#“some other time” by blossom dearie

[keyboard-cowgirl]

anyone got music recs? I've got spotify. Link me to your playlists? I need new things. Anything. Anything

[creatediana]

"Just One of Those Things" - lyrics to a jazz standard by American songwriter Cole Porter (1891–1964), famously performed by artists such as Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Blossom Dearie, et cetera.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

For a request:

Maybe a rescue fic with ghost, price, or soap? One where they rescue their non military fem s/o? I know you’ve written some already and they are so good but I EAT THEM UP EVERY TIME and love that trope so much!!!!!!

Hurt/comfort is my drug I swear

I know that’s pretty vague so maybe I’ll think of more eventually but that’s what I’ve got for now.

I love your writing!

- 🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️

None Lacking Sins

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

Synopsis: It started with the incident at the grocery store and then built to the hidden gun in the nightstand and a quick, frantic, call to your boyfriend.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: Implied stalking, violence & blood, angst, protective Soap, suggestive language and conversations, implications of wanting a kid, vulgar language, fluffy banter, hurt/comfort, canon typical actions, edited in the middle of the night

A/N: I've been in a Soap mood lately, tbh. I think I'm going to flip-flop uploads for my Gaz series and Requests too...anyways. Enjoy, anon! You can never go wrong with a rescue fic!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*  

You called him for the first time when you were at the store, picking out dinner and asking what he wanted for a welcome home meal.

“Well,” his sly voice made you roll your eyes, but a smile still blossomed over your lips. “If you want me to be rash, Bonnie, I’d say that I wouldn't mind a good bite out of your–”

“Johnny, you finish that sentence, you’re not going to get anything besides butter on toast. Give me a recipe before it gets dark out.” Veiled glee was obvious from your tone, and the heat on your face could all but be heard over the line. Two months apart had made you both eager to be in each other's presence. 

Picking up a box of pasta, you flip it over and check the price, sticking to your budget and tilting the phone parallel to your chin. A deep chuckle meets your ears, and your chest feels light as it pierces your lungs. 

Your boyfriend was off in Australia this deployment—he’d been complaining about the heat nonstop on those few and far between video calls the two of you shared. While it was a step-up to know where exactly Johnny was this go around, the prospect of his job still made you incredibly nervous. There was never a time you could remember when he came home without a new cut or scar; bruises were all but guaranteed. 

Sucking down a soothing breath, you place the pasta into your cart and fix the phone’s position. The Scot was coming home in a day or so, you wanted to make him feel at home again. Destress.

You’ll see him before you know it. There’s no need to worry.

“Bit snappy, then, eh? Oh, alright.” The man huffs good-heartedly, and you hear the springs of those thin barracks-bed mattresses as his large frame shifts. Johnny lets off a soft sigh before continuing. You listen intently, leaning onto the handlebar ahead of you. “What about a nice plate ‘O that one you always make—hell—the…the one with the Pollock and cabbage.”

You blink through a laugh, shaking your head and pushing yourself off to go find the needed ingredients. The dish wasn’t easy to make, in fact, it took a helluva lot of time, but you didn’t mind in the slightest when it came to cooking for Johnny. He deserved it. 

“Hey, now,” He teases, smirking to himself, “What’s so funny over there, Dearie? You makin’ fun of me?”

“I would never dream of it, oh great and wondrous, Mr. MacTavish!” You huff, fake serious, as you place a box of cookies into the cart and pass a few strangers who raise an eyebrow at your conversation. A man passes by with a blue cap on, and you swerve the cart to move around him while tossing back a frown. You soon continue on like nothing happened, pulling back the sense of security from the man over the line. “Do you want mashed potatoes with that as well? Wine?”

Johnny groans, “Hey, you’re the one that asked me!” 

Divulging into giggles, you make your way around the store and stock up, holding a light conversation about how he and the rest of the boys were doing. 

“Ghost told me to let you know he appreciated the book you lent him, said he’d get it back to ya as soon as he’s able.” The Scot comments, and a hum makes its way from you as you head to the self-checkout. 

“Well, that’s good. I said he would like it – the bastard’s so tight-lipped about what he enjoys it was hard to nail-down a genre.” A chortle sounds off when you gather the chilled pollock and scan it; the phone was held against your shoulder to your ear. “High Fantasy for the win, I guess.” 

“I should get the man to read ‘The Way of Kings’ next time—form a little book club, y’know? Get all the boys in on it like some old ladies.” It was adorable how cute Johnny sounded, like a kid on Christmas. “Stemin’ Jesus, could you picture that, Bonnie?”

“I’d pay to see you pitch that, Dear.” A cheeky tone leaks through. “Price would laugh straight into your face.” 

“Please, the old man doesn’t know how to laugh….He’d just puff cigar smoke in my face and tell me to fuck off.” 

“As I said—I’d pay to see it.” Your boyfriend grumbles under his breath as you place the paper bags into your cart, the contents heavy, and grab your receipt with quick fingers. “Gaz would definitely be in for it, though.”

“I don’t doubt that. Anything beats playing cards for weeks straight, aye?” Your hand can finally grip the phone once more, and you sigh contently as the strained position of your neck finally rights itself. 

You’re about to answer but slow your pace with a scrunched look of confusion as you exit. 

Passing through the front doors, you suddenly get a strange sensation in the back of your mind to turn around. The hairs along your arms stand up as a breeze passes the steadily chilling dark sky, but the way the shiver ran down your spine wasn’t due to cold. Lips thinning, you spare a glance over your shoulder and look along the brightly lit grocery store as its windows leave cascading rays of light over the sun-bleached concrete. The black asphalt of the parking lot is hard under your feet.

There are a handful of other patrons at the checkouts—mothers with children and others buying quick meals for dinner—but none are out of the ordinary. 

You huff and roll your shoulders.

Maybe the day’s just getting to me.

“Bonnie,” Johnny’s slightly concerned voice brings you blinking back, turning your head back to the sparsely lit parking lot and realizing you had stopped walking completely. Your hand was sweaty like you’d just run somewhere. Fixing your hold on the device, your boyfriend continues, “...Everything alright? You’ve gone all quiet over there.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you laugh dismissively, trudging forward to your car, “I just got the weirdest feeling right outside the grocery store.” 

The cart makes a loud rumbling sound as it goes over loose rocks and the bumpy texture of the asphalt, the metal rattling loudly so you have to strain your ears to hear Johnny’s next words. 

“What kind of feeling?” His drowned-out voice was so serious that it shocked you—you’d only ever heard him use a tone like this when he had briefly talked about nightmares that had woken him up in your shared bed. 

The Scot’s words were monotone, slow, and even if the sound of the cart’s wheels was raging all around you and making your skull rattle, you’d still swear you would identify that tone over a hurricane. It made your gut churn. 

“Really, it’s probably nothing,” you play off with a tense shrug he can’t see, coming to a stop at your car and reaching into your pocket for your keys. “I just got a chill.” 

Your eyes look around before you open the trunk, biting into your lip at the long shadows that the tall street lamps give off. Licking over your teeth, you bink dismissively and shake your head, unlocking the vehicle and huffing as you begin loading in your purchases. 

“Anyways,” you try to ignore the hard build of your spine or the way your eyes travel back to the brightly lit store. There wasn’t anyone out here but you and the dead forms of cars, trees off in the distance, and far-off lights of other buildings. You swallow and clear your throat. “I was thinking about getting us a dog.” 

“You’re not gettin’ out of this that—wait, did you say dog?” Across the world in a shitty bed, Johnny’s once concerned eyes widen, jaw going slack. “No way in Christ’s Hell, Dearie.”

“Oh, come on!” You groan, placing the second to last bag into the car and tuning your back to the street, throwing out your hand. “It doesn’t have to be a big dog—just one I can go on walks with and keep me company. I know you have a bad past with them, Love, but I just want someone to help not make the house so empty when you’re gone.” 

Your voice slides off near the end of the sentence, and you try not to sound so sullen. Johnny frowns as he stares into the far wall of the barracks over the heads of sleeping men, itching at the back of his neck. It was no secret that the Scot wasn’t particularly fond of canines—his encounters with them were almost never pleasant unless he knew the handler. 

But…

“I’ll think it over, eh, Bonnie?” He relents, sighing, and he thinks he hears snickers from a dark form in the distant corner. The Sergeant glares over at it and continues with a pang of internal guilt about how lonely you must feel most of the time. “Promise…but you’re more likely to get a cat dressed in a suit than a mangy mutt anytime soon.” 

You laugh at the attempt of a lighthearted joke, closing the trunk with a roll of your eyes. A breeze goes by and your arms erupt into shivers, clothes not enough to keep out the chill. 

“I’ll take it.” 

“Hm, you know,” Johnny smirks, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes and grunting out huskily, “there’s another way to make sure the house won’t be all quiet when I’m gone.”

“Keep it in your pants, MacTavish. You’re not even here yet.” Smiling through the heat of your cheeks, the skin of your cheeks glows; your body rolls with heat. “Save it for tomorrow.”

“What, am I gettin’ you all worked up over there?” He hums, and you grab your cart, pushing it into one of the specific areas where someone would grab it in the morning. “‘Cause I have no problem with waitin’, Dearie, all the more perfect when I get to be with ya.’”

“You wish, handsome.” Walking back to the slight rumbling of your car, you speak through tilted lips and completely miss the form walking up beside you. “I think that—”

“Excuse me?” 

Yelping, you nearly drop your phone to the floor as it slips out of your startled grip; heart jerking at the sudden intrusion into an intimate conversation. Swiftly turning around you spot the same man as before—the one with the blue cap that had passed by quite rudely in the store. His strong face looks sheepish.

Johnny quickly calls your name through the line, and you let off a reassurance before tilting the device down.

“Holy hell, man, give a girl a warning next time, yeah?” Chuckling weakly to push back tension and the twisting of your intestines, you notice the stranger’s tall frame is covered in a heavy jacket. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, actually,” He’s not outwardly alarming to look at, the man, with his loose body gestures and controlled tone. “Sorry, but I was just wondering if you could lend me a hand. I found a kitten under a van back there,” he points, and you look over to the far corner of the parking lot. Sure enough, there was a large van surrounded by two black cars. Your eyes narrow on the scene, already getting a prickly feeling. “Do you have any food that might bring it out? Or maybe you’d be willing to reach under and grab the little bastard?” 

The stranger laughs and continues with a jerking of his shoulders. You watch every movement with an upticking pulse, fingers tight over the phone as Johnny listens with growing worry. 

The Sergeant's dark eyebrows pull tight, and he stands like he could run out the door to you; jaw tight and muscles wound.

“Put me on speaker.” You decline silently. Better not to get a hotheaded and protective Scot involved when he was thousands of miles away.

“Sorry,” Clearing your throat, you take a step back, attempting a friendly smile. “I have to get home to my husband.” It wasn’t the first time you’d had to use the spouse card to get away from creeps, and it won't be the last. Worked better than just the boyfriend title, honestly. And there was something about this man’s eyes that didn’t sit right with you. “Work night and all, you understand?”

“He left yet?” Johnny asks, gruff as his accent gets stronger. “Else I’m callin’ the store and sending security out to you.” 

“It shouldn’t take a long time,” the man begs and you take another slow step back to the car door, pupils going tiny. Breaths shallow. “You’ll be back to your…husband, in a few minutes. I’d hate to leave the poor guy all alone.” 

“Sorry.” You say again, firmer. “No.” 

Not wasting any time, you open the car and jump inside, wrenching it closed once more and pressing the lock. Breathing heavily, you stick the keys into the ignition, missing a couple of times, and look into the side mirrors to spy on the tall shadow that hovers like a plague. 

“Sweetheart? Hey?” Johnny calls out your name as you force the car to start driving away, face tight and limbs shaking. “Hey, are you alright?” 

The man has half the sense to wake up Price, but with the stirring bodies around him, there’s half a chance the Captain already knows something’s off. Johnny hadn’t bothered to check his noise level when the uncomfortableness seeped from you over to him. What kind of a man approaches a woman near dark and asks a question like that? The action didn’t sit right with the Scot. 

Johnny’s body hums with energy—volatile rage keeps his heart in a tight fist with a deep seething hatred of not being with you to help force back the freaks in person. He wasn’t above getting into someone's face if the situation called for it; after a couple of outings to less-than-nice pubs, all it took was a few nervous glances from you nowadays for him to create a barrier out of his own flesh.

“I’m okay,” you whisper to him, biting at your lips and peeling back flesh. “It’s all good. I-I’m on the road already.” 

A great weight falls from the man in the form of a sigh. He slowly sits back down on the mattress, lips thinning and slightly shaking his head. His free hand comes up to rub over his cheek. 

“Good. That’s good…” He snaps out of his concerned stupor quickly, but the fast beating of his heart does anything but slow. “You’re okay.” 

It wasn’t worded as a question, maybe more of a reassurance, but it helped you immensely. Your tension lessened at the comforting sound of Scottish drawl and deep, silver, voice. But you wanted him to wrap his arms around you; gaze into those cerulean orbs.

Tomorrow.

“Keep on the line until I get home?” You ask feebly, not able to resist looking in the mirrors as you turn out of the parking lot. 

The blue-capped stranger was still standing there, and one of the black cars in the far corner had turned its headlights on. A deep dread overtakes your ribs like you’d just gotten out of something very, very, bad. A sense of a lingering morality stays in between your ribs.

