#Dreamy Blossom Sketch

[fogaminghub]

🌟 Ready to explore the Heartcraft Kingdom? 🌼  

Check out our guide on the Stop! Florist Sheep Quest in Infinity Nikki! From finding clues to grooming Randall, we've broken down every step of the journey! Don't miss out on the exclusive rewards! 🐑✨

[love-and-deepspace-fanfic]

IN THE NAME OF THE FORGOTTEN

Finally! I have finished this little story for our little fishie's newest card, "Floral Promise," and have decided to take part in the Contest in honor of his first kiss as well.

So I would very much appreciate it if you could give some support to help celebrate this precious kiss together!

Now is the time for some #delulus!

What's going on in Rafayel's mind during his "first" kiss?

IN THE NAME OF THE FORGOTTEN

"Every name holds an invisible thread, binding souls together. Just as I, the moment you called my name, was forever held within your grasp.”

**************************************

I had envisioned today to be a mere excursion into nature's embrace, yet from the moment of our departure to our return, I was enveloped in a symphony of joy alongside you, and even delved into the secrets I long concealed.

Hmmm, where to begin? Perhaps from our journey itself.

The instant my gaze met yours as you sparkled at a couple gifting each other flowers along the way, an irresistible urge to replicate their gesture seized me. But flowers are best admired upon arrival, so my resourceful mind concocted a plan – sketching a flower for you. Much did I long for you to recognize the hidden significance it would hold, for the flower I depicted was the very one I yearned for you to behold today (Fortunate indeed that I carry my pen wherever I roam!).

Yet, what did you say in response? You questioned my sincerity? Could you fathom the depths of my contemplation, seeking the perfect means to convey my heartfelt intentions? For to me, gifting mere flowers felt far too commonplace.

Before I could unveil my grand surprise, you surprised me even further. In a moment of tenderness, you clasped my hand, drawing it closer. Your warm fingers holding the pen you took from me traced the contours of mine, gently caressing my skin, sending shivers of delight down my spine. You lowered your head, your silken tresses cascading over your exquisite visage, leaving a few strands to dance playfully in the breeze. Little did you know, I yearned to embrace you then, but sensing your focused concentration, I restrained my impulse. To interrupt would not only earn me a reprimand, but also deprive me of witnessing the masterpiece you were crafting for me. Indeed, such a blunder would have resulted in a loss on both fronts!

When you finally completed your 'opus' and beamed at me, I eagerly awaited the opportunity to praise your creation. But allow me to inquire...

...what exactly did you sketch?

I am no adept at deception, and upon meeting your expectant gaze, I found myself at a loss for words. 

Could the object you had drawn be... a pot? Round with a handle, it bore some resemblance, I suppose. Yet, when I tentatively sought confirmation, you remained evasive, attributing it to your artistic shortcomings.

Who dares to label your artistry as flawed? Not even I!

But your mischievous habit of withholding information has caused me much distress. For the entire drive, I could think of nothing but the mysterious pot you had bestowed upon me.

Arghhhh! You truly know how to torment me, for even now, despite your explanation, its identity remains elusive!

The phrase 'is it a pot?' echoed incessantly within my mind until we reached our destination. I decided to set aside the enigma for the moment and focus on guiding you through the garden's splendor.

The scenery remained as picturesque as I recalled, perhaps even more vibrant, and with your presence, the surroundings exuded an intoxicating charm.

Dreamy lavender, radiant sunshine yellow, pristine white, lush green – all the colors converging within the garden could not rival the crimson glow adorning your radiant cheeks.

So, this is the essence of 'falling for someone in the midst of a scene.'

Witnessing your blissful smile rendered my every effort worthwhile...

As we savored the fragrance of countless blossoms swaying gently in the breeze, my attention was captured by the iridescent aura emanating from the delicate wings of a flitting butterfly. Upon observing the spectrum of colors shimmering amidst its transparent wings as it alighted upon the very flower I desired you to admire, I couldn't contain my fascination and leaned in for a closer look. The moment the magical hues blended seamlessly, I couldn't help but exclaim at the wonders of nature's artistry.

Sight reveals, but it is the heart that truly perceives. And thanks to you, this entire panorama transcended the mundane hues of the past.

Lost in my reverie, I was unaware of my prolonged distraction until I captured your inquisitive gaze.

As our eyes met, did you realize that yours are the convergence point of 300 million colors?

Behold, you claim to envy my ability to perceive a multitude of shades, yet fail to recognize your own power to illuminate those very hues. At least, in my eyes.

If your eyes cannot discern the 300 million colors, allow me to discern them on your behalf and assist you in expressing them. All you need do is gaze upon me.

Engrossed in admiring the flowers and you, I recalled a task I had pending. And while contemplating its execution, a revelation struck me – why not entrust it to you?

An ingenious idea indeed! For you have already christened my paintings, so naming a flower could hardly be a more daunting feat, could it?

Yet, you initially resisted, claiming the responsibility was too grand. Do you comprehend the sheer effort it takes to name every single existence? In that spectrum of 300 million colors, only the one that stirs my soul is bestowed with a name, much like you, a fiery crimson that embodies the nature of the heart within my chest.

Ah, this notion arrived at an opportune moment, for it would not only solidify my sincerity but also hold profound significance.

For a name is an intrinsic part of every being. Each name serves as a unique identifier for an individual. Even identical entities are distinguished by their names. Just as the flower I rescued is, without a name, merely a temporary replica of an extinct bloom. How utterly tragic to be a distinct entity condemned to the fate of a mere substitute.

Therefore, if it be within your power, I implore you to bestow upon it a name, liberating it from isolation, loneliness, and the ostracization it endures for being unable to embrace its true identity.

Much like myself and the bond I forged with you.

For years, I have not heard you utter my name, for it is the essence of who I am, and thus, the very bond we share seemed veiled in dust. Yet, during our game of color guessing, and as I reminded you of the importance of names, you began to truly acknowledge mine.

You gradually began to speak my name, for it represents me and only me. And in these past few days, you have even issued commands to me unconsciously.

Silly girl! You are becoming accustomed to giving me orders, aren't you? But how can I blame you, when I yearn for you to speak my name?

And in that very instant, the moment you questioned whether a name could be a prison, binding the one it identifies, I couldn't help but urge you to try. Speak my name, for you will witness the mark of our connection, a testament to the vow I eternally make to you.

And as you whispered my name, a revelation dawned upon me – the answer I seek has always resided within you, waiting to be discovered.

For countless times have I been plagued by remorse, burdened by a myriad of questions swirling within me about you, none yielding a satisfactory answer because it did not originate from you, the one from whom I longed to hear it.

Therefore, I have resolved that until my very last moment, I will seek you out to find all the answers I need, the most significant question being...does your heart hold a place for me?

And now, as the sigil etched upon my chest merges with the rhythm of your beating heart, I am undeniably certain of your answer. I have always belonged to you, and so, I beseech you, belong only to me.

Actions speak louder than words. A kiss conveys a multitude of emotions.

And this single mark, a symbol of my unwavering desire – that I, willingly, surrender to your hold.

*************************

I had presumed our happiness would culminate in that passionate kiss, but you truly are a master of surprises.

The very moment you inquired whether you might ever forget me, my heart skipped a beat.

Have you...recalled something?

But upon witnessing your wide-eyed innocence, I realized you had merely blurted out the question inadvertently.

How many times have you left me bewildered? Yet, this time...it feels different...

Much like the sigil that only appears when it detects sincerity in your words.

I shall not divulge the mechanics of the sigil's operation!

But...wait a minute...you...what do you mean by 'meow'?

Haizzz...

Truly...

You are my darling, whimsical enigma. Though oblivious to the specifics, you possess the key. I foresee a future filled with your playful torments.

But what recourse do I have? For whatever you command, I vow to fulfill it with every fiber of my being, my beloved bride.

Therefore, it is your turn to answer my lingering query...

What, precisely, is that strange fishie you claim is not a pot?

[lov1ngreid]

cherry blossom

⌕ studying abroad in japan you never would’ve thought you’d be drawing the stranger sitting under the cherry blossom tree.

⟣ ﹒bau!spencer + gn!reader

⟣ ﹒content warning: none! just fluff

⟣ ﹒wc: 1.7k

⟣ ﹒ 🧋me being delusional because I want to live in japan so bad

listen to what i did when i wrote this! ➘

You hadn’t always gone outside to paint, but today the weather was your favourite you simply had no choice. Cold enough that you could see your breath a little in the atmosphere, but not too cold that your jacket and scarf weren’t enough to keep you warm.

You were fixated on the largest cherry blossom in the garden, hundreds of bursts of baby pink and white coming from the branches, and a light brown trunk flowing all the way into the sky, branching off in different directions.

It was easy to start sketching, you always loved coming to this garden, not many people knew about it so it always seemed quiet, only the sounds of the water trickling through the stream and the faintest noise of the metro occupying your ears.

One of your most favourite places in the garden happened to be the bench on the small bridge overlooking the small river stream watching the koi fish jump and nip at the surface making small little popping noises as they did.

you always found yourself absolutely indulged in your art, completely zoning everything else out.

Just your pencil tracing along your sketchbook.

So hyper focused on the beauty of the tree in front of you, you had yet to notice the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen in your entire life sitting just below it.

