in person, or if he should avoid calling you by anything at all.

He watches as you go through the cafe’s menu, biting the inside of his cheek as he itches to ask.

“‘Cheol… I can feel you staring, y’know.. Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, concerned eyes meeting his nervous ones.

“I just-- Sorry, I didn’t mean to be awkward, I just was wondering how I should address you in person? I don’t want to overstep my bounds, I know you don’t put your real name out there so…”

You place your menu down, closing it before leaning on your palms atop the small table. Seungcheol is cute, too cute, you think. You knew this would be a question when the two of you eventually met and you had given yourself the time to get used to the idea that he’d know your real name.

He eyes hyperfocus on your glossy lips, watching as you say your name for him for the first time.

Seungcheol’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest when he hears it; repeating it over and over in his head before he says it out loud.

“Wow, it sounds nice when it’s you saying it~” You tease, leaning back in your chair. “I don’t mind if you call me by my name, by the way! The pet names are cute but maybe we should keep that to the bedroom~” You end in a whisper, winking at the male.

Fuck, he thinks, just as his cock throbs at your comment. He really wishes you wouldn’t say things like that because he’s weak and he knows it, especially when it comes to you. “Okay, cool! Yeah, sorry, I just---I didn’t want to overstep, I know you don’t really let that be public information.”

“Of course! And thank you, I really can’t tell you how much you’ve done for me. I really… really wouldn’t be able to do all the things that I do if it weren’t for your constant support.”

You want to say more, but the waiter comes to take your orders, cutting you off until he leaves again.

“By the way…” Seungcheol looks at you with curious eyes, lips puckered around his drink straw. “Tell me about yourself, ‘Cheollie! I feel like we didn’t really get to talk that one time!”

He swallows the water in his mouth, licking his dry lips. Here goes nothing, he thinks.

“I swear, and please don’t think I’m a loser, but I--I work at a roller rink. It’s really not cool, I’m not some high paid CEO or whatever, I--I just, I work hard?” Seungcheol chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he waits for your reply.

“Wait, that’s so cool! Oh my gosh, I kinda wanna go!”

The surprise washes over Seungcheol, eyes wide as saucers when he hears you saying you’d want to visit his workplace. “Wuh---wait, seriously!?”

“Yeah! It’s kinda, like, retro! I haven’t been to one since I was a kid!” He quickly offers to bring you to the roller rink on Sunday so you could have somewhere to hang out while you were in town.

“And sadly, I took a shift on Sunday so you can hang with me while I work.” 

Seungcheol grins, watching as you jokingly roll your eyes at him. “So you did it on purpose, huh…” The two of you share a laugh, glad that your first meeting seemed to be going okay so far.

“Well, I mean, if it makes you feel any better, my best friend works the concession stand so I’ll make sure to get you a free pair of skates and food whenever you want?”

“It’s a deal!”

The two of you continue to talk over your late lunch, Seungcheol telling you of the various work hijinks he’d gone through at his time working at the roller rink.

“Which, by the way, that morning show you did… Hope you know I holed up in the restroom for an entire hour for that ‘lil stunt.”

You can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes when you laugh, only feeling slightly bad for the blue haired male. “But I told you! Sometimes it’s just like that, y’know~” You tease back, heart blooming at the way you and Seungcheol got along.

In all honesty, there’d been something on your mind since you first sat down and you didn’t know when the right time to ask was, or if it was even appropriate.

The smile slips from your face as you bite the inside of your cheek in thought.

Seungcheol takes the bill from the waiter, slipping his card into the holder before you can even offer. But he notices the way your expression falls, noting the hesitance in your eyes when he looks at you from across the table.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice is gentle, soft and caring when he leans over the table to make sure you’re alright.

“Yeah! Just---Can I ask you for a favor?”

[lochtayboatsong]

The Jesus Christ Superstar essay absolutely no one asked for.

Last weekend, I watched the pro-shot of the 2012 arena tour of Jesus Christ Superstar starring Ben Forster, Tim Minchin, and Melanie C, because it was Easter and it was up on YT for the weekend.  I never managed to do my annual listen-through of Leonard Bernstein’s Mass this year, as is my usual Easter tradition, so I figured “Why not watch/listen to this instead?”  It was my first time seeing and hearing JCS in full, and Y’ALL, it has been living rent-free in my brain ever since.  I have a mighty need to get my thoughts out, so here they are, in chronological order by song.  

1) Prologue: I love the way JCS 2012 makes use of the arena video screen.  The production design and concept clearly took a lot of inspiration from the “Occupy ______” movement, which makes it feel a bit dated now.  But every single production of JCS is a product of its time period, so this is a feature and not a bug.  

2) Heaven On Their Minds: This is a straight-up rock song.  It wouldn’t be out of place on any rock and roll album released between 1970 and 2021, and it boggles my mind that Webber and Rice were both in their early twenties when they wrote it.  Also, the lyric “You’ve begun to matter more than the things you say” hits hard no matter the year.

3) What’s the Buzz: A+ use of the arena screens again, this time bringing in social media to set the tone.  Also, this song establishes right from the outset that Jesus is burnt out and T I R E D by this point in the story.  Seriously, can we just let this man have a nap?

4) Strange Thing Mystifying: Judas publicly calls out Mary and Jesus claps back.  Folx, get you a partner who will defend your honor the way Jesus defends MM in this scene.  Also Jesus loses his shoes and is mostly barefoot for the remainder of the show.

5) Everything’s Alright: Okay, this is one of the songs I have A LOT to say about.  First, it’s important to know that I was a church musician throughout all of my adolescence and into my early adulthood.  The pianist at the services I usually played at was a top-notch jazz pianist, and also my piano teacher for about six years while I as in high school and undergrad.  (Incidentally, I had a HUGE crush on his son, who was/is a jazz saxophonist and clarinetist and also played in the church band, but that’s a story for another day.)  One of the hymns we played a few times a year was called “Sing of the Lord’s Goodness,” which is notable for being in 5/4 time.  Whenever this hymn was on the schedule, it was usually the recessional, or the last song played as the clergy processed out and the congregation got ready to leave, so we were able to have some fun with it.  After a couple verses the piano player and his son would usually morph it into “Take Five,” a famous jazz standard by Dave Brubeck which is also in 5/4 time.  Anyway, the first time I listened to this song in full, it got to Judas’s line “People who are hungry, people who are starving,” and I sat bolt upright and went “HOLY SHIT THIS IS ‘SING OF THE LORD’S GOODNESS/TAKE FIVE.’”  And I was ricocheted back in time to being fourteen and trying to keep up with this father/son duo in a cavernous Catholic church while simultaneously making heart-eyes at the son.  Final note: This is the only song in the musical to feature all three leads (Jesus, Judas, and Mary Magdalene) and is mostly Jesus and MM being soft with each other in between bouts of Jesus and Judas snarling at one another.

6) This Jesus Must Die: I LOVE that all the villains in this production are in tailored suits.  LOVE IT.  Also, Caiaphas and Annas are a comedy duo akin to “the thin guy and the fat guy,” except in this case it’s “the low basso profundo and the high tenor.”  Excellent use of the arena video screen again, this time as CCTV.

7) Hosanna: My background as a church musician strikes back again.  It honestly took me two or three listens to catch it, but then I had another moment of sitting bolt upright and going “HOLY SHIT THIS IS A PSALM.”  Psalms sung in church usually take the form of call-and-response, with a cantor singing the verses and the congregation joining in for the chorus.  If I close my eyes during this song, I have no trouble imagining Jesus as a church cantor singing the verses and then bringing the congregation in for the “Ho-sanna, Hey-sanna” chorus. 

8) Simon Zealotes: This is part “Gloria In Excelsis” and part over-the-top Gospel song.  Honestly it’s not my favorite, but it marks an important mood change in the show.  The end of “Hosanna” is probably Jesus at his happiest in the entire show, and then Simon comes in and sours the mood by trying to tip the triumphant moment into a violent one.  Jesus is not truly happy again from this moment on.

9) Poor Jerusalem: Also not my fave.  It kinda reads like Webber and Rice realized that Jesus didn’t have a solo aria in Act I, so they came up with this.  But it has the distinction of containing the lyric, “To conquer death you only have to die,” which is the biggest overarching theme of the story.

10) Pilate’s Dream: Pontius Pilate might be the most underrated role in this entire show, and I love that this production has him singing this song while being dressed in judge’s robes.  

11) The Temple: The first half of this is one of the campiest numbers in Act I, at least in this production, and it’s awesome.  The second half is one of the saddest, as Jesus tries to heal the sick but finds there are too many of them.  Also the whole scene is almost entirely in 7/8 time, which I think is just cool.

12) I Don’t Know How To Love Him: Mary Magdalene’s big aria, and one of the songs I knew prior to seeing the full-length show.  This production has MM taking off her heavy lipstick and eye makeup onstage, mid-song, which is kind of cool.  Melanie C says in a BTS interview that MM’s makeup is her armor, so this is a Big Symbolic Moment.

13) Damned For All Time: The scene transition into this song is played entirely in pantomime, and I love it.  The solo guitarist gets to be onstage for a bit, A+ use of the video screen again to show Judas on CCTV, etc.  Love it.  And then this song is Judas frantically rationalizing what he’s doing, and what he’s about to do, with Caiphas and Annas just reacting with raised eyebrows and knowing looks.

14) Blood Money: This is where the tone of the show really takes a turn for the dark.  I think this might be one of Tim Minchin’s finest moments as Judas, because his facial expressions and microexpressions throughout this scene speak absolute volumes.  And the offstage chorus quietly singing “Well done Judas” as he picks up the money is a positively chilling way to end Act I.

15) The Last Supper: Act II begins with major “Drink With Me” vibes.  (Except JCS came WAY before Les Miz, so it’s probably more accurate to say that “Drink With Me” has major “The Last Supper” vibes.)  Jesus and Judas have their knock-down, drag-out fight, and it’s honestly heartbreaking, thanks again to Tim Minchin’s facial expressions.  A well-done production of JCS will really convey that Jesus and Judas were once closer than brothers, even though their relationship is at breaking point when Act I begins.

16) Gethsemane: This is Jesus’s major showpiece and one of my faves.  Jesus knows he has less than 24 hours to live, he knows he’s going to suffer, and worst of all, he doesn’t know whether it’s going to be worth it.  It’s an emotional rollercoaster to watch and to perform, and it goes on for ages: something like 6 or 7 minutes.  Fun fact: the famous G5 is not written in the score.  Ian Gillan, who played Jesus on the original concept album, just sang it that way, so most subsequent Jesuses have also done it that way.  Lindsay Ellis has a great supercut of this on YT.  John Legend notably sang the line as written during the 2018 concert.  

17) The Arrest: Judas’s Betrayer’s Kiss is played differently across different productions.  The 2012 version is pretty tame - I’ve seen clips and gifs of other productions, including the 2000 direct-to-video version, where they kiss fully on the mouth and have to be dragged apart by the guards and it is THE MOST TENDER THING.  Then the 7/8 riff from “The Temple” comes back and the 2012 version lets the video screen do its thing again as Jesus is swarmed by reporters.