“‘Course. Wouldn’t be doin’ anything else, Bonnie.” Johnny utters, glaring at the floor. “I’ll be ‘ere the whole time.”

It wasn’t fair that he was unable to be there with you—never before had the constraints from his job hit him full strength in the chest like this. If he can’t protect the ones he loves back on the home field, then what was the point of the Task Force in the first place? 

By the time you get home after taking the fastest route, you quickly gather everything from the back and shuffle inside, pulse still racing. You lock the door behind you and take a deep breath, closing your eyes. 

Johnny’s soft breath over the call was like a lullaby, right in your ear as if he was beside you in bed. Oh, you missed his soft snores more than anything. Your gaze goes glossy, but the tears are held back stubbornly. 

As if sensing your turmoil, your boyfriend speaks lowly. 

“Y’know, I bet the rest of the boys would really love it if we kept ‘em over for a drink and a bite when we all get back. I can whip up something quick on the grill and you can take a breather, eh?” He speaks so softly it almost makes the tears worse, heart palpitating. 

You wetly laugh and place a hand to your mouth, standing in the dark foyer with groceries on the floor and a primal fear slowly leaving you. The familiar scents of charcoal and birch wood from the Scots hair product are stuck into the very walls of this shared dwelling, along with the scuffs on the floor from play-wrestling during movies; a light that needed to be replaced due to Johnny accidentally running straight into it at two am. He had thought an intruder had broken in, but it was just a bird that had snuck in through an open window.

The signs of a well-lived and loved home. 

“But you wanted pollock,” you grumble with a hidden smile and burning ears, pushing the tip of your shoe into the front rug.

Johnny beams and goes to lie back down, putting a hand behind his head against the pillow.

“Well, now I’m makin’ burgers. Guess you’re just going to have to sit back and watch my fabulous arse from the porch, yeah, Dearie? Don’t burn a hole into them, now, they’re the only pair I’ve got, and I know how much you like ‘em.”

“Shut up.” 

“I’ll even wear that apron you got me—what was it you said it did,” the cheeky Scot smirks, all teeth and crinkled eyelids, and hears your complaints get louder as your mind flies away from what had happened almost immediately. “Made me look like I should be in a porno? Hell, if you were in it with me, I’d not complain ‘bout it. Steamin’ Jesus, I’d let you do horrible things to me, Dearie.”

From somewhere in the barracks a low groan echoes out and Johnny snaps his hand down to stifle his loud laughter as you bark at him. 

“MacTavish!” 

Great bouts of laughter leave everyone glaring from atop pillows and from over fingers stuffed into ears; some even get up and gather blankets, leaving the barracks room entirely.

In your foyer, your body blazes with heat like you’d been set on fire, a hand placed over your eyes and a treacherous grin on your mouth. 

“Keep your voice down, you absolute arsepiece!”

“Aye—! That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell ya!” 

“Johnny!”

—

The second time you called him was out of pure curiosity, only a few hours before your lover was scheduled to come home and cook for you and his Task Force. Around six o'clock. 

“When was our postbox all scratched up?” Your thumb runs over the black numbers of the sequence, blinking with wrinkled skin as you take a glance at the neighbors’ and frown. No one else's was like that. “I thought you said you compromised with the local kids and would give them money for sweets so they would stop messing with our stuff?” 

“Little fiends were sucking me dry!” Johnny huffs, “No way the devils would pass up more sugar and do something like that. What’s it look like, then? A few stray rocks manage to dent it?”

Your lips release a sigh and you pick up your mail with an annoyed grunt, closing and locking the cubby as you reply. “No way, it looks like someone took a knife to it.” Clicking your tongue, you shake your head. “God, things have just been going wrong lately.”

Shuffling his feet over the tarmac and hearing the plane engines die down behind him, Johnny takes a glance back. Price was standing at the top of the C17 arms crossed and head tilted—the Scot could imagine the raised eyebrow almost immediately. 

He grimaces and holds up a finger, walking a few more steps away as Gaz leaves the hull with his bags slung over his shoulders. 

“I can’t talk any longer, Bonnie, Price’ll wring me for not helpin’ unload the gear. He’s damn near skinnin’ me already.”

You chuckle, “Tell him I said ‘hello’ and not to damage the face.” 

“Oh, you’re a horror, you are, Dearie.” 

Quick declarations of love and see you soons were exchanged before the connection was cut, and your feet carried you back into the house. Your phone and the mail went to sit on the tiny hallways table, shoes tossed onto the plastic mat sitting on the floor with a small thump. 

Sighing, you rub over your eyes, thinking over if it was worth calling the post office or just trying to fix the scratches yourself. 

“I think we have some paint in the garage…” You trail off. 

Ultimately, you just pushed that to the back burner. Johnny was coming home. Your lips peeled into a large smile, and you’re rushing off to get into a nice outfit for the rest of Task Force who was coming a bit later than your boyfriend. Thoughts of finally being able to be picked up by your boyfriend's strong arms were all-consuming, being held into a broad chest and digging your nails to the dip of his spine. 

Just being able to be around the mohawked-man was a blessing that you’d never take for granted. 

You settled on a nice top and casual pants—you’d met the others before, so there was no need to go overboard. Smoothing your clothes down, you enter the living room and go to open the curtains, letting the light of the interior spread to the small lawn and the street. Humming under your breath, the vehicle outside doesn’t catch your attention immediately; the black metal is just another parked entity sitting still. 

When you do pause, your curtains half-opened, the delayed shock makes you lose precious time as you stare slack-jawed at one of the twin cars from yesterday at the parking lot. Your fingers clench into the fabric in a sudden moment of frozen shock. As if a mythical creature had just run past your field of view, the parting of your lips is instinctual before the widening of your eyes. 

A still second passes before you’re sprinting to the front door—locking it and snatching your phone. Heart pounding, you make a dash to the bedroom, dialing Johnny with fear-tight pupils. 

He had told you if there was ever an emergency to call him right away, he’d get there faster than any police officer; for the record, you believed that wholeheartedly. Johnny was more loyal than a dog in a pack, once someone raised the alarm the Sergeant was locked in. 

Rushing into the bedroom, you trip over the tossed covers but right yourself as the dialing tone sounds out, heavy breathing making your lungs hurt. You open the nightstand table and dig under a collection of books, hand meeting the smooth metal of an M9 pistol. 

Putting the phone on speaker, you throw it onto the mattress.

Legally, you shouldn’t even have this—while Johnny had been teaching you to shoot, you didn’t have a license for it yet. But he’d insisted on leaving you behind with something to defend yourself with.

The confused voice of your lover sounds over the open space. “Jesus, Bonnie, you miss me that much? It cannae ‘ave been more than ten minutes—”

“The car from yesterday is outside the house.” You throw the books to the floor and hear them make a clatter just as you pull out a box of ammunition. Taking out the gun’s magazine, you load bullets with a violently shaking hand. Some hit the ground with a metallic ping, but you pay little attention, just blinking back anxious tears and a harsh focus on the sounds of the front door handle being jimmied.

“I…what?” Johnny’s voice gets heavier, demanding with a snarl trapped in the back of his throat. 

Standing stationary in the doorway Base—about a twenty-minute drive from home, the man’s heart suddenly jumps in his breast. Did he hear you right? Behind him, Ghost slows to a stop at the now blocked opening, watching with narrowed eyes; a large rifle slung over his shoulder and a carry bag in his arm. Johnny’s shoulders wind tight, feet parted as he suddenly turns on his heels and takes off back the way he came in, the phone still at his ear where the Lieutenant knew you were on the call.

“What the fuck?!” Ghost’s skeletal head follows after and pointedly notices the Scots lack of care for how his bags hit the ground but keeps the pistol holstered at his thigh and the combat knife strapped to his upper shoulder. 

“Johnny?” He calls out, but only the wind answers him. “The hell are you off to?!” The gargantuan man sends a glance over to Price who was watching just as intently, lids narrowed. Gaz cleared his throat.

“....Shouldn’t we follow him? Sounds pretty serious.” 

Price sighs, taking a moment to watch Soap sprint to the main building and shove past other soldiers and staff. He grunts.

“Move light.” 

The phone call was filled with heavy breathing and hurried orders. 

Your boyfriend was running you down the basics of firing at a moving target as the sound of pounding at the front door became more hurried.

“It’s not like a stationary target—when someone’s runnin’ at ya, they're gonna be moving quick and you’re not going to be able to fire if you don’t mean it!” 

“Okay, okay,” you mutter with a shaky inhalation, loading the M9’s magazine and clicking off the safety. “What the hell do they want with me?” The whispered question is more for you than it is for anyone else, but the answer from the sprinting Scot startles you. 

At that exact moment, the pounding of a fist stops completely.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re gonna fire at the first bastard that comes down that hallway. We’ll ask the questions later.” You hear a car door opening and a yell from Johnny’s side, soon the clammer of grunting breaths an exclamation of ‘hurry the fuck up!’

“I—”

“If you need to, leave through the window and go to the neighbors. Take cover in the foliage and slip away to the back alley.” Johnny never spoke like this to you—clipped and deathly serious. But now that you think about it, as you stay frozen and barricaded in the bedroom, if he spoke any differently you’d probably break down. “Do you copy?”

This was Sergeant MacTavish, and damn him if anything came between that man and the people he cared about. 

He barks your name, “Do you copy?!” 

“Yeah,” the gun shakes in your grip, but nonetheless you hold it at your hip and turn your eyes to the window. It would be easier to leave, you think. You’re not trained for this! “I–I think I’m going to—”

The front door’s window is broken with a shattering of glass. You rush to the phone and turn off the speaker, afraid that the sound would immediately tell these people where you were. Loud shouts flow into the foyer and spread like venom under the crack of the thin barrier separating you and the intruders. 

“Spread out and find her!”

“Yes, Sir!” 

Sir? You ask, eyes snapping this way and that as Johnny is dead silent on the other side. You think you hear the slam of a foot to the pedal, but you can’t be sure. Fuck, there was so much going on, you didn’t know what to do.

“Screw this, I’m going out the fucking window.” You gasp out, lungs tight and skin sweaty, you turn on the safety on the gun and stuff it into your belt. 

One-handed, you unlatch the lock and strain your ears, hearing feet getting closer. Grunting, you shove the heavy frame up and try to stop the ringing in your ears. Whoever these people in your house were—they were professionals. They had patience; studied your intellect with the trick in the parking lot and followed you home so they could mark your postbox number as a reminder of your address. What the hell was happening? 

Just as you’re about to make the small drop into the flower bed, a creak echoes from behind the bedroom door. You freeze in place, one foot dangling into the backyard. 

Breathing slowly, your eyes lock to the deep shadow that spreads like two distorted poles as the large feet face the very place you’d holed up. As delicately as you’re able with an award-setting tremor in your gut, you place the phone down onto the window sill; Johnny’s loud and worried voice dims as all attention moves to self-preservation. You’re just about to reach for your gun when the door busts off its hinges. 

Starling, and before your hands can find purchase, you’re tumbling backward—out of the house entirely with a stifled shout of alarm. Slamming to the ground and crushing flowers in the process, you have no time to think about the pain going up your spine or at the base of your skull before you’re scrambling for the M9. 

Just as someone peeks out from the window, face covered and holding an assault rifle, you’re firing three shots in rapid succession as you don’t even remember flicking off the safety. 

Two shots miss entirely, but on the last and final press of the trigger, as your arms catch the recoil, it connects. 

A comment is cut short as blood explodes in a great wave of velocity, coating the house upwards almost to the shingled roof. The body slumps, weight bringing it down to hang limp over the frame.

Wide-eyed, you still hold the shaking gun in the air, muzzle smoking, breathing fast through your mouth. Had you just…

Your stomach bunched, acid traveling up your throat to pool under your tongue. Perhaps you would have thrown up at that moment, the setting reality that you’d just shot someone in the head like an anvil in your pounding skull. But the barking voices from inside the house snap you back. 

Gasping down the breaths you realized you hadn’t been taking, your wobbly feet dart to shove you up like a newborn deer as sprinting bodies close in on the porch’s sliding door. God, you could only imagine what Johnny was thinking. 

Bolting out of your backyard fence, you remember your lover’s orders and run as fast as you’re able to the neighbor's open yard, using the darkening sky to help cover you. Cursing under your breath and thinking over all of the ways this should have already gone wrong, you wipe at the tears cascading down your cheeks. 

Don’t think about it—just get away.

It wasn’t long before you were down the alleyway, feet weak and lungs burning. There was a stickiness to the back of your scalp, blood, undoubtedly, from an injury caused by the fall.

It’s a damn miracle I didn’t break anything. 

What would you have done then? Just let those people take or kill you? You shiver at the idea and force yourself to go faster. Darting around a corner, your feet skid to a quick halt. 

The barrel of a gun was pointed directly at your face. 

“Had a feeling you’d be slippery.” It was the voice of the man from the parking lot—the man with the blue cap. Your face jerks to an imitation of confined horror and unease at the same eyes boring into you. He was dressed in gear like the rest of the men now exiting your house to hunt you down. The stranger shifts his feet and you flinch. “Drop the gun, Sweetheart.” 

“Who the fuck are you?” You find your voice, hissing out. The pistol clatters to the floor as it slips from your grip and you hate how you flinch at the sound. 

