#I need somebody to tear my story apart lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alluringjae · 3 years ago

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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)

⤑ 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.”

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wicked-mind · 4 years ago

Text

Remember Me: Chapter Seven

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones?

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Swearing (I like swearing. Adds character and sounds pretty to me lol), mentions of surgical procedures, car crash, miscarriage, John Walker, slight bit of PTSD.

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

As always, any likes, reblog, or comments are appreciated (:

*gifs not mine

Previously

Y/N removed her eyes from his face, listening to the story. Her forehead creased a moment as she thought about all that was said before meeting his gaze once again. A small smile curved on her lips and she leaned towards him, kissing his lips softly before pulling away slightly to look at him, “I forgive you, Bucky."

Bucky felt relief flood through him at her words, smiling down to her. He couldn’t find any words to say to her so instead he returned his arms around her body and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. Those were words Bucky had waited to hear for so long and for a while he didn’t know if he would ever hear them from Y/N. Everything seemed right in the world for now, and even though he was worried about what was written in those journals John had given her due to what Steve had said, he hoped that whatever else it was would be forgiven also.

Truth was, Y/N always had forgiven Bucky for what was said the moment she left. She knew it was from his own fears. But what had broken her heart was hidden in the pages of those journals.

Chapter seven - The truth in the writing

Y/N wasn’t supposed to be back to work until noon, but she got called in early due to an apartment fire that would lead to multiple traumas coming in meaning it was all hands on deck. Bucky watched her pack the yellow folder John had given to her last night into her backpack before taking her to the hospital. He came back to Steve’s to find him and Peggy having some coffee. Bucky grabbed himself a mug of the dark liquid before leaning against the counter, “She took the journals with her.” He said over to Steve.

Peggy narrowed her eyes as they flickered between the two, “What journals?”

Steve sighed, sitting at the dining table next to Peggy, “Y/N’s friend, that blonde guy named John, brought some of her journals that were left behind at her base camp. Says there’s everything in there.” He informed.

“Yeah, including something we don’t know about.” Bucky grumbled out, “Something that made our break-up worse than just the words that were said.” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. He replayed that night so many times in his head that every moment was burned into his brain and he couldn’t think of anything other than what was said before she left, “We gotta figure this out. So I can at least try to make it better after she reads whatever is in there.”

Peggy set her glass mug on the table, “Okay, then let’s walk through it.” She said helpfully, “Y/N came here that night after her shift and showed us the deployment papers with the date for her to leave set in a month, June 7th. She was so excited to tell you that she left immediately after. What happened at your house, James?”

Bucky sighs, setting his mug down on the counter to run a hand through his dark hair, “She came in all excited and jumped into my arms. Everything was fine and then she showed me the papers. We argued about it because I didn’t want her to go. I told her if she walked out those doors I wouldn’t be here waiting for her and not to come back. And then she left.” He flinched at his own words. He hated that he had said that to Y/N.

Steve leans back in his chair, “Then she came back here in tears and frantic. We tried to get her to talk to us about what happened but she just packed her bags, got in her car, and left.” He sighs, “I called her everyday for about four days until she finally picked up and told me she was fine, just needed some space, and she would be back soon. After that, I didn’t hear from her until she was deployed.”

Bucky cocks his head to the side at Steve, narrowing his eyes, “You never told me that.”

Steve scoffs slightly, “Yeah, well, you made my sister run away, we weren’t exactly on the best speaking terms, Buck.”

“So we have no idea where she was or what she was doing for a month before she was deployed?” Peggy interrupted, watching Bucky and Steve shake their heads to say no. She bit her bottom lip for a moment, “Maybe something happened in that month.”

Bucky looked over from Peggy to Steve, “What did she say while she was deployed?” He asks curiously, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter.

Steve looked from Peggy to Bucky, picking up his mug and bringing it to his lips for a drink before setting it back down, “Y/N called me when she got to the base, told me she made it safe and she was sorry she didn’t come back before she left, that she couldn’t come back. I asked her what happened between you two and she told me what was said. I told her you didn’t mean it and to at least give you a call.” He watched Bucky’s features soften for a moment, “There were a few more phone calls. She told me what you said hurt, but that she was okay and there was another reason she couldn’t come home or talk to you. We didn’t really talk about you two after that.”

Bucky groaned slightly. What had happened? The more he thought about it the more the timeline didn’t make sense. Everything had been fine between them the days, even weeks leading up to when she ran away were fine. He sighs looking back to Steve, “I don’t know, man.” He said, “Everything was great. We made cookies together, went on rides, had a Star Wars marathon. Everything was perfect… So perfect in fact I bought a damn engagement ring.”

Steve looked at Bucky with almost fully wide eyes before looking at Peggy who was sipping her coffee avoiding eye contact, “You knew about this, Peggy?”

Peggy put her coffee down, pursing her lips a little before speaking, “Of course I knew! Who do you think had to help him pick out the damn thing?”

Steve nodded and turned his attention back to Bucky, “Wow.” He said still nodding, “Well, now I really wish things would’ve gone differently. She would’ve been so excited.” He said with a small smile towards Bucky. Steve had always trusted Bucky with Y/N. The way he treated her was like a queen.

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile for a moment at Steve’s approval before it faded back into a stern line. He was going to ask Steve for help with the proposal when Bucky eventually figured out how to ask, but hadn’t gotten around to it before it all went to shit, “So nobody knows what the reason is…”

Steve nodded slowly, “Well… none of us know. But there is one person who does.”

Bucky groaned a little again and rubs his hand along his face, “God, I really hate John Walker.”

—

Y/N dealt with the wave of incoming traumas from the apartment building fire, running point on sorting patients by the degree of their injuries to create a steady flow in the operating room and emergency room. Once everything had died down, Y/N sat in the attending’s lounge eating a sandwich and starting to go through yellow folder from her backpack. There were photos of Y/N with Bucky and some of her with Steve and Peggy as well of her with John. There were also photos of her while she was deployed mostly doing silly poses in the middle of nowhere. She placed the photos back into the folder and pulled out the two notebooks next. They were leather-bound full sized journals. She opened the first one that looked just a bit more well used, figuring it was the first one. Her brow furrowed when she turned to the first page. It was dated at the top, May 15, 2019 but the rest of the page looked like the words had been gone over with permanent marker. Y/N turned to the next page and the next but for about ten pages over the next ten days from May 15th, all the words had been scribbled over with permanent marker, “Well, that’s just great.” She mutters out to herself softly, “Thanks me. Super helpful.”

Y/N finally found a page with actual words instead of just a page of black marker, the date read May 25th, 2019. It was filled with the words repeating ‘I am not my trauma.’ over and over again until the last line that read:

I’ll forget the piece that was taken away from me.

She frowned a little. What trauma did this refer to? What had happened? She turns the page quickly to read the next page.

May 26th, 2019

I leave in eleven days.

I want more than anything to call him. I don’t know what I would say. How do I explain what happened. Where do I begin?