18) Peter’s Denial: Not much to say about this one, as it’s basically a scene transition.  But it’s a significant moment in the Passion story, so I’m glad they included it.

19) Pilate and Christ: The 2012 production continues with the theme of Caiaphas, Annas, and Pilate all being bougie af, since Pilate intentionally looks like he just came from tennis practice during this scene.  Also he does pilates...hehehe.

20) King Herod’s Song: Tim Minchin says in a BTS interview that JCS works best when Jesus and Judas are played seriously and the rest of the production is allowed to be completely camp and wild and bizarre all around them, and he is bloody well CORRECT about that.  Case in point: King Herod.  There is not a single production of JCS that I know of where Herod is played “straight.”  He’s been played by everyone from Alice Cooper to Jack Black, and everyone puts a different zany spin on him.  In JCS 2012 he’s a chat show host in a red crushed velvet suit, who is clearly having the time of his LIFE. 

21) Could We Start Again Please: This is another of my faves.  Just a quiet moment where MM, Peter, and the disciples try to grapple with the fact that Jesus is arrested and things are going very, very badly.  This is also my favorite Melanie C moment of the 2012 show.  Her grief is very real, and the little moment she has with Peter at the end is very real.

22) Death of Judas: This is basically Tim Minchin screaming for about five minutes, and incredibly harrowing to watch on first viewing.  

23) Trial Before Pilate: Possibly my single favorite scene in the entire 2012 production.  This is another harrowing watch, but there’s so much to take in.  The “set” that the entire show takes place on is essentially just a massive staircase, and the people with power are almost always positioned above the people without power.  In this scene, the crowd shouting “Crucify Him!” is positioned above Pilate, which is a very telling clue to Pilate’s psychology during this scene.  Jesus is at the very bottom of the stairs, of course.  Excellent use of the video screen once again during the 39 Lashes, to show the lash marks building and building until the entire screen is a wash of red.  Pilate’s counting also gets more and more frantic, especially starting around “20.”  And all the while the guitar riff from “Heaven On Their Minds” is playing.  Jesus’s line “Everything is fixed and you can’t change it” is played quite differently in different productions - here it’s defiant, but elsewhere (in JCS 2000 for example) it’s almost tender, like Jesus is absolving Pilate for his part in the trial.  But it always ends the same - with Pilate almost screaming as he passes the sentence and “washes his hands” of the whole sorry business. 

24) Superstar: The most over-the-top number in the show.  Judas, who died two scenes ago, comes back to sing this.  There are soul singers.  There are girls in skimpy angel costumes.  The parkour guys from the prologue are back.  Judas pulls a tambourine out of hammerspace midway through the song.  And Jesus is silently screaming and crying as he gets hoisted onto a lighting beam while all this is going on.

25) The Crucifixion: More of a spoken-word piece than a song, it’s Jesus’s final words on the cross over eerie piano music, and another harrowing watch.

26) John 19:41: An instrumental piece in which Jesus is taken from the cross and carried, at last, to the top of the stairs, before being lowered out of sight as the video screen turns into a memorial wall and everything fades to black.

So.  I know I’m anywhere from three to fifty-one years late to this particular party, but I am on the JCS bandwagon now and I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.  :)

[detective-gum-chew]

okay okay okay

i know this isnt an orginal idea by any means but roleswap!narumitsu is just so good

so youll have to indulge me because this lives in my head rent free and i want to write it down concretely somewhere (also this gets LONG so ill pop a cut in here)

alright so:

1. at least in my writing of it, this is also a no-dl6/gregory lives au. but as well at that, miles and phoenix didnt go to school together

2. this means that there was nobody to defend phoenix at the class trial (yes i know the money stolen was edgeworths but shhh lets pretend it was someone elses, kay?) this lead to phoenix becoming not only bitter, but somewhat obsessive over the idea of punishing people that do wrong

(if someone can find that quote where phoenix talks about how he could have become a prosecutor because of the trial i will give u a gentle kiss on the forehead) 

3. Edgeworth was raised by Gregory and ends up becoming a defense attorney

4. in this, Von Karma goes down and Franzy is adopted by Gregory, and she assists Miles in his cases. (she can still have a whip, as a treat.)

5. anyway with that set up, lets get into some cases

6. Larry gets accused of Cindys murder, Miles defends with Franzy

7. Lets say Mia was in the crowd of that trial and decided to contact miles, seeing as he appears to be another uncorrupt lawyer and asks him for his help in taking down Redd White

8. He agrees, and she sets a time for him to meet at her office so they can talk. Mia then calls her sister and updates her on how shes going to recruit another person (Redd White hears this)

9. Much like the original case, Mia gets murdered, but this time, Maya isnt here to be blamed. Instead, its Miles himself, as the name that White heard over the phone (so basically we’re speed running to the “defend yourself in court” part)

10. the prosecutor today is Phoenix Wright.

11. but before that lets go into some backstory actually. Phoenix had encountered Mia previously during the Terry Fawles case. He had respected her as a peer, if not for just her determination and deductive skills. (After all, he was young at the time and solely focused on punishing the wicked) After Diego’s poisoning, he had briefly reached out for condolences

12. but anyway, Phoenix had distantly respected Mia, and now that she was dead, he was going to be tough on whoever he thought murdered her.

13. Miles proves his innocence, although it takes some baiting to get Redd White out of his building and actually into court. 

14. Wright is... not pleased about this, but theres not much he can do. His displeasure for Mias murder has shifted, but theres a new displeasure for Miles, the man who could beat him in court. (”well well well, you managed to save your own skin. But you should hope you get as lucky as you did in your next case”)

15. Next case! We know Miles is a steel samurai fan, so even without Maya it takes very little convincing for him to take the case. (Fran is not as amused but trusts her brother... enough.. to follow his lead)

16. Case proceeds mostly as normal, with Phoenix requiring Dee to re-do her testimony (maybe something deep within him still itches to put the true bad guy away, even if its harder than the accused)

17. I dont think Phonix would deliver the unnecessary feelings line, although there definetely is that moment in the lobby where hes like “hm. maybe you arent a bad person, but that doesnt mean i have to like you.”

18. and now, now now now, we finally get to the part where i somehow managed to put the most thought into. (for context it is nearly 2 am when i am writing this)

19. sleep schedule aside, you couldnt have thought i would made this WITHOUT some good angst, so here we go. case four is similarly structured to the original, but with an extra side of Phoenix angst.

20. Miles wakes up to Franzy shaking him. She points to the television. the news is on, but the voices are drowned out by a distant ringing as he stares at the image on the screen.

Famed Prosecutor Phoenix Wright Arrested For Murder

21. it just doesnt make sense. So he gets out of bed and into the closest clothes he can find and out the door with his sister in tow. He sits in the cold detention room, thinking about the other side of the glass.

22. Phoenix Wright looks dull. He asks what they want. Miles says he wants an explanation. Wright sneers and asks why. For some reason, that pisses Miles off. He slams his badge to the glass and Wright looks surprised.

“Do you know what this is? It’s my attorneys badge.”

“the badge doesnt mean youre a good lawyer.”

“Well Mr Wright, its 2-0, so i dont think you have any right to say that.” Miles glares at him and Wright sits back in his seat. He watches Miles for a long time.

“If im going to defend you, you need to tell me what happened.“ Wrights eyebrows shoot up and Franziska squawks at his side

“What do you mean defend him!”

“What she said.”

Miles narrows his eyes at Wright as he ponders to himself the answer. Why is he doing it? the answer comes to him. 

“Because i dont believe you did it.”

For all his snark, Miles cant bring himself to believe that the man in front of him would kill someone. Theres something about him, either in his eyes or the way he carries himself that makes the idea itself preposterous. Wright looks at him for a long time after he says it.

���Very well.”

21. Miles doesnt seem him until court, but at least he testifies. The next person up, a red head by the name of Melissa Foster, gives a testimony that seems airtight.

22. that is, until he looks over at Phoenix, who is pale as he looks at the woman on the witness stand. Phoenix catches his eye, and very carefully, very slowly, mouths one name.

Dahlia Hawthorne

23. (I really wish i could continue with the more narrative parts of this but im honestly running out of steam and ill get to the point lol. Maybe ill finish it later.)

24. Terry Fawles dies on the stand. Diego Armando falls into a coma. Dahlia Hawthorne walks free. Even after what happened to Diego, Phoenix is convinced he can do better. He sets up a meeting with Dahlia.

25. Doug shows up, trying to persuade him away from it, saying he overheard Dahlia’s plan to kill Phoenix when she arrives. Phoenix is cocky, and the pair fight. Doug gets shoved into the powerline. Phoenix, thinking him dead, panics and runs.

26. Dahlia, having overheard, goes back and finishes him off, drops some poison into his mouth perhaps. With an accidental death with a cause so obvious, nobody bothers to run blood tests (until Miles)

27. Its years later, and Phoenix gets a note that tells him they know what really happened to Doug. Phoenix arrives to a meeting place to find a dead body. He picks up the vial of poison almost absently. 

28. After all, Dahlia had gotten rid of Diego and Mia was dead. Now all she had to do was get rid of Phoenix

29. It plays out similarly to case four, with Phoenix being absolved of the first murder, then confessing to the old one. Miles has gone through the work to save his life once, that he cant not do it again.

30. but happy endings (ish) for all, with Phoenix being freed, Dahlia imprisoned and Miles having a better understanding of both him and Phoenix.

31. maybe more happens but we’re at bullet point 31 so its time to stop for now lmao. uh but yeah! roleswap au..... brainrot really.

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 10: Dukexiety

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 10: You are born with a birthmark, similar to a tattoo, that is shared by your soulmate.

Content warnings: allusions to past suicidal thoughts, just bad mental health past in general, vague bullying, swimming pools, past isolation, minor injury (broken ribs), general anxiety and self deprecation.

Word count: 3.9k

I was very low on time, and very exhausted from work, so I tried something new! I first discovered the concept of ‘bullet fics’ from @illogicallyinclined ‘s hockey au, GO CHECK IT OUT!!! (It’s living in my head rent free for a couple months now)

Virgil, Patton, Logan, and Roman have been friends for as long as they can remember. The first three met at a neighborhood barbecue when they were just a couple years old, and since they all live on the same block, became each other’s go to play buddies. They all stuck together in their first years of school together, the unbreakable trio, and then they met Roman. Or, Roman was pulled into their clutches and was therefore part of the group now. Patton saw him getting bullied across the playground and ran in to help, and now Roman is ‘eternally in their debt’. But they like him, so his extravagance is okay. 