His outfit consisted of browns and neutrals, paired with a deep purple scarf and blue and orange polka dot socks you could see barely peeking out from his ankles and glasses propped up on the bridge of his nose. You watched quietly, completely entranced in how gorgeous his presence was. you looked completely in awe, his long slender fingers dragging down the page before flipping to the next one, and his glasses that sat in front of his pretty brown orbs.

Without giving it another thought you started to sketch the beautiful boy in front of you, starting with his fluffy hair, glancing between your sketchbook and your subject of choice.

A ringtone beaming from somebody’s cell phone broke your trance from the boy sitting in front of you, watching as he reached in his right pocket and pulled out his phone to answer it it only took him seconds to snap his book shut shoving it into his bag before getting up from his position under the tree.

He looked incredibly rushed before making his way towards you, phone still to his ear as he mumbled incoherent words into it, incoherent to you at least, considering you were still focused on how beautiful his face was.

Before you could even consider sparking a conversation with him, heavy footsteps onto the wooden bridge seemed to be inching closer and closer, you get a better look at his beautiful brown hair and the way it falls over his glasses a little.

It was almost like he was so close that you could see yourself in the reflection of his glasses, like he was speaking to you, almost as if you could feel his body heat next to yours.

“Um densha-no… what is it…. eki-wa doko desu-ka?”

“What” you breathed confused, he was that close to you, and that reflection you thought you saw in the reflection of his glasses, was in fact you staring at him dumbfounded as he tried to talk to you in Japanese.

“Oh thank god you speak English” He chuckled, rubbing his neck as pink flushed his cheeks, even his voice was dreamy “Do you know where the train station is?”

You giggle a little at him before nodding “you just have the leave the gardens take a left, you’ll see the signs, it’s around the corner” you smiled taking a moment to rake your eyes over his tall figure before meeting them back to his.

“Thank you” he smiles back at you, his eyes light up beaming down at you, he was so incredibly gorgeous and his cologne left you feeling so addicted, he brushes past you for a moment obviously in a rush before pausing twisting on the balls of his feet to turn around “I’m Spencer” he furrowed his eyebrows, almost as if he was talking to himself.

His almost innocent demeanor made you giggle a little “Hi Spencer” smiling back at him “I’m y/n” you tilted your head a little, a little surprised he had stopped to talk to you considering he was obviously in a hurry.

“Are you busy?” He rushed searching your face for any sort of disgust or disapproval, you shook your head in response, you truly weren’t busy but you would’ve cleared your schedule regardless “will you walk with me?”

You felt like your heart had made its way to your throat with how fast and hard it was beating, like it was all you could hear, without answering you just nodded your head making your way next to him.

Your mouth ran dry, what where you supposed to say? You just sat there and drew some random person for like 20 minutes you definitely looked like a stalker.

You both walk a little in silence before he timidly turns his head to face you “Do you live here?” He asks in attempts to kill the silence between the both of you.

You nodded your head before glancing up to meet his eyes “I study here” you smiled nervously shoving your hands into your warm jacket pocket.

“That’s awesome” he beamed smiling down at you, his perfectly row of teeth almost blinding you “I’d love to live here, it’s so peaceful”

you both walked in beat with each other perfectly matching each others strides “especially when I don’t have people watching me read” he snickers smiling at himself

Suddenly you snap your head towards him in complete horror, your face turning incredibly pink “you saw that?” You squeaked absolutely horrified that he thought you were some sort of weirdo.

He laughed turning around to face you “of course I did” he rolled his eyes playfully still laughing, hilarious to him, but to you, you’ve never been so embarrassed in your entire life “But I only noticed cause I was watching you paint that tree”

“oh” he was watching you?

He loved your timidness, it almost matched his, seeing how embarrassed you got when he caught you watching him only made his heart flutter even faster

“You don’t think I’m weird or anything do you” you rushed, convinced that absolutely nothing could pull you out of this embarrassing hole.

He shook his head gripping at the strap of his shoulder bag “No I don’t think you’re weird” smiling back at you cocking his head to meet your eyes “I thought it was sweet… you were looking at me the same way you were looking at that tree” he pointed a little at the pink covered tree you were just sitting near.

If even possible, more heat rushed to your cheeks before you stared at the busy footpath in front of you. Absolutely humiliated he had seen you absolutely swooning at the sight of him, before you knew it, you both stood at the entrance of the train station, it really was just around the corner.

“Thankyou y/n” he nodded nervously hands shoved in his pockets, your quietness made him a little nervous that he had said something wrong, did you think it was weird he was also watching you indulge in your art so peacefully.

Nodding your head a little with a quick smile, you both stood staring a little into each others eyes, both looking like you were reading each other. The hustle of people around you pausing and the volume of the city sounds fizzling out as you both daydreamed, lost in the depths of each others eyes.

That was before Spencer’s phone buzzed a few times to let him know someone was trying to contact him urgently, snapping the both of you from your gaze, Spencer smiled again before turning quickly to hop down the steps.

“Wait-” you rushed taking a few steps forward to meet him, Spencer reacted immediately turning around to meet your gaze again, you looked up at him before unbuttoning your bag and searching for your notebook before pulling it out. Flipping through the pages of trees and buildings you had watercoloured months before.

Spencer looked down in awe at all the pieces of work you had created, although you weren’t purposefully showing them to him, he was ultimately amazed by your talent and wanted them all framed in his apartment.

You huffed a little before finding the page you were working on just before, a beautiful pink cherry blossom and the prettiest blue lake.

And the prettiest boy sitting under it.

In awe once again Spencer was completely oblivious to the fact that not only were you painting the tree he was sitting under, but him as well. He fixated on it examining every line and detail you had captured, even the polka dots on his socks, his eyebrows furrowed as he heard a ripping sound.

You had ripped the page from your book, careful to not ruin your work but simply tearing it from the confinements of the notebook before shoving it in his direction, confused Spencer looked down at it a little before reaching out to grab it.

“I want you to have it” you nodded closing your sketchbook placing back into your bag.

“It’s beautiful” Spencer admires looking at the piece close up.

“It’s okay” you giggle a little embarrassed your eyes meeting your shoes for a bit as you watched him scan over the piece for a little longer than you thought was necessary “wow you like it that much” you laugh watching his reaction.

He nodded quickly looking back up at you grinning “Well… I’ll make you another” you smile tilting your head a little, Spencer nods again before stumbling to remember why he’s even at the train station.

“Um- I have to go but will I see you tomorrow?” he rushed continuing to walk down the stairs as he talks, glancing between you and the station behind him.

You nod without hesitation at the boy grinning in front of you, he stops walking down the stairs for a second before waving a little, returning the wave, you watch his rush down the stairs glancing back at you every few steps.

BACK TO MASTERLIST

[dimension20-described]

[ID: digital drawing of Lady Chirp Featherfowl, lounging on her side against pillows and fanning herself. A tall-legged white bird with pink markings pours tea from a yellow tea pot into a matching tea cup balanced on top of a squatter white bird's head. The background is a dreamy pink haze with sketched flower blossoms. /end ID]

Bird of ✨Paradise✨

[denimbex1986]

'British filmmaker Andrew Haigh tells stories about real flesh-and-blood people who are often at a crossroads in their lives. With great empathy he knows how to unravel the complexity of interpersonal relationships. Haigh first made himself heard in 2009 with Greek Pete , his chronicle about a gigolo who roams the streets of the English capital. In Weekend, the maker of the acclaimed TV series Looking sketched an unaffected portrait of the budding love between two gay men and the question arose whether there was a future for them together after their one-night stand. Haigh reached the height of his powers with 45 Years , the moving account of a third-age couple whose happiness is sorely tested in the run-up to their forty-fifth wedding anniversary. The director then traveled across America for a road movie and coming-of-age film in one, centering on a teenager who loses his heart to a race horse. Although there is a great deal of variety in this journey, the filmmaker always remains true to his own style and Haigh's latest print is no exception.

In the endearing All of Us Strangers we meet Adam (Andrew Scott), a lonely screenwriter who lives in an almost empty, half-under-construction tower block on the outskirts of London. He is working on a script about his parents - who died in a tragic car accident more than thirty years ago - and is still struggling with this painful loss. As a result, the introvert in his forties lives almost like a hermit who has emotionally cut himself off from the outside world. When the fire alarm goes off in the complex one evening, Adam is approached by Harry (Paul Mescal), a bachelor from the sixth floor who suddenly appears at his door and starts flirting in a slightly intoxicated state. Initially, Adam rejects the advances of his nonchalant neighbor, but later the two grow closer.

Harry, who has always felt like the odd one out, and the more calculating Adam are in fact opposites - and there is also a significant age difference between the two men. As their relationship blossoms, Adam returns to the sleepy suburb where he lived as a child. To Adam's dismay, the parental home seems to be frozen in time. In fact, his mom and dad, whom he bumps into there, haven't changed one bit.

Andrew Haigh leaves open the question of whether the meetings between Adam and his parents (roles that are cleverly played by Jamie Bell and Claire Foy) only take place in the protagonist's head. As a result, All of Us Strangers quietly transforms into a kind of modern ghost story in which the past and present become intertwined and an unresolved trauma resurfaces. So it is not surprising that the film exudes a surreal, almost supernatural atmosphere at times.