“Your boyfriend and his buddies are hard to track down.” Blue Cap huffs, and the tall stature of the man makes you incredibly nervous. Backing up a step instinctually, he follows and smirks. “But I figured the best way to meet him was to find his little bird first—he’d come right to me. Cliche, I know, but you can’t fault me. Works every time.” 

What did this guy want with your Johnny? Gritting your teeth, your fingers shake at your sides, hips tense and ready to run.

“He’ll kill you.” You level, not keen to show this man how disgusting you felt being near him. 

He shuffles up next to you, grabbing the meat of your arm. Trying to jerk away, the barrel of his weapon is shoved into your ribs; gasping, your body goes rigid.

If your heart goes any faster, it’ll break.

“Not if I threaten to kill you first.” Forcing you forward, you glare and feel the urge to spit in the man’s face. “C’mon, hun.”

“Don’t fucking call me that, freak.” 

“Ooo…fangs. Can’t be surprised, you did shoot one of my men, after all. Not a bad trigger finger, but you do need decent work on your accuracy if you wanna make anything out of it.” Your eyebrows pull in as you’re corralled back out of the alleyway, barrel bruising your skin and blood dripping down your neck. The man’s grip hurts as a strangled whimper falls from your bitten lips. 

Feet scraping over concrete, you’re brought out into the street as neighbors peak out of windows with drawn curtains; phones to their faces. Did these intruders not care about the police? If anything, that made you sweat more. 

“Ride’s waiting.” 

“I’m not getting into that.” Grunting, your eyes are stuck on the black void of the car parked in the street. A menagerie of other armed men stands all over. “Hell no—you can just shoot me now if that’s the case.”

“Don’t tempt me, I can still go after the Sergeant’s dear old mom,” your lungs chill as the man chuckles to himself, looking down at you through dark lashes. “He has a cousin, too, am I right?” 

Rageful tears spark behind your lids as you blink. 

No way it was going to go like this. Where’s Johnny? 

The gun was taken from your ribs as you’re shoved forward. 

“Get in. Now. We’re already behind schedule.” You stare into the interior and clench your fists, lips quivering but jaw clenched. Your Lover’s voice comes to you, sure of himself and laced with stubbornness. 

If you’re ever in trouble, you wait for me, Dearie. I’ll be there ‘fore you know it, ready to defend your honor like the knight in shinin’ armor I am, eh? Why are you laughing…?

Turning back around with every ounce of courage you can muster, you splay your feet and cross your arms.

“No.” The gun is raised to your head, and you want to flinch back in terror but restrain yourself. 

“Get in.” 

“No.” How your voice wasn’t breaking was a question in and of itself, but Johnny had always said you were stubborn like him. Best time to prove him right was with a barrel to your face, apparently.

The stranger’s eyes light with anger, hands clenching over the body of the weapon as the rest of his men stare on in shock. A growl meets air.

“I’m not asking for a third time, Sweetheart—” One loud boom later and you’re ducking down with your hands over your head, ears ringing and body unsteady; a great weight hits the ground right next to you.

The sound of gunfire rattles the world all around the once quiet street, and you think that you and your Lover will have to move after this. No way the neighbors could let all this slide. Looking up, your eyes jump from the corpse spasming near you to the running men, chaos breeding in the lines between shouts and dropping bodies. 

A hand latches into your waist, and you’re being lifted into strong arms moments later. Squealing, your head snaps to the size and meets cerulean blue inlaid in a strong brow line. 

“I’ve got ya.” Your body loses all tension at the accent that you would know anywhere, even in death, a strong grip picking you up and keeping you close to his broad chest. 

Johnny carries you away in the midst of battle as the rest of the 141 get involved, making quick work of the remaining men. Breathing in his scent, you force your face under his chin, feeling the stubble scrape as your fingers dig into flesh. 

He’s here. He’s—he’s right here.

“Don’t worry, Dearie, I’m right here. It’s nearly over, now.” You try to bring him closer as he takes cover behind a wall, pressing his shoulders against the grating stone as he shields you closer to him. Sliding down to the ground.

His eyes snap back and forth, heart rapid. God, he was nearly too late. Johnny presses his nose into your hair as he breathes deeply, watching bodies fall and feeling you shake. Feeling you shiver; now finally able to let everything sink in. 

“Shh,” the Scot mutters, pressing you closer as you whisper his name in a hoarse breath. “You’re alright. I’m ‘ere, Bonnie, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His hands filter over your skin, checking for injuries and feeling over growing bumps from under-the-skin abrasions.

His teeth clench together in hate, hotheadedness taking over for a moment as part of him wants to rush out and pick a few of these bastards off himself. But it’s just not that simple. 

Looking out into the street with serious eyes, the radio attached to his vest sounds off as the last of the firefight ends almost as quickly as it began. 

“Clear.” It was Price. “How is she?” 

Johnny sighs, looking down at you in his hold as he whispers comforting words in quick succession.

“Shaken, but alright…” The reply is muttered as you sniffle, your fingers going to wipe away tears. “She’s—she’s alright.”

Johnny beats you to it as he tries to calm down, large digits tilting your head to the side and studying intently as he swipes them away with a firm thumb and a careful frown. 

“Johnny—” Your eyes stay locked on him as the Scot gets rid of any trace of fear or sadness, calluses burning your skin just as they always did. His gaze flickers to you; lips pulling tight. None of you choose to move, too content with being this close to one another and safe, even if the situation was serious. “I…”

You trail, not even knowing what to say as the wetness of your eyes blurs your vision, body hot, and the back of your skull aching. Your hands go to cup his cheeks. It’s all the words he needs. 

Eyes soft, the Sergeant attempts a weak and worried smile. “I’m so proud of you, Dearie, y’know that? So damn proud.” Your lips quirk, a strained laugh echoing out. A finger pokes the side of your nose. “Hey, I’m serious now. Stop your foolin'.” 

Johnny’s fingers run deep circles into your temples as you trace the lines of his cheeks. 

“Shut up.” You huff, straining against a wide smile. It was easy to push all of this behind you when you were looking at him. He made everything better.

“Hm,” He moves forward and presses his lips to your forehead, quickly going to lay kisses all over your face until giggles spill out from the alleyway to the waiting three. 

Gaz smiles to himself, Price grunts lightly, and Ghost gazes off. 

“I’ll just have to prove to my Bonnie Little Lady that she’s a prime piece of work, then, eh? Smarter; more quick than a fuckin’ recon team,” he leans close and you have to try and shove him away playfully when he starts to squish you against him. Your laughter grows as his scratchy chin nuzzles your neck. “And don’t mind me sayin’ now, but a proper fine pair of tits and arse to go along with the brains of ya, Dearie.”

“MacTavish!” you squeal, “I should call your mother up and explain how you speak to me—that’s vulgar! I know for a fact she didn’t teach you that.”

“Teach me? Oh, now, then, no one could teach me a thing when you’re around. Cannae think a bit; better off talkin’ to a pile of stone.” You punch his solid chest and laugh so hard your face hurts, breath fanning against his neck as his roaming praise continues as if his mind was a bag of water punctured by a knife. “I’m always thinkin’ ‘bout you, my Little Bonnie.” 

The last sentence is quietly muttered into your temple, a kiss pressed tight. He pulls back slightly and feels at the dried blood on your locks, fingers separating to find the scalp. Johnny’s chest rattles in a sigh, hand shaking slightly when he sees it. 

He’d also seen the body on the window sill, though he knows not to mention it.

Christ, you’d had to kill someone. 

The prospect of taking a life was easy to the Scot—some days he felt like he had been born and bred to do just that. It became simple. Elementary. Like his mother could memorize a recipe, he could memorize the position of arteries; what shot to take at that instant, and which to wait on based only on past missions that resonated like past lives.

But for you…

Oh, it was never supposed to happen to you.

“Are you alright?” Johnny breaths, humor gone and left with guilt. 

He feels your lips on his raging pulse and lets his eyes close, content to feel you move against him as your head remains in his neck. Shifting his body into a more comfortable position, he cages you in protectively. Never again would he allow this to happen.

“I shot someone.” The man’s lips quivered, heart hurting at the blatant shock in your voice. It hadn’t hit you yet, and, hell, Johnny still remembered his first kill like it was yesterday. It wouldn’t be good when all this calmed down. He’d thrown up for two days straight, himself.

“Aye.” He breathes.

“His blood’s all over the house.”

“It is.”

“Is…is that,” you’re shivering, so he massages your spine soothingly until you find the words. “Is that a good thing?” 

He should say no, tell you that the situation that you’d been put in was never supposed to happen and it was just an unfortunate reality. Death wasn’t a good thing, per se. But the man had broken into your shared home—busted down the bedroom door with the intent of using you as a bargaining chip to get to him. So, to the Scot, the answer is clear.

No one messed with his family and lived.

“Yes.” Taking down the air of a dusty alleyway as sirens wail a street over, you weren't surprised that your boyfriend had managed to get to your home far faster than the police could. He said he always would, didn’t he? 

The bills for the speeding tickets and the running of red lights were going to be atrocious.

“Okay.” Your answer is muttered as you peel back, pressing a kiss to the corner of Johnny’s lips. You believed him. Always would. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me.” His bright teeth show off a smile as your mirror. He kisses you heavily on the lips. Whispers against your lips, a promise. A vow. “As long as you put up with me, I’ll always keep you safe.”

“Soap,” Price yells, snapping the two of you out of it. “Get on with it!” 

The Scot raises a shocked brow and smirks down at you as you tilt your head and listen in happy confusion. 

“Y’know, those shots weren't half bad back there. ‘Specially after takin’ a tumble into the flowers.” Your expression freezes in denial as you’re lifted bridal style into the air. Speaking over the calls of police and firemen as they come to the scene, your voice monotones as your legs swing.

“...I missed two out of the three, you dork. That’s failing.” Johnny gapes in mock surprise and you refrain from snorting at the boyish glint in his eyes.

“Jesus, is it really? Hell, you’ll be comin’ for my job in no time, won’t ya? That’s one better than me!” 

You kiss him and feel the grunt through your lips.

TAGS ||

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[unavoidedbyme]

OMORI casts giving you nicknames and reverse

featuring: SUNNY, BASIL, HERO, AUBREY, KEL, MARI, CAPTAIN SPACEBOY, SWEETHEART

tw: if you count fluff as a tw then yes, fluff warning

SUNNY

man. This boy has a lot of cute nicknames for you but he’s very shy to use it

so most of the time he’ll just call you by your name instead

it honestly makes you sad

and he notices it

so he starts to use more cute nicknames!

you ALWAYS call him with nicknames

there isn’t a day pass without you calling him with nicknames

and he’s very flustered about it

he’s very cute 10/10 boyfriend material

protect him at all cost

a plus point if you use the right ones when you’re comforting him!

nicknames he gave you:

sweetheart

love

blossom

light

lovely

or just your name

the nicknames you gave him:

sunshine

sun

sweet

my future husband

mi sol (my sun)

lovely

darling (this makes him very flustered btw)

sunset

he really likes ‘sunshine’ and ‘darling’

he always get flustered when you use ‘my future husband’

he’s really shy if you call him that on public though

he sometimes might get uncomfortable by some of the nicknames…(he’s not used with affection after 4 years shutting himself)

that’s why you should ask him, but as a sweetheart he is he often doesn’t tell you because he felt really bad

my baby is so soft for you❤️

im begging you please reassure him that its fine

BASIL

he’s not too sure on nicknames

but if it makes you happy he will gladly do it!

he loves you very much

like SUNNY, he will get flustered if you call him with nicknames

like he was just watering his plants one moment

and you called him “love”

his face instantly turned into a tomato

this boy would pass out anytime soon

please don’t be too harsh on him…

nicknames he gave you:

flower

love

sweet

bub

my love

nicknames you gave him:

my flower boy

sugar

honeycomb

mi corazón

plant…💀

i can imagine when you too were cuddling and then he suddenly wakes up from his spot

you scream asked him where is he going

“plant!! where are you going?!”

he’s just there, dumbfounded by the sudden burst of nickname

“w-what..?”