He told me if I leave to never come back. That he won’t be waiting for me.

A part of me knows that’s a lie. I know he’d be there with open arms if he knew what happened.

I found that ring after all…

Y/N had to read the line over again a few times. Ring? There was a ring?

But how would he feel if he knew how ruined I was?

His sun swallowed into a dark pit.

He loves me. And I don’t think I’m me anymore.

Nobody wants broken things.

May 28th, 2019

I want to feel safe again.

They say writing down what I feel is going to ground me to reality. They also said I should call somebody. I can’t do that. I can’t let them know how much I hurt. I just want to run as far away as possible and that’s what I’ll do. I need to get out of here. It feels like I can’t breathe and everywhere I look I’m met with eyes filled with pity. It makes everything worse the way they look at me and stare. I get released tomorrow, I’m signing out AMA. Then it’s just nine more days. Maybe it’ll replace my trauma with a different trauma. Anything would be better than this.

I miss Bucky. I miss running my fingers through his hair and the way his stubble would brush against my skin. I miss being in his arms the most. They were so safe like nothing could ever hurt me. I wish I would’ve stayed then none of this would’ve happened. We could’ve just fought about it then go to bed and sort it out until I left. At least then I would’ve felt save and would’ve been safe.

I think the worst part about our fight was that I knew about the ring. I found it in his boxer drawer when putting away his laundry. You’d figure he would’ve picked a better hiding spot, but nope. He’s never been good at hiding things from me. I was halfway expecting him to propose when I showed him my deployment papers so we both had something to look forward to when I came back. I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat if he did. After all, James Buchanan Barnes is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. But that’s not what happened. And here I am stuck in pain and guilt.

Y/N shut the book when she heard someone come in, wiping away some tears she hadn’t noticed falling from her cheeks. She looks over and put on her best smile for Chief Miller, “Afternoon, Chief.”

Miller had his hands tucked in his pockets, “Everything okay, Y/N?” He asks gently, nothing the tear brimmed eyes.

Y/N nodded, keeping the same smile on her face, “Yeah, everything’s good. A friend brought me some journals to see if they’ll help me remember. It’s just confusing and a lot to read.” She said softly, “Were you looking for me?”

Miller nodded at her words, “I’m sorry, that must be hard.” He said with a reassuring smile, “I was just getting all your medical records transferred over and one was locked from a hospital in Queens. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to unlock it so we have that information on file in case it’s needed in the future.”

Y/N tilted her head at him, her brow pulling together in confusion, “I don’t remember what the nature of that visit would be… Did it have a date? I can call the doctor from the hospital to get it unlocked if I know the date.”

“May 14th, 2019.” Miller replied, “The doctors name I think was Wanda Maximoff.”

Y/N nodded slowly at the date. It was the day before her journal started with the scribbled out pages. She pushed the journal into her backpack, “Thanks, Chief. I’ll give them a call.” She said with a small smile before standing and leaving the room. She found an empty office with a computer, googling the hospital in Queens and asking for Dr. Maximoff.

“This is Dr. Maximoff.” A woman with an accent said over the phone when Y/N was connected.

“Hi, this is Dr. Rogers from Brooklyn Mercy. I was calling about a locked file in my health records.”

“Oh, Y/N! How have you been? Are you back from deployment?”

“Been better… And yes, I am. I was calling because a medical report of mine from May 14, 2019 is sealed and I don’t remember the nature of the visit. I lost a lot of my memories due to an incident overseas and I’m trying to put pieces together.”

“I see.. I’m so sorry to hear that. Our hospital isn’t too far from Brooklyn Mercy, I think we should talk about this in person given the situation. I’ll drive down and meet you in about forty-five minutes, would that work?”

“That’d be perfect, thank you Dr. Maximoff.” Y/N said before enhancing goodbyes and hanging up. It felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest with how fast it was racing and she felt sick to her stomach as she tried to remember what happened. Whatever happened, it was bad enough that Dr. Maximoff was coming to tell her in person.

Y/N asked Chief Miller if he would be there when she went over the information with Maximoff, wanting some sort of support in case whatever happened was really bad. She kept adjusting herself in the chair in front of Chief Miller, nervous for whatever information was about to come out. She put on a small smile when Dr. Maximoff came into the office holding a medical file, shaking her hand and watching her take a seat in the chair next to her, “Nice to meet you again, Dr. Maximoff.”

“Oh call me Wanda. And again, I’m very sorry about your memory loss. I want to start by saying that we have support groups I can recommend after we talk about this information. Given that you don’t remember, it is possible you’ll go through all the emotions and grief again.” Wanda said before placing the file on Chief Miller’s desk and opening it slowly, “The night of May 14th, 2019 paramedics responded to an accident involving two vehicles. You were in one of them. It was determined the other driver was driving under the influence and had a large amount of alcohol in his system.”

Y/N nodded slowly, watching Wanda instead of looking at the file. Her eyes were full of kindness, even maybe a little pity, “What happened to the drunk driver?”

“He died in surgery. With the amount of alcohol in his system, the bleeding couldn’t be controlled and the damage was too severe.” Wanda said before continuing, “It was later determined that he was going forty miles per hour over the speed limit and from your statement, he was driving down the wrong side of the road with his headlights off. You didn’t see him coming until it was too late.”

“How bad was it?” Y/N asks softly, picking at her fingers nervously as she listened.

Wanda sighs, flipping through pages of the file on Chief Miller’s desk, “You sustained abdominal bleeding, two fractured ribs, and superficial lacerations that our head of plastic surgery took care of which is why there is no scarring. You made me promise not to call your emergency contacts.” Wanda paused, observing Y/N’s reaction but she was just sitting there nodding, “We took blood samples to cross match your blood so we couldn’t have to keep giving you O-negative blood. Those blood tests showed trace amounts of the hCG hormone. After we took care of the abdominal bleeding, you miscarried from stress. You didn’t know you were pregnant. You asked me to seal the records of the accident and you signed yourself out against medical advice.”

Y/N took a deep ragged breath, looking down at the floor in shock. The writings in the journal were making sense. She could hear Chief Miller and Wanda asking if she was okay but they sounded distant and like they were underwater. Flashes started coming back in her mind of that night. She was driving down the road back to her hotel she was staying at, crying and listening to sad songs on the radio when the crash happened. Y/N put her hand on her chest as her breathing became more erratic, it was like she couldn’t get enough air. She could see Wanda and Miller trying to ask if she was okay and calm her down but their voices were so different and everything around her was swaying. She remembered sitting in a hospital bed and crying over the news and the guilt she felt for leaving the safety of Bucky, “Can’t breathe…” She whispers out, trying to stand slowly from the chair. Y/N remembered the day after it happened, Wanda brought the journals to her hoping it would help to write what she was feeling since she wouldn’t contact anybody. She remembered the grief she felt as well as the shock and pain. This was the reason she didn’t come back to Bucky and avoided him, she didn’t know what to tell him. The world was swaying like she was on a boat and it felt like she was underwater, unable to get air in her lungs or hear the muffled sounds coming from Chief Miller and Wanda. She stumbled around at the room spinning, blinking rapidly before the world around her started fading to black and she fell onto the floor.