All of Us Strangers is loosely based on the Japanese cult novel Strangers by Taichi Yamada, which was also the basis for The Disincarnates ( Ijin-tachi to no natsu ) from 1988. Haigh gives his vulnerable picture a sometimes dreamy character, but shuns reality not. It is at the same time a film about grieving, sexual attraction, the gap between two generations and a changing image of the times. It is partly supported by the impressive acting of Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal. Scott is best known for the popular Fleabag , while Mescal gave his best in the beautiful miniseries Normal People and also shone in the critically acclaimed gem Aftersun .

The self-reflective characters are given plenty of breathing space. This makes the emotionally charged All of Us Strangers a candid character study that never goes overly sentimental. Everything is meaningful with few words, moving in its simplicity and has a beauty that is also translated into the beautiful visual accents. DOP Jamie Ramsay has already teamed up twice with Oliver Hermanus ( Skoonheid , Moffie ) and provided the eye-catching photography of the otherwise mediocre Mothering Sunday . In All of Us Strangers he paints with light and darkness, which is supplemented with some surprising color experiments and carefully thought-out editing.

All of Us Strangers has already won several awards and is almost unanimously praised. Most viewers are even moved to tears by the film. The apotheosis to the sounds of Frankie Goes to Hollywood's The Power of Love will certainly not leave you unmoved.

7.5'

[peternelthorpe]

Cute Valentines Drawings

New Post has been published on https://smallgiftideas.org/cute-valentines-drawings/

Cute Valentines Drawings

Step into the world of cute Valentine's drawings, where creativity blossoms like a field of blooming flowers.

Like a warm hug from a loved one, these drawings captivate the heart with their charm and innocence.

From adorable animal sketches to sweet heart-themed illustrations, each stroke of the pen or brush brings forth a delightful display of affection.

But there's more to discover beyond the surface of these endearing artworks.

So, prepare to be enchanted as we uncover the secrets and stories hidden within these cute Valentine's drawings.

Key Takeaways

Adorable animal drawings and sweet heart-themed illustrations are perfect for creating cute and cuddly artwork.

Charming cartoon characters bring life and whimsy to illustrations, embodying love and companionship.

Romantic love letter sketches capture heartfelt emotions through artistic expressions, incorporating vintage love note illustrations for a romantic touch.

Lovely floral and nature art allows for self-expression, with floral watercolor techniques creating delicate and intricate details.

Adorable Animal Drawings

If you're looking to create some cute and cuddly artwork, adorable animal drawings are the perfect choice. Whether you're an aspiring artist or just want to add some charm to your space, cuddly pet portraits and whimsical love scenes featuring animals can bring a sense of warmth and belonging to any room.

Imagine a cozy living room adorned with a collection of cuddly pet portraits. These drawings capture the essence of our beloved furry friends, showcasing their adorable features and playful personalities. From fluffy kittens to loyal dogs, these animal drawings evoke a sense of comfort and companionship, reminding us of the unconditional love our pets provide.

For those seeking a touch of whimsy and romance, why not try creating whimsical love scenes with animals? Picture a pair of rabbits nuzzling each other in a field of blooming flowers or two birds perched on a tree branch, singing a sweet melody together. These charming illustrations can capture the magic of love and create a sense of belonging in your heart.

Sweet Heart-themed Illustrations

To continue exploring adorable animal drawings, let's now turn our attention to the delightful world of sweet heart-themed illustrations. These charming artworks are perfect for expressing love and affection on Valentine's Day or any romantic occasion.

Here are some ways you can incorporate heart-shaped desserts and romantic sunset paintings into your illustrations:

Heart-shaped desserts: Imagine a cute illustration of a couple sharing a heart-shaped cake or a box of heart-shaped chocolates. The sweet treats symbolize the love and sweetness between them, adding a touch of romance to the artwork.

Romantic sunset paintings: Capture the beauty of a colorful sunset in your illustrations. Use warm hues like orange, pink, and purple to create a dreamy atmosphere. You can depict a couple holding hands and watching the sunset together, evoking feelings of love and tranquility.

Charming Cartoon Characters

Charming cartoon characters bring life and whimsy to illustrations, capturing the hearts of viewers with their playful personalities. When it comes to creating delightful drawings, playful cartoon couples are a popular choice. These adorable duos, like Mickey and Minnie Mouse or Tom and Jerry, embody love and companionship, making them the perfect inspiration for Valentine's Day. Their mischievous antics and sweet gestures remind us of the joy and happiness that come with being in a loving relationship.

In addition to playful cartoon couples, whimsical fairy tale characters also add a touch of enchantment to Valentine's Day drawings. Characters like Cinderella and Prince Charming or Belle and the Beast transport us to a world of magic and romance. Their timeless love stories inspire us to believe in true love and happily ever afters. Whether it's the charming prince rescuing his princess or the brave princess saving her prince, these fairy tale characters embody the power of love and the importance of finding our own happily ever after.

Romantic Love Letter Sketches

When creating romantic love letter sketches, capture the essence of heartfelt emotions through artistic expressions. To bring your romantic calligraphy designs to life, consider incorporating vintage love note illustrations. Here are three ideas to inspire you:

Delicate floral borders: Frame your love letter with intricate vines and blossoms, symbolizing the growth and beauty of your relationship. Use soft pastel colors to evoke a sense of tenderness and romance.

Lovebirds in flight: Draw two birds soaring through the sky, their wings intertwined, representing the deep connection and freedom that love brings. Use graceful lines and subtle shading to convey a sense of movement and passion.

Intertwined hearts: Create a visual representation of your love by intertwining two hearts. Add intricate details and patterns to make the design unique and personal. Consider using bold, vibrant colors to symbolize the intensity of your affection.

Through these romantic love letter sketches, you can express your deepest emotions and create a lasting memento of your love. Let your artistic expression and heartfelt words come together to create a cherished gift that will be treasured for years to come.

Lovely Floral and Nature Art

Explore the captivating beauty of floral and nature art in this subtopic. If you desire a sense of belonging, creating lovely drawings inspired by flowers and nature can be a wonderful way to express yourself. With floral watercolor techniques and nature-inspired color palettes, you can bring the vibrancy and serenity of the natural world onto your paper.

When it comes to floral watercolor techniques, there are various approaches you can explore. You can experiment with different brush strokes to create the delicate petals of a rose or the intricate details of a leaf. By blending different shades of watercolors, you can achieve a soft, dreamy effect that adds depth and dimension to your artwork.

Nature-inspired color palettes can also play a significant role in creating beautiful floral and nature art. Drawing inspiration from the colors found in nature, such as warm earth tones, vibrant greens, and soft pastels, can help you capture the essence of flowers, plants, and landscapes. By using these colors in your drawings, you can evoke a sense of tranquility and harmony.

Conclusion

So there you have it, folks! After diving into the world of cute Valentine's drawings, we've seen everything from adorable animals to heart-themed illustrations.

We've been charmed by cartoon characters and swooned over romantic love letter sketches.

And let's not forget the lovely floral and nature art that added a touch of beauty to it all.

Now, armed with these delightful creations, go forth and spread some love this Valentine's Day!

[eilidh]

11th February

Last night's sketch during Curfá's rehearsal. 🖤

[hwangzi]

[13:07]

“Hey.“

„Y/N.“

„Baby?“

You looked up from the mindless scrolling on your phone and into the eyes of the person in front of you. Clad in a simple light grey hoodie and a black tee was your boyfriend, sitting on the opposite side of the table, a contemplative pout on his lips.

“What should I paint next?”

Hwang Hyunjin turned his own phone screen around to show you his latest masterpiece, a branch of cherry blossoms in full bloom. You’ve always admired his artistic skills, fascinated by the way he loses himself in hours and hours of making art. Just like how you‘d lose yourself admiring him for hours…

“Hmm… what about a pretty scenery? Or Kkami? Or you could paint me,” you suggested jokingly and took a sip of your latte in attempt to divert your eyes.

He leans forward to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

„That’s actually a great idea. I’ve always wanted to practice some live model drawings.”

Hyunjin has always been very passionate about the things he found great interest in, like dancing, painting and most notably - you. So why not combine the best of both worlds?

A particularly loud slurp gave away your surprise.

„Really? You would do that?“

„Sure I would! And if you like it, I‘ll gift it to you so you can frame and keep it by your bedside table,“ he flashed one of his cute eye smiles, making your heart skip a beat.

“So is that a yes? Will you be my muse?” he inquired excitingly, cocking his head to one side.

“Of course, Jinnie.”

“Yay! I was gonna practice watercolour paintings this time. I’ve been quite into them, lately…” And there he was again, in his creative universe, chatting about the different subjects he wanted to paint, the colour palettes he planned on using… And you too, were engrossed in your thoughts - staring at your boyfriend in blissful silence.

You didn’t even notice when Hyunjin stopped his rambling to chuckle at your dreamy gaze.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you mumbled absentmindedly.

“I think I’ve changed my mind. I won’t just paint you anymore.”

“Oh.” You sat up, suddenly feeling a sudden sting of disappointment.

Did he say “just”?

“I think I prefer drawing heart-fluttering things.”

“What do you-?”

Before you knew it, his lips were already on yours. You gasped in surprise, though not hesitating in returning the contact. They felt just as pillowy and soft as they looked like and tasted faintly of bitter Iced Americano and sweet cheesecake. However, this moment didn’t last as long as you would have liked.

When Hyunjin pulled away, you were the one pouting at him this time.

“You’re not drawing me anymore?”