HERO

omg he’s low key the definition of gentleman

like this mans showers you with all that cheesy stuff…

he loves pda so be prepared

really loves giving you cheesy nicknames

it flutters you so much and he doesn’t even know it

like he’s doing it not on purpose

he’s calling you all that genuinely

nicknames he gave you:

princess/prince/royalty

love bug

my dear

my other half

babe

honey

dove

nicknames you gave him:

handsome

good looking

husband material

darls (a short for darling)

dearie

he adores you alright?

so when he calls you ‘honey’ he cant help but to look at you lovingly

and it made you even more flustered

you thought that he was doing it on purpose

but nooo, he actually does mean it

keep him save please

marry him if can

AUBREY

she hates nicknames when you two are on public

but when you two are alone

please always use them

she really needs reassurance and just by calling her sweet things?

she’s already melting in your arms

there are some tolarable nicknames though

but i would not recommend it

just use it in a private area like her room or when you two are alone

nicknames she gave you:

heartbeat

sweet

babe

nicknames you gave her:

casanova

cherrybomb

lovely

dear

ma chérie

angel face(very flustered on this one lmao)

auby

please always use nicknames when you two are alone

she’s begging you

it reassures her that you’ll never leave her

the tolerable ones are ‘cherrybomb’

and the others are used in private

KEL

uh😨

okay so first

he gives you very weird nicknames that honestly kind of endearing…

he loves you vv much

he COULD give you some normal nicknames…

but it would be very rare

he just calls you anything tbh

like one moment he accidentally calls you ‘my basketball’

?????

basketball??????😭..

nicknames he gave you:

my love

basketball…

orange joe

sweet cheeks

cute face

my bike

nicknames you gave him:

crazy orange joe fan

orange

my love

dearest

star

kelsey

he got completely off guard when you called him his real name

but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it

he really loves it!

he wants you to call him that everyday

but when you does that his mind goes completely out

just.. 😭

he’s precious so its okay

MARI

god saves you from her teasing nicknames🙏

istg you’ll die from embarrassment

this girl has no break from her teases

one moment you were glad that its finally over

and then boom, she’s already teasing you again

you’ll need SUNNY’s help to get you out of there…

but she really means it!!

every little things she does

she loves you and if you do get uncomfortable

just tell her and she’ll stop

she will buy you anything you want or just cuddles you as an apology

nicknames she gave you:

babe

hot stuff

my queen/king/royalty

my dream girl/boy/person

dolly

wifey/hubby/spousey

pookie bear

nicknames you gave her:

marchioness

loves

honeybunch

sweetheart

my light

she really loves being called marchioness by you

she’ll fall heed over heals for you if you call her that

you could even say that as a revenge for teasing you

she’ll be embarrassed

trust me

CAPTAIN SPACEBOY

AWWW ITS THE SWEET BBY

he’s really REALLY soft with you..

so you’ll be receiving cute and soft nicknames from him!

he loves you dearly

so please tresure him :(

he already got his heart broken two times

and its with the same girl..

so protect him with all costs alright?

nicknames he gave you:

sunshine

beautiful

my lovely

dear

corazón

nicknames you gave him:

captain of my heart (usually to tease him)

lover boy

dear

rey

bubs

star

i repeat, protect him at all cost.

please he’s literally so tired of people using him

treat him right and the crew might approve you

oh right i forgot to tell you that his crew does not like any of their boss’ partner

so if you got their approval then you’re lucky

SWEETHEART

tease her

but not too much

she might kick you out of her castle☠️

she’s kind of a tsundere???

but she also kind of likes it when you tease her

it made her heart goes fuzzy wuzzy inside

when the first time that happened, she thought she was sick

so she goes to a doctor (that doctor is a sprout mole)

and the doctor said she’s dying..

she panics and starts crying on your arms

you asked her why she’s crying, and is completely dumbfounded when she told you the whole deal

nicknames she gave you:

cake

sunstar

my muse

my brain (because yk, she’s the ‘heart’ you get what i mean)

love

or your name

nicknames you gave her:

sweetface

darling

love

queen bee

babe

beloved

like what i’ve said

she sometimes felt her heart beating so fast when you use nicknames

and she got ‘diagnosed’ by a sprout mole that she’ll die

which got you kicking out the sprout mole who dare to call your beloved like that

the other sprout moles has been quiet after that

a/n: this was honestly really fun, i’ll try to make more of these.

[spookythesillyfella]

Thank you for everything you have done on this account I want you to know from my perspective that I care about you not just for your incredible artwork or your High Voltage AU.. but for who you are as a person. I’m not here to sugarcoat things or throw out empty compliments because I know it’s easy to think words like these are “overused” or “cliché” but honestly you’ve been someone who’s made me feel like it’s okay to open up and vent. You’ve seen me completely unload on my own blog and that sense of acceptance means more than I can express since at least when I feel my lowest to a breaking point on some other end there's another person who understands me somehow. I’m not saying we’re exactly the same since our lives and situations are clearly different but I can see a lot of your struggles, just as I’m sure you recognize some of mine. Ever since I started following you I’ll admit I’ve been nervous (still am) I worry I might say or do something wrong that could upset you or drive you away.. It’s a constant fear of making a bad impression but I really do wish I could get to know you better! I’d love to show up here more often, talk about your day, your interests, or anything you want to share. Even if you feel like you don’t stand out you’ve made a meaningful difference in my life and that’s something I’ll always appreciate. I know things are getting tough for everyone right now though I want to remind you that your life is valuable and you’re worth so much. I care about you deeply Spooky and I truly hope things start to feel better for you soon - 💌🩷 (You can figure out who this is by the emojis) P.S don't feel you need to EVER reply to this inbox or anything I send you. This isn't a message to tell you to "stop venting" either. In fact, Your venting again is what helped me realize I am allowed to express myself at times even if I do delete it all haha. Stay safe and I love you /p

oh . thank you deary

ill admit that i dont exactly have the capacity to answer thiz ask – my sad excuse of a vocabulary paired with my constant struggle to find the right wordz

i totally get why you're scared but . truthfully . and i mean every word . you could probably threaten my safety and id still love you incredibly much – you've genuinely helped me overcome a lot of my troublez . not just through your fantastic au . but through you just being a person

ive felt a little less hezitant talking about whatz bothering me on the internet – a sort of echo chamber doez feel nice to scream into every now and again to blow off steam – and . while you're right in saying that our strugglez are definitely different . i still feel genuine support whenever you talk about your own strugglez ; in my eyez . i see thiz az solidarity . i suppoze

and . though it might not eaze you . i do have to say that you shouldn't worry about making a bad impression around me – if anything . i have the same fear regarding all my friendz too ; wordz are so hard to work out and phrazing can be such a hassle . i certainly know that much hehe

itz quite alright if you can't bring yourself to come by more often – i don't expect people to show up in the first place – but i do want you to remember that im alwayz thinking about you ; you're such a wonderful friendsibling and talking to you makez me feel at eaze . so no matter where i go i alwayz have you in the back of my mind . much like the rest of my online siblingz

take care . and know that thiz too shall pass eventually – "I know it's storming now; that the puddles made up of your own tears are expanding. But you should remember that, once the rain is over, greener pastures will bloom. I hope you'll be there to see them blossoming, instead of remaining hung up in your room..."

[dreambigdreamz]

mae govannen!

graphics by @saradika-graphics 💕

the name is Snow and the heart has a big bold ÉOMER branded on it. just a funny blob of positivity on tumblr, screeing at new fics.

that’s about it but um if you want more, i am super awful at introductions so let’s make this short and simple:

she/her

turning twenty

neurodivergent

enthusiastic but unable to express enough

lord of the rings

a song of ice and fire

pride and prejudice

fantasy, royalty, anything classy

i don’t know how else to describe me. i’m a very messy jumbo of a little this and that. juggling at writing, college, three cats, several mental issues, and nature.

currently very obsessed with rohan for more than what is healthy, partly because tolkien is at that spiritual level where the love is constantly flowing like a river through the soul and heals. peaceful vibes most of the time, but an unholy shriek of affection every now and then. my favourite stories are a way of living.

my motto is ❛ it is easier to enjoy others’ art than to create by oneself ❜ so that’s what i am here for, i guess. all you creative little caterpillars are so awesome i admire y’all so much 💖 b-but here’s my writing blog where i keep it neat and tidy all things of my writing @snoww-writes hope you’ll enjoy scrolling through some of ‘em

my exhausted self made my talkative other self to promise to keep this short but they have their own minds, silly dearies as they are. i think i’m most likely neurodivergent in more ways than one, but i’m too broke and i live in a place inaccessible of proper diagnosis.

i will leave off here now, with a formal farewell phrase i ripped off unashamedly from the jungle book because it gives off forest vibes and my one ambition in life right now is to go off and be a hermit in the woods living on nuts and fruits and talk to trees.

on the road that thou must tread home is behind, the world ahead, where kindness rare still blossoms red;

through the nights when thou shalt lie prisoned from the starlit-sky, feeling time as it goes by;

in the dawns when thou shalt wake to the journey thou must take heartsick for memory's sake:

wood and water, wind and tree, wisdom, strength, and courtesy, forest-favour go with thee!

Sincerely Snow,

22 Dec 2023

[bookishcatcafe]

Loona's Family: A Fan-Fic Part 1/2

Thanks again @trin-draws-art for the inspiration! Hope you and everyone else enjoys!

It was a busy day at home today. Blitz was scrambling around the house, putting up decorations, calling at Stolas to help him with said decorations--especially with those in places Blitz could not reach like the "Happy Birthday" sign currently haphazardly hanging in the kitchen or the blowing of balloons which were currently slowly sliding to the floor or countertops.

During all the commotion, Via had walked into the kitchen, grabbed the carton of orange juice, and made a glass while also making a bowl of cereal and taking it to the other room. She was quiet. She still wore her PJs during all this--it was currently noon.

Stolas: Oh dearie--we do need to finish these decorations and prepare for tonight's dinner.

Blitz: And we need the cake! I…mayyy need your help with that babe.

Stolas: Chuckles as he finishes blowing a balloon You can help me decorate it then. I know you and your baking skills.

Blitz laughs as he struggles with one of the balloons. Loona was in her room, listening to music in bed, and scrolling through texts between her and Vortex.

Via sat and ate in the other room of the Goetia palace--which Stolas now brought in Blitz and Loona after the divorce finalized and their relationship blossomed. She had felt as if, when Loona and Blitz came in, her own world was drifting. As if, Stolas felt more in love with them than her--a mere product of his past trauma. She knew how rocky Stella and Stolas had it together—she herself questioned her father’s sexuality and comfortability with her mom. For some reason, which at the time she did not know of, they had to stay together for the family. She sighs and rubs her forehead, shaking it off. She finished eating and made her way to her own room.

Loona went through pictures on her phone: pics of the crew at IMP, aesthetically pleasing pics of different spots in Hell and on Earth which some contained her and her IMP co-workers, selfies through the ages, and pictures of her and Blitz.

Something struck a chord in her, seeing the picture of Blitz and her at Blitz's place. It was her first day home and Blitz had wanted to celebrate it with breakfast for dinner, streamers, balloons, and a present--a red shirt with a black skull on it. As she gazed at the picture, tears ran down her cheeks and she whimpered in bed.

Via heard whimpers from outside of Loona's bedroom which was in the same hallway as her own--she goes to knock before hesitating and moving away. She thought to herself, "And on her birthday…what's making her so sad? I don't think I'd even know what to say." She goes to her room and shuts the door behind her, changing out of her PJs and into a sweater, black jeans, and a beanie. She puts on makeup and leaves the room.

Loona wipes her tears, getting out of bed, getting dressed, and leaving her room--making sure to not get caught by Blitz or Stolas as she quietly moves around the palace and out into the backyard. She finds herself surrounded by the wonderous gardens that Stolas had grown by hand--she found it pretty and let out a slight smile as she wanders through the paths of roses and sunflowers until she found herself in a conservatory. It was shrouded in green endless vines, lavender flowers, a pond surrounding the building, and a small sign engraved in gold near the entrance of the conservatory which read "For Via, my darling owlette". As she read this, Loona sighed and entered the conservatory. It smelled fresh and at that moment felt like the world around her was wet—which it was by the occasional misting that occurred around her which covered her and the countless plants.

Loona felt like she had entered another world when she had moved into Stolas's palace. She had known Stolas prior to this--they knew how they obtained the grimoire--let alone the relationship her dad had with him. She had felt like a black sheep--not being an imp and yet is the daughter to one. As a hellhound, she felt lower than everyone else around her—the imps at work, her dad, hell even the other hellhounds she would meet she never truly connected with. She thought back to Stolas, and then to Via. She felt that Via had everything--though as events occurred which culminated into their now living together--Loona had learned more about the stiff relationship that was the Goetia family. She felt like, for some semblance, Via and her were a little alike. She had helped find her for Hell's sake--yet why does she feel this way between them? Why does she feel like the outcast in the room, this fly on the proverbial wall.

Via was on the other end of the conservatory, staring at Loona just sitting on a bench and staring at the hydrangeas that hung above her in flower pots. She walks over and sits next to Loona, sighing, as she offers her a small box.

Via: Happy Birthday Loona.

Loona takes the box and opens it to find a small locket which was in the shape of a hellhound’s face. She opens it to see a picture of her, on that night, smiling up at the shooting stars together. When she opens the locket, she begins to cry again, to which Via holds her close into a hug, letting her now-sister cry into her shoulder.

[emily-mooon]

Info dump on the 80s OCs

Hello Dearie!

Since this story is relatively new, I don’t have much but I’ll do my best to explain the concept and some other random ideas I have.

-the setting is a small town in Canada that starts in the fall of 1982 and I think will end at some point in 1983. It’s also loosely based on my hometown since it’s also quite small

- the plot revolves around the local high schools annual battle of the bands that started sometime in the late 60s. It’s also apart of a wider provincial battle of the bands that’s hosted in Toronto that if you win, you are offered a scholarship to one of the many music programs at any Canadian university or College of your choice.

-After seeing Joy Division live while visiting some cousins in Manchester, George vows that one day he’ll make his own band and enter it into battle of the bands with the hopes of winning. When he’s in his final year, that’s when he takes action. Maria sees one of his posters and despite not knowing how to play any of the instruments he needs, she decides to join as an escape from her parents control.

- George and Maria make a deal that if he teaches her how to play bass, she will help him with his math and science homework as they are not his best subjects and he needs good marks if he wants to go off to school.

- Eugene and Becky join a bit later as the guitarist and drummer respectively. For a bit George and Maria have to go hunting for them.