——

Steve, Peggy, and Bucky were still all trying to figure out events that lead up to Y/N running away a month before her deployment, trying to think of any clues that would help put the puzzle pieces together.

Steve’s phone starting ringing and he excused himself from the conversation to take the call, “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Doctor Miller, Chief of Surgery over at Brooklyn Mercy. Is this Steve Rogers, Y/N’s brother?”

“This is Steve. Is everything alright?” “Yes, everything is alright. I’m just giving you a call to ask you to come in. Your sister had a pretty serious panic attack and lost consciousness. I think it would be good if you came in.”

“What? Yeah, I’m on my way.” Steve said, walking back into the kitchen, “We have to go, Y/N’s been admitted to the hospital for a panic attack.”

Bucky frowns, “Probably read those damn journals.” He growled out, turning immediately and walking out the front door to his motorcycle and speeding down the road towards the hospital with Peggy and Steve right behind him in their car.

When they arrived at the hospital, Chief Miller was waiting for them at the front doors. He lead them up to the room Y/N was in where she was talking to Wanda with the door closed and crying, pulling an oxygen mask up to her mouth every so often. Bucky looked through the window to the room before noticing that none other than John Walker was standing a little bit away from the room leaning against the wall with a frown. Bucky immediately felt rage consume him, stomping over to John and pushing him against the wall, “What were in those journals?!” He yelled before landing a punch to John’s cheek.

John winced at the hit and pushed Bucky away from him, “She knew about the ring, asshole! She thought you were going to propose that night but instead you broke up with her!”

Chief Miller and Steve quickly pulled the two apart, Miller holding John back while Steve held Bucky back, “That’s not what it was about! Now knock if off before I call security.” Chief Miller said, moving to stand between the men, “Due to her privacy, I can’t tell you what it was but it wasn’t about a ring.”

“She knew about the ring?” Bucky said, wide eyed as he processed the words. No wonder she had been so mad at him and what he had said. She thought she was coming home to a potential proposal and instead he told her if she left to never come back.

Peggy had separated herself from all the testosterone and walked into the room Y/N was in, shutting the door behind her, “I’m Peggy, her sister-in-law.” She told Wanda before she took a seat on the edge of Y/N’s bed, gently taking her head, “Are you okay, honey?”

Y/N shook her head rapidly, keeping the oxygen mask pressed to her mouth and nose as she cried into it. She remembered the pain when Wanda had told her she miscarried and feeling alone due to the fight she had with Bucky. It was the reason she had ran- she didn’t feel like she had a home to go back to and she wouldn’t know what Bucky would think if she told him she had lost their child. All Bucky had wanted was to grow up and have a family with her and she ruined that. Her gaze set on Bucky through the window and she pulled the blanket on her legs up over her head, sobbing loudly underneath the blanket. How could she even look at him knowing what she knew now?

Wanda got up to close the blinds in the window before returning the chair placed next to the bed, “Y/N,” Wanda asks gently, reaching out a hand to rest reassuringly on Y/N’s leg over the blanket, “You’ve dealt with this pain alone for a long time and you’re going through it again like it’s fresh. You should talk to someone about it, you need support.”

Y/N pulled the blanket off her head at the sound of the blinds shutting, looking at Wanda through her blurry tear filled eyes, “I can’t…You… You tell Peggy… I can’t… I can’t.” She sobbed out, dropping the oxygen mask to her lap and putting her face in her hands.

Wanda looks over to Peggy who was eyeing her curiously, “The night of May 14th, 2019 Y/N was brought in after her car was hit by a drunk driver. We took care of all the injuries… But we found out she was about six weeks pregnant. Due to the stress of her injuries and the stress she was already under, she miscarried.”

Peggy’s jaw dropped at the news, slowly looking over to Y/N. She quickly adjusted herself on the bed to scoot closer to Y/N, pulling her into a secure hug and stroking her hair softly, “Shh… It’s okay… I’m so sorry, honey…I’m here…” She soothed gently. It all made sense of why Y/N didn’t come back before she was deployed and why she never talked to Bucky.

Eventually Wanda offered a light sedation for Y/N since she couldn’t stop crying and keep her breathing under control. Y/N drifted off to sleep from the sedative, her mind finally calming but the ache in her body didn’t fade. When she opened her eyes, it was nighttime. She looked over to the window to see Peggy and Steve talking to Wanda and Chief Miller outside of the room. Her attention was take when she felt a soft squeeze of her hand, looking over and seeing Bucky sitting in the chair staring at her with a small smile. The sight of him almost made her break again, pulling her hand out of his grasp and pulling the blanket up over her head to hide from his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky said with a small frown when she hid away from him under the blanket, “Baby, come on look at me. Talk to me.” He pleaded, trying to pull the blanket away from her face, “What happened, doll?”

Y.N eventually quit fighting the tug of war with the blanket, letting him pull it away from her face. She didn’t meet his gaze though, staring into her lap as tears started to roll down her face. She was amazed she still had any water left in her body to cry, “I can’t… You should go…”

“Fuck that, darlin. I’m not going anywhere when you’re crying.” Bucky told her, moving himself from the chair to sit by her bedside. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning close and kissing her temple softly, “Talk to me, please.”

“I can’t.” Y/N replied, still not meeting his gaze as she shook her head, “I was finally feeling like everything was right in the world… Like I was back where I belonged with you… Safe.” She took in a sharp breath, releasing it slowly, “Now, it’s just all going to be ruined again. We’ll be ruined. You’ll leave.”

Bucky’s frown deepened at her words as scenarios ran through his mind of what Y/N could be talking about, studying her features intently, “No we won’t. I told you that you are the love of my life, Y/N. Nothing is going to change that.” He told her, moving his position to take her face in his hand and forcing her to look at him, “Now talk to me.”

Y/N stared at Bucky for what felt like forever, studying his face. She wondered what would reflect back to her in his eyes when she told him. Right now his eyes were pooled with concern for her but once she would tell him, they knew that concern would leave, “The night we fought… May seventh right?” She watched him nod, “On May fourteenth I was driving and I was hit by a drunk driver. I was taken to a hospital in Queens where I was treated.” She watched the concern grow in his eyes at her words, “I didn’t know I was six weeks pregnant and I lost the baby… Our baby… I would’ve came back if I knew, never left… But after I couldn’t come back to you.”

Bucky’s mouth parted slightly at the words, his eyes moving across the features of her face watching the tears leak down her face. He hadn’t even noticed his own tears starting to fall at the news. Guilt raked through his body at the words he had said that made her leave, put her in that position to get hurt. It would have never happened if he would’ve swallowed his own fear and anger at her deployment. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, “I’m so sorry, doll.” He said through his own shaky breathes, trying to control his breathing as he cried, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I did this, it’s my fault… I’m so sorry.”