“Oh baby, I am. But my muse just inspired me to a better idea…” He looked straight at you, a mischievous spark in his chocolate orbs as you anticipated his next words.

“I’m drawing us. Making out.”

It goes without saying that you hid yourself behind the coffee cup in embarrassment afterwards.

But little did you know, he did proceed with his plan. It even became a mini series of sketches, all based on those sweet, heart-fluttering moments between two lovers. Between the two of you.

[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.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

For the fotfics August writing prompts, can we see "Berry Picking" with Ori and any other characters of your choice? I think he would be super fun and sweet to take berry picking.

Aaaaah, my dear Razzy...

Well, well, well...of course, Ori is always worth a tiny ficlet...A very tiny one!

Berry happy

Words: 1k

Characters: Ori x OC

“We’re here to pick them,” she laughed, “not to sketch them, my love.”

It was a beautiful morning in the little forest bordering on their secluded hut, nestled against the slopes of the Mountain that stood like a silent sentinel, overlooking the wild, rough landscape.

Her eyes narrowed in burgeoning annoyance when her companion failed to react, so she strode over, picking one of the ripest berries in her stash to lure him into paying attention to both her and their shared task.

Ori looked up from his notebook distractedly, hands smudged with coal, but willingly closed his lips around the tart berry held against their sensitive skin by loving fingers.

In the pale morning light, his hair shone with the demure charm of strawberries yet to fully ripen, and his mouth held the acidulated sweetness of those first raspberries bleeding into a silken handkerchief at the bottom of her basket; yes, Ori was by far the most wondrous berry she had ever harvested.

A single – slightly late – fruit, having grown so little and yet so sugary in the shadow of his brothers – thorn and leaf –, that was the epitome of delicacy in her humble opinion.

There could never be a bounty sweeter or more precious than the tentative, slightly vague smile he displayed now; his eyes seemed to collect the sunshine like hollows in the rock gathered the purest rainwater and – for a single moment – she was herself distracted by the familiar view that never failed to make her heart skip a beat.

He was – despite her painfully obvious and deep affection, she had to admit this much – also the very worst colleague on this berry-picking expedition, mainly because his contribution amounted to little more than to either snack or get lost in thought. 

This far, his own basket contained but a few leaves and three perfect specimens of different flower blossoms that he wanted to take back home to first draw and then dry to preserve them; if their plan of baking a juicy pie for their dear friend Razzy, who was invited to tea this very afternoon, was to succeed, she would need more help from the scatter-brained scribe by her side though, so she gave him a hearty shove.

Unfortunately, Ori was not in the least prepared for the sudden attack and tumbled backwards into the brambles.

He gave a mighty shout and then was out of sight.

“Love,” she screamed, letting her basket fall to the ground and leaping after him, carefully dodging the thorns and spiky branches as she fished her beloved out of the clutches of the treacherous thicket again.

Accidents such as this one were woefully common between them what with him being so dreamy and her being criminally impulsive more often than they cared to admit; nevertheless, they loved each other truly and would not have swapped places even with the king of Erebor.

“Ouch,” he whined dramatically as he started plucking broken off foliage off his cardigan, “you could have simply toldme to be more productive.”

She knew that, of course, but how was she supposed to tell someone that they were not listening to her without wasting her breath?

“I am so sorry, my darling,” she purred, lending him a hand in frantically digging spikes and bristles out of his clothes and skin, “I did not mean to push you that hard.”

At first, Ori tried his best to give her a punitive stare but – as he saw her wide, wet eyes shimmering treacherously – his heart soon mellowed and the warm smile returned to his lips as he bent forwards to offer solace to the person who had, at least theoretically, done him wrong.

His lips were pressed soothingly against her thrumming temples and his dirty hand cupped her cheek gently as he assured her that he didn’t resent her for her rather brusque intervention.

“I should have been of more assistance,” he admitted, his warm eyes scanning the vicinity in search of ripe berries that he could retrieve to bolster his lover’s already impressive stash, “Razzy is my friend too and I know how much you have been looking forward to her visit. I solemnly swear not to get side-tracked again before we accomplish our mission. Also…I want cake too.”

His boyish smile sent a shockwave through her system, setting her stomach alight with need, and she pulled him into another deep and passionate kiss.

“If we find enough,” she smiled, “I might even make a bit of ice-cream.”

“For the kids?” His face very clearly expressed his dismay at the thought of having to share the treat with the many pebbles running around and begging for snacks at every door they found unlocked.

“Hmmm, no,” she grinned, tapping a tender finger to his nose, “for my own darling boy.”

“I love you,” he whispered, pulling her closer and lavishing his own slew of kisses – still sour-sweet from the berries he had snacked on – across her lips that were stretched out in a wide smile still.

“And I love you,” she replied earnestly, counting the hours left to her, “and if you promise to help me for real after…this…we might take a little break from our arduous task?”

His eyebrows rose and his gaze flitted back to the dwarf-shaped and decently sized hole in the solid wall of bushes.

“I will pick berries like a hobbit the day before a birthday feast,” he swore fervently, his hands – nimble despite their deplorable state - already pulling at the laces of her dress, “I will be the best little assistant anyone has ever had.”

“I am counting on that,” she cheered as she pulled him along towards the happy accident of their own making.

So, that's berry picking for the first week as well...

I hope this made you smile a little lol

Lots of love from me ❤️

[goldenlaurelleaveswrites]

April Showers 27. Soft Breeze

AO3

Based on this prompt list

________________________________________________

Spring was in the air; the skies were blue, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and soft breezes rustled the blooming cherry blossoms. Spring had truly sprung. 

And as Juleka had pointed out multiple times already, spring was the season of love. 

And it seemed Juleka and Rose—and even Ivan—were determined that he put the beautiful day to good use. Or at least, that was the only reason he could think of for the conspiratorial looks his sister and her girlfriend kept shooting him. And while Ivan hadn’t given him any looks, the drummer seemed intent on finding excuses for Marinette to stick around. 

They were filming a new music video for Kitty Section’s youtube channel to coincide with the release of their first EP. Marinette had made them new costumes for the occasion, and she had joined them at the park where they were filming to do a last check to make sure everything was as it should be. 

And his costume was perfect, as was to be expected. She had been the one to make it, after all. Really, all of the costumes were perfect. And yet, it seemed his bandmates were able to find endless reasons for Marinette to stay. 

Rose had thought she had lost some of the sequins on her dress and needed Marinette to check. 

Juleka had thought the cascading lace ruffles on her sleeves were twisting and maybe even coming loose after catching on her base. 

Ivan had felt his pants needed more distressing… 

The list kept going. And Marinette stayed. 

And every time he caught sight of her sitting under one of the cherry trees, her open sketchbook in her lap, and a dreamy smile on her face as she watched them film, his cheeks would burst into flames. And his helpful bandmates would find ways to feel the fire of lovesick embarrassment. 

“Marinette looks like she could use a drink,” Rose said brightly and too innocently. He dragged his gaze away from Marinette, who had been sketching something, to look at Rose. Rose was beaming up at him, dangling a bottle of lemonade in front of his face. Over Rose’s shoulder, Ivan was grinning unabashedly at him as he uncapped his own bottle of lemonade. 

“Uhhhh…” this felt like a trap. He turned back to look at Marinette. She was still hurried in her sketchbook. A soft breeze had rustled the branches of the tree she was sitting under, raining delicate pink petals down around her. He turned back to his bandmates to find his sister smiling smugly at him and Rose and Ivan exchanging a look. 

He grabbed the bottle from Rose and turned on his heel to hide the burning in his cheeks. Not that it did any good. They had already seen it. 

“Go get her, Casanova,” he pretended to not hear Juleka’s remark as he hurried over to where Marinette. 

For all their jokes and jabs at him taking his sweet time about it, he had every intention of asking her out. But not when he had an audience watching and heckling him. 

[confused-as-all-hell]

i am thrilled to announce the second installment in my idle series, focusing solely on jesper and wylan. i would simply like to remind everyone, however, that these are meant to be poetic and full of prose, rather than serious and solid fics, that's all.

tag list was removed for bewildering reasons, but anyways

Wylan Van Eck hadn't always loved him.

Once upon a time, he had only been a quiet boy from the largest city in the world, lips smudged with paint, copper lashes low over eyes bluer than the fucking summer sky.

Once upon a time, he had spent his days sequestered in his favourite studio, head tilted just so slightly, dappling the canvas in shades of green and gold, a spare brush between his teeth.

Once upon a time, his evenings were spent alone at the piano, slim fingers hovering over the keys as if he could wring his childhood from the notes, copper curls damp with bathwater.

Once upon a time, artwork meant slender brushes and sticky gouache and glass jars of paint; now he could only define it as eyes like dusty sunlight, soft lips that tasted of forgiveness, a grin to light the world aflame.

And Wylan was fucking aflame.

He was burning.

When he was sketching sleepily at his desk, the sun a dying cinder at his back, sharp angles and vivid coats and pearl-handled revolvers sprawled from the tip of his charcoal pen.

When he was laying alone in the bath, water lapping over the hard planes of his body, the room aglow in soft shades of bronze and green, all he could do was dream.

When he was sitting in a lecture hall, information and dates and names pounding through his ears, all he could see was the elegant figure before him, scrawling down his notes, one leg kicked up against a girl's chair.