- all of the other bands are based in different music genres that were popular at the time. As I’ve mentioned, George’s band is post punk and starts off as a Joy Division cover band (something I have not mentioned)

-a possible romance blossoms between George and Maria. I’m not saying anything else that’s it.

-There’s also a romance between Becky and Lucy that’s lightly inspired by Stephen Morris and Gillian Gilbert of New Order (and in the formers case at one point Joy Division). I just love the idea of a keyboardist and a drummer falling in love I think it’s cute.

-Eugene is lightly inspired by guy who was in my music class who just so happened to play guitar (it was on purpose btw).

I think I’m going to end it here since I do plan on turning it into a comic. I’ve got two pages sketched out and I don’t want to spoil too much and I think I’ve done that enough already.

Thanks for the ask!

[martianbugsbunny]

The Echo Goes On: Part 2 Of A CaptainCroc Fic

Alright, dearies, I said I might write this and goshdarnit if I didn’t just do it. It’s a sequel/Part 2 to this fic that I wrote a lil while ago, and it’s basically just an excuse for to ruminate on some Killian headcanon-type-things through the lens of Rumple noticing and loving them. Once again, there is possibility of extending it, depending on whether or not I feel like exploring yet another different version of Rumple and Killian’s romance, but it also works fine as just a Part 2 of the original fic.

Also, this is sort of a peace offering because I am having a wee bit of trouble writing the next chapter of Who Makes You See Color (my first CaptainCroc chapter fic) and I’m not entirely sure when that will be up. Enjoy!

Rumple couldn’t focus on eating his chicken sandwich, good as it was. Every time he turned his attention to his meal, it was drawn right back to Killian Jones, sitting at the counter with a plate of fries and a chocolate shake. Killian wasn’t even doing anything, beyond eating and, surprisingly to Rumple, having a friendly chat with Granny Lucas. She was a formidable woman, even if she was nice underneath her sharp exterior, and probably the last person Rumple would’ve expected Killian to make small talk with.

Rumple had noticed a lot of things about Killian that surprised him in the past couple of weeks. It started in Neverland, right after the Echo Caves incident (as he had overheard Killian and the Charmings referring to it).

He’d dropped by their heroic little camp early in the mornings, when Killian was awake but nobody else was. “A seafaring habit, crocodile. Why, do you think it’s cute?” As Killian had so irritatingly explained it when Rumple asked.

He tried to poke at the raw spot in Killian’s heart that was blossoming love. And Killian had just kept up his smug expression, now with a new, oh-so-attractive twinkle of challenge in his eyes, and Rumple had decided to quit the game…at least, until they were back in Storybrooke, and out of mortal danger. Rumple had reasoned that said mortal danger was probably the reason he couldn’t come up with any decent taunts or barbs.

Then, he’d made a stupid mistake that he was still chastising himself for: he’d pled Killian’s help, Killian’s specifically, when those blasted heroes wanted him to go up against Pan and his Lost Boys without a means of defending himself.

“Captain, please, if any of that love you claim to feel for me is true, give me *something*. Anything.” Rumple had already been forbidden to use his magic, basically on threat of losing his son forever, and of course he wouldn’t go back on that—but he needed some way to keep himself safe. And although his skills with a blade were hardly a match for his skills with magic, they were by no means rusty. “I don’t want to die.”

Then, as Killian’s eyes softened, and he sort of half-smiled, Rumple corrected himself, realizing just how much sincerity he had allowed to fill his voice. “I can’t go in there with nothing but my good looks—which seem to have captivated you just fine, but that’s not the kind of weapon I need to fight those brats. Besides, if I die, how will I torment you for the rest of your mortal days?”

Killian rolled his sharp blue eyes and handed Rumple a knife. He turned to the Charmings with one eyebrow raised and a defiant expression on his face, and not one of them protested aloud (although they did share glances with each other).

Killian was stubborn. Rumple already knew that, obviously; Killian had spent a couple hundred years searching Rumple out. But he was stubborn with his love, too, which Rumple hadn’t seen before. For Killian, dead love had been fuel, it had been fire, but he hadn’t realized just how strongly Killian was capable of feeling for someone living. Perhaps it was the loss of one love that *made* him so tenacious with this new one. And he got the sense that if he asked Killian to, not with a defiantly arrogant tone, but with earnestness as had filled his plea for help, Killian would gladly spend the rest of his days fighting for Rumple.

Now, in Storybrooke, Rumple had noticed many other small things about Killian. Whatever he ordered at Granny’s, he always got a chocolate shake to go with it. He always caught his own fish, and he seemed to eat that for every meal he didn’t get from Granny’s. He had a mortal loathing for Pop-Tarts (although Rumple believed a warm brown sugar and cinnamon one might change his mind). And when he had gotten a seasonal cold, instead of going for the cough syrup (which Rumple had overheard him describe to Neal as “abominable”) or even chicken soup, for reason Killian had gone directly to making Jell-O. A strange way to cure a cold, but maybe it had medicinal value Rumple was unaware of.

He had promised to torment Killian, but somehow his obsession with unseating Killian from his self-assured mindset with the knowledge that he managed to fall in love with his greatest enemy…well, it had turned right around on Rumple before he even realized he and Killian had fallen into the same trap.

All those little details he had suddenly started noticing? All the increased beauty that love lent to Killian’s face? The knowledge that that love was shining out for him and him alone, despite what he had once done to Killian’s *first* love?

Rumple could no longer look at Killian with malice because of all those things.

He got up from his booth and walked over to the stool where Killian was sitting. Killian turned towards him instantly, that infuriatingly knowing look in his eyes. “What is it, crocodile? Finally come up with a proper taunt?”

Rumple leaned forward and kissed Killian, barely more than a peck on the lips, but enough to get his message across without having to admit it aloud. “Happy, pirate?” he grumbled, sitting on the stool next to Killian’s.

Killian reached over and brushed his fingers through Rumple’s hair, pushing it out of his eyes. “I can always be happier,” he said. “See, you got to hear me say it, but you haven’t yet given me the luxury of hearing you say it.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Captain. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean I have to admit it….Until I know it’s not going to be a waste of my breath.” Killian smiled. “I’m not going anywhere, crocodile. So go ahead and test me, I have a feeling I’ll come out on top.”

[funnel-webbed-au]

A Shiny New Royal Heir

Riley's Notes: Nezha and Lian have a very cute platonic dynamic. Also, RIP Nezha. Welcome to paperwork hell, bud, same hell Erlang Shen has to deal with. Also, this post was written by Onyx and proofread by me. Onyx highlights their titles in pink.

To say that the Deity was bored would be an understatement. He was completely and utterly devoid of stimulation, not a familiar soul in sight to help him manage his strict and stressful duties. The issue was how ready he had(n't) been to take up his father's mantle, and there was not really any other solution to it than let him learn on his own, which was how he found himself in such a tricky situation in the first place. Prince Nezha, heir to His Highness Yang Jian was unhappy.

Unhappy in his role, unhappy without his beloved snake and certainly unhappy with how many imbecilic Celestials felt the need to send their complaints straight to the palace instead of using their brains to sort the issues out themselves. Was that really too much to ask? Apparently so. He had never known just how infuriating some people could be until he was already far too deep to escape his anxiety riddled torture, so he was stuck listening to the high pitched whine of whatever citizen was giving him a headache at any one time. Anything would be better than that.

Alas, he knew he could not leave his duties to collect dust. He would let his love for a special Storm Deity motivate him into keeping his childish habits and behaviors at bay for long enough to prove that he could handle the weight of his new, freshly polished, gold crown. He dreaded what may happen if he didn't... which forced his posture straight and his chin up, his façade no longer that of a traumatized child, but instead one of a war-hardened, invulnerable soldier. Soon enough that would no longer be an act, but instead the whole, undeniable, truth.

A long sigh left his lungs as he moved on to the next stack of written requests, the piles of paper slowly becoming painful to deal with and simultaneously getting taller every time he looked at them. When three-year-old Nezha said that he wanted to be a war general when he grew up, this was almost certainly not what he had meant. Ah, how present Nezha longed to regain that childish innocence. Realistically, it wasn't going to happen, but a man could hope, right? That wasn't really the prince's style even though he'd been shifted to different views a little.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the entry of his beloved peach blossom, her footsteps near silent but loud enough to his overly sensitive ears that he knew she was coming. Hurrah! A savior! The tea that she was carrying with her smelled absolutely delectable, and the sweet treats that he knew his 'mother' had made almost rivaled it. "Nezha, dearie, you need to take a break. You will burn yourself out otherwise, and we can't be having that." Her soft, mellow tones were enough to convince his tired mind nigh on instantly, so he took the tea.

She seemed relieved that he hadn't fought her gentle orders, and it shone in the way she happily joined him behind his desk, resting on the hanging chair that he'd commissioned specifically for her. For some reason, any room that she was in almost immediately lost any tension that it had been carrying. It was weird, but Nezha wasn't about to complain, her presence lifting so much stress off of his tired shoulders. She was not even doing anything, just sitting behind him and sipping at her tea, and she was, miraculously, still the only medicine he would ever need

"Thank you, Lanhua. Your efforts in assisting me are appreciated and certainly do not go unnoticed. I do not know how to repay you, but I promise that It'll happen at some point." She clearly wasn't in the mood to be serious, as his words only elicited a giggle and a slight head shake, but even still, her point came across clearly: her kindness was free, he did not owe her anything. Upon Nezha figuring out what she meant, another sigh left his mouth but this one was just somewhat exasperated, all stress gone from his systems for a time

It was astounding, how she knew exactly what to do to get him to relax, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. He loved cared for her.

Author's Note!

I am incredibly sorry about the poor quality of this one! Wrote it late at night and almost fell asleep before finishing it, so it isn't my best work (Have a future!Nezha design as an apology). Thanks everyone for your support!

[truly-quirkless]

Type: Lore/History Timeline: A few hours after the U. S. J. Incident. Location: The Medbay at U. A.

This chapter was actually about 3k words, which was nice. Next on the docket will be some meandering sillies and the Sports Festival- followed by the next event.

[Chapter Seven | End of the U. S. J. Incident/Previous Chapter.]

WARNINGS FOR: Blood, romance. What a funny set to leave together-

The dull orange glow of the setting sun was nearly enough to force their eyes open...nearly. The smell of cleaning products and crisp paper filled the air, alongside the soft scent of cherry blossoms.

Fin wanted so badly to move. Their back wasn't blazing as much as it had been- but they were so exhausted. Their eyes flickered open slowly, catching sight of a ceiling they had hoped to never witness...at least, not when they were in this condition.

"Really, you three...!" An older woman's voice broke Fin's thoughts. They glanced over slowly, eyes drifting to focus on her. The fog in their mind was all-encompassing, slowing each idea for the moment being. One hand was near what should have been the edge of the bed, limply laying there- just barely scraping something with the tips of their fingers. That sensation... They clung to it. "...I guess I can't scold you for him being back here, since it wasn't your fault..."

Fin slowly drew their hand back. They could still feel the touch at the edge- lingering in their mind like a comforting ray of light. They blinked, beginning to try to push themself up--

"Careful, dearie." A small bun of gray hair appeared in their vision- and then a face. An elderly woman with plenty of wrinkles, her eyes permanently formed into upwards crescents- almost like she was stuck smiling. Her gray hair was tied into a short bun, and she wore something like a white labcoat.

Recovery Girl...

"I kept asking for you to come to my medbay, but I do wish it had been under better circumstances." Was that...a syringe stuck in her hair?--- The upper half of her face...dark purple visor...Val--- Fin blinked as their vision swam. "Careful, careful...! You didn't get nearly as mangled as these two boys, but you still need to take it slow." The elderly lady sighed. "Three of you...I don't know how I'll cope."

"Sorry, Recovery Girl." The bed frame shifted. Fin's attention was drawn to their left. There was a small divider raised in the middle of the bed- and on the other side of it laid Toshinori, just beginning to sit up, himself. He had bandages wrapped all around his midsection, some going up and over his shoulder.

Fin exhaled slowly. They were also wrapped in bandages, based on feeling, but only for the wounds on their back- which were already mostly healed. Soon enough, they'd probably have their wrappings changed...and by the night, they'd be free of them. That was, however, assuming that their current exhaustion was a result of Recovery Girl...their head was still throbbing.

"I'm not sure, yet...but I think I shortened my time limit again with that fight..." A chill went down Fin's spine. He could forcibly shorten it?-- Probably from overuse. A dwindling resource...one that would run out, eventually. It had been worrying enough learning he had a timer at all...but the fact that a big fight could force it to dwindle... "...I should have those three hours I had when I first met Young Midoriya..." His voice seemed even raspier than usual. The sheets shifted again- Fin's eyes slid towards where their hand had been laying a bit ago, spotting Yagi's slender digits retreating to lay limply over his own body.

"I'm so sorry.--"

"Well. No use worrying- these things happen." He fully sat up, leaning slightly forward. Fin had only just gotten their back up off the bed. Their head turned, spotting young Midoriya in a bed nearby...this one was far smaller- suited for one person, with no divider placed down the middle. Yagi had interrupted him...probably trying to assuage the guilt in the kid's mind, no doubt.

"...he would've done it either way, Midoriya." They probably didn't have a right to intrude on this conversation...but they did, all the same. "You've been around him longer than I have...we know he wouldn't even hesitate to give up his power to save those around him."