_____________________________________________________________Taglist: @vicmc624 @buckypops @shawnie--jo @ahahafudge @intothesoul @austynparksandpizza @stcrryslibrary

Shout out to @shawnie--jo for having a big brain and guessing correct (:

If I missed anybody on the taglist or you would like to be added, send me a quick message, comment, or ask. Thank you for the support (:

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic series

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chickenmcstucky · 4 years ago

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FIRST OFF YOUR REVAMP OF YOUR BLOG?!?! *chef’s kiss* 😭😭😭 second... 👉👈 if you’re able to do requests 👉👈 can I request 40s!bucky advancing with reader on a date? Maybe before he gets shipped out? 👉👈 you can do whatever you want with it! Thank you for reading this AND I CAN’T WAIT FOR WHATS TO COME FROM YOU

ROSEEEEEEE you are my heart omg <3 seriously none of this would be happening without you. I did a little headcanon-style thing for this, I hope that’s okay and that you like it!! Also this got really long, its basically a full length fic in bullet point form lol

So because I love a soft, sweet Bucky, it starts like this -

You were on a first date with some guy your mother had set you up with, seeing as his mother and your mother were friendly

At first you were excited, you’d never really talked to him much but he was handsome and you thought maybe it could go somewhere

All your girlfriends were always going on dates and having a good time, while you usually preferred to stay in with a good book, and to be honest you’d never gotten as much interest from fellas as them but that was alright, you were happy as you were

So there you were, out on the first date with Freddie Jameson, and from the start it was...less than great

He picked you up late, didn’t even compliment your dress, did none of the things your girlfriends were always gushing over guys for doing

On your way to the cinema, he was absolutely talking your ear off about some stupid argument he had with some guys down at the docks where he did the books

You couldn’t get a word in edgewise, but honestly you didn’t wanna talk anyways because this guy was just not who you expected or wanted...some big macho guy obsessed with his reputation and single-minded to the point of barely paying attention to you? No thanks. You knew your worth

You were determined to push through the date, hopeful to a fault, so when you arrived to the cinema and he let you pick the film, you were surprised, but picked the new sci-fi film The Invisible Woman

From the way Freddie scoffed at this, and grudgingly bought the tickets, acting like it was an inconvenience, you should’ve known things would only get worse, but on into the theater you went

When Freddie realized the story revolved around a woman - one getting comedic revenge on her boss, no less - he gave you some choice words about how you were forcing this new-age mess on him, how he didn’t really wanna take you out anyways but had been “kind” enough to give you a chance, this that and the other thing until you were in tears and your face was so hot you were sure the temperature in the theater had raised a few degrees

When someone in the theater finally spoke up, it wasn’t even to defend you, but to tell you two to take it the heck outside and stop interrupting

Freddie stomped right out, and with your only other option being to cower in the theater, alone, for the rest of the film, you left too

By the time you made it outside, Freddie was long gone, and you barely managed to slink around the corner to the back alley before the tears started falling in earnest

Just your luck to finally go on a date, and get left in the lurch and embarrassed in front of a whole theater of strangers

As you stood against the brick wall in the darkness of the warm night, you tried to calm yourself down enough to catch the streetcar back home so you could sulk in the privacy of your own room

Suddenly you heard two male voices and your head jerked up because you really didn’t need more humiliation - or worse, danger - right now

But when you saw the two men come around the corner, you relaxed seeing it was none other than Bucky Barnes and little Steve Rogers, and you knew they wouldn’t cause you trouble, Bucky was an Army man after all, just back from basic training

You’d never really interacted with them except as children, knowing Steve could be a real spitfire and Bucky a sweet flirt, but they were good men without poor reputations relating to ladies

Still, you rather hoped they’d just pass on by you without noticing, because really, you’d had enough for the night

Just your luck, though, Steve noticed - he must’ve known how it felt to be sulking, defeated, in an alleyway and sensed your struggle

As you made eye contact with him, you saw him nudge Bucky, who had yet to notice, and gesture towards you, the two of them still a fair distance from you

They immediately turned course and walked right towards you, as you just stood there blinking like a deer in headlights, unsure how to act and stuck between embarrassment for your state and hope that maybe you could at least ask them to accompany you to the streetcar stop so you didn’t have to go alone in the dark

“Uh, you alright there?” Steve spoke first as they came to a stop in front of you, scuffing his foot against the dusty pavement as Bucky took in your appearance, you feeling his eyes run over you from head to toe

You sniffled, unsure what to say and not wanting to reveal to them the humiliation you’d suffered - though you knew Freddie had been a real jerk, it was your pride that would suffer the more people knew what had happened

Then a smooth, sweet voice broke the silence, “did something happen, doll? What’s a nice dame like you doing alone in some back alley at night, huh?”

Something about the softness in his voice enveloped you in safety, and you couldn’t help but blurt the truth, “oh, it’s just awful, I was meant to be on a date with Freddie Jameson and he was so coarse and he just humiliated me in front of everyone and then just left,” your voice broke on the last word as the tears threatened again

When you raised your head back up, you saw a cold look of anger come over both mens’ faces, “that Freddie ain’t nothing but a jerk,” Bucky harrumphed, and Steve nodded ferociously, a look of determination coming over his face

“Somebody oughta teach him a lesson, that ain’t no way to treat a dame,” Steve growled, and before you or Bucky could protest, he stalked off, presumably in search of Freddie; you never forgot how once in grade school he’d punched a boy for pulling your hair, he hadn’t changed at all of course

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing he’d show up tomorrow with a split lip and a black eye, but endeared by his passion in defending you

At your own giggle, Bucky’s handsome face broke out in a soft smile, as you shared a moment of reprieve from your upset

“I’m real sorry, doll, you didn’t deserve to be treated like that - Freddie don’t know what he’s missin, alright?” he spoke gently, and you couldn’t help but believe he meant it, seeing something in his eyes that gave you sweet pause

“I guess I know that, it’s just - I never - finally a date and it goes like this,” you scoffed, shrugging

“You never had a date before, doll?” you were surprised to see some genuine shock on his face

“Well, not never, I mean, just nothin serious now that I’m out of school and all, I guess…” you trailed off - here you were admitting to one of the handsomest GIs around that you didn’t have dates every Friday night like the other girls

“Well, we’re gonna have to fix that,” Bucky’s head tilted up, as if daring you to protest, a confident expression on his young face

“Oh, can’t I just go home, Bucky? I don’t wanna see Freddie again,” you kept the whine out of your voice, but just barely, thinking he was gonna find Steve and Freddie and force Freddie to finish your date

“I, uh, I meant - well, how bout I accompany you home, pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to walk around alone,” he insisted, but the slight pinkness on his face confused you, soon realizing perhaps you’d misunderstood his statement

Relief washed over you, though the sting of Freddie’s actions was still fresh, you were glad to not have to journey home alone; explaining to your mother why you were home so early was going to be bad enough as it was

“Gee, Bucky, that’s so kind of you,” you smiled, and he offered you the crook of his arm