They hung out constantly, all throughout middle and highschool, and they graduated together. It was a big moment for all of them; Patton, who almost got left a grade behind several times (his dyslexia went undiagnosed for several years and he was simply categorized as ‘dumb’), Virgil, who almost didn’t make it due to a mental health crisis, Logan, who was pressured heavily by his parents to move up a grade and had to fight tooth and nail to stay with his friends, and Roman, who’s bullying problems didn’t exactly lessen through the years, and was more than relieved to be leaving that behind. 

That summer, they pledge (mostly by Roman’s pleading) to try and do something fun every day. While Logan says this is improbable and Virgil groans at the thought of spending every day socializing, Patton is excited for the idea and “it’s two against two so you have to at least try!”

“That logic doesn’t make sense-” “Shut it, teach, just let us have this.”

So far, they’ve gone to the amusement park just out of town, gone to the park too many times to count, visited their local arcade that they hadn’t even stepped foot into since middle school, and tie-dyed a variety of clothing items in Patton’s backyard. Today, Patton is forcing them all to go to the pool, despite Logan claiming that they’re “feces infested, germ nesting grounds” and Virgil’s argument that “he burns like an unwatched pot of milk, how can you expect this from me”, Patton’s little puppy eyes do them all in.

Unfortunately, just as they’re leaving for the pool, Roman gets a call. At first it’s civil, and then his voice raises, and then he’s hanging up and throwing his phone onto his seat from where he’s standing next to the open car door. Angrily, he tells his friends that his mom got called into work and his dad’s on a business trip, so they need to take his brother with them.

At first, this raises some confusion.

“I was not under the impression that you had a little brother.”

“How old is he? Either way, I say, the more the merrier!”

Virgil is not thrilled at the idea of babysitting, since kids generally don’t like him, but he doesn’t voice his displeasure. 

Roman has to admit, with much embarrassment, that it’s actually his twin, who is just so chaotically irresponsible that he has lost Home Alone Privileges. He’s broken the TV, accidentally started fires, and lost their dog one too many times and his parents said no more. 

So he drives all the way back to his house, the three friends crammed into the back seat of his two door sedan (because the seats are A Pain to raise and lower and it makes more sense to give said brother the front seat instead of rearranging when they get him), grumbling under his breath about his stupid brother, stupid work, stupid stupid stupid-

Virgil is apt to agree with him, because if being around his three closest friends is enough interaction to mentally exhaust him, adding a new person to the mess is so much worse. He’s generally unexcited to meet this new person… until they pull up to the driveway.

And holy heck. 

This man is GORGEOUS. 

It takes a second for him to realize it’s Roman’s brother, because despite his first assumption, the two are not identical. They’re very similar, obviously related, for sure, but they are surprisingly easy to tell apart, and it’s not just because of the silver streak in the brother’s hair.

Which he should not find as hot as he does.

After Roman insists said brother does need to go get a bathing suit and no you can not go swimming in your jeans, he jumps into the passenger seat and, with as much energy as Roman has at Full Potential, introduces himself as Remus to the backseat audience. 

Patton and Logan both say small hello’s, but Virgil is just stuck.

Dear lord. Princey, why have you been hiding him from me?

When they get to the pool, Virgil makes a complete fool of himself getting out of the car. He trips on his seatbelt, landing directly in Remus’ arms, and looks up to see this devil man grinning at him with all the hubris of a greek god. Before he can say anything, Virgil pushes himself up and rolls his eyes (all while internally screaming) and walks away, joining Patton and Logan where they are just entering the main gate. 

He can’t help it; when in proximity of cuteness, his emergency mode is “be a dick”.

But it only gets worse from there.

When Virgil has an umbrella properly set up above a chair so he can save his skin from the sun (“I burn like unwatched milk on a stove. I’m not going in.”) and is comfortably situated with his phone and iced coffee, Remus steps in front of him to take his shirt off. 

He’s pretty sure Remus didn’t even mean to. It just… happened to be directly in his line of sight. 

As soon as the shirt is above his head, Virgil chokes on his drink, squirting iced coffee out of his nose and going into a coughing fit. Patton rubs his back while Roman tries not to laugh (and fails miserably), all while Remus is just watching him. Confused. (Logan is in the change rooms, because he insists on not wearing his bathing suit unless he is actively about to swim)

There’s more than just the sun issue that prevents Virgil from swimming. While his friend’s soulmarks are relatively small (Roman has a little one on his neck, Logan and Patton have a shared one just above their ankles), Virgil’s is a huge splotch that covers his entire side, reaching from just above his top rib to where his waistband usually lies. It’s all squiggles and lumps; Virgil once compared it to a storm cloud, but the lightning streaks were tentacles. It’s all in all, just… A Mess. And he doesn’t really like it. No one he’s ever met has had a soulmark like that, and he hates standing out.

When Remus takes off his shirt, in all his muscled glory, Virgil can’t miss the matching soulmark that trails down Remus’ side. It’s his, no doubt about it, but… that can’t be right, can it? Remus is so… full of life, dangerous, the epitome of chaotic; he’s everything Virgil is not. More so, he’s terrified of what Remus must think of him. He’s nothing special, he’s just an anxious ball of angst. What if he��s disappointed in who the universe decided to stick him with? 

After he’s done choking on iced coffee, and Logan is back from the change room, he realizes Remus is long gone, in the deep end of the pool trying to gather as many foam noodles as he can. They check that Virgil is alright, and when he merely gives them a shaky thumbs up, they take it at face value and dive in. Except Logan, who uses the steps like a mature adult, you children. 

He lets the rest of his coffee sit in the sun, until the sun melts all the ice cubes and it’s lukewarm to touch and overall, just gross, because suddenly he has no appetite. Yeah, this guy is gorgeous and he’s hopelessly gay for him, but... soulmate? That’s a lot for anyone to take in, much less someone with forty seven different kinds of anxiety. /j

If Virgil was uneasy taking his shirt off before, he sure as hell isn’t doing it now. No matter how much Patton and Roman plead with him, he stays glued to his chair, eyes flickering from his friends playing Marco Polo to watching his soulmate Remus. He’s turned the pool noodles into a giant raft and is trying to balance on it, like an absolute idiot.

An extremely good looking idiot. 

Virgil can’t help but notice that… he’s all alone. Roman, Patton, and Logan barely even throw him the occasional glance, much less invite him to hang out with them in the water. Worse than that, he seems relatively fine with it. It could just be that he doesn’t want to intrude on his brother’s friend group, but Remus doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to have those boundaries. Which kind of insinuates that he’s used to being alone, and Virgil can’t help but empathize. 

He notices it a lot, actually. The group meeting Remus also coincides with Roman and Virgil becoming more close; less of a frenemy relationship, and more of an actual friendship. Patton is delighted, because this means the three of them get to hang out at Roman’s huge place more often without their constant bickering (because when it got bad at one of their houses, Virgil’s was never more than a ten minute walk away when Roman finally pushed his last button. Here, they were all stuck.)

And every time they go over, he can’t help but notice the loud music coming from Remus’ room, or the man just sitting on the couch watching TV (which he tends to do shirtless, which does not help Virgil at all), or irritating Roman’s parrot. All in all, doing things alone. It strikes a chord in Virgil’s heart, which is something he’d never admit to another person.

Maybe that’s why, in the following week when Roman has the grand idea to go on a mountain hike, Virgil quietly asks if they could invite Remus. At first, Roman is adamant. “He’ll just ruin things, he doesn’t appreciate nature, he’s annoying!” But Patton claims “The more the merrier” and Logan doesn’t have any particular stance, so he begrudgingly invites Remus.

Who very excitedly accepts. 

The trail Roman visited is quite a ways out of town, so they cram back into his tiny car and start the drive. Patton claimed shotgun, so him and Roman have derailed into an animated conversation about cartoons, while Logan just pops in his earbuds and leans his head against the window. For the longest time, Remus and Virgil sit in awkward silence, because neither of them could get a word in edgewise to the front seat conversation even if they tried, and they don’t… really… know what to say… to each other. 

It’s Remus who finally breaks the silence (shocker).

“Roman tells more you’re the one who wanted to invite me.”

“Yeah, well, you seemed lonely. And… I mean, you’re Roman’s brother. Can you really be that bad?”

He means it as a joke, but he sees the light in Remus’ eyes die slightly. The tone of his voice doesn’t falter though, remaining as joyful and quirky as always. 

“I’m a lot more fun than Roman. People just don’t like to see it that way.”

“Setting your kitchen curtains on fire is fun?”

“If you were there, you’d understand!”

And they keep talking, maybe trailing into borderline flirting, for the whole ride. Virgil is surprised at the lack of tenseness in his shoulders, because though Remus is loud and a little unsettling, he is incredibly patient when Virgil has trouble forming his sentences and doesn’t interrupt him when he’s talking; an incredible help to someone with crippling anxiety. Underneath his exterior, he’s actually… incredibly soft? What?

By the time they pull up to the trail, Remus is actually starting to grow on Virgil. Since Patton and Roman are still so into their debate, and Logan seems content listening to his music (or podcast, but who really knows), they continue talking as the hike starts. The shorter boy can’t help but glance at the other every few seconds, seeing their soulmark just peeking past the edge of his baggy tank top. If Remus notices, he says nothing. 

And he learns Remus was bullied a lot through school, just like Roman was, but instead of finding a group that supported him, he broke off as a lone wolf. He came off scary or maybe just a little bit crazy to anyone he tried to befriend, since his social skills were pretty lacking due to disuse and his incredible lack of filter, so he learned early that staying alone hurt less. And in that time, he just became more and more… Like That… because he literally never had peers to mature with. 

The hike is a long one. Remus is pretty eager to spill his guts, probably since he was never able to before, so Virgil feels obligated to do the same. He tells Remus about his anxiety, about his mental health issues during school, about his home life and his hobbies, and the fact that there are more people around just fades into the background. It could as well be just them, and Virgil starts to wish it was. 

So of course, that’s when everything goes to shit.

A mountain biker comes ripping down the path, too quick to even process, and Virgil is caught off guard. Of course, he’s not walking near the edge of the path, because he has some shred of common sense, but the bike speeding by him causes him to flinch and stumble to the side; an instinctual reaction. Except his instincts decided to not remember until the last second that he’s at the edge of the trail.

It’s almost like happening in slow motion, his foot goes over the edge, and he doesn’t realize what’s about to happen until his other foot is already off the ground, ready to take that next step back, and he’s falling. Luckily (as lucky as one can be in this situation), it’s not a straight drop, just a decently long, steep slope that’s essentially just a bunch of rocks and weeds. 

He hears his friends scream his name, sees a hand fly out to catch him, and it just snags the edge of his jacket before he’s freefalling for a split moment. One heart stopping, never ending, eternal and all too short moment of weightlessness where he twists his body, hoping to try and brace himself, and then he meets the slope.

Hard.

His breath leaves him in a wheeze and he distinctly hears a loud snap. Through his pain addled brain, he tries to stop his slide further down by grabbing anything; rocks, roots, dirt. It’s useless.