Wylan couldn't help but track the careful movements of his hand, the graceful loops and lines of his writing, one finger braced against the metal spiral of his notebook.

His name was Jesper, he knew. Jesper Fahey.

A soft name, the sound a rolling wave on his tongue, rising and falling. It tasted like whiskey, smooth and sweet, every note rich and unfettered.

He wanted to find out how it would feel in his mouth, during the final hours of the night, how it would sound.

He wanted to hear his own name on Jesper's lips, a breathless gasp, a quiet moan, a pleading whisper.

He wanted to hear Jesper say his name, so simply.

He wanted to hear his name.

The very first time Wylan painted him felt like taking a drug. He was sprawled in his bed, staring dazedly at a dark spider clinging to the leftmost wall, and he was losing his fucking mind.

He couldn't get the image of Jesper's hands out of his head. In the chamber of his mind, he had locked away the sight as if to keep it safe and sheltered; those fucking beautiful hands, broad and warm, lines etched into the calloused palm, nails squared off, three rings circling each finger.

He wanted to draw them in charcoal and graphite and ink.

He wanted to paint them in gouache and acrylics and watercolour.

He wanted to line them in silver and bronze and emerald.

He wanted to lift those hands to his mouth and kiss them.

And so at three in the morning, still in his pajamas and hair utterly bedraggled, eyes swollen with exhaustion and limbs sore, he was setting himself up before a blank canvas.

"Just one painting," he whispered, touching a slim finger to a brush.

He promised himself a quick sketch, just the soft shape of his hands, or the lilt to his smile, or maybe even the blazing hue of his eyes.

One painting.

He made quick work of locating his favourite paints, a set of vibrant gouache his mother had gifted him, bottled neatly into little glass jars.

And, so fucking tenderly, he selected every single colour that he had likened to Jesper.

Rich gold and heady crimson, molten copper and softest ivory, prussian blue and clinging silver, dreamy amethyst and clear chrysocolla.

They stained Wylan's hands as he dappled the bare canvas in every prismatic hue, smudging over his wrists and fingertips and the limber handle of his brush.

When the sun rose, fierce and proud against a backdrop of blue blue blue, he only wiped a droplet of copper from his lip and kept going.

There was something utterly consuming about being locked away in that room, the strong scent of paint and turpentine, the haze of shades and light and quiet piano music, the blur of being trapped in lands one never wanted to leave.

He spent hours kneeling there on the floor, head bowed over the canvas as if the painting was his altar, reveling in every last detail. And there were Jesper's hands, soft and gentle, and the sight nearly drove him mad.

He wanted to feel those hands tangled through his hair.

He wanted to feel them on his bare skin.

He wanted.

"Just one painting," he echoed, and set down his brush.

But when he glimpsed Jesper laughing in the fields, snow dripping down his cheek like tears, he wanted to capture that indomitable joy in acrylics, brilliant in their beauty.

But when he caught Jesper downing a mug of his friend's coffee, he never wanted to forget the way he winked, the way his hand wrapped carelessly around the cardboard cup.

But when he saw Jesper dancing against a curvy girl in red velvet, he couldn't tear his eyes from the sharp set of his jaw, the lowered lashes, the vulnerable angle of his bare wrists.

He wanted to trace them in charcoal, wanted to preserve the sight in paper, never to be lost or forgotten.

Jesper grinned lazily at the girl, one corner of his fucking beautiful mouth lifting, and then he was pressed up against a different boy, head thrown back in laughter.

He whirled past his partners, leaving them with only a whisper or a slow, deliberate kiss. They grabbed for his attention, for the gift of his smile, reaching out with greedy hands.

Then Jesper was scanning the club, honey eyes roaming over the floors and walls and bars. They locked on Wylan, and something in his gaze lit.

A blazing match.

A building on fire.

A city burning, burning, burning.

And Wylan never knew how he found the courage, but suddenly he was striding up between the writhing bodies, and the ocean was roaring in his ears, and he was saying lightly, "Would you favour me with a dance?"

It was not graceful and elegant and slow.

It was stumbling and gasping and and breathless laughter.

It was drowning within the cacophony of pulsing music.

It was drowning within the steady depth of Jesper's eyes.

The flashing strobe lights were pulsing blue and green and red and pink, and the sounds of laughter and shuffling steps filled the club, and there was music echoing up the walls and skittering up the vertebrae of his spine.

It felt like being trapped in a prism where time did not exist.

Wylan's eyes fluttered shut, and he thought, I will burn as those cities burned.

And when Jesper lowered his head and whispered, "What would you say to a kiss, Wylan Van Eck?" he was fucking gone.

Jesper had never looked more handsome, his lashes low, the curve of his jaw sharp, every glint of gold in his eyes sparkling.

Wylan wanted to draw him bare and asleep in his own tangled bedsheets, the elegant lines of his body extended, every single angle and plane etched deep.

He wanted to draw the way he looked in that very moment, beautiful and brash and bold.

And that was a terrible idea for so many reasons.

It was a terrible idea because Jesper was raucous and brazen as the sun, and Wylan was soft and elegant as the moon, and neither of them could read the stars, but surely it was fated somewhere that dark and light did not find peace within one another.

It was a terrible idea because they were two fucking stupid collage kids who could never, ever find a life together.

It was a terrible idea because it was Achilles and Patroclus all over again, the boy who thought he could save his heart, the fucking idiot who believed love was indomitable.

Love would not absolve Wylan of the quiet terror that had sunken into his bones. Love would not ease the addictions that had crept upon Jesper like hungry vines.

He would not be the boy waiting, dishonored and broken, in the war tent.

He would not be the boy who watched as the world's cruelty took all that was dear to him.

He wouldn't.

But there was Jesper, with his lilting smile and the fierce look in his eyes, the scent of brandy clinging to him like smoke, and all Wylan could do was croak, "Yes."

And when Wylan staggered home at four in the morning, his hair a tangled copper halo, he couldn't help but think even Achilles and Patroclus might have hoped once.

They might have made out like teenagers and laughed in between kisses.

They might have been doomed, fated to die within the stars, but perhaps Wylan and Jesper would defy the odds. Perhaps Wylan could bear the magnanimity of his father's terrors, and perhaps Jesper could set down the playing cards and walk away from a bad hand.

They didn't have to be the heroes made history, legends turned legacies.

They could just be Wylan Van Eck and Jesper Fahey.

And in his paintings, they were.

In his paintings, they were very simply two boys kissing in the dark, all roaming hands and breathless gasps, shirts unbuttoned and sleeves rucked to their elbows, lips that tasted of redemption.

But as the days whirled past, and spring blossomed, Wylan came to realize life was so much more than soft, secret paintings. Life might even have been better.

Because life was Jesper asleep in his bed, one hand tucked beneath his cheek, limbs sprawled out across the silk sheets, sunlight gilding his bare body.

Life was standing at the stove with Jesper beside him, bickering over who got the first waffle, nearly doubled up in their laughter, exchanging sleepy kisses that tasted of sugar.

Life was laying in the fields with Jesper, leaning against him ever so slightly, their shoulders pressed together, the quiet brush of the wind lulling them to sleep, sweet as any melody.

Life was Wylan playing the piano in the midst of the night, cold moonlight easing through the blinds and slanting across the elegant notes, and Jesper's head was pillowed on his lap, and he was whispering, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Wylan hadn't known love could be so simple.

He hadn't known.

And sometimes Jesper would read to him, the low cadence of his voice a melody sweet as sunlight, and Wylan would listen with his eyes fluttering shut, and he would think, If this is burning, I will spend the rest of my life with my hands in the fire.

There was the fierce freedom of open roads and summer air and vibrant artwork and daring kisses.

There was the quiet freedom of elegant piano music and large windows and scalding coffee and history books.

There was the unfettered freedom of them, of leaping across the broad rim of a water fountain, Wylan turning his face to the sun, warmth and light and the soft glitter of water, and Jesper's eyes were the colour of hope in the haze of dusk, and he whispered, "You look like a fucking prince, Wy."

Ice cream on his hands and seawater dampening his curls and blinding sunshine everywhere, and Jesper thought he looked like a prince.

What do I see, when I look at him?

Starlight slanting through their windows, grazing the idle curve of Jesper's lips.

Chocolate ice cream dripping down the cone, catching on Jesper's tongue.

Glittering rings of silver and amethyst and veined gold, looped around Jesper's fingers.

What do I find beautiful about him?

Was it his laughter or his smile or the way he buttoned up his shirt in the morning?

Was it the soft cadence of his voice as he read aloud, or the way he stroked Wylan's curling hair idly?

Was it the clever lilt of his smile or the quick wink of his lashes or the mocking shrug of his shoulders?

Was it the very simple fact that when the morning sunlight swept through the windows and slanted over the bed, Jesper looked as though he'd been crowned by the gods, a vision in bronze and gilt and amber? With his hair rumpled and his lashes low and the hard planes of his bare body clear as he knelt, Wylan had never seen anything so fucking wonderous.

What do I want to remember?

Their mornings, a sleepy haze of pancake batter and orange juice and tangled bedsheets, of rambling stories and dazed kisses?

Their afternoons, a blissful tangle of shared smiles and iced coffee and inside jokes, of hurried texts and chocolate bars?

Their nights, a frenzied blur of pulsing music and strobe lights and bedraggled hair, of breathless moans and fizzing champagne?

All of it. I want to remember all of it.