“You’re over at Sycamore, right?” he inquired, and you realized perhaps he had paid you more attention over the years than you’d noticed, as you nodded yes

Gently, you wrapped your arm around his elbow, the soft fabric of his handsome uniform rubbing against your bare skin, and with your manicured fingers pressed against his forearm, something so right seemed to click into place, an unfamiliar yet not unwelcome feeling

As he walked you down the avenue, you were at first quiet, still unsure how to start a conversation with someone who had found you in such a state and who was being so kind

But Bucky, ever the ladies’ man, kept the conversation going, and as he talked about the upcoming Stark expo after he saw your eyes draw to the colorful advertisement for it on the front of the ice cream parlor

you were struck by the fact that you and Bucky really shared similar interests - innovation, sci-fi, adventure...soon you found yourself enthusiastically talking to him about all your favorite adventure books and how you hoped to see Stark himself present at the expo when it opened next month

Before you knew it, you were in front of your family’s apartment building; you hadn’t even realized Bucky had skipped the streetcar and walked you all the way home

You were struck by how much you wished the walk was longer, or that you could linger outside, but you already felt like Bucky had done enough for you and you knew you should go inside and face the music, get it over with

You slowly pulled your arm from its perch on Bucky’s, but before you could pull away fully, he caught your soft hand in his larger one as he gazed into your eyes

“Well, guess you’re home safe now, doll, it was real nice talking to ya,” he laughed a little, but he didn’t release his grasp on your hand

“That was the most fun I’ve had in a long while,” you laughed at yourself, “tonight wasn’t so bad after all,” you smiled at him and squeezed his hand, his reticence to leave giving you courage as you flirted

“Thank you again, Bucky, you really didn’t have to do this but I’m so grateful,” the earnestness in your voice shocked even you; he had really saved you from taking the streetcar alone, and had chased your upset mood right away with his boyish passion in your conversation

“My pleasure, honey. Listen, I know you might not wanna after such a bad experience, but hows about I take you on a proper date sometime? I’d really like to get to know you more, and besides, someone oughta show you what Freddie failed at,” your heart thumped at the offer and the prospect of someone like him wanting you

You were still scared though, what if it was just pity that had led him to talk you home and ask you out? What if the date went just as badly, and it turned out you were the problem, and not Freddie?

You realized your silence after his question had stretched out an uncomfortable amount as you saw his sheepish look, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously

Before he got the wrong idea, you finally found your voice, “I’d like that,” you said simply, shyness overcoming you once again

“Next Friday then, is it alright if I come pick you up? Say, around 7? We’ll have a real nice time, I’ll make sure, you deserve it doll,” Bucky was speaking so fast you couldn’t get a word in, but his charming nervousness was too cute

“Friday at seven,” you nodded, as he gave your hand one last squeeze before letting go of it

The whole week you were on edge, teetering between nerves and excitement at the prospect of your date, you were still so surprised at your luck that such a bad night could turn out so well, and that the handsome Bucky Barnes was so similar to you

Of course, in the back of your mind you knew he’d surely be shipping out soon, but all your girlfriends were dealing with that too, and you pushed the thought away, wanting to just enjoy the time you had

True to his word, Bucky knocked on your door right at 7, your father answering the door as you were still in your room finishing getting ready with your mother

You heard their voices down the hallway as Bucky introduced himself respectfully to your father; he really did seem like such a gentleman

Your mother put the finishing touches on your updo and sent you out to the living room to face your date

As you came into the room, your eyes went straight to Bucky, looking so dapper in his uniform - you loved that all the boys yet to ship out were required to wear their dress uniform while they were out, it was just so romantic

You saw a small bouquet of flowers in his hand and smiled shyly as you crossed over to him, taking the bouquet from his offering hands and thanking him kindly for the gesture

You went to hand the bouquet to your mother to put in a vase, but Bucky reached out and grabbed a single bloom first, tucking it into your pinned hair

“You look beautiful tonight,” he complimented you; you thought your mother might faint from excitement but you just looked down at your feet, a small smile gracing your face

“Thank you, Bucky, you’re very kind. Shall we?” you gestured towards the door and he led you towards it, his hand at the small of your back as your parents looked on

In contrast to his talkativeness from the previous week, Bucky was quiet at first as he walked you towards the main avenue, but it was a comfortable silence

“Oh!” he exclaimed suddenly, as though just then realizing where he was and what he was doing, “Jeez, look at me, said I’d take you on a proper date and I ain’t even held your hand,” he shook his head at himself and offered you his calloused hand, which you took gratefully

You found his sudden nervousness endearing, but it was soon gone as comfortable conversation began to flow; he asked about your week and didn’t seem to mind when you talked about your trip to the hair salon and the new dress your mother was having made for you, instead he was hanging on your every word like you were a new adventure book

To him, you truly were a new adventure, he’d talk about anything you wanted as long as he got to be with you

You talked with him about anything and everything as you made your way to your destination, him even joking to you about Steve’s rather unsuccessful attempt to defend your honor to Freddie, but you realized he never actually told you where you were going

“So,” you lilted at him, “where does a fella like you take a girl like me on a ‘proper date’ then?” you queried him, laughter in your voice because this was truly so fun, you’d be happy to just walk around talking all night

“Oh, I can’t tell ya just yet, sweetheart, it’s a surprise,” he winked at you and your knees went weak

Soon, though, you arrived at a cinema, not the same one as your disastrous date with Freddie thankfully

As Bucky walked you up to the ticket booth, you were excited to see what he’d choose

“Two tickets for the special showing, please,” he said to the boy in the booth as he handed over the dollar

Of course, he was expected to pay, but the way he was so confident in asking for the tickets and had the money ready made you feel like he was so glad to do it, honored, even

Bucky took the two tickets and steered you into the theater, but not before you saw the sign for the special event posted just at the door, they were projecting a special film about space onto the ceiling of the cinema - one of those planetarium experiences!

You couldn’t contain yourself, “Oh Bucky, wow! “A Journey through the Stars,” you read from the poster, “oh wow,” you repeated

“I hoped you’d like it,” Bucky said shyly, “let’s go on in, I want to get you a good seat”

The whole film, you were just enraptured by the narrator talking about cosmos and black holes, whole new solar systems

But Bucky was barely paying attention, his gaze drifting to your awed face

Sometimes you felt his eyes on you and you’d glance over, shy, but he’d look away just quick enough that you couldn’t be sure he was looking at you

As you walked out of the theater, he gently put his arm around you, and you reached up and grabbed his hand to keep it there; you felt so at home with him

“Bucky that was amazing, thank you!” you gushed as he led you down the street

“I’m real glad you liked it, doll,” he answered, “how about an ice cream?”