He stops naturally, on a small ledge several meters from the top before the slope continues. For a moment, he can only lay there, trying to breathe through the intense pain flaring through him pretty much everywhere, not to mention the sheer levels of pure panic numbing his thoughts. He stares at the clouds, watching them as they float by, each breath spreading fire through his torso but at the same time strangely numb.

And then, “VIRGIL!”

His eyes shoot open (wait, when did he close them?) to see Remus’ concerned face above his. If the messied state of his outfit is any indication, this man just slid down the slope to catch up to him. His hands are hovering above Virgil, scared to touch, but more scared that Virgil is going to keep falling.

“Fuck,” is Virgil’s eloquent response. He tries to take a deep breath, tries to do his breathing pattern to calm his nerves, but NOPE. Wrong move. 

He immediately gasps and his hands fly to his ribs, another flair of pain shooting up them. Remus’ hands grab his, pulling them away from his torso, holding them securely. “I think you have some broken ribs. That was… one hell of a fall. We need to get you back up to the trail though, okay?”

Virgil can only nod his head, allowing Remus to help him stand, biting his lip so hard to keep from crying out that his lip splits. It hurts.

Trust Logan to come up with ideas on the fly. The biker must have stopped when he realized Virgil had fallen (at least he didn’t just keep driving), because when Virgil opened his tear filled eyes, there was a bike tire just a few feet from his face. He followed the frame of the bike, up to where Roman was holding the other wheel and standing precariously on the slope. Logan is clinging onto his hand, one foot on the slope and one on the actual trail, and if Virgil has to guess, the biker and Patton are just out of sight, keeping Logan steady. 

Virgil knows it’s going to hurt before Remus even warns him that it will, watching the taller man get a good grip on the bike wheel, before holding Virgil’s wrist with as much force that can muster without actively cutting off circulation. Virgil holds onto his wrist in return, Remus gives a shout to go ahead, and the human/bike chain they’ve created begins to pull them up. 

And oh lord, if Virgil thought just laying down was painful, tripping and stumbling up a steep incline is another world altogether. This time, biting his lip doesn’t work and he lets out a few muffled cries as the team works together, Remus squeezing his wrist every time a choked sound escapes his lips, mind too full of pure agony to even curse.

When they finally step foot onto the trail again, Virgil is in tears, and he is too far gone to even care. The biker is incredibly apologetic, offering his contact information and bidding them adieu when they insist that they’re okay now, and takes off, at an admittedly much slower pace than he was at before. 

Logan, the only one of them with proper (and extensive) first aid training, forces Virgil to sit, giving him time to find a position that puts as little pressure on his ribs as possible, before crouching in front of him.

“Let me check if they’re broken.”

His hand reaches out towards Virgil’s shirt and all the alarm bells start BLARING. No. No, no, no, no, no. Before he can restrain himself, he reaches out and slaps Logan’s hand away, sending another wave of pain through him. The pain doesn’t matter though, not in comparison to Logan possibly revealing his soulmark. 

Logan doesn’t understand this reaction properly (when does he ever), so he tries again.

“Virgil, I need to check the extent of the damage. A cracked rib means you can still make it back to the car. A broken rib would require emergency services and probable air lifting to prevent further damage, like a punctured lung.”

“Fine,” Virgil hisses through clenched teeth, bitterly understanding his logic, “Just… don’t take the shirt off.”

He tries to say it to only Logan, but it’s clear the other’s heard it by the way they exchange confused glances. Yes, they’ve never seen Virgil without a shirt, except they’d always pegged that up to insecurities. Wouldn’t those take a back seat in a possible medical emergency? 

Logan complies, however, and slides his hand under the hem of his shirt without moving the fabric. He runs his hands slowly up each rib, concentrating heavily, until he reaches one midway up and Virgil yelps, instinctively flinching backwards.

Startled by the reaction (it’s his first time actually administering first aid like this, give him a break), Logan jumps back, forgetting his hand is still under Virgil’s shirt.

His hand moves up.

Virgil moves back.

And the hem of his shirt rises up his chest for just a moment.

A moment’s all that’s needed, though. When you notice something that you’ve seen yourself a hundred times over, admiring this way and that in the mirror to commit it to memory, it only takes a glance to recognize it.

Remus only needed that split second of the shirt riding up to notice the lower half of the soulmark, and he definitely did notice it, if the way his jaw drops is anything to go off of. Virgil winces again, not from pain this time, and looks down at his shoes, abhorring the awkward silence that ensues.

The other three don’t understand, watching the two of them with varying levels of confusion, until Remus blurts:

“Are you my soulmate?”

And everything clicks into place. Virgil nods mutely, still not looking up, afraid of his reaction. Would he be upset Virgil kept it a secret? Would he be disappointed? Would he would he would he-

“Oh thank GOD!”

That’s… not the reaction he was expecting. He looks up to see Remus grinning like a child on their birthday, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I mean, if I’d want anyone to be my soulmate, it would be you! You don’t hate me, which a lot of people do, and you actually listen to me, which is nice, and not to mention you’re super hot, like the whole emo thing is just-”

“Remus!” Roman screeches, cutting him off, “You’re embarrassing him, let him breathe!”

It’s the first time Roman has ever come to Virgil’s defense, and he’s only vaguely happy about that. Truth is, he’s so much more wrapped up in the fact that Remus is actually happy that he doesn’t even notice Logan’s back to touching his ribs until another sharp pain brings him back.

“They’re definitely not broken. Fractured, at worst. Either way, you’re going to the hospital. Only question is, can you get down to the car?”

Virgil wants to nod, wants to go along with no problem, but he can barely take a step before his knees almost give out. If he could double over without making everything worse, he would. 

Remus doesn’t see this as a problem, though, eagerly offering Virgil to ride on his back until they get to the bottom. The shorter is, obviously, reluctant to this plan, seeing as how it’s a decently long trail and he isn’t that light, but damn, his soulmate insists, and next thing he knows, he’s gingerly holding onto Remus’ shoulders as he pushes back into a standing position.

(If he wasn’t already super hot, he’s strong, too? Virgil has struck the literal jackpot.)

He buries his face into the crook of Remus’ neck, trying not to wince at every jolt and bump as they maneuver their way down the hill, all conversation halted so they can focus on the two of them. Roman walks in front of them and Patton and Logan behind, ready to jump into action at any sign of stumbling. 

But it’s okay, it actually is, Virgil realizes as they’re making their way down the hill. Sure, they only really bonded today, but they also bonded in a day, and if that’s not telling of the future they’ll have together, whether romantic or platonic (they still need to talk that out), it’s gonna be okay.

Anyone who’s willing to throw themselves into harm's way and carry you down a mountain has got to be a worthy soulmate.

[ravenadottir]

Hear me out: headcannons about Bobby growing old with mc🥺 (I needed some fluff T-T)

no no no no no, you can’t just come in here and do this to me!! that’s so wholesome! i think i’m gonna have to divide this in decade marks, and maybe stop at the 30 year mark? i can do a part II later. 🤔

‘10 year mark’

the ‘mckenzie’ brand has expanded to restaurants, bars and bakeries all over the uk

the bars are considered a hot spots in the big cities. pictures of young ‘paisley cuddle’ are scattered on the walls, along with the pics from the villa’s parties, to set the theme

the restaurants have bobby and his experiences with famous chefs, like jake ‘sweetcheeks’ wilson, mary berry, gordon ramsey, wolfgang puck.

the bakeries however have the pictures from the time bobby went on the bake off show and won.

there’s small town models of the bakeries/restaurants that are seen as ‘family diners’

you and bobby already have two kids, 4 years apart from each other. in my head bobby is the type to have them earlier so they can live their best life together, have fun in the kitchen or in the backyard playing ball.

he loves throwing birthday parties every year, and of course, baking the cake. to which year is a different theme. “babe, you take care of the decorations and the details i’m definitely gonna forget, and me?” he puffs his chest holding a whisk. “i’m the cake guy.”

bobby is the reason why the kids love the parties so much. he’s the type of parent that goes on the slider with the kids, jumps with them in the bounce house, starts the water balloon wars…

the parents are so thankful for him since he’s pretty much the one who keeps an eye on them at all times.

usually, he’s waking up early every day because it became a habit since his hospital times. he never really shook that habit. so he prepared breakfast, takes the dog out, while you wake the kids up to eat and rush them to school

the dad that takes two different cameras and a phone to film and take pictures during his kids’ public presentations, games, recitals and science fairs “dad, one phone is enough” “yeah, but your dad needs backup! i’m from the 90′s darling. i can’t be any different” he says, shrugging with a grin.

you guys have a small house on the outskirts of glasgow or london, depending on who won the bet you had when you got married.

you’re pregnant again. entirely unplanned and now bobby can’t stop crying,. he always wanted three kids.

‘15 year mark’

a third child came three years ago, which made you consider a much more peaceful place to buy a house. and a bigger one for that matter.

bigger bakyeard means more people and their kids playing around the lawn, as bobby and gary grill sausages, making stupid jokes about it, and you and the girls have drinks shaking your heads.

you and bobby are gary’s kids’ godparents

ibrahim can’t come, he’s to busy making mad money on brand deals. noah is calming the kids down, by reading something in the living room, while bobby shakes a cocktail for the tired parents.

gary gives you a new couple of puppies, because the dog you had has unfortunately passed away. (sorry!)

your first kid is just turning 13 and being a little pain in the ass. but they like their uncles and aunties so they will actually raise their heads from *inser new device that will replace phones*

you guys travel in your car, to spend a week in cabins, fishing, playing ball, having picnics close to the lake

bobby always throws at least one of the kids in the water, before jumping in and splashing everyone. “bet you can’t do better than that, babe…” he says to you, raising his brows suggestively. “watch me, mckenzie.”

summer time and the lake became a tradition since it was the first place you and him spent a holiday alone

the employees that attend to you in hotels refer to you as “the mckenzie’s”

in the city, you have a trustworthy babysitter that will spend the night so you and bobby can have some time alone

he surprises you with dates and flowers out of nowhere

early nights are made for you and bobby to help the kids with homework

at this point, bobby is invited to be a special guest in cooking/baking competitions in the uk

and to have a “masterclass” of hiw own, where he mostly credits you for the idea of expanding, the execution of the administrative plans and how to actually expand a business. “i only do the cooking. she’s the genius behind the money.” he laughs while crossing his legs during his online course.