The kid's head lowered, eyes drifting to his sheets. They turned their head the other way- Recovery Girl's smile had returned (albeit faintly), and Yagi's eyes were turned to them- there was a brief flash of sky-blue, for just a moment...they blinked, and it was gone.

They were in the same relative bed as Yagi...it didn't take a genius to know why. Fin exhaled, even as they heard the door creak- their head had only just begun to lower- snapping back up at the sound. Pain burst in the back of their neck. One eye twitched, before they caught sight of the newcomer.

They'd already begun to shuffle on the bed. Yagi's hand- the one closer to Fin- made a small tap sound as it rested on the divider.

It's alright.

Surely he hadn't done that gesture out of an actual thought?- And yet the intent lingered in their head.

"Excuse me." A slightly younger, crisper voice filled the room- this one a bit more upbeat than that of the downtrodden staff and student. The guy was about as tall as their middle brother, Ethan- but that was where the similarities ended. The stranger had pitch-black hair that was combed neatly down, with almost square black eyes, and a slightly tan complexion. He wore a tan overcoat and hat, with only the edges of a collared shirt and dark green tie visible...as well as a pair of darkly colored pants, and shoes that looked like they'd been recently polished...dress shoes?

"Hi, All Might. Been a...while...." He trailed off, eyes landing on Fin.

"What the Hell-?! I didn't know that you were investigating!" Even as he spoke, blood burst from Yagi's mouth- resulting in another wet coughing fit that had him doubling over for a moment, covering his mouth as crimson seeped between his fingers.

"WhoaAllMight--!! It's okay he's seeing you like this????" Midoriya's panic could have shattered glass. Admittedly, Fin was internally bristling themself- their heartrate firing from semi-relaxed to panicked in seconds.

SHITSHITSHITSHIT-

"Oh yeah, it's fine. This guy's all right...." Yagi turned his attention back to Fin and Midoriya- seeing both pale-faced, eyes dilated to pinpricks. Fuck. "Naomasa Tsukauchi, my best friend on the police force." He could see the fear beginning to relax in both of their countenances. Toshinori felt a metaphorical breath he'd only just started to hold disappear. "He's legit, I trust him."

"That's quite an introduction." He'd noticed his friend's eyes slide towards Fin for a moment- and towards the particular medbay bed he was resting on. There was only a split-second of confusion in those eyes, a glance towards the Words Yagi kept hidden- a sparkle dancing in onyx. "I hate to cut to the chase, but we could really use any information you might have."

Something told him he'd be getting a text later about this.

"Hold on, before all that! Tell me all the students are okay...!" Please. Let them be...while he was concerned about those in the room and how they were taking all this- he had to know. The kids...please. "And Aizawa---er- Eraser Head, and Thirteen."

"Not counting this boy, the only student injuries were scrapes." Oh, thank God. "And both of the teachers are in stable condition right now," THANK GOD- "Relax." Three pairs of audible sighs filled the room.

"That's good to hear."

"If you Heroes hadn't risked your lives, the students would never have made it. You four saved that entire class of kids today." Fin blinked. Four?....no- their hearing was pretty bad, surely the guy had said 'three' or hadn't said anything at all. Two?....they shook their head silently, fingers drifting to press against their forehead.

"You're not seeing the whole picture, Tsukauchi. Those students also risked their lives. They fought as hard as us."

"...thank you, All Might." Midoriya's voice was rather quiet. Fin turned their head towards the kid- and they could see a shine in emerald hues. Acknowledgement....

"I don't think there's ever been a group of first-years who experienced a real fight like this so early in their training. They not only survived, they learned what it means to be a pro." Yagi's head leveled, a smile appearing on that worn face- sky-blues were cast in deeper shadow, faintly alight with power. "Those villains made a mistake attacking them. This class is strong- they're filled with courage and drive..."

Indeed they were..Fin hadn't been able to see the class since, but the amount of kids they'd noticed ready to fight despite the odds...the boys running to help All Might regardless of the danger...

"Mark my words. They'll become great Heroes."

[]

"...ugh..." Fin sat up slowly, one hand pressing to their face yet again. Their head was pounding from lack of caffeine- but at least the searing pain in their back was little more than a dull throb, several sets of bandages (all of which had required Fin going behind a small curtain) discarded, bloodied...but less towards the top, thankfully.

"Feeling Recovery Girl's after-effects?" Toshinori's question was met with a small exhausted glance. But Fin couldn't hide the faint smile that traced across their face. They were so tired--- but they were so happy...everyone had made it out of that mess alive.

"Yep..." They were sure the next time Recovery Girl dropped in from her main office, they were going to be discharged. "...so,...I'm guessin' Midoriya..."

"...he's my successor." It probably hadn't been that hard to figure out, given how the two had spoken during the fight. Fin just hoped the villains didn't have the two figured out, already. Their eyes slowly drifted downwards.

Silence swallowed the room.

Yagi shifted on the bed, but only minutely. Even then he could detect every movement of the sheets, could detect the dips and bends of the fabric. All the big issues had been dealt with- but why did this one have his throat closing up? He could barely breathe, trying to figure out just how to approach the current situation.

Tsukauchi had noticed- Midoriya had noticed... And it seemed, somehow, Recovery Girl had picked up on it...had Cementoss told her? Yagi wasn't sure, but she may as well have had the two on a broadcast.

Really, was she trying to turn them into a spectacle?

He knew he would have behaved...kind of....once Recovery Girl told him Fin was on the mend...

"...somethin' occurred t'me,...y'know, in and out of bits of consciousness, on the way here." Fin waved a hand lightly though the air. What...? What were they getting on about? He could see their hands beginning to tap out patterns on the sheets, could feel the vibrations just barely reaching him.

Nervous...

No- they wouldn't--- him?-

"I have a crush on you." Fin's voice cracked through the silence again. Yagi blinked. His mind momentarily paused, their words reverberating in his head. I have a crush on you. Fin had spoken so damn casually---! "--Repairing the U. S. J. is gonna be utter Hell....well, at least I'll have work for an extra few days." And they'd moved on- steamrolling over the admission like it didn't even exist.

Yagi's mouth was slightly ajar, aghast as the realization struck him like a thunderbolt. While, yes, he'd...wanted- had thoughts of?- Fin ever since the alleyway, he- didn't expect anything to ever be returned. He had hoped just for a platonic alliance, figuring it could never go beyond that no matter how much they claimed he was 'pretty'. Some soulmates were like that- forever friends, or in horrible cases, eternal enemies- but here Fin was, giving him something that nearly had him feeling like he was having a heart attack.

His heart thudded faster in his chest, staring at Fin as they rambled on about repairing the U. S. J.- it all went in one ear and out the other, completely forgotten by the blond in milliseconds.

I have a crush on you.

Even in the darkness (the sun had set a little while ago), he could see their pink face- eyes on the edge of the bed.

"Wait--- back up. Back up. What was that first thing, again?" He had to make sure he hadn't misheard. He- really hoped he hadn't.

"I like you." Yet again it was said so blatantly-!

"...you..."

"But yeah, the repairs shouldn't take more than a few days. I'm sure the U. S. J. will be up and running again by next week." And they were trying to steamroll it again. Yagi reached over the divider- fingers pressing over one of Fin's hands. Their eyes finally snapped to meet his, that faint pink instantly burning to a darker hue.

A few simple, painful words were searing in his throat- blazing, practically screaming. Why did he feel his heartbeat echoing in his shoulders, his knees, his head?--- The room had fallen silent yet again, a pause echoing as Fin stuttered on their next word. His own mouth was still slightly open, the words just barely existent.

The Words the two shared were already so painfully damning. He knew what befell him...would inevitably befall them. He was a Hero- Earth's No. 1- the best of the best.

The target that would create on anyone was hellish.

But his other half...

But he knew the words that were begging to climb out of him. Stopped for the briefest moment by common sense- once he uttered such a simple phrase, there would be no going back. Those hazel eyes, that playful smile,- so small- so fragile- but wild when cornered--- he was tying a noose around their neck.

"...I like you, too."

And he was going to cut it into a million tiny shreds.

"Wait- really?" He chuckled at their confused expression, a smile that felt so much more real pressing into the indents of his cheeks.

"Really, Fin." His other hand raised- pressed to the small metal divider between the two's sections of the bed. K-chunk--- the divider fell. Yagi's hand thumped against both sections of the bed. He looked down as he felt smaller fingers lightly rest atop his. Fin had moved their hand over his own- barely a fraction of the size. "But...I can't promise you much- we'd have to keep this all a secret, and I don't want to lose you, and I can't be All Might forever-" His sudden rush of worries was met with the other's hand moving- rising to cup one of his sunken cheeks.

"...do you think I fuckin' care that you're not gonna be All Might, always?...or that we have to keep this a secret?" Those hazel eyes were looking at him- not a stare, not a forced smile..there was nothing but determination- a a kind stubbornness to them that had Yagi pausing in his words, the next few stuttering on the tip of his tongue.

"I like you. All Might's a fun bonus, but...I like you, Toshinori Yagi." Their fingers were tracing over his cheek. He took in a small breath. His hand lifted- gently pressing over Fin's. It was nearly enough to stop the Hero's heart. How could they give him that kind of hope?...how could they look at this husk and see anything more than...

Nothing?

"Now- I'm thinking it....I'm pretty sure you are...is it alright if I kiss you?" Nope, that was his heart exploding. The blond found his smile only growing, stretching until it hurt- and yet he didn't mind, his chest seeming to thud as he slowly cupped a hand over Fin's cheek in turn- though really, his hand covered a good chunk of that side of their head due to size.

"...only if it's alright for me to kiss you back." The small half-laugh that escaped Fin became a squeak of a sound halfway through. The blond chuckled under his breath. "...adorable.."

"...shut up..." Fin mumbled even as Yagi leaned in closer. The distance between the two closed- a hesitant silence hanging in the air. They both knew that things would only get more complicated...but...

Their lips touched.

It nearly felt like a pulse outward, starting in the depths of either's chest- an ease that settled over their bones....until a squeal burst from the doorway.

"What th-?!" Yagi turned away, a hand cupping his mouth as he coughed up a round of blood. Standing in the doorway, eyes locked on the two- was young Midoriya, with Recovery Girl standing beside him. The teen's mouth was open, his eyes borderline sparkling...and his coworker had the faintest smirk on her face. "---young Midoriya...! Recovery Girl!...you...shit..." He breathed out, trying to steady his breathing.

"All Might-- has a--!"

"Young Midoriya!" And the kid clamped his hands over his own mouth, squealing into it- only making Toshinori's face burn even more red.

"I had a feeling..." Recovery Girl hummed. "...I'll leave you two alone... Mx. Well should be good to go by tomorrow, as should you, All Might- but I expect you to come in for a checkup once every day for the next two weeks."

"Understood..." Yagi's voice was barely a whisper. Recovery Girl rested a hand on Midoriya's shoulder- leading the boy away from the medbay's entrance. He looked caught between starstruck and surprised, a finger twitching as he tried to come to terms with what he'd heard and seen. Toshinori moved to scratch the back of his head, a small sigh leaving him.

"....I think I'll be dying of embarrassment, now..."

"You better not." He turned back towards Fin. Yep, Recovery Girl had given the two one of the soulmate bed sets on purpose...he was damn sure of it, now. "I haven't even taken you on a first date, yet."

Another thought occurred to him as an awkward silence filled the room once more.

They were sharing a damn bed---

[libidomechanica]

With the dance on the high remote Shalott

Will leaven light when will brooding     gallants can saith, destroyeth. You seen, drew a delight and you     and lea and gave that this,

not June; or if youth is digestion     workings, and made Solomon a Gem, his for much she-     wolf has harsh intering

on delight; for to tell together     lily cloth’d into his so very wore, three sandwich,     forgiven our praise, for

sweetness years and him fame. With the     dance on the high remote Shalott. Not smiling admiring     his your little neighbour’d

snow, nor Usury with thorns, sorrow     from he owne fate, madrid’s anothere might clasped having,     alas! What I love; twere

thousand me. The purge, a thine early     life: there is lips she winds cut in that has place, of flower,     a long time tells you

in my wearie! Answer, we thou art     faith; but feet; how she haunting someone saddens more never     bowers,—sighing, and paced,

and their bespring children? His wave,     or grieved stood of virtuous the rocks; and pricks’ just, like to     be among the last upon

occurr’d to roam in a fool     wondrous throne, and smile, ’ said this appeal; whose up, other maids     shall my luve, this continues

than was some I, sing winter     vittle: Would heaved wall’d The wound hither’d She, I see all     appetite, no showing to

thee, and turnethy. And sense, thou,     my Dearie! But the flower, echoes, king, you, I love isles are     in colour, because

thermometers it? I yet no one     by pleasant, blushing downe faults. And left her placid sandy     patient, hover if the

deal winters in a mere streets were     not better tongues no less. What wild call? And round, kneeling darkness     but purple grateful,

the hours Funeral, within that     its decay, fountain his becaused, adore! Empress race,     so might I undered,

but alas, that leap, at did repay     his shiel, nae made but all them blissful clouds and this were’t     not in his good; and

cannot perhaps he same days—thyrsis     an appeared, that with poppiest cheeks have sleeping a shade     of the earth; a chamber

crack by hearts could be true world’s     strangerous pent-up creatures Castilion, above, my soul with     you had dogs! Aye vow and

dared in than with bands were through to     hide think it unaffron; calamite; returning! Put by     the scarcely gazed, and

baluster’s tomb us. She knew not     to bear the sun, o’er is the lay once more sometimes of that     youth, her coming on tried;

singing at his heart beating, awake     it is beloved, and your voice, let him but from blossom     their so to Newgate?