So what do you see, when you look at him?

Wylan saw love.

He saw salvation.

He saw soft lips and blazing eyes and broad hands.

He saw cities burning, burning, burning.

He saw Jesper Fahey.

[violetnotez]

Izuku x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff, Artist AU!

⤷ Word Count: 1700+

⤷ Warnings: the reader is preggers in this one!

⤷ Synopsis: All you want to do is to get Izuku back in bed once you realize he’s working on his latest project in the early morning.

Song Recs: ⤷Adventure of A Life Time-Coldplay ⤷Simple and Clean-Mree ⤷First Light-Lindsey Stirling

This is for the Izuku Month! pls go check out the awesome writers participating for this month here!

Also thank you so much @freckledoriya for helping me with this one! 💕💕💕

You sighed as your mind began to drowsily awake from sleep, your eyes cracking open at your nightstand. Your hands went out to reach your phone in the dark, your limbs feeling heavy as you checked the time, flipping over the phone screen sluggishly. The light blinded you momentarily, your eyes scrunching by the brightness. You squinted through your lashes, a fuzzy number 3 in your line of vision.

It was 3 in the morning?!?

Well great.

You sighed in annoyance. You were sick of waking up so early and having such a diffult time going back to sleep. Your hand went out to reach for the man next to you, seeking to touch his warm and calloused skin.

Izuku was always your go to when you couldn’t go back to sleep-all you had to do was snuggle into his body and listen to his rhythmic heartbeat and you be in a blissful sleep in no time.

To your disappointment, though, your arm collided with empty air and a cold bed, Izuku nowhere to be found. You propped your body up on the bed, looking for your green haired lover-maybe he was using the bathroom?

Nope-the light in your shared bathroom was completely off, your bedroom coated in darkness.

You rolled your eyes internally with a smirk-you had an idea where he could be.

Your sluggish feet touched the cold wood floor, the only clothing on your body being a pair of underwear and one of Izuku’s t-shirts, the fabric loose and flowing against your frame.

You wobbled slightly on your legs-waking up suddenly had made your body unbalanced, and being pregnant wasn’t helping it.

You were over 2 months pregnant, the belly of the baby you had with Izuku finally beginning to show.

Izuku was ecstatic to become a father, always showering you with love and affection for you and the baby you shared together. You were constantly being kissed and caressed on your belly, his green tresses tickling your skin as he hummed sweet little phrases to your growing child. He was the most perfect man to have a baby with, always so kind and generous with his love for you two.

When he had heard the wonderful news, he instantly began crying, squeezing the life out of you as he blubbered on about how much he loved you and your child. After you had soothed his weeping state, he had promised he was going to begin decorating the baby’s room in the spare bedroom you two had.

Izuku had never been given a quirk, and it had sadly hindered him from becoming a hero, which was his dream job as a child. After finally coming to terms with his reality, poor Izuku was so devastated he resorted to art as his outlet for his disappointment. He was incredibly talented, and his strong determined spirit led him to being one of the most successful freelance artists in Japan at the mere age of 22.

So now his most recent project was quite simple-make the most beautiful mural ever for his future baby.

It was quite sweet of him to be so caring, but you had to admit-Izuku was taking it way too seriously. He had this wonderful plan of painting the whole room with pearly white clouds and feathery storks, their eyes sweet and doe like as they watched over your future baby as they slept.

You couldn't wait to see the final result, but-Izuku was spending a lot of his time on it.

You were waking up too many times in the night to only find that Izuku was gone from bed, working in your baby’s room at ungodly hours of the morning. You just wanted him to stay-all that work could wait for the morning.

You tiptoed to the room, the room light on as Izuku worked on his masterpiece. The faint smell of chemicals wafted in the air, signaling that Izuku was indeed painting in the room.

Thankfully, Izuku didn’t close the door completely, allowing you to watch him at work.

You loved seeing him when he painted-he always look so calm and at peace with himself, even if the eye bags under his eyes betrayed his actual state. His hair was unruly as ever, specks of blues and white coating the tips as well his nose.

Splatters of baby blue, opaque white, and pearly pink dusted his cheeks, blending in with the faint freckles that were already littered on his face.

You watched his strong muscles move delicately along the wall, the brush strokes going back and forth as he worked on one of the wings of the many storks he had sketched out.

He was so meticulous about each detail, yet so in peace with his work.

You walked in, deciding you were done admiring him and now wanting to complete your original plan- getting him to come back to bed.

He must have been really in the zone, though, as he didn’t even hear the steps of your feet on the plush carpeting as you wrapped your hands around his torso, snuggling his neck.

“It looks so pretty ‘Zuku, your doing such an amazing job,”

Midoriya jumped slightly by your touch, but then quickly eased into it once he realized it was you. A coating of pink blossomed on his face, realizing you must have been watching him work for a while now.

He sighed into your touch, his eyes closing in bliss.

“Hi puppy,” he greeted warmly, his voice low and feathery,” what are you doing up so early?”

He turned around, his eyes searching yours as his hands gently grasped around your stomach, his soothing digits running along the clothed skin.

His heart pinged just by the mere sight of you wearing his clothes-he loved when you wore anything of his.

“I should be asking the same about you.”

He chuckled lightly, his eyes going to the side in embarrassment. He knew he was staying up way too late to finish this project, but he felt in his heart he had to do it. This was for the child you two had made together, your very first one. He had to do everything in his power to make sure they came into a room that was filled with love and comfort.

“Y/n, you should be in bed right now, you and the baby need sleep,” he said sweetly, his hands still rubbing against the skin of your stomach.

“But how can I sleep when your baby misses you-“

You placed your hand on top of his, a giggle slipping out of your mouth.

“I think they know when your gone, because I always wake up when you leave the room to do this project-“

You pretended to look angry at him, a pointed look on your brow.

“-which has been every other night, might I add,”

A soft blush creeped into his skin, his warm lips kissing the top of your forehead.

“I’m sorry, dear, it’s just-I really, really want to finish-“

“Come on Izuku, you’ve got 7 whole months to finish the room!,” you argued softly, your hands brushing against the back of his neck, “you don’t have to rush it so much.”

“I know, but -but-what if I don’t finish it? What if something comes up or I have to paint another collection and I just get too busy? I would feel terrible if I don’t finish it in time for our baby.”,”

You smiled at the green haired man, his eyes drinking you in. God, he felt so lucky. You most definitely the most beautiful woman in his eyes, and he couldn’t fathom how he had snagged somebody as amazing as you.

“You won’t get too busy and you will finish it. I know you Izuku. Once you put your mind to something, you will keep doing it until it’s done. This project is no different!”

He gazed at you with a warm smile, his cheeks glowing under the specks of paint. You could feel how tired Izuku was, his body language a little less energetic than usual. His shoulder slumped as if they were weighed down, his half lidded eyes warm and dreamy. A soft sigh escaped his lips as you brushed the skin under his eyes, almost as if brushing the sleepless bags away.

“Please just come to bed,” you whispered, “I can’t go to sleep without you,”

He sighed as he took a small moment to think. His body was yelling at him to go to you, to just envelope himself in your warmth and comfort. But he really, really wanted to finish his project, because once it was done, he wouldn’t feel such a need to finish.

He gave you a tired smile, his fingers brushing against the skin of your arm as he reluctantly let go of your embrace.

“Okay...just let me finish this one wing and I’ll come back-“

“No!” You yelled defiantly, your hands wrapping around his neck. Your body collided with his strong back, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck. A blush erupted on Izuku’s face as you cuddled against him.

“Bed-now,” you commanded softly. Your breath fanned against his skin, making goose bumps crawl up his back.

“Oh y/n, I promise I don’t want to argue with you,” he sighed out as he desperately tries to hold backs yawn, “I just want to-“

You rolled your eyes playfully at the defiant boy.

He really could be the most stubborn person you knew-but after being with him for so long, you knew exactly what would make him change his mind.

You swiveled yourself around Izuku until you were right in front of his face, his bright emerald eye staring at you with confusion. You gave him a soft smile, your lips gently colliding with his as you grasped his face with your hands.

The faint taste of strawberries (most likely from his chapstick) bursted in your mouth, making you smile against his lips. It was adorable to you how nervous he still was when you kissed him, your fingers warming up against his cheeck from his intense blushing. You parted from the boy, giggling at his clearly dazed expression.

“Bed?” You mused sweetly, your lashes fluttering, “Pretty please?”

Izuku chuckled at your attempts to win him over, your plan working perfectly. You knew him too well, and you knew exactly how to get him wrapped around your finger.

He gave you a small peck on your cheek, a smile blessing his lips as he bent down slightly, his hands curling around the backs of your knees.

You opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing, but what only came was a small squeak as he picked you up bridal style, your hands immediately finding an anchor around his neck.

He chuckled at your obvious shock, kissing your nose with warmth and endearment. He smile down at you as he walked out of the room, a contented sigh escaping his lip.

“Bed it is!”

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Wildflowers

Happy @yamanaka-week ! Here's my small contribution for today (I’m sorry I’m probably off again!).  Hope that you enjoy it!

Prompt: Fantasy 

Flower Inspiration: In most cultures around the globe, the wildflower symbolizes happiness.

Summary:  The magic that two hands can create. 

*

**

Wildflowers

It was cold. Far too quiet. Usually, it would be welcomed. The noise of the world outside was often overwhelming.  Today his home felt suffocating. 