‘20 year mark’

kids’ sad times. graduations are happening. the youngest is entering third grade, the other one is in uni, far from home. “did you have to choose something so far from your old man?” “dad… of course! how else would i have a ‘paisley cuddle’ phase?” they respond, laughing. “i should’ve never told you thats story! now you’re having ideas!” “relax dad. everything is gonna be fine!” the middle one is entering high school and their rebellious phase.

bobby follows through with his part of the deal when you got married, by wearing something ridiculous to embarrass your kid at their graduation. “dad, you look like a hawaiian drug dealer.” “ i know,” “oh, so it wasn’t dark when you got dressed? mom!” “what can i say, your dad doesn’t care for blacks and blues.” “yeah, right…”

professionaly, bobby has a renowned signature dish, plenty of new ideas for the future, like school and courses.

the house is the same you bought five years ago, but now, it’s mostly parents getting together for barbecues, cocktails, movies and game nights

the younger children stay in the tv room upstairs

‘25 year mark’

your second child didn’t go to uni, and decided to help out on the family business. they always felt like this was the life for them and couldn’t wait to finish school to start.

bobby wanted them to go to school to learn everything they could ��but dad, you didn’t, and you know so much.” “oof, they got you there, babe.”

you have a second wedding ceremony and a second honeymoon

bobby has a few grey hairs popping through his dreads

he’s still wearing colorful shirts and girls on social media call him ‘daddy’

he’s been invited to cook for the queen (yes, she’s still alive)

you see your friends a few times more a year now.

your third child is going to uni, to follow a career path you never imagined they would, but you’re proud of them

you decided to sell the house, that’s so big now, and find a smaller one that still has an extra bedroom for when your oldest comes to stay with their partner

bobby cracks dad jokes now, and according to gary, he picked them up from him “sure, gary, ‘cause you’re the only man on the planet who tells dad jokes” “stop bickering! you’re like an old married couple.” you say, slapping their arms playfully

‘30 year mark’

your first child just had their first child

“you’re a grandpa, bobs!” gary slaps him on the back, picking up a box of cigars that they will share with noah and ibrahim.

“can’t believe i’m this old.” “if you’re old, what am i?” you ask him, folding your arms on your chest. “beautiful?” he responds with a clear guilty expression.

‘things that would happen at all times during this entire journey’

bobby would sing to the kids every night

you would read them bedtime stories, taking turns to do the voices

it’s a tradition to cook together on special occasions, no matter what happens. the three kids, you and bobby would always spend the day listening to music, talking about life, slicing, sauteeing, mixing, measuring. it’s a tradition that will never die

when your grandkids come around, they will be the the ones resposible for measuring

drawings that your kids do in school akways have extra colors on bobby’s outfits. his name also has more than three colored letters

bobby has taught your kids how to play the guitar

rainy afternoons were known as “dad’s baking afternoons”

you and bobby had a hard time to find a compromise between being friends and parents.

open conversations with your kids, about everything. they knew what to expect in the world.

bobby’s parents would visit, to spend a whole weekend and share stories of his childhood, as yours would too

family vacation always had a ‘car trip and singing along to the radio’ type of tradition as well

your oldest now takes their child for family vacation in the same spot you and bobby used to

twice a year you guys rent a place for the family to have some bonding, even after they get married (or not)

“your dad is the finest pillow fort architect in the uk”

camping in the backyard when you had to cancel a trip

you’re in charge of coaching and playing sports in the back of the house while bobby relaxes under the sunlight “i was never very athletic”. he’s the empire

*these are the ones on the top of my head. i must’ve left dozens behind :/

[rawmeanderson]

pretty please ― friday.

ft. Kevin Hayes plot: with Kevin, Brady, and Jimmy all gone from New York and the new season about to start, everyone gets together for a long weekend. warnings: swearing, drinking, body issues, all sorts of sexy things but no penetrative sex. word count: 9.2k, making this the longest thing i’ve ever posted, holy shit. special thanks: a big thank you goes to @danglesnipecelly​ for proof reading for me, and also to @capobiancos​ for being such a wonderful hype person that validates my long winded chapters 🤗 notes: so, I basically lay out all of season two of Fleabag in this chapter in a way that would definitely fall under the realm of spoiling it, so I apologize if that upsets anyone! with that warning, I definitely encourage everyone to take the time to watch the series at some point because it lives rent free in my mind and will continue to do so for the rest of time. part of this takes place on a boat, and i’ve got to say, I don’t know a fucking thing about boats so i’m sorry if I got anything wrong 😂

THURSDAY

A knock on the door woke you up with a start the next morning, your body jolting for a brief second before you yawned, stretching out along the mattress. A second knock followed shortly after, and only then did you remember that someone had knocked to begin with, and that you weren’t even at home.

“Yeah?” you grumbled a second later, rolling onto your opposite side to face the door.

“Hey, it’s me,” Sophie said, opening the door enough to slip inside. She was still in her pjs, a sleepy smile on her face as she crossed the room.

You reached for your phone, checking the time and seeing that it was just a little after 10. There was a text from Kevin from 17 minutes ago, reading “Fleabag today?” You’d reply to it soon.

“Morning,” you yawned, stretching out along the mattress as she joined you in bed. She did this often at home on weekend mornings, usually to discuss what to do for breakfast or how to spend the day. 

“Mm, good morning,” she responded, already wrapping her arms around you as she pressed her face into the back of your shoulder. Sophie had always been a physically affectionate person, and you knew that was one of the things you’d miss the most when she moved. “Are you having fun?”

You snorted softly, rolling your eyes. Of course she was checking up on you. “Yeah, Soph, I’m okay,” you assured her, putting your hand over hers were she was holding onto you. “It’s good to see everybody.”

“Yeah, it really is,” she said, exhaling a content sigh. “What did you and Kevin talk about last night?” The question was innocent enough, but you could tell that she’d been dying to ask since you and Kevin had rejoined the group last night.

“We just caught up, really,” you told her, turning your head to yawn into your pillow quietly. “He wants me to come visit him in Philly sometime.”

“Aww, he’s always been so sweet on you. He was super happy when I told him you were coming this weekend.” Her words surprised you, making your cheeks burn a little, but you didn’t respond otherwise. Sophie knew that you and Kevin had hooked up before, and had always encouraged you to pursue him more. “We’re going swimming off the boat later, you should come with us.”

You made a slightly noncommittal sound, shrugging. “Maybe. Kevin wants to watch season two of Fleabag today, so I guess it depends when you leave,” you said, which resulted in Sophie making kissy sounds in your ear. “Oh my god, stop!” You both laughed as you elbowed her in the ribs gently, which only made her hold you tighter.

A quiet sigh left you, and the two of you laid there for a few minutes longer, until Sophie started snoring softly. With a soft laugh, you nudged her awake gently, and she groaned, forcing herself to sit up. You promise to get out of bed and join her in the living room soon, sending Kevin a quick thumbs up emoji, tacking on “I’ll be functional in 10 minutes” as you finally got to your feet. 

You changed out of your pjs into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, tying your hair up in a bun as you crossed the hall to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Kevin had texted to say they’d be back in a few, but you hadn’t even realized that he had left.

Still feeling relatively sleepy, you settle into the corner of the couch in the living room next to Sophie, learning from someone that Kevin and Nolan had gone on a coffee run. Just as they get back, you were wishing you’d known that so you could’ve asked Kevin to bring you back something. It surprised you then, when there was suddenly a cup being offered to you.

“Caramel iced coffee, biggest one they had,” he said, tilting his head as he looked down at you. A smile spread across your face, feeling a tug of affection in your chest over the fact that he had remembered your coffee order. You thanked him, and he looked rather proud of himself for getting it right. 

“You ready for some Fleabag?” you asked, taking a sip as you looked at him with raised eyebrows. You wished you didn’t feel so giddy, that the idea of spending the next three hours with him didn’t have you damn near preening. 

“Hell yeah,” he said, glancing over his shoulder toward the hallway. “My room’s got a TV in it, and I think I figured out how to stream to it.”

You hadn’t fully gotten around to thinking about where you’d be watching the show, so the mention of Kevin’s room, where you’d both surely be sitting on the bed, made you straighten up a little more. “Yeah, that sounds good,” you said, flashing a grin and taking another long sip of coffee.

As you get to your feet, Sophie caught your eye, wiggling her eyebrows at you. If you were closer, you’d swat at her playfully, but you settled for rolling your eyes at her instead. 

Kevin had already showered, you realized, as you followed him to his room. His hair was still damp, and you could smell his body wash and cologne when you stepped past him into the room. Silently, you wish you’d taken the time to shower, knowing the smell of last night’s fire still clung to your hair.

You were eying the armchair closer to the TV when Kevin dropped onto the bed, sprawling out, but you knew it’d be weird to sit that far away. God, Kevin took up so much of the bed that it was a little absurd, his legs stretching out along the mattress, hand behind his head where he was propped up by the pillows. His attention was on the remote, and you cast a final look at the armchair before he patted the spot next to him on the bed without looking at you.

Your shoulders were tense as you walked around to the other side of the bed, sitting down and leaning back against the headboard. Kevin looked up at you, and you cursed the fact that with you sitting up, he could see one of your worst possible angles. He smiled either way and you willed yourself to relax.

Even after just one night at the cabin, the bed smelled like him. It was both calming and borderline panic inducing, making it impossible to stop yourself from thinking back to his bed and the way the sheets slid along your skin as he...fuck. This wasn’t what you needed to be thinking about when you were poised to be spending the next three hours on the (much smaller) bed next to him. What didn’t help at all was the hand Kevin put on your knee, squeezing lightly, almost looking like a giddy little kid as he pressed play on the first episode of the season.

“You ready to cry, Hayes?” you asked quietly, looking down at him. He looked so comfortable and relaxed, stretched out beside you.

“Man, I guess. Is it really that sad?” he questioned, eyes moving from the screen to you for a short moment. His voice was as soft as yours was, deep and gravely enough that you felt it practically vibrate through your body.

“Kind of, yeah,” you said with a laugh, sipping at your iced coffee. “Honestly, I cried like a baby through a good chunk of it. It felt really personal, especially the first time I watched it.” He nodded, eyes lingering on you before they went back to the screen just in time for Fleabag to say ‘this is a love story.’

You’re both pretty quiet through the first episode, with Kevin muttering about how much of a slime ball Martin was. True to your own nervous habits, you sucked down your iced coffee pretty quickly, as it gave you something to think about other than the 6’5” wall of muscle stretched out next to you.

“Is she gonna fuck the priest?” Kevin asked, looking up at you as the credits for the first episode rolled. Laughing softly, you leaned to put your now empty cup on the end table next to the bed.

“You’ll see,” you responded, eyes meeting his when you settle into the bed a little more. Your gaze dropped to his mouth for a brief second before you forced yourself to look back to the TV.

“Whenever you say that, it always means ‘yes,’” he teased, still watching you as the next episode started. He kept sneaking glances at you as it played but you kept your eyes trained forward.

It would be impossible to count how many times you’d watched Fleabag. Since it was only 12 half hour episodes in total, it was easy to rewatch in a single afternoon, making it an easy comfort watch when you were feeling down. Watching it with Kevin though, hearing him make quiet predictions and chuckling here and there, warmed you down to your soul. He had always seemed to enjoy the movies and shows you recommended to him, which had always left you feeling...valued by him. You tried not to let your mind dwell on the fact that he’d been waiting for this, to watch Fleabag with you for over a year and a half because it reminded you of the distance that would be between the two of you again in just a matter of days.