[heldhram]

Mum: You should head outdoors more.

Me: no prob

[reilliane]

Fealty ⊱⊰ Genshin!Various

A/N: This is a part of my WIPs! "Fealty" is a fic that I will be publishing eventually, this scenario briefs you dearies about how 'Fealty' is constructed and- of course, the love interests. Minor characters are aged up! By the way, this scenario is written spoiler-free from the plot! Just the basic world building and intro~ Which means... some titles are also 'false' ;))

✤ she/her

✤ Warnings: Implications of Death

✤ Main LIs (Love Interest): Aether, Zhongli, Xiao, Scaramouche ✤ Secondary/Tertiary LIs: Albedo, Venti, Chongyun, Kazuha, Itto, Childe

≿————-　★　————-≾

Seven Kingdoms in one world—two kingdoms held between a war of cataclysm and conquest.

In a world where magic is almost considered divine, Mages are considered the threats in the frontlines. The battle between Jade Moon and Sapphire Gale has been going on for decades without end, stemming from when the Champion of Jade Moon has found out that the Sapphires had been stealing the Jade Mages.

Sapphire Gale is on the verge of defeat. With unyielding fortitude, obstinate in his mission, the Champion of Sapphire Gale sent the kingdom's Crown Prince to the neighboring kingdom of Eternal Iris to seek help.

In the place of [Name], a Mage delegated by Sapphire's Champion to be the Protector of the Crown Prince, accompanies the latter in his journey. Things have been looking up—until she realized that the nature of the war isn't what it seems to be.

𝐒𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐞

Aether

The Crown Prince, Heir of the Sapphire Gale Champion, Diluc

Aether has been a close friend for as long as you can remember. He's an orphan taken in by Diluc when he was found in the middle of the war. You met him when you were both eight years old, and he's literally the first person you saw when you awakened from a comatose. Despite not remembering much other than the fact that you were rescued by the Sapphire Knights, you found out that you had a knack for magic, something that Aether had been in awe of. Despite having his own studies, he walks you to the Academia and visits whenever he can and is beyond stoked when Diluc eventually assigned you to be Aether's personal guardian. Since Aether's magical affinity is still far from unlocking its true potential, he's almost always asking you to showcase your magic. It's a friendship that has blossomed for years. Sometimes, he tells you about his other half, his twin, Lumine, who he had lost in the tides of war against Jade Moon. Because of this, he's more than vigorous to learn so by the time he takes over the spot of Sapphire's Champion, he is prepared to give justice for his sibling. Your closest confidant and vice versa. There are instances when you catch him staring a little too long and when you ask him why, he'd get pink and refuse to answer. Is incredibly, incredibly worried when the carriage en route to Eternal Iris has been ambushed by the Adepti. He has yet to unlock his magic so he's forced to stay on edge, back to back with you, with only a sword as his means of defense. Is at your side at all times when you're injured because of him and promises that there will be a time when he's going to be the one to do the protecting. All this promise and yet—when things go south and truths were revealed, you didn't expect the future strain that all but cut your bond with him.

Albedo

The Abstruse Mage in the Royal Court of Sapphire

This Mage seems to be timeless. He is an enigma through and through—and perhaps that is why you gravitate to him a lot. He knows for a fact that he's a mystery and doesn't shy away when people try to crack him like an undeciphered code. Despite being in the Royal Court, he studies at the Academia and has his classes specialized in healing and innovation. For some reason, he acts like an old spirit. Many other students say that befriending this particular Mage is difficult, but that doesn't seem to be the case at all because... he's personally approaching you? Oh wow. Albedo is one to be straightforward, so imagine your stupefy when he says that you are just as fascinating as he is and he can't wait to unravel more about you. The atmosphere felt a little eerie when he mentioned that. Almost like... he's aware of something that you aren't and he's implying that. He doesn't give you an answer when he's queried about this. When you're both studying, he seems to always eye the winged* mark on the back of your hand. Sometimes he will brush his hand over it as if he's testing something. How strange. Regardless of everything and despite his odd personality, Albedo is someone you are close to in the Academia. There are times when he covers for you when you're summoned in the Palace and is more than ready for you to copy his notes. Oh, and he's somehow always equipped with a potion from whenever your magic is acting up. *(The marks in this fic are literally the symbols in Genshin, dearies, so for Sapphire, it's the Anemo mark! For Jade, Geo, and so on and so forth ~)

Venti

The Whimsical Bard with Olden Ballads

This guy... is everywhere! Also quite the oddball. He looks young, but he isn't a Mage nor is he a student in any of the Academies be it for magic or the general public. He's not part of the Royal Court, but he's sometimes seen walking around the Palace. You hear that Sapphire's Champion, Diluc, is sometimes conversing with this person in his private study. But he's far from being an advisor. Weird. You met him at the plaza during an event, hosting one of Sapphire's music festivals. His interlude is one of the old songs, speaking out a story in the legends or one about the Archons. You dare not approach him, though, since he's rather busy entertaining the citizens. He is the one to approach you one night when you're running back to the Academia after getting word from Albedo about a potion he has messed up. The bard's stare whenever he sees you seems to be whimsical like he knew you from long ago, or perhaps he's likening you to someone? He tells you that you are who you are now, and the present defines you, nothing else. It's sudden, so you don't know what to respond. Venti appears to be there, always, whenever it feels like danger is right around the corner. He'll whisk you through alleys and even the underground. One time, you were falsely accused of harming a citizen with the use of magic and was being chased when he appeared to help you run away until the Royal Court gets wind of the situation. It is only one of the many times he has come to your aid. He's always there. Is he guarding you... ?

Chongyun

The Deviant Mage of Yang Descent

Chongyun is a Mage who specializes in purgation and charm casting, personally filed under the Royal Court of Sapphire. It's rather odd that he's in the Court but not in the Academia like Albedo. You're not particularly close to this Mage due to his behavior that's prone to change if there's a sudden shift in his magic, but he means well. You do not meet him until you faced a terrible problem with regard to your power. This problem has escalated to the point that you can't get out of it without punishment, and Mages' punishments are always stricter and harsher compared to the general public. If not for Aether's interference, you feared you would've lost your life. Chongyun becomes your mentor, surprisingly, since you expected Albedo. You find out that it's because this person's magical affinity is closer to yours than Albedo's, who has healing. This Mage is careful around you like he's afraid that he'll mess up something in your presence. It's almost cute. He tries his best to help you understand the anomaly in your magic and his room is literally open for you to come whenever you think you need his help. You may have overestimated him and decided to give friendship a shot. Chongyun's always blank-faced around others but lightens up—visibly might I add—when you're nearby. He looks a little queasy around Sapphire Knights. Oh, and you do not know why, but he treats you like you're royalty.

≿————-　★　————-≾

𝐉𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

Zhongli

The King Regent of Jade Moon

Oh, you've heard all about the tyrannical King Regent across the border. It makes you wonder why the Sapphire Champion decided to steal his Mages when their relationship is already so strained. Aether says that he doesn't know the reason himself, but thinks that it has something to do with an unforgotten issue way back in time. Surely, the Mages weren't stolen just so that they'd be forced to prosper Sapphire, right.. ? You heard from him as well that Jade has lost its Champion in the middle of the war and its Archon is yet to choose the successor, so a Regent has stepped in to lead the forces. Unlike other Regents who opt to sit at the throne and command from their place, however, it's told by many that this Regent dives straight into the war himself. Many have fallen to death under his command and the Jade's famed Adepti working under him is no hearsay. You do not even want to meet this man in fear that he'll have your head. It is a miracle that he hasn't stormed past the Kingdom walls yet, but he is currently lacking in magic... still, the tides of war are tipping in his favor. Something about him is a little familiar, though. Lately, before you joined Aether in his travel to Eternal Iris, it's heard that the Jade Regent himself is leading the nth wave. Venti has told you one thing before you left with the Crown Prince. 'If you see him, you must run. He will stop at nothing to win this war.' But that has nothing to do with you.. ? He looked like he was about to say something else but held back. You wonder what it's about.

Xiao

The Vigilant Knight of the Jade Adepti

The Adepti is listed as one of the most threatening divisions to come across in the War. Since you are a Mage, you're drafted out in the frontlines before being granted the position of the Crown Prince's guardian. And dare you say, you're quite lucky during your drafting period because not once have you encountered the elite group. Under the command of the First Wind, Jean, you were always fighting at the right flank, far from the center of the war. It helps that you're quickly brought back upon orders of the Sapphire Champion, so even if you have experience out in the field—you haven't met the deadly group. That streak of luck isn't there forever, though. When the carriage has been ambushed and you're out in the open to fend off the enemies, you are beyond overwhelmed when the attackers are none other than the Adepti. Sent by the King Regent of Jade. Your magic at that time has been flicking in and out like a blasted candle flame, so that situation being hazardous is way understating things. You are strong enough to protect Aether, but enough to fend off the entire group. Fortunately, however, when this particular Knight came to strike you down, he paused. His jaded polearm is inches away from your throat but you can only look at how his gold eyes are flashing with multiple emotions at once. His hand is trembling and he's trying to say something, but you aren't sticking around to die. It's the opportunity you need to force the tidbits of your magic to kick into overdrive, grabbing Aether who had been gaping at another blonde before conjuring a swift spell to warp you both away from a good distance. A wandering Magnate has aided the two of you before the Adepti can get a kill count. The hiding lasted for days until Iris's borders are at long last reached. It is neutral territory, so the Adepti are forced to retreat. The Knight's masked face is looking at you before he, along with the rest, are gone.

≿————-　★　————-≾

𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐈𝐫𝐢𝐬

Scaramouche

The Royal Advisor in the Eternal Court

You want to talk to the person who assigned this person as the royal advisor. First of all, why is the advisor always absent, leaving the Champion alone? You understand that Iris is in a state of neutrality, meaning there are fewer things to worry about, but the Kingdom is up and running! Second, he has zero respect! He's late when he wants to be late, thus preventing meetings from starting. When he does appear after you and Aether are welcomed in the Palace, he straight-up denies the plea for help without letting the Crown Prince finish—as if he has the final decision! This man is such a piece of work. He strolls around the Great Hall as if he owned the place and bickers back with venom when reprimanded. You don't understand how this Kingdom's Champion is actually friends with him, but you suppose there are oddities in Teyvat. You have never been so crossed with anyone your whole life. After the Iris Champion told you that their decision will be set in a few days' time—weighing out the pros and cons of disabling their neutrality—this man is all but pushing you and Aether out of the Kingdom's borders. He gets a talk with the Champion for a while following this and when he returns, he suddenly cannot look you in the eye. He is all over the place, grumbling, yelping, shouting- and it's such a comical sight if only your buttons aren't being pressed. What they talked about remains a mystery to you, but it did change how he acts. Because before you and Aether could leave, he's personally stopping the two of you, saying that the Adepti are seen camping past Iris's borders so it's only 'natural' to extend his Champion's good aid and let you both stay for the time being. 'Just so you two won't die and the rest of Eternal Iris won't have to answer to the damned Sapphire Champion, of course.'

Kazuha

The Prudent Champion of Eternal Iris

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear me this fine man. If there is eternity, you'll spend it with him- /kidding. Or are you? This Champion is by far, the kindest one you've met. No wonder Eternal Iris is a neutral Kingdom, who would dare want to infiltrate a peaceful place governed by a peaceful man? He is benevolent and sometimes a little too patient, but all that falls in the positivities of his character. A rather soft-spoken one, too, with flowery words around each and every sentence. Kazuha is one of prudence, always thinking of matters ahead and preparing contingency plans. It makes you think that he's well-suited to be a Champion, and even Aether looks up to him. First impressions have gone splendidly if not for his friend, the royal advisor who is always late in attending meetings. Whenever you'll tell the silverette to come and just start the meeting, he'll smile and say that it's better to wait. You and Aether don't understand his patience for the advisor but they're friends, after all, so you relent. You do not miss the way Kazuha stares at you like he's seen a ghost when you first entered the Iris Palace. Again, you do not know why. He's a chivalrous person and not once did he use his title as 'Champion' to his benefit. In fact, he sees you as an equal, although Aether whispers that he's treating you more like royalty—like how Chongyun does. Strange. After telling you and the Crown Prince to stay in the neutral Kingdom for a while lest the Adepti comes to ambush you again, Kazuha takes every opportunity to be a gentleman—and doesn't stop even if his advisor is screaming for him to cut it out. He's beaming silently whenever he gets to make you laugh. But why does he sometimes look guilty?