You were happy for the chance to extend the evening, not ready to leave his company

He took you to the same parlor you’d passed the previous week, even holding the door for you and helping you up onto a stool at the counter

“Oh, there are so many choices, I’m not even sure what I want,” you laughed, your eyes scanning the flavors on the blackboard on the wall

“Well, pick your top two, and I’ll get one and you get the other, and we can share!” he babbled, “I mean, if you want, that is…” he trailed off, but you just smiled

You picked classic vanilla, and cookies and cream to be adventurous, and he ordered for the both of you

You laughed and talked the rest of the evening, until finally the old man who ran the shop had to shoo you out so he could close

A little embarrassed at how you’d let the time get away from you, you hesitated on the sidewalk before Bucky offered you his arm again, and you took it, confidently this time

It being fairly late, he took you home via the streetcar this time, wanting to get you home at an appropriate hour so as to stay in your father’s good graces

It was still friday, though, no matter how late, so the car was rather crowded; he led you to the side of the car and grasped the bar running the length of the ceiling with one hand, wrapping your arms around his waist with his other hand so you didn’t have to reach up; once you were secured, he gently wrapped his free arm around your shoulders

Taking his lead, you rested your head in the crook of his neck as the car took you to your stop

The two of you were quiet, basking in the sweet comfort of each other; you kept thinking how right this all felt, and it seemed like something like hope had taken hold in your heart

The car lurched to a halt at your stop and Bucky’s arm tightened around you, keeping you steady, before he guided you onto the street and up the block to your building

You stood in the same place as a week ago, yet so much had changed; it was just one date, but there was a spark between you glowing bright

Slowly, Bucky took your hand, and you stepped closer to him as his thumb rubbed against your hand

“I guess it’s time to say goodnight then,” he spoke, regret coloring his tone

“I had a wonderful time, Bucky, thank you. First dates don’t seem so scary now,” you laughed, “thanks for doing this for me.”

“Happy to, but doll, I didn’t just take you out because of what happened. I just wanted to be with you, get to know you. I sure am glad we found you in that alley, I barely know you but...you’re changing my life, honey”

The adoration and conviction in his voice choked you up, no one had ever made you feel so seen, so wanted

“Oh Bucky, I feel it too, it’s so -” you shook your head, unsure how to vocalize the soaring feeling in your heart

“It feels like...coming home,” he whispered to you, his forehead leaning against yours in a lover’s confession

Instead of replying, you coasted on the wave of feeling that took over you, and kissed him softly, the taste of the ice cream still on his lips

Both your eyes fluttered shut as the simple kiss drove all other thought from your heads

He pulled away first, raising his hand to caress your cheek as he smiled softly, his eyes tearing away from your lips to meet your own sweet gaze

“So,” his kind cockiness returning, “next Friday?” he asked, his head tilting jauntily as he winked at you

“Next Friday,” you returned, your heart swelling

With a final kiss to your knuckles, he opened the door into your building for you, tipping his hat

You finally had a reason to be happy for Friday nights, a handsome fella to offer you his arm

And Bucky had a home to return to; no matter where the Army took him, he had the home you made for him in your heart

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txemrn · 4 years ago

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Hey, sweet friends!

I inadvertently took a smidge of a step back from writing thanks to real life (you all can relate!). Between Covid relief (9 months later *wink*wink* 🤰🏼🤰🏼🤰🏼) and a crazy ❄⛄SNOW⛄❄ storm here in Texas, writing took that metaphorical backseat.

But I'm here, and I've got some WIPs I'd love to share with y'all... who's ready for WIP Wednesday? Click "Keep Reading" to enjoy five bits of fics I've been writing (the fourth and fifth are bonuses that I have NO idea when they will be released; they are for your amusement, to tease you a bit *shrugs* or something like that).

Before I continue... @lucy-268 @anjanettexcordonia @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @shannonsaid @khoicesbyk @shewillreadyou @irisofpurple @lem-20 what are y'all working on?

The Missionary’s Daughter (Chapter 1--Name TBD; TRR) 🍋

Halos of blurred auras bleach his vision as Drake cautiously opens one blood-shot eye. His tongue sticks to the roof of his roughly parched mouth as he massages his pained forehead. Clueless of what day it is--much less what he did last night--he is greeted with a sudden glorious sensation: a supple wet mouth on his hardened morning length.

His body relaxes back onto the dampened, disheveled sheets of his bed; he releases a pleasurable exhale as he blindly reaches for the head behind the lips. He strains to focus his view, but can only make out a foggy shape of a nude woman with long, tousled brunette waves.

Of course, it’s her.

Drake smiles; delicately tangling his grip in her strands, he admires how even the afternoon sun catches her beauty perfectly. He quietly smacks his lips. He can still smell her on his stubble; he can still taste her on his tongue.

Did she come clean to Liam? Were they celebrating that they could finally be together?

As she takes in the head of his girth, he arches his back, relaxing his body into her hungry touch. Closing his eyes, he offers a guttural groan deep in his chest as she swirls her tongue around his firm thickness.

“God, you’re incredible, Riley--”

------------------------------- Caroline (Chapter 3--Name TBD; TNA/OH crossover)

"Hello? Anyone here?" Her voice echoes throughout the Dalton penthouse as she pushes the stroller further into the living room.

A stirring Mason catches her attention as she cautiously bends over to settle him down.

"It's okay, um--" she looks at his monogrammed onesie for his name, "--’Mason’. Come here, sweet boy," she snuggles him into her neck, soothing him with gentle rubs and taps on his back. "There, there."

"Sof?"

The platinum blonde instantly twirls around to face the deep voice as she grips tightly around Mason.

"Oh, Sam--" she sighs with a forced laugh. "You scared me--"

"Is Caroline with you?" he stutters as he finishes his whiskey neat.

"No, um--" she bounces Mason on her hip, averting her eyes to a yawning Mickey. "She--she should be back sometime this evening though. I--I don't know--"

"Is--" he interjects, his voice growing husky, "--is Robin here?" Sofia feels the prickling of a thousand goosebumps ignite across her body as Sam's hand glides across her lower back. She clears her throat, stepping away from him.

"C'mon, my little munchkins," she joyfully chimes to the twins as she gathers Mickey into her arms. She sits them softly into their play pin, tossing each of them a musical toy.

As she stands back up, Sam grips tightly to the curve of her hips

"Sam--!" she gasps as he intimately runs his hands across her abdomen to rest on her voluptuous breasts. Her eyes flutter shut; she nibbles on her lips as he nuzzles his nose into her neck. She feels him grow against her backside.

"Sam, please--"

"'Please' what, kitten?"

"Ugh--" she scoffs as she throws his hands off of her body. "We said that the last time would be our last--"

"Please, Sofia, " he stops her in her tracks, "I need--" his lip trembles; liquor dances on his tongue as he leans closer to her dangerous curves. "I need--"

"--your wife."

"Fuck!" He abruptly throws himself onto the couch, raking his hands through his thick, tousled hair.

"I'm losing her, Sof." He leans back on the couch as Sofia cautiously sits next to him. Heated tears streak down his chiseled face as he plays with his wedding band. He lowers his voice as he chokes on his sobs.