By the start of the third episode, you were sitting up more, your legs crossed and your elbows on your knees, like putting more space between you and Kevin would stop your chest from feeling like it was caving in. The iced coffee had made you a little jittery and restless, and just when your throat was starting to feel tight from thinking too hard about everything, you felt his hand rub over your back.

You glanced back at him and he smiled softly, his fingers tracing up your spine. His touch was warm and soothing, and the loud laugh he let out over the award debacle in the episode sounded so happy and genuine that you decided you never wanted to leave this bed. The curtains were closed, keeping the room relatively dark despite the early afternoon sun outside. 

Hot Priest had shown up again, and just as sexual tension was building on the show, you swore you could feel it building between you and Kevin as well. You were still sitting up, his hand still on your back by the time you gave in, sliding down to lay beside him. He watched you as you moved, his arm slipping around your shoulders easily when you curled into his side. It had been more than a year and a half since you’d laid like this with him, your head on his shoulder, but the position was still so familiar that you sighed comfortably.

The two of you were quiet and still for a while as the fourth episode started, and Kevin was the first to move, turning his head enough to kiss the top of your head. His stubble brushed against your hair and his arm tightened around you. When he laughed, you could feel his body rumbling with it. 

“Oh, she’s totally gonna fuck the priest,” he murmured to you, his mouth against the top of your head, speaking as the confessional scene started. The words were so low that it sent a jolt of desire through you that only made you lean into Kevin more.

The make out scene that followed seemed to have both of you holding your breath until the painting fell on screen, jolting both of you and the characters. Kevin exhaled a breath and you found yourself laughing softly, tilting your head up to look at him.

“You good?” you asked, grinning as you tried to stop yourself from thinking about just how close his face was to yours.

“Yeah,” he responded, holding your gaze as the credits rolled. Your hand on his chest curled into a fist as you remembered how good the prickle of his stubble always felt against your palm. His eyes dropped to your mouth as his fingers slid over the nape of your neck. You didn’t doubt that he felt you tense against him as a shiver ran through you from the contact. 

You wanted to kiss him, wanted to press your body against his and never pull away, but instead you tucked your head against his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind, rubbing his hand over your back again comfortably. 

Kevin roared with laughter over Claire’s haircut, almost as much as you had when you first watched it. You couldn’t help but laugh with him, enjoying the way his body shook against yours. When he quieted down again, you could hear his heartbeat as you pressed your ear to his chest. If you closed your eyes, it would probably feel like everyone was back in New York, that you’d have all the time in the world to stay like this. 

At the end of the episode, when the sexual tension exploded on screen, Kevin nudged you. “Called it,” he said, murmuring the words against your temple as he nosed at your messy hair. His voice vibrated through you in a way that made you feel warm all over. As badly as you wanted to, you didn’t look up at him, knowing that you wouldn’t have the self control not to cross that invisible line.

As the final episode started, you realized just how warm it had gotten in the room, and being curled up against Kevin like you were hardly helped. This episode always tore you apart then put you back together again, and you lifted your head to glance at him once when Hot Priest was giving his speech about how love is awful, then nuzzled right back into his shoulder for the time being.

You weren’t sure if it was Sophie’s impending move or the fact that Kevin was with you, but as soon as This Feeling started at the end of the episode, there were tears in your eyes. The song itself just felt like it was hitting harder, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek as you sniffled. Kevin’s arm tightened around you as the credits rolled, kissing your hair again as he sighed a moment later. 

“When is season three coming out?” Kevin asked eventually, his cheek resting against the top of your head as his thumb rubbed firmly over your shoulder blade.

You lifted your head to look at him, knowing tears were still swimming in your eyes. “That’s it. There’s not gonna be a season three,” you told him with the same sad smile you always had when remembering what you’d just told him.

“What? Are you fucking kidding?” he questioned, sounding outrightly offended. You snorted softly, still looking at him as you laughed. Now that the show was over, you weren’t able to distract yourself from how badly you wanted to stay just like this for the rest of the weekend.

“Phoebe’s busy! She’s got Killing Eve to work on, plus she did the screenplay for the new James Bond movie,” you told him, shifting onto your stomach a little more so you didn’t have to crane your neck to look up at him. His arm resettled around your waist, keeping your body pressed close against his. “Besides, how could she ever create something else as perfect as that second season? It’s just impossible.”

Kevin hummed once, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right,” he murmured, eyes moving over your face. “I’m glad I waited to watch it with you.” His voice was softer, making your heart race as he brushed his knuckles over your cheekbone.

“So, it was worth the wait?” you responded quietly, tilting your face toward his a little more.  

“Oh yeah, you always have been,” he told you, making you crack a wide smile as you scoffed.

“Damn, that was smooth,” you teased, licking your lips as he grinned. He shrugged it off, and you wondered if he realized how obvious he was being, staring at your mouth like he was. 

“Always have been,” he repeated, making you snort. Before you could laugh, his hand slid along your jaw, drawing you close enough that he could kiss you.

It’s probably for the better that he kissed you, considering you wouldn’t have been nearly this slow about it. He was still cupping your jaw, keeping you close as you leaned into him more. You were trying to pace yourself as want coursed through you, and you realized that he’d never kissed you like this.

The pair of you had hooked up about half a dozen times, and each time was rough and hungry, but now, the leisurely pace of it had your toes curling. He was kissing you like he had all day to savor you, to wear you down and build you up again. Honestly, you didn’t know if you’d ever been kissed like this.

When he sucked at your bottom lip gently, you sighed against his mouth, unable to hide the way you arched into him. You felt him smile slightly, and it was like your world was on fire. If you had remembered how to move, you would’ve shifted to lean over him, to take it farther, but even kissing him this slowly was taking every ounce of your energy.

He pulled back just slightly, and you were grateful for the chance to breathe. Your body was still buzzing when you smiled, settling your head on his shoulder again. Kevin kissed your forehead then your hair again, exhaling a heavy sigh of his own.

“How long do you think we’d be able to stay here before Sophie comes banging on the door, looking for you?” he asked.

“Probably not long,” you responded, reaching for your phone that you’d left on the nightstand. Checking your notifications, you scoffed as you pressed your face into his shoulder. “I’ve got three texts from her. They’re going swimming off the boat, and were kind of waiting on me.”

Kevin nodded, reluctantly loosening his arm around you. You stayed where you were though, knowing Sophie would survive a few more minutes. Finally, you mustered the motivation to move more than an inch for the first time in over an hour, leaning over him to press a quick, firm kiss to his mouth.

His hand slid to the back of your neck easily, kissing you back harder than he had before, and to stop yourself from melting against him, you pulled back, already moving to the edge of the bed. Kevin made an irritable sound that did wonders for your confidence, and you looked over your shoulder at him with a grin.

“D’you think there’s room on the boat for me to join?” he asked as you got to your feet. 

You shrugged quickly, lingering at the edge of the bed. “I’d assume so,” you said, knowing you needed to get back across the hall to change, but it was just too hard to take your eyes off of him right now. “Tell me to go get changed, or else I’m never going to leave.”

Kevin smiled and it was the kind that made you feel warm everywhere, like honey was running through your veins. “Go change, Y/N,” he told you, nodding toward the door. You looked at him for a moment longer before doing as he said, slipping out of his room to return to your own.

You texted Sophie to let her know you’d be ready in a few minutes before stripping out of your clothes. Pulling on your swimsuit was the first time all day that the self-consciousness crept into your mind. You’d been in desperate need of a new suit earlier in the season and, feeling good, you’d ordered one that showed more skin that you were used to. The cutouts at your sides especially had you itching to pull something on over it. The suit fit, but snugly enough that you found yourself trying to tug at it here and there, wanting to make it longer or bigger.

Pulling your shorts on as you grabbed a towel was a band-aid to the feeling, but it did the trick as you ventured out of your room to find Sophie. You made sure to grab sunglasses and a bottle of sunscreen, knowing Sophie always forgot to bring some when needed. She had texted to say they were already down at the dock, and as you headed down to meet them, Kevin was a few steps ahead of you.

He was already shirtless, therefore already distracting. His shoulders were a little pink from being in the sun yesterday, and all that you could think about was running your fingers over the bumps of his spine and dragging your nails over his skin. 

Like he could tell you were checking him out, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled at you, stopping to let you catch up to him. “That color looks great on you,” he told you as you fought the urge to tug at your suit. His eyes were still on you, tracing the curves of your body, and the warm desire that rolled through you was louder than your insecurities.

“You should wear sunscreen,” you told him with a cheeky grin, tossing the bottle to him. He nearly fumbled it, looking like he was proud of himself that he hadn’t dropped it, and you were about to say something else when you heard Sophie yell up to you excitedly from the boat.

“Do you think she’s already drunk?” Kevin asked softly, eyebrow raised as you both stepped onto the dock.

“You know how much she loves day drinking,” you said, shrugging with a little a knowing grin. Sure enough, there was a lemonade Truly in her hand when she made grabby hands at you as you stepped onto the boat.

“I’m so glad you’re coming with us,” Sophie told you, hugging you tightly as if she hadn’t seen you less than four hours earlier. You laugh, hugging her tightly as her attention turns to Kevin. “Ooh, good thinking bringing sunscreen, Kev! Make sure to get Y/N’s shoulders, she always misses the same spot!” She flashed a grin at you, then in typical Sophie fashion, she went back to sit next to Jimmy.

You hated when she put you on the spot like this, but thankfully, Kevin was practically smirking as you stepped aside to give him room to step off the dock. “She never changes, does she?” he laughed, already dropping his towel into a seat. His voice was low and you shrugged because he was right.

“I’d be disappointed if she did,” you responded, tightening the bun in your hair idly. You glanced out at the water simply to keep yourself from looking at Kevin and the way his swimsuit was settled low on his hips.

“I honestly think she might kill me if she doesn’t see me put sunscreen on your shoulders,” he said, nodding toward Sophie who was pointedly watching the two of you while finishing off her drink. You snorted, nodding as he opened the bottle, squeezing some into his hands. 

He motioned for you to turn around and with your back to him, your back tensed slightly. The sunscreen was cold against your skin, but Kevin’s hands made up for it, warm and strong as you willed yourself to think about anything but how you’d much rather have his hands elsewhere. He had to know exactly what he was doing with the way his thumb pressed against a spot on your neck that made you exhale a sigh as his hand moved lower down your back.

Across the boat, Sophie was making herself look busy by grabbing another drink from the cooler, and she seemed very pleased with herself.

“There, that should be up to Sophie’s standards,” Kevin said a moment later, dropping onto the cushioned seat behind him as he handed you the sunscreen. “You gonna get my shoulders now, or what?” There was a challenge to his tone, and as you were just about to respond, the boat started to move and you took the opportunity to sit down for the time being. 

Kevin was clearly trying to be casual, taking up just as much space as always with his thigh against yours. He was leaning back, his arm stretched out along the back of the seat behind you. Technically, his arm was around you, but he was clearly trying play it cool.