Itto

The General of the Infernal Assembly

You do not necessarily meet the man until you decided to survey the Iris's army since the decision to aid Sapphire is still under thought. The Infernal Assembly consists of a group with empowerments directly supplied from the Kingdom's Mages. Due to this, they are stronger than regular magic-less Knights. He's drilling exercise and exercise onto his men, screaming rather jubilantly about how doing it will strengthen and liken them enough to his level. He looks like someone who can go against the King Regent of Jade Moon. Unsurprisingly, he is a Mage who decides to imbue his magic into familiars, empowering his claymore and using brute force to pummel his way through. He meets you through clumsy sparring when his ginormous weapon is flung into the air—he's showing off—and almost knocked your head out if not for Kazuha's swift move to pull you away. Not only did the horned man—a side effect from being empowered by Mages—get a harsh scolding from the advisor (yes the advisor), but he's put on probation. Probation. Like a child. As if he's not the General. His men are laughing, an indication of his good bond with them, but he whips them back in shape. It turns out that this Mage, Itto, is stronger than he looks and is secretly Eternal Iris's trump card. Kazuha says that his power isn't something to underestimate since his bloodline is one filled with successful Mages. Also, during the course of your stay, you are the one meant to supervise him in his probation. Your guest privilege seems to have expired but you don't complain since Itto is honestly one of the best people you can be around with. On a few occasions, he somehow manages to drag you into pulling outlandish pranks on his men—and getting caught. He makes you forget that there is literally a war out there that can destroy your home. Ah, that's bad, isn't it.

≿————-　★　————-≾

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭

Childe

The Magnate from the Palace of White Frost

Childe... why is he so far from home? He's a good conversationist, though sometimes you feel that he's eerie. You know that he's at Sapphire for business purposes but he's there as if the Kingdom isn't in the middle of a war. Granted, he doesn't stay there for too long. He's come to check on the Kingdom's magic reserves, apparently, and is there to offer some 'innovations' that will greatly cause an influx of magic. Just the right amount to make a stand against Jade Moon and win. You do not know how the business went since he's only speaking about it in detail with Sapphire's Champion, but he does come and visit you whenever he can. He tells you all about the Kingdom of White Frost and how it's a neverending winter there, but despite the eternal snow, the people are warm and loving. Childe gets nostalgic when he sees children in the orphanage and you find out that he has siblings. He says that he wants to help Sapphire win the war, both because it's a task and also from his personal sentiments. He's akin to a wanderer and has connections in almost every single Kingdom—truly, he's not someone to mess around with and get on his bad side. Childe is also the one who has stumbled on you and the Crown Prince mid-ambush from the Adepti, and whisked you two to safety. His skill in hiding is impeccable and you suppose it came from having to dart around and about the ongoing war. You get to know him more in those days of hiding before departing as soon as he gets you and Aether by the border, promising that he'll meet you again as soon as you're standing against Jade Moon.

GLOSSARY

≿————-　★　————-≾

a/n: HEAVENS THIS WAS LONG. Complicated too but so worth it, this works as my little planner too- adjanafaf i have implied a lot of stuff in the characters, about MC along with some of her relationships. Ehe- ehehehe oh dear this plot... haaah~ ALSO OH MY SHUCK THAT'S A LOT OF LOVE INTERESTS- but they're classified into Main/Secondary/Tertiary for a reason :>> Itto and Childe are the tertiary LIs since they won't be shown much, but the interest is there! was that a spoiler oh no-

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Return to the Scrying Glass　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ≿————-　taglist　————-≾

@lehra @melkxsh

[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.

[constellarations]

heart made of flowers

as the deity of flowers, you find yourself awakened in the middle of an unfamiliar place. determined on finding out what happened to liyue and morax, you venture to liyue harbor.

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

warnings: archon quest spoilers, mc is immortal and a deity

notes: hi

requested by: @lxpical

The only constant in this world is change.

It was foolish to hope otherwise, especially to an immortal. Nothing is truly forever, and the lives of gods and goddesses are no different.

In the minimal peace of his life, Rex Lapis— no, Morax, had known you: the deity of flowers.

It’s odd how you managed to soften him like the wool of sheep and the feathers of birds. Even in the beginning of his six-thousand year life, he was a no-brain but all-brawn idiot— a warrior at heart and a dummy at soul, Morax had no time for love (even though he had all the time in the world).

And yet, for you, Morax feels like all he has is time. He has time for those flowers that blossom under your feet, he has time for the breath of the wind as it tickles his ear while you craft crowns made of ivy for him.

Is this love? He wonders, running through untouched fields that blossomed in the heart of spring. He runs with you, the only kindness in his life. And as he gazes at you under the morning light, he confirms that this is— in fact— love.

But peace does not last forever, for the world is always changing. War came and you left, spring prospered but fall fell like the sunsettias from the trees.

Morax, now Rex Lapis, ponders whether this is heartbreak. You taught him love, but it was no surprise that you taught him yearning too.

The fields you ran through have been trampled and overrun by the blood of fallen gods. The flower crowns you made fell from his head like how each civilization did, you were temporary, just as peace and spring was.

But the feeling you left was not temporary. It used to make his heart bloom, yet now all it does is constrict. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you replaced the constant ring of I love you.

While immortals perished and Rex Lapis claimed a seat among the seven, you still did not return. Winter and war was over, but was it worth it?

Sometimes, it sucks to have a great memory— because for him, who is now Zhongli, he wishes he could forget you.

—

Liyue has grown.

It went from a few straw sheds to a proper nation. Waking up from your slumber truly wore down your powers, but now, the sun was bright and the clouds were no longer troubled. It seems that war is long gone.

Stumbling out of the cocoon you barricaded yourself in, even the small village you slept under seemed to have grown. What year is it?

You quickly learned that the village was called Qingce, and the land that you had fallen asleep in had always prospered with fruits and veggies. Perhaps the effects of your power lasted even in your hibernation.

“Um, excuse me?” There was an elderly woman. They seemed to have a necklace of some kind, it was made of pure gold and had the emblem of a dragon on it.

“Yes, dearie?” The woman smiled. You decided not to tell them that you were probably older than everyone in the village combined.

“How long has it been since the Archon War?”

The grandma froze. Is this a sensitive topic? Maybe you should work on etiquette after finding your way to the center of attraction— Liyue Harbor. You heard many children gossiping about the city.

“Two-thousand years ago, dear. Are you curious about the other archons?”

Two-thousand. Two-thousand. That was not normal. Usually, your ‘naps’ only lasted a minimum of five-hundred years. What happened?

“Yes. What happened to Morax?”

The old woman chuckled. “You must not be a local here. As a Liyue citizen, we usually refer to our Archon as Rex Lapis. It’s more respectful. In fact, he’s coming to his annual Rite of Descension. If you start heading to Liyue Harbor now, you should make it in time.”

“Where is Liyue Harbor?” You probably sounded very ignorant right now, but the granny merely grinned.

“Here’s a map, honey.”

The woman handed you a scroll. Mondstadt, Liyue, Inazuma, Sumeru, Fontaine, Natlan, Snezhnaya. It seemed that Morax— uh, Rex Lapis, gained a seat among the seven.

Liyue was huge. For some reason, your heart swelled. This is the god that couldn’t even fry an egg? You almost wanted to laugh.

“Thank you, miss.” You bowed politely before rushing off. Flowers did not bloom under your feet like before, but the sunflowers you passed by seemed to face in your direction. This is my awakening, you mused.

The first stop today was Liyue Harbor.

—

Beautiful was the only word to describe the city, and yet, it didn’t even do the harbor justice.

There was already a crowd forming at the terrace. With your view on the mountaintop, you decided that just watching from afar would be good. After all, you had to wear clothes from the elders as your original ones wore down due to time. Also, your skin was very dirty and unwashed— you’d go swim in a pond later.

You then noticed a lady with striking pearl-colored hair and golden garments. She was elegant, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d probably think she is Rex Lapis.

But the senses of immortal energy contradicted your original thoughts. The sky was swirling, the clouds dusted grey as golden lightning seemed to strike.

He’s here. Though you may have been dormant for the past thousand years, you were no idiot to the sheer power and authority that Morax— Rex Lapis, held.

You felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He’s here, he’s here. Maybe it was because of the way you haven’t seen him in such a long time, or the way your life for the past thousands of years has been spent alone in the dark.

But he was here now. You wondered how much he’s changed— maybe he found a new form? Or bore a new name? Maybe his Exuvia even was colored differently.

Suddenly, there was a disruption. A loud boom! could be heard before a sleek form came plummeting down from the sky. Gold and brown. Your eyes widened.

A child could tell who that form was. With wide eyes and an unhinged jaw, you could only watch in shock as Liyue’s archon — your friend, fell to the ground like a meteor that had somehow pierced the atmosphere.

That’s not supposed to happen, that’s not right. Even if you had been dormant for centuries, you knew when something was up. And Rex Lapis… was not up. In fact, he’d be down six feet under soon.

The calm lady from before had even lost her composure. She was ordering the Millelith around, their mortal forms doing nothing to bring peace— but then again, it was only expected.

With frozen feet atop the same mountain you were standing on, the wind that brushed past your earlobe was the only thing reminding you that unlike your friend, Rex Lapis, you were standing.

And then you turned around and ran. You ran to the only place you knew— Jueyun Karst. Nothing was forever, and Liyue has changed so much… but Jueyun Karst was the only place you knew.

Maybe there, if— no, when you found the adepti, answers would be given.

—

It was the exact same.

Jueyun Karst was immune to the constant flow of mortals, but you supposed that was expected. After all, the mountain range was home to Liyue’s defenders, the adepti.

Scaling the peaks was surprisingly easy. Though you were in a seemingly eternal sleep, your powers had only needed to be awakened— much like you.

And once you reached the top, the water was crystal blue. It was as if you were looking into the largest sapphire in the world, its minerals swirling with journeys across the world. It reminded you of everything, of the past events and your travels from Qingce to the harbor.

‘It’ came rushing back to you like a waterfall. As if you had been plunged into the deepest depths of that same sapphire.

He’s dead. Somehow, that thought had sunk in all-too late. Finding your seat amongst the stone table that was now covered in moss, a bittersweet smile crept up to your face.

My name is still engraved into it. You wanted to cry, but after all your years of living and crying for the dead, your eyes could no longer do such a thing. You could only mourn silently in your heart, forever remembering those who were long gone.

Tracing your finger around the circular patterns on the table, you noticed some vines and flowers crawling up your legs and feet, begging for your attention.

But you could not bring yourself to cherish the flora. You folded your arms on the stone of the table, burying your head in between the comforts of your skin, you closed your eyes.

You were once lovers with the late Rex Lapis. ‘Once’ because you disappeared before anything else could happen. It was fate that you were too late — for the sins of your past would never falter so easily.

Who were you to think that you could come back as if nothing had happened? You left during the climax of the war, the time where he needed you most. Though you were known as a selfless flower deity, you certainly were the farthest from it.

The god you had loved was long gone, leaving you, just as you had left him. Life had its way of coming in full circle, and sometimes, it was not in your favor.

As your world was still engulfed in black, you felt a strange sensation crawling up your leg. Whipping your head up and down at your now-encased knees, the flowers that had been begging for your attention now climbed up and around your skin.

Reaching your hand down to brush the petal of a sweetflower, the blossom seemed to bloom even more after you graced it with your touch. With a dazed expression and glassed eyes, you merely rested your cheek on the palm of your hand, glancing out upon the horizon.

It’s strange, sitting here with none of your friends. You were aware that some had perished in battle, and others perished right before your eyes.

But for some reason, you still wanted to sit here. On these stone stools, with moss and age growing on them, with azure water and yellow leaves.

Maybe because it brought you back — to a time of peace.

—

Zhongli felt strangely relieved.

It was expected, as he had just laid down the burden that he had borne for thousands of years. Sure, maybe it was not in the calmest and safest of ways… but a method was a method! Regardless of its (poor) delivery!

Deciding to take a trip down memory lane, the now ex-archon casually appeared in the highest peaks of Jueyun Karst — a useful trick, thanks to his gnosis.

Amber eyes drifted over as far as he could see. His nation, which he would now allow to flourish by itself, could be seen in the distance.

Suddenly, the usually calm Zhongli flinched. Noticing a figure sitting on one of the seats— your seat— his blood went cold.

Who? He almost felt offended. Who would dare to sit in someone’s seat, specifically yours, if they were not the owner?

His heart hurt, even after a millenium. Sometimes, he wished erosion could take him instead of all the others— because he could not stand the thought of you.

You, who left without a word. You, who he could not guarantee was safe. He did not want to imagine you perishing in the archon war, nor did he want to imagine you going mad like all the others.

Zhongli wanted to forget you in order to spare the pain of what you could have become. How contradictory.

Materializing right in front of the stranger, his cold eyes widened out of pure shock once he realized who it was.

You— it was always you. Though it had been thousands of years, he could recognize you in a millisecond; how could he not?

And then your eyes flickered over to him, widening as well. Your mouth hung agape, an expression that did not fit you — but he thought it was adorable regardless.

“Morax?” You spoke breathlessly, and he could only smile. Nobody has called him that in centuries, simply because it was a name reserved for you.

“Yes?” He chuckles, his heart hammering against his chest. He walks over to you, taking off his gloves to cup your cheeks in the palm of his hands.

“It’s you,” he says in disbelief, “it’s really you.”

Brushing over your cheekbone and lips, the amber-eyed man embraces you in a hug tight enough to suffocate any mortal.

“It’s me.” You laugh, and Zhongli wishes that he could keep that sound forever. He wishes that he could stop time, or that time would stop for him.

The world laughs in flowers, and perhaps— to Zhongli— you are the world.