"I think I've lost her. "

-------------------------- Boughs & Mockingbirds (Part 5; TRR/TRH)

After modeling three dresses, Hana twirls out in a dreamy white ball gown with a flattering fitted-bodice. The ornate gold filigree bead-work brought out her natural ethereal tones, instantly brightening and highlighting her gorgeous, exotic features.

“Hana--!” Riley spits out her sparkling water. “Oh-- oh my God!” With a stunned-look plastered on her face, she jumps from her bed, skipping quickly to her floor-length mirror. “Look at you!”

“I’m guessing this is a keeper?” Hana giggles as she walks on her tip-toes, envisioning the dress with her new shoes.

“Uh, yeah!” Riley squeals, twirling Hana’s silky hair into a make-shift up-do to show off her bare skin. Biting her lower lip, she lowers her voice to whisper into her friend’s ear: “Not to mention, a certain ‘Maxwell the Glorious’ won’t be able to keep his hands off of you.”

“Riley! You’re wicked! We’re just--” she blushes while shrugging her shoulders, “--um, friends.”

“I’m pregnant, not stupid,” she jokingly chides. “These past few weeks with the book tour, I’ve noticed you two becoming quite the dynamic duo.”

Hana falls silent; she mindlessly admires the beading of her white gown with her fingers as a joyous smile crawls across her face. Her bright, brown eyes pierce into Riley’s as she slowly nods.

“He’s pretty great--”

“I knew it!” Riley grabs Hana’s hands as they dance recklessly in a circle, laughter filling the room.

“Oh, you’re gonna dance with somebody--” Riley sings, purposely changing the lyrics to jest with her best friend.

“I’m gonna feel the heat with somebody--” Hana cups her mouth, laughing at herself with what she just sang.

“’Heat’?” Riley howls. “Ow! Ow! Now who’s being wicked?” They both grab their bellies as their sides ache from their silliness and excitement.

“Oh gosh,” Riley strains to breathe, “Thank you, Hana. I haven’t laughed like this in--”

“Oh my God! Riley?” Hana’s voice suddenly drips with panic. “Your nose--” ------------------------ Fractals (Bonus wannabe series; crossover of Platinum/TRR; I have fantasized about this series for probably 8 MONTHS, and I finally took off writing a chapter; this is a smidge of that chapter, and this series will come, at the earliest, after B&MB)

“Here’s to living in the headlines,” she mutters to herself, offering her glass as a toast in the air. She tosses the rest of her drink back. The bartender quickly replenishes the alcohol as she digs frantically in her oversized Dior bag. Pulling out a lone cigarette, she sets it neatly between her teeth as she searches for a lighter.

“Miss?” a soft, baritone voice calls to her, but floats away as she continues to sift through her purse. The gentleman clears his throat in hopes of catching her attention. “Pardon me, miss?” His thick, European-influenced accent is more apparent this time, but still she doesn’t notice.

“Excuse me, miss--?”

“What?” She interrupts angrily as she hastily swivels in her barstool, knocking her bag and its contents on the floor. “Shit--!” she clumsily fumbles to the floor to gather her belongings.

“Here; let me help--”

“You’ve done enough, sir--” she cuts off the young man as she madly shoves tubes of makeup, magazines, loose coins and scrunchies back into her satchel. She looks around the floor for any wayward items when she notices something black being offered to her.

“Miss?”

Looking up, she finally takes notice of the man behind the voice. And freezes. The electricity of his presence overwhelms her fragile senses. He offers her a bright, charming smile, creating dimples that soften his chiseled bone structure. A sensual aura of citrus, guaiac wood and leather dance across his coastal skin as sun rays illuminate brightly from his wavy blond hair.

She gradually stands along with him, her brilliant jade eyes locked into his striking baby-blues. His strong physique impressively towers over her petite frame. She admires his handsomely neat demeanor of pressed dark-wash denim with a light heather-gray sports coat.

“Hi,” she manages to squeeze out as her mouth confuses between dropping and smiling.

“Hello,” he chuckles with a smile. “Pardon me, but I do believe you, um--well, you, uh--,” he pauses as he glances towards his outstretched arm, “you dropped these.”

Regretfully breaking her trance from his hypnotic gaze, the color quickly drains from her face as the feeling of horror crawls across her porcelain skin. Her crotchless, black-lace g-string tangled effortlessly between his fingers.

“Oh-- oh my God!” she shrieks as she reaches to grab and hide them; but unfortunately, the missing gusset between the leg bands, snags on his gold signet ring, leaving his first two fingers hung on the crotchless portion of the thong.

“I must say,” his eyes twinkle as he laughs harder at her incessant efforts to detangle the fabric from his hands, “I didn’t realize getting into a woman’s undergarments would be quite this easy--” ------------------------- Title TBD (TNA Valentine’s Day: First vs. Last... this is in the Once...Always... Universe, and I just couldn’t get it finished before Valentine’s day. So! It will be coming out on another random holiday lol)

Reaching for the doorbell, she catches her reflection in the apartment number brass plate. And panics.

Oh, God! I--he can’t see me like this!

It has been nine months since Brynn caught her husband cheating on her with their daughter Olivia’s nanny. With the story hitting every gossip column and news channel, multiple women came forward with their private trysts with Sam over the years; however, most of their stories will never be heard thanks to the family’s heavy payouts for their silence.

Sam and Brynn’s divorce was finalized five months ago, two days before baby Charlotte was born. Despite the scandal, his lies and his betrayal, Brynn wars with her feelings towards Sam. He was the love of her life; even though he broke his vows, she never dreamed of going back on her own. He made his choice; he didn’t want to be with her the moment he chose to have his extramarital affairs. But, everyday life without him by her side is awful, like living a horrible nightmare. Her heart flutters around him, missing him terribly, but her brain begs her to stop.

Brynn pinches her cheeks to life as she swipes on a rosy color of gloss on her pout. She finger combs her almond tresses into a low ponytail, ensuring the wayward wisps are hidden.

The door suddenly opens, catching Brynn by surprise.

“Mommy!” A curly-chestnut hair Olivia dashes to Brynn with open arms.

“My baby girl!” Instantaneously, she welcomes her oldest daughter into her arms, pulling her up onto her hip for a sweet hug and tender kiss. “Did you have fun with Daddy?”

“Uh-huh,” she beams, “Look what I made you!” As she pulls out a bright pink homemade Valentine, Sam steps around the door with baby Charlotte in his arms.

“Princess--” he whispers in a deep, syrupy voice, “what do you say?”

“Oh, yeah!” her chocolate brown eyes brighten to her mom, “Happy ‘Valentime’s’ day, Mommy!”

“Happy Valentine’s day, baby girl!” Brynn squeezes Olivia into a tight embrace while she presses her lips into her cheeks. “C’mon, let’s get your things.”

As Brynn glances back at Sam, the wind is abruptly knocked out of her chest as she sees him dressed handsomely in her favorite Armani slate gray suit with soft petal-pink accents. Her eyes stay glued to him as he fastens a sleepy Charlotte into her carrier. As he stands back up, she notices his tie is crooked.