Sophie was in the water the second the boat stopped a few minutes later, and Jimmy joined her after tossing some of the floats in that she’d piled on the deck earlier. You stayed in your seat to watch Sophie and Jimmy splash at each other a bit, laughing as he dunked her underwater. Brady followed them in a minute later, leaving you tucked under Kevin’s arm with the sunscreen still in your hand.

Kevin looked at you expectantly and you scoffed, getting to your feet as you squeezed sunscreen into your hand. He stayed seated with his head tilted up to watch you, a smile spreading across his face.

“What are you smiling about?” you asked as you leaned closer to start rubbing sunscreen onto his shoulders. 

“Your tits look awesome in this swimsuit,” he told you, voice low enough that Brady wouldn’t hear him. You hadn’t expected that to be his answer and you scoff, shaking your head as you felt yourself flush. You pinched his neck teasingly, his hand shooting up to catch your wrist, grinning all the while. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re annoying?” Your tone is even as you go back to sunscreen duty, his gaze clearly dropping to the neckline of your suit again. 

“Pretty often, yeah.” He shrugged nonchalantly and you rolled your eyes as your hand rubbed over the back of his neck. “Can I have a kiss?” Kevin had already tilted his head up to look at you, and fuck, how were you supposed to say no to that.

You leaned in to quickly press your mouth to his, keeping it chaste, but he looked pleased when you pulled back. You don’t stop him when he moved back toward you, stealing another before smacking your ass teasingly. It surprised you and your gasp faded into laughter as he got to his feet to start talking you into actually getting in the water.

The sun was hot, and the five of you stayed out on the water for a few hours, mostly floating around, talking about nothing, really. Kevin seemed to be keeping close to you, and you hardly minded. You made sure Sophie had sunscreen on and she took the chance to wiggle her eyebrows at you suggestively before jerking her head toward Kevin. 

Evening had just hit by the time you got back to the cabin and you had desperately needed a shower. You felt like a new person after you re-emerged from the bathroom and joined the group again, just as dinner was nearly ready. Kevin damn near pouted at you when you sat next to Sophie, out of his reach.

You did, however, sit with Kevin and Nolan during dinner, carrying out a casual conversation about Netflix originals versus Hulu originals. Kevin made heart eyes at you the whole time, and it was more than a little distracting. You nudged him under the table with your foot at one point and he took that as encouragement, doing the same back to you. 

Pairing up with Sophie, the two of you managed to beat Kevin and Jimmy at pong twice. Music was playing as the others hung around, chatting amongst themselves. Nolan and Brady had pulled up seats next to the pong table, seemingly cheering for you and Sophie. Someone got another fire going as dusk fell, which you all gravitated towards when Jimmy and Kevin decided they didn’t want to lose to you and Sophie a third time. 

Brady was drunk in no time, with Jimmy not far behind him. They each decided to try to roast marshmallows, which failed miserably. The night was a little chilly, so you were grateful to be around the fire. You turned your head to glance out at the lake, then looked up at the stars, relaxing back into your chair. When you look back to the fire again, Kevin was watching you, winking at you when you made eye contact. He made you feel like a goddamn teenager with the way the wink had made your stomach flip. 

It was nearly 10:30 when you finished the only drink you’d brought down to the fire, and you sighed as you got to your feet. Walking past Kevin, his hand slid around your wrist to stop you. “You going up to grab another drink?” he asked casually, as if his thumb brushing over your skin wasn’t making it difficult for you to think straight. 

“That was my plan, yeah,” you responded, looking at him expectantly. Behind you, Sophie was laughing at something, and you could hear the fire crackling.

“Cool, I’ll come with you,” he said, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. When he got to his feet though, his fingers laced with yours as the two of you started up toward the cabin. You almost scoffed teasingly, surprised by the sudden influx of PDA throughout the day as he walked you away from the rest of the group.

Halfway there, walking along the group of trees that separate the cabin from the property next door, you saw Kevin glance over his shoulder briefly. He squeezed your hand, nodding his head toward the trees with a grin.

“What are you doing?” you asked, laughing as you stepped into the thicket. You looked back quickly, and no one seemed to notice the two of you disappearing into the trees.

“Nothing,” Kevin responded in an innocent enough tone that you laughed in response.

“You know there’s a whole cabin up there that we can go to, rather than be in the trees with all of the bugs and sap or whatever, right?” you teased, realizing you were deep enough into the trees that you could barely hear the murmur of the group talking around the fire. 

“Too far away,” he said, letting go of your hand to put his arm around your waist. 

“So what, we’re gonna make out in the woods for a while?” You were laughing a little as you said it, head tilted up to look at him. The smile on his face made your knees wobble a little as you leaned back slightly into the tree behind you, enjoying the quiet sound of the crickets that surrounded you.

Kevin shrugged, his hand sliding over your waist and along your back. He’d always made you feel so small in comparison to him and now was no exception as he watched your face, like he was enjoying making you wait for more contact. Your hand moved along his chest idly, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath your hand before it settled on the back of his neck to pull him down to you.

All the restraint of the kiss earlier had gone out the window, that much was obvious. It was slow, at least to start, your body buzzing as his teeth caught on your bottom lip already. Your arm tightened around his shoulders, keeping him close as he crowded you against the tree. The bark was digging into your back, scratching you a bit through the fabric of your shirt, but you hardly cared.

His tongue slid over yours and you moaned, not even trying to stop yourself. The sound obviously encouraged him, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass as he pressed against you more. Urgency seeped into each of you, making you kiss him harder as your hand slid along his jaw. The scratch of stubble against your palm was better than you even remembered, and the desire to feel the same scratch against the inside of your thighs jolted through you.

After palming at your ass again, his hands moved up to the curve of your waist slowly like he was savoring it. He was pressed flush against you by then, overwhelming your senses as you gripped the fabric of his shirt. You sneaked a breathe where you could, your hand sliding up the thick muscle of his arm and over his shoulder. 

Your clit was throbbing between your thighs as you arched toward him, enjoying the soft sound he made feeling your breasts press against his chest. An eager tension was curling up your spine, an impatient, needy sound leaving you as he tugged at your bottom lip teasingly. His mouth left yours to kiss your jaw, coaxing you to tilt your head to the side for him.

Of course, you gave in, your hand sliding into his hair as his kissed along the column of your throat. “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day,” he murmured, his mouth against your ear while gripping your hips tightly. “That swimsuit, these fucking shorts.” The sentence is punctuated by him grabbing your ass again, pulling your hips forward into his.

“Fuck, Kevin,” you exhaled, your hand finding his cheek to guide his mouth back to yours. Even with his body pressed against yours like it was, you still needed more. 

His hands were everywhere, sliding up to cup your breast over your shirt, the other on your hip. Squeezing your thighs together, you licked into his mouth as your body rocked against his hungrily. You wanted to hate just how easy it was for him to get you wound up like this, but you’d always absolutely melted under his touch. 

Impatience was threatening to boil over as your core absolutely ached for him, desperate to feel more of him. The kiss had become a little sloppy, and by the time your hand found his wrist to guide his fingers to the waist of your shorts, your lungs were burning. 

He pulled back, his forehead resting against your temple as you both took a few breaths. “You want me to touch you, baby?” he asked, voice low as he kissed your jaw. His fingers toyed with the button of your shorts, making your breathing hitch as you nodded eagerly.

The button came undone, then the zipper, and his hand slipped into your panties, clearly feeling just as impatient as you were. Your arm settled around his neck to keep him close, turning your head to brush your mouth over his again. He happily swallowed the moan you let out as his fingers slid through your folds with ease, exhaling a curse a second later.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured against your mouth, letting the tip of his finger just barely tease at your clit. 

“Don’t be a tease,” you pled, half whining for him already as your hips pressed toward his hand. You swore he was smirking even as he kissed you, his other hand coming up to hold your jaw, keeping your mouth against to his.

Kevin had started to rub firm circles against your clit, enough to make you squirm as you pant into his mouth. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this turned on, and you were so hungry for him that you’d completely forgotten that you were pressed against a tree with your friends 30 feet away.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmured, fingers rubbing firm strokes from your entrance to your clit and back. You could only nod, still trying to kiss him desperately despite the fact that you had barely caught your breath. He was still pressed close against you and you could feel the hard outline of his cock through his shorts which sent another wave of need through you. 

A slew of curses left you when he sank two fingers into you, letting the heel of his hand grind against your clit. Your hips pressed toward him urgently, feeling yourself tighten around his fingers, and part of you still could hardly believe this was even happening. His mouth left yours before you were ready, trailing down your neck again to suck at your pulse point. You squeezed his shoulder as your hand curled in the fabric of his shirt, doing your best to catch your breath. 

“More, Kev, fuck.” Your words were rushed as you whimpered loudly, feeling his fingers curl against your g-spot. If you had been able to keep them open, your eyes would’ve crossed, exhaling a pleased groan your head fell back against the trunk of the tree behind you.

Your toes curled as heat curled in your stomach, barely able to believe he had you this close to an orgasm already. His fingers were buried deep inside you, fucking into you in shallow motions and giving you the friction that you so desperately needed. 

“C’mon, beautiful, I know you can cum for me,” Kevin said, nipping at your jaw then kissing the hollow of your throat. You nodded quickly, opening your mouth to say who knows what, but a moan came out instead.

He cursed into your skin when your hips jerked, and you tumbled over the edge, somehow managing to groan his name as you came. You were practically clinging to him, whimpering and grateful that you were still upright even as your knees shook. Heat wove through you, leaving your mind blank and buzzing by the time you came down, your hips rocking against his hand until you slowed to a stop.

Your eyes were still closed, because you weren’t sure if you remembered how to open them, more concerned about getting air into your lungs. Kevin’s mouth pressed light and gentle kisses up the side of your neck to your cheek, doing nothing to help slow your heart rate down again. When he kissed you on the mouth, it was sweet, but with a hungry edge that made you clench around his fingers again.

“Damn, I forgot how fucking sexy you are when you cum,” he told you, letting his palm grind against your clit again. Your folds were sensitive and the feeling made you gasp, arching away from him with a whine.

When he pulled back, his fingers leaving you, he was smirking and you couldn’t stop yourself from giving him a pleased grin. Your cheeks were flushed and when you licked your lips, you could tell they were swollen. Everything was buzzing still, and like you finally remembered that the two of you were only slightly hidden by the trees, you glanced around quickly.

“Do you think you can keep your dick in check long enough for us to get to your room?” you asked, a teasing tone to your voice as you let your knuckles brush over the hard line of his cock. 

“Not if you keep doing that,” he responded, leaning to press a quick, open mouthed kiss to your lips before taking your hand and starting toward the cabin.

You nearly had to jog to keep up with Kevin, and you laughed as you told him to slow down. Glancing over your shoulder, it doesn’t seem that anyone around the fire seemed to notice the two of you slip inside the cabin, only pausing to kick off your shoes. 