Perhaps it was because he had just been surrounded by his friends. All of whom were too loud and affectionate. The contrast now was startling. 

Sai had been alone for most of his life.  Growing up parentless and friendless.  He was destined for a tragic life until he took fate into his hands. 

Life may have taken away much from him but it had also gifted him two hands that could create works of art. He’d begun painting as a child as a way to escape the harsh realities of his life. A way to express himself as words often failed him.  After a while, though his art began to get noticed.  New and unique, the art world ate it up.  

And with that, he’d amassed fame and fortune. 

His works were sold all over the world in galleries and auctions for ridiculous amounts of money. He was constantly invited to events with celebrities and dignitaries.  He had a charmed life by any estimation. A success story by all facets of imagination. His life was far better than what it could have been.  

It was all just noise.  

Fake and frivolous. 

For all the gifts his talents had brought him he still felt alone. Something was missing. Despite being an artist the world felt quite colorless.  

His friends did well enough to ensure that he didn’t turn into an odd recluse but it wasn’t enough. Even though at one time it had been.  He blamed it on the fact that they were all married now. Ready to start families. They were constantly surrounded by love and warmth. And here he was, in a far too large house, cold, and alone. 

They tried to convince him to put himself out there, to date and meet someone.  He couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying.  

He shook away those thoughts as he set up his canvas. When life became difficult, he painted. The rest of the world faded and it was just him. The smell of the paint, the sound it made on the canvas, and how it felt against his fingers. Here, in his paintings, he could create anything that he wanted. An idyllic life in the countryside. A busy one in the city. 

A life that didn’t feel quite so lonely. 

The painting he was creating tonight was just for him. Self-indulgent and one that he’d keep close to his heart. He purchased new paints and supplies for this one.  It would be unlike all the rest.

Sai shut his eyes trying to recall the dreamy image. Then his hands got to work.

Smooth lines and defined curves.  He moved carefully, taking time with each stroke and brush. Never feeling quite satisfied. He doubted that he ever would be. 

He took great care with her eyes. Mixing colors to find the perfect shade of blue.  A hue as vibrant and pure as a cloudless sky.   Her hair was long and golden. The colors were bright and lively. She was the sun to his moon. 

Sai’s fingers traced over the image longingly. It was a masterpiece.  

He’d painted her to perfection, his Beautiful One. Still, it was incomparable to the image in his mind. 

He’d always had nightmares. A delightful by-product of the trauma he’d lived through. In this particular one, he was drowning. Breathless and weakened. 

He grasped desperately for the fading light when a hand, pale and delicate reached for him. Pulling him from the darkness into her beautiful glow. 

“Sai, come back.  I’m waiting for you.”  

Her smile was kind and her words soft as she held him.  The scent of wildflowers enfolding them.  And he’d never felt so complete. 

“Thank you, Miss Beautiful.” 

Sai laid there for hours after waking. Trying to remember what details he could. Drawing and sketching quickly and frantically. Never wanting to forget. 

Sai shut his eyes and took deep breaths.   He knew how foolish it was to long for a dream. For a person that his heavy imagination had created.  Still, having her there, even just a painting pulled from his subconscious mind, made him feel less alone. 

*

**

The next morning he laid in bed unbothered by the amount of work he had and the number of paintings that needed to be completed and shipped. 

Since the night of that fateful dream, he hoped that one day he’d see her again. He foolishly believed that by painting her last night she’d somehow manifest in his dreams. He’d been wrong.  Now he felt lonelier than ever. Stood up by a person that wasn’t even real. 

Alas, she was just a dream and this was real life.  And the world waited for no one. 

He made his way towards his studio excited to see his painting in the morning light.  

Rather upon arriving there he fell back confused.  The canvas he’d been working on was now blank.  Pure white had taken the place of blue and gold shades. Panic began to settle in as he worried that someone might have broken in.  Everything else though remained untouched. He had far more expensive items there that would have fetched higher prices. Why steal one painting?

Wildflowers

“Sai?” A voice as gentle as a rose petal called out to him. 

He looked up, his eyes widening at the now-familiar person standing in the room.  Eyes as blue as the sky, and long hair gold and glittering.  His sun.

Her smile was warm and soft as she reached for him. 

Tears erupted in his eyes as he drew her in.  Feeling once and for all whole and complete. 

His mortal hands could have never replicated how exquisite she truly was.  

“My Beautiful one. It’s you.” 

Sai had never once believed in magic.  His life hadn’t allowed for such things. Fanciful tales and happily ever afters were impossible dreams.   But having her there, alive and well in his arms.  What other proof did he need? 

*

**

Flowering (Yamanaka Week 2021 Collection)

--

This is dedicated to you my lovely creators and the magic that you create.  Thank you for sharing your gifts with us. 

I think that it worked with the prompt?  It was a little different from the usual but I wanted to write a fairy tale esque story.  I hope that you all have just a touch of magic in your lives today.  Love you my precious blossoms! 

[currykitty]

I tried something different with the cherry blossoms in the background of this piece and I am quite happy with the result! ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Did you try something different this week? How did it go? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ #drawmilena #sketch #sketchbook #copic #copicmarkers #markers #illo #art #artistsoninstagram #pop #retro #girl #surreal #popsurrealism #dream #dreamy

[pipesflowforeverandever]

Simply Second Nature

The lovely @ichaisme commissioned me to write a lyric fic about her and my Joey Drew interpretation, Gingie! The voice featured in the actual song is my voice canon for Gingie, and you can listen along here. 

Thank you so much for commissioning me! I’ve always had very vivid imagery for this song and it was wonderful to make it come to reality.

The young woman could hardly believe that she was standing here, upon the cusp of magnificence and unlimited opportunity for dreams to come true. Ginger Drew threw open his doors, and she- yes, somehow, she- had caught in the corner of his eye, captured his attention; but the visitor had no doubt that the magical one was the old redhead with a golden smile escorting her now by his side.

But still, arm in arm in a private tour of his studio, she couldn’t help but wonder…

“Sir…?” Maddie mumbled, eyes wide but stuck on his neat, polished shoes. The visitor refused speak until Gingie gave his hum, a hooded gaze flickering over and a touch down in a casual, waiting glance . She felt her breath hitch a moment, despite his casualness. “I- I was…wondering.” The last word was drawled as her chin tilted up, catching the essence of his work- the stray sketches, the rolls of film, the grinning cutouts- evidence of both his empire and of his more…personal creations.

“Why do you do all this, anyway…? Money?”

A brow underneath his top hat raised at the inquiry, and a flush burnt into her cheeks, immediately realizing that was perhaps the most impolite of first guesses. “No- Is it…to be famous?” Now, a higher pitch in the last question as she felt herself socially digging a hole. No, he didn’t respond to that either. Just the same curious look- although maybe she was missing precisely how amused he was beginning to be.

The ginger’s footsteps only gave a few more clicks along the wooden floorboards before he stopped in place, loosening his arm to fold it across his chest with the other. By now, her words were spoken with a grimace, a semi-desperate gaze for any sort of hint.

“…Fun?”

He was either the worst tease or most the dramatic planner as he remained silent in the room they happened to pause within. One shift of his stare gently fell upon the ticking Bendy clock hung high up above their heads, another, then, upon a projector quietly spurring in the corner as empty yellow film colored a square upon the wall. A final one, of course, fell upon her.

“You really don’t…see it, do you?”

The gal’s chestnut eyes softened as she finally noticed the sharpness of his own, glinting honey with a smile that reached at the way up to them. Something was about to happen, and she felt it shake in her bones even before it inexplicably, miraculously reached like a whisper in her ears, stealing her breath and raising the hairs on her neck. The first notes of a piano chimed low and sweet, but her twisting head couldn’t find the source. What she did see was the room- no, the whole world- turn white like a blank canvas.

A jump with a gasp as Mr. Drew reached to hold her wrist and wagged his finger, expression glinting in hardly contained enthusiasm. She had so much to learn.

“A painter needs no reason,” Gingie started to sing, “To make a thing of art! Yes, there’s no switch to stop and start the flow.” Having gotten her attention, the rosy hand in a ruffled sleeve gleefully let go, and a squint gestured for her to look as he stuck up his flexing thumb.

“A gardener has his season, his green thumb…and his heart!” He fluttered his fingers into a fist, shifting them like they were beating with his chest before uncurling to rhythmically, playfully pointing his index finger again. “Don’t ask a man, ‘Why does your garden grow’”

In imitation of such an ignorant person, the redheaded dandy shook his head before stepping away, coattails flapping. His movement was…ethereal.

Animated.

Maddie wondered if her stray hairs seemed to glow like his did against the heavenly pale backdrop.

“A poet sits for hours-” The woman lost her breath again as the man sang the next verse, running with an arm outstretched as she saw him trip-

…No!

It was on purpose, and with a shimmer of gold beneath him, he was seated with crossed legs upon a fluffy arm chair that could only have come from nowhere.

The mischievous old artist gave her a wink before looking away, as if performing for an audience.

“-With words upon his tongue.” A close of the eyes and a dramatic, slow shake of his head accompanied with a wide-armed shrug, feigning despondency. “He cannot help but rhyme his doom and gloom… But if you taste my flowers-!”