As soon as the door to his room was closed behind you, his hands were on you again, pulling your body against his. Your head tilted back to meet his kiss, a satisfied hum leaving you at the contact. His hand found your waist, squeezing you there before starting to tug at the fabric of your shirt. He leaned back to pull it off over your head, and you swallowed, grateful that the room was still dark. 

You unfastened his shorts, and when your hand slipped inside to stroke him through his underwear, he groaned your name. His mouth crashed into yours again, bringing his hands up to hold your face gently despite the hunger you were both displaying. He kissed you for a moment longer, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, then to your shoulder as you nudged his shorts down. 

It was easy to figure out what he wanted when he pressed down on your shoulder lightly. You chuckled, kissing him again before sinking to your knees in front of him. His breathing hitched at the sight of you, and you smirked, already leaning in drag your tongue along the hard line of his cock through the fabric of his boxer-briefs. It would have been impossible for you to forget how much he had loved you going down on him, so why not take the time to tease him a little. 

When you looked up at him through your eyelashes, he cursed under his breath as you tugged his underwear down. His eyes were locked on you as his hand moved to push your hair out of your face, keeping his fingers threaded through the strands. With his cock free, you leaned closer to swirl your tongue around the head of it and you could tell that his hands were already shaking slightly. 

The grunt that left him when your hand stroked along his length a few times sent heat prickling down your spine as you started to take more of him between your lips. He started panting in response to you dragging your thumb along the underside of his dick, and his hips rocked toward you lazily. His responsiveness to every touch made you all the more eager, letting your hand fall away from him as you took him deeper in your mouth. 

You took a breath before letting him start to slide down your throat when his fist tightened in your hair. You arched your back to press your breasts against his legs, nearly gagging around his length as he swore under his breath. 

“Fuck, I missed your mouth,” he told you, breathing heavily as you started to bob your head. Alternating between sucking and sliding your tongue over him, you looked up at him again as your clit throbbed between your legs. His brow was creased, eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, and he was tense with restraint, his hips twitching toward you. 

Your lungs were burning, but the heady taste of him and the sound of his voice when he praised you softly had need burning through your veins. Speeding up slightly, your hand squeezed his thigh, letting your nails dig into his skin and he swore loudly. You let yourself get a little sloppy and your jaw relaxed when he hit the back of your throat. It surprised you a little when he briefly held you in place, but him taking that little bit of control made you moan around him.

As soon as he released you, you pulled off to catch your breath, bringing your hand up to stroke him slowly. His eyes were still locked on you, and you grinned up at him, knowing your lips were slick and swollen. Taking another deep breath, you leaned in again, dragging your tongue along the length. It was getting difficult to ignore the way your folds were throbbing, and you were so wet that the inside of your thighs were slick. 

“Shit, Y/N, I’m gonna cum,” Kevin warned, his voice tight as his hand in your hair tightened as he guided you back to where he wanted you. You rolled your eyes at him, smirking quickly before opening your mouth to soothe your tongue over the slit at the head of his cock.

Sliding your mouth along his length, sucking eagerly as your nails dragged down his thigh was all it took to make his hips snap forward when he came. He cursed, fucking into your mouth lazily as he spilled hot down your throat. You could feel his knees shaking slightly and you swallowed, starting to bob your head again as you exhaled a content sigh through your nose.

His hand relaxed in your hair and you pulled off, licking your lips as you looked up again. He had a blissed out look in his eye, breathing heavily as he grinned down at you. Sitting back on your heels, you licked your lips as he took another deep breath.

“I think you actually sucked my soul out,” he said a moment later, a chuckle to his voice as he dragged a hand down his face.

You snorted, grinning as you got to your feet. “Glad I could be of service,” you responded, earning a laugh out of him as his hands settled on your waist. He was smiling as he leaned to kiss you, and the second his mouth was on yours again, that intensity was back. 

His hands moved to unfasten your bra with ease, tugging the fabric away from your body as he started walking you backwards toward the bed. You followed his lead, gasping when his hand came up to cup your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger with a greedy hum. The back of your thighs hit the edge of mattress, but you stayed on your feet, unwilling to stop kissing him just yet. 

Kevin licked into your mouth, kissing you deeply as his hands slid down to squeeze your ass firmly with a groan. “Lay back for me,” he told you, mouth barely leaving yours. You nodded, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth when you finally pulled back, settling yourself on the mattress.

Before you could pull him down to you, he was reaching to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. Warm light flooded the room and a protest caught in your throat, self-consciousness sweeping through you. Looking up at him, you managed to fight the urge to cover yourself as a flush colored your cheeks. 

He was silent, looking over you with greedy eyes as he pulled his shirt off over his head. After tucking his dick back in his boxer-briefs, he kicked his shorts off as well before he stepped between your parted knees. Leaning over you with a hand at your side, he kissed between your breasts and down along your stomach to make your breathing hitch. You didn’t expect him to nuzzle against you like he did, exhaling a breath.

“I missed you so much,” he told you, the words quiet as he glanced up at you. There was a softness in his eyes that you hadn’t expected, making your stomach jump as you squirmed on the bed impatiently.

He didn’t give you much of a chance to respond, his hands coming up to tug your shirt and panties down your hips. As soon as he managed to get them untangled from your legs, the fabric joined everything else on the floor, and he pulled you closer to the edge of the mattress as he sank to his knees in front of you.

Kevin didn’t waste anymore time, guiding your legs over his shoulders as his mouth trailed up the inside of your thigh. His breath was hot against your skin and you did your best to relax despite the fact that your hips was already tense with anticipation. You swore loudly when he parted your folds with two fingers, almost immediately leaning in to drag his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, punctuating the motion by sucking the swollen bundle of nerves into his mouth. 

“Oh my god, Kevin,” you breathed, already rolling your hips against his mouth greedily. He hummed in acknowledgement, and you swore you felt the vibration run through every inch of you. 

“I love how fucking wet you get from sucking me off,” he murmured, eyes sliding up your body as his tongue fucked into you. It was your turn to let your fist curl in his hair, pulling at the short strands as he lapped at your wetness. His nose nudged at your clit and his hand slid along the back of your thigh, pushing it up toward your chest. You loved how he was maneuvering you as he saw fit, positioning you exactly how he wanted you.

One of his hands was under your ass, keeping you propped up for him while the other hand slid up your body to your breast. His tongue continued to slide through your folds, sucking here and there as he toyed with your nipple. He was a little rougher than you had anticipated, and the motion makes you groan, arching off the mattress. You could already feel your orgasm building from being so wound up already, making your toes curl as tension bubbled in your stomach. 

“More, Kev, please,” you whined, biting you lip to try and hold back the desperate sounds that rose in the back of your throat. He gave you what he wanted, like he always did, and your clit absolutely throbbed as he sucked it into his mouth again.

With his mouth occupied, he brought two fingers up to tease at your entrance, and you swore loudly as your hips rocked slightly, seeking him out. “You gonna fuck yourself on my fingers, baby?” he asked, the words vibrating through you considering he could barely bring himself to pull away from you.

Immediately, you nodded, then you forgot how to breath all together as he sank two fingers into you, tugging at your nipple at the same time. His tongue was sliding over your clit insistently, drawing figure eights against it as his fingers curled against your g-spot. You saw stars and the sound that left you was nothing short of a sob as your hips rolled against his hand, trying to getting him deeper. Your heel pressed between his shoulder blades, grateful for the extra leverage to help you meet his hand.

Your toes were curled so tightly that your foot threatened to cramp, and when he started to pump his fingers into you to meet the motion of your body, he moaned. The rough stubble covering his jaw had left the inside of your thighs sensitive, bordering on raw, but the irritation only made you that much more desperate. You swore, feeling yourself bow off the bed as he practically devoured you, hitting all of the right spots to send you barreling over the edge and into an orgasm. 

He didn’t let up, fingers still fucking into you as his mouth toyed with your clit mercilessly. It was impossible to catch your breath, pleading for him as you tugged at his hair roughly in an effort to keep him close. By the time you stopped squeezing around his fingers, you had relaxed into the mattress and your body felt heavy as your leg stayed draped over his shoulder.

Looking down at him, you realized that his eyes were already on you, his fingers still buried inside you but not moving as he lapped at your folds firmly. He always felt so good, bringing you down easy like this, until all of a sudden it was too much. A gasp ripped through you as you pushed at his head, the reaction met with a laugh as he pulled away from you.

“Sensitive?” he murmured, eyebrow raised as he smirked slightly. You nodded, a lazy smile on your face as you untangled yourself from him. He pressed a kiss to your hip as he withdrew his fingers from you, looking awfully pleased with himself. 

Your heart rate had finally started to slow by the time he dropped onto the mattress next to you, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your cheek. There was a hazy look in your eye when you looked at him, still unable to figure out how to piece together a sentence. 

The two of you laid there for a while, close together and just breathing as your fingers traced shapes along his shoulder. Really, you should’ve moved because your bottom half was still hanging off the edge of the bed. 

“You think anyone realized we never came back with drinks?” he asked eventually, his voice a sleepy grumble. You laughed softly, shrugging before you sighed, turning your head to look at him. Leaning forward, you kissed him softly before sitting up. He watched you for a moment longer before he reached for his phone. “Damn, it’s after 11 already.”

“No point in going back out now, if you ask me,” you responded, moving over the mattress to lay your head against a pillow.

You smiled when he moved to follow, already curling up against you. He kissed along your shoulder, nuzzling into the back of your neck after pulled the sheets up to cover you. The cautious voice in the back of your head was telling you that you needed to get up, that you needed to get dressed and go back to your own room, but the bed smelled like him and he was so warm when his leg tangled with yours.

He only pulled back quickly to turn off the lamp before settling against you again even closer, his face pressed into your hair. You were content, even a little sleepy, and getting up wasn’t much of a priority right then. His fingers slid along you waist as the two of you stayed curled up in the dark, slipping into easy conversation.

Kevin had always been pretty quick to fall asleep after a good orgasm, and now seemed to be no exception. The talking tapered off after a while, and his face was pressed into your neck when you heard him start to snore softly. You stayed in place a while longer, nearly squirming with the effort to stay place as the voice in your head got louder and louder. 

Your hand slid along his forearm before you untangled yourself from him, finding that your knees are still wobbly when you got to your feet. It was easy enough to find your shorts and your shirt in the dark and you got dressed before going across the hall. The rest of the cabin was quiet and you went straight to your room, stripping out of the clothes again as you pulled your pjs on with shaking hands. 

In bed, you laid on your back, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Your feelings for him certainly hadn’t changed, so why would the fact that you never slept in bed with him. Every time you’d hooked up in New York, you pulled yourself out of his bed to go to the guest room. You didn’t know why, but Kevin had never mentioned it. Now though, you felt dirty about it, anxiety prickling at your scalp as you laid there. You could probably slip back in without him realizing it, but you were cemented into the mattress, your mind running a million miles an hours until you finally fell asleep. 

SATURDAY