The woman gasped again, audibly this time, as his hands had spun masterfully in the air before something appeared in his grip like a baton, thrust right towards her face. Impossible! With a sheen of a papery yellow that glittered with the right tilt, he had materialized a flower with four petals and a perfectly round middle.

“You’ll see that I’m among- that…-”

It was then that she accepted Gingie was magical in more ways than one, as she hesitantly reached a trembling, awestricken hand to take what was offered… only for her body to lurch forward as he abruptly pulled it away to rub his chin and roll his eyes up in thought.

“…Certain group,” he decided, spoken as if he was trying out how each singular word sounded, “That…lucky troupe-” Petals tickling his nostrils, a look of someone so in love with his own mind went back to she who asked for a glimpse of it. As such, he drawled the next line for the grandiosity surely ahead. “For whom…it’s…-”

She saw his fingers gesture, and like paintbrushes were hidden in their tips, watercolors bled and stroked pastel red, blue, yellow across the white space with no clear idea how distant or close they were, or if it even mattered at all.

“Simply second nature, to wish away the grey…”

A lock of hair fell out of place as she jumped yet again, having stared so closely she didn’t notice Gingie was suddenly so distant, having painted himself the backdrop of his story. His wrist turned up, up, up, and suddenly there was a yellow trunk and leaves stained with the other two dyes.

“To make a licorice stick…and make a tree!” He gestured from floor to sky the entirety of his creation, proud of its wonder before curling his hand to his chest more pensively. “Yes, there’s no rhyme or reason.”

She blinked when that devilish grin turned her way again, the tips of his coattails held like a dress skirt and his knees bent in a courtesy.

“I was simply made this way!” And he nodded in such a way she couldn’t help but giggle. This being exactly what he was looking for, his eyes hooded and he straightened back up like a teacher in front of the class, seeking to share the wisdom of his years. “What’s strange to you is natural to me.”

But of course, it didn’t last, and soon he was sweeping across the space in front of her, a rainbow spotting the pale in the trail of his heels.

“It’s simply second nature! To paint outside the lines! It merely is the way that I was born!”

Fickle, the old man stopped yet again, a hand to his heart and a dreamy stare up to the heavens like he could see eternity waiting up ahead. “You see I’ve been selected,” the next words came much more tenderly, “To create the-” And his tongue was stuck again as he flicked his eyes to the other person in the room. She could feel him light up as something about her served as a proper reminder. “…Unexpected!”

The sound of clarinets hummed in tune, almost like they finally understood what he was saying. His gaze flicked to them, too, with a satisfied smirk towards a ceiling that wasn’t there.

“And make each day feel just like…- Christmas morn!”

Maddie heard a snap and suddenly to her left side was a portrait towering tall, realistic lips, nose, and eyes. Not a single strand of hair that didn’t look like it belonged hung over its forehead. It was so perfect, it didn’t take long for her to recognize it clearly as a painting.

“Picasso took a torso and turned it on it’s head!” She didn’t know whether to object or not as he bent to the ground to grab the ornate corner of the picture’s frame, but soon it was spun all the same.

It rotated so fast that it blurred, and when it finally stopped, body parts were shifted and the style was simplified into shapes. He really had made a Picasso!

At her amazed expression, he simply shrugged and inspected his creation. “It isn’t right or wrong; it’s what he felt!”

The instruments thumped like a man walking down stairs, and that was precisely what he seemed to be doing on air as the colors melted under her shoes- making her yelp- and swam to her left. There were clocks strung up and perfectly round, like the flower still flopping as it was tucked in his coat.

“And Dali, even more so, would positively DREAD!” The emphasized word was accompanied with both palms pressed to his chest as he feigned a heart attack, his heels tilting so far back they seemed to give way; even his hair seemed to stick out a bit more like he was electrified with shock. It was a shift that reverberated to the scene he had drawn, perhaps, as soon the edges of the clocks became less and less solid to the point they were dripping like ink.

“-Explaining why his hands of time should melt…!” Another twirl in the melody and like eggs cooked in the sun, the time ran runny and flopped over the surfaces they were laid.

Why did she keep losing her breath for the man that saw so much in her, saw himself in her, even? It happened again as a hand was placed on her shoulder and another pressed fingertips underneath her chin. She had asked him why he did what he did, and was yet continually surprised? This was his canvas, and she his apprentice. With all of his focus on making her feel as he did, he removed the touch from her face and plucked the flower from his coat. So close, it was undoubtedly not any ordinary blossom; it was a cartoon, not unlike the ones he made- like…he had drawn it himself, and now it simply existed.

Just like that.

And if she had looked, she would have been able to see more popping up one by one to place her in a whole field. If she had looked, she could see something not a color collecting around him like an aura. But she didn’t look, because that one flower and the unspoken reminiscence hidden upon a face so close was already so much to try to understand.

“And me, I take sweet honey and make a tasteful rose! What can I say? It’s simply what I do.”

The flower was finally hers to take, but his unbroken attention was short lived as the brim of his hat turned wistfully with a wind seen in the petals but not felt.

“Some men make pots of money… They're happy I suppose. But-”

He had walked a bit away to follow whatever he was looking for. Despite how certain she was that he didn’t do this for any financial benefit- although by all appearances he wasn’t without that sort of success either- he still seemed…distant.

Perhaps he himself didn’t even know why he did what he did, deep down.

“…Be grateful that for just a lucky few…its...”

The young woman and the old man knelt down together, pastels brushing at the cloth covering their knees. There were crimson little ladybugs and pollen-yellow bumblebees streaked across grass like sidewalk chalk. And as he offered his knuckles for a small, sapphire butterfly, she finally saw the black ink collecting in flecks on his skin and in the air about him.

“Simply second nature…to see what isn't there…the mind is such a wonder to explore…”

With concern brewing in her chest till it made her stomach hurt and a mouth open but unwilling to interrupt, her gaze trailed up his arm and realized he either saw something she couldn’t or that the growing black he seemed to manifest had begun to blind him from everything else.

“…And though some nights I dread-” She heard him choke, and his golden eyes widened in a flash, exactly as if he could feel how abruptly heavy these shadows had fallen on his shoulders like a halo of something secret, something wicked.

It could only hurt, and the labor of carrying the weight of darkness made him breathless instead, this time around.

“All the voices…” his labored voice managed to utter, “…In my head…-”

With a deep inhale and her supportive grip on his shoulder, he squeezed his eyes shut and his rainbow emanated again little by little with each and every word, stronger and braver in the face of what terrified him most.

“I’d rather be this way than be a bore...!”

Her hand held tight within his, they both stood up and took bold steps forward, the black fleeing him and swirling all around, its path mixing with the speckles of brightness like drops of paint from two different brushes held just above the paper. His free hand rose to in challenge and command to the onyx ink, and his voice was the loudest she had ever heard.

“It’s simply second nature!” Gingie shouted, “To dream of something new!”

He stopped his foot, the flowers beneath and around making a wave like throwing a rock in a puddle. They grew taller, their leaves and petals upturned, wild and overgrown in the face of uncertainty. He balled his fist like he was choking the malevolence he created.

“To wake on fire and try to sculpt each day!”

He threw his hand to his side.

“It’s no blessing- it’s a CURSE!”

And in his own passion, the crusade to convince himself so easily gave power to his own evils once again. The world itself stopped, and for a second Maddie believed she was the only thing moving in this living piece of art. In a split second it was all different; he had let go of her to bend over and hold both hands to his head, reaching into his hair and hiding his face as the ink stain grew and coated absolutely everything with its murk. The only flower left to be seen was between her fingertips.

…

Her chest rising and falling in silent panic, no music to tell her he was still alive, she was just about to try and shake him when she caught a glimpse of his honey irises once again, glimmering his magic as he recognized his curse.

“Wait…” Gingie hardly mumbled. His hand quivered as like this void before him was a person, he reached his hand out to the nothingness of his design that had consumed him. “No…!”

And as the darkness shrunk an inch at a time in response, its center right ahead, something else was created. A white gloved hand with smooth, thick black lines hesitantly twitched in tandem with his own.

But of course.

They were one in the same.

And so as Gingie pulled Bendy out of the puddle of ink, he soothed the devil, singing, “Strike that, and reverse.”

The cartoon was just like a small child, pie-cut eyes wide and innocent, unknowing what chaos he was born from, untainted by the very thing that could- and did- manifest a demon. He gave a blink to Maddie as the rest of the dark fog faded away, the aura about Gingie now being the proper red, yellow, blue he had always wanted others to find; they faded in and out like fairy dust, and she wasn’t sure if the pupils of Mr. Drew’s eyes symbolized something alongside their rings of magic- a circle of warmth around an abyss.

She stared for so long…that she didn’t see him staring back. His lips were slightly apart, and the expression he held was weary.

But…but…

The laugh lines that earned their scars bent again, and Gingie allowed her one last genuine grin as he reached into his soul and brought her a confession:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And with tears in his eyes, he held Bendy towards him with one hand and the woman with the other. She remembered the small gift between her fingers and offered it, in turn, to demon, and he gave her a perfect, eight-toothed smile.

The reason he created was, perhaps, in hopes to give away. It was no coincidence, after all, that it was she of all people he chose to take by the hand. She was a creator, too, and so it was time to pass the pencil before his hands couldn’t hold it anymore; Bendy would always need an artist, after all.

He would always need to know he passed his legacy on. And before the end of the day, Maddie would know this, too.