“May I?” Brynn steps forward, motioning towards his tie.

“Please,” he chuckles, “I miss your meticulous eye--”

They both awkwardly flinch at his words, Brynn focusing on the knot around his neck as Sam clears his throat.

“So--” he attempts to change subjects, “any special plans tonight?”

“Mason and Mickey are out with friends, so it’s just the girls, me, and--”

“Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown,” he interrupts as he flashes an alluring dark look at his ex-wife. He begins to run the back of his fingers sensually down her arms. “Some things don’t change--”

“But--” she glowers at him, tightening his tie close to his neck, “a lot of things have.”

--------------------

#wip wednesday #the missionary's daughter #boughs & mockingbirds #caroline #trr #tna #trrfic #tnafic #oh/tna #trr/platinum

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loveactionsspeaklouder · 3 years ago

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we belong together - kylian mbappé and julian draxler fanfic

9 | Hurdles

january 2024| paris

"I still can't believe this," Ruby chuckled, showing Molly the photo on her phone. She sipped her water (I know, shocking) and shook her head, rolling her eyes and turning to face the TV. It had been four weeks since the news had broken about Rosalie's pregnancy and the end of Molly and Kylian's affair. She didn't feel right continuing it knowing he was going to be a father. After her mini breakdown, she was ambushed with all these feelings, emotions she hadn't felt in over a year. "What do you think?"

"It's cute," Molly started. "I'm not really bothered," she shrugged. Ruby eyed the brunette; she noticed how different she was, it was starting to feel like the woman she was three years ago, was finally returning. "He has his life and I have mine, that's it."

For once, Molly wasn't lying. Most people were expecting the news of the engagement to break her, but it had a totally different effect on her. She was starting to feel comfortable in her skin again; she wasn't scared to cry or feel upset, she found herself crying a lot more (only when she thought of her dad) and continuing to keep falling in love with Adam. The old Molly, was starting to make a comeback.

....

january 2024| paris

It was ten in the evening; Molly and Julian were quietly laying in her bed having spent the past few hours entangling themselves in the sheets. He had a protective arm around her waist, she rested her head on his chest. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she smiled and kissed his jaw. Adam was away for work; Molly had decided to call Julian for a catch-up, a few glasses of wine, serious conversations and tears later, they found themselves unable to keep their hands of each other. It was something that they both didn't expect to happen, but they didn't regret it. "Are you?"

"Of course," Julian cheekily grinned. He leaned forward and pushed Molly's hair out of her eyes, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. She rolled on her stomach and rested her head on her hands, gazing up at the German. "I like this side of you."

She felt her cheeks warm, she lowered her head and kissed his bare shoulder. "What sides that?"

"The cheeky, sexy, gentle side," Julian winked. Softly, he traced a finger across her cheek and then her bottom lip, she closed her eyes and breathed in. "Why did you change her? I missed her."

Molly ignored the way his words made her heart pound, instead releasing the breath she didn't realise she was still holding. "She was an emotional wreck, everything happened at once and I felt like I was alone and nobody loved me."

Julian closed his eyes, remembering the various conversations he had shared with the brunette over the past two years. He kept his eyes closed, sighing before he spoke. "Molly, so many people love you. I know this because I'm one of them," he opened his eyes and held her face in his hands. "I know what you went through was tough, but that doesn't mean you have to erase everything about yourself."

"Was I really that bad?"

"Yes," he exhaled. He kissed her nose and rested his forehead against hers. "It was scary but I knew you were still in there. Although I don't agree with what you're doing to Adam, either break-up with him or stop cheating!"

She swallowed and rolled her eyes. He was right; the new Molly would have responded with a sassy comeback, but she was long gone, the old Molly was left speechless. She leaned forward and kissed him, climbing onto his lap to straddle him. He chuckled and squeezed her hips before speaking again. "What are you thinking about?"

"How screwed up I am," she groaned. Julian pinched her cheek and grinned. "I need help."

"Don't we all," he sniggered. She playfully glared and ran her hands down his bare chest. They stayed silent for a few minutes, watching each other's eyes. "Remember how we used to sit like this in silence and nearly miss work," he laughed. "I couldn't stop staring at you. Hearing you laugh at one of my lame jokes. Watching you nearly roll your eyes out of your head. Physically you are beautiful, but inside is my favourite part of you. You have no clue how breathtaking you are."

Molly's eyes glossed over, Julian watched and tucked some hair behind her ear. He pulled her closer and passionately kissed her like it was their first time, putting every ounce of emotion in his body into it. He licked her bottom lip, asking for entrance, she agreed. Their make-out session lasted a few long minutes. "Julian," she moaned, breaking away. She kissed the side of his mouth. "Thank you."

....

january 2024| paris

Molly was watching TV in her apartment. It was a Friday night and she was sat scrolling through her Instagram jealous of everybody's going-out pictures. She rolled her eyes and chucked her phone on the couch; she was already upset that she was alone on a Friday night, she didn't need her mood to worsen. Adam was away on business; she started to find it weird how many trips he took, secretly, she hoped he was seeing somebody behind her back. She heard a knock on her door, finally some company, she thought. "Can I come in?"

She tapped a finger on her chin, pondering her answer. Kylian was getting impatient, he came to see her for one reason and he wasn't waiting around. "Please Molly, I need to speak to you," he pleaded. She nodded and allowed him to walk through the door. "You look good."

"How's your fiancé?" Molly sassed. She was slightly starting to regret her short affair with Kylian; she didn't know why, but she felt sorry for Rosalie. And this is why you turned off your feelings, she internally rolled her eyes.

Kylian was quiet for a few moments. "She's doing well," he paused. "I still can't believe I'm going to be a father, it's quite surreal," he bit his lip, watching as Molly looked at the floor. "How've you been?"

"Did I do something wrong?" she suddenly blurted. He cocked his head and chewed his lip, confused at her question. It wasn't like it was you who got Rosalie pregnant, he thought. He knew that if he wasn't going to be a father, their affair would still have carried on.

"What do you mean?"

"You chose Rosalie over me," Molly sighed. Kylian looked at the floor and exhaled, running his hands over his face before he gazed at her, her eyes were glossy. "You chose her at the start; you could have told me how you felt, but you didn't. Then when I really needed you, you left me and chose her again. You always keep going back to her."

"Moll, please don't do this no..."

"Do what?" she interrupted. "You can question me, but I can't do it to you? Is there something wrong with me?"

"No," he scoffed. Kylian stood up and walked closer to where Molly was sat, he sat next to her and cupped her cheeks. "You are perfect; you're beautiful, funny, caring, you made it easy to fall in love with you. But I can't answer your question, because I don't know the answer myself."

He kissed the corner of her mouth, softly stroking her cheek. She tried not to cry, blinking away a few tears. Before she could respond, they were interrupted by the ringtone of her phone. Kylian glanced over and saw it was Julian. Julian, he remembered, it was the sole reason he had come to see Molly. She declined the call and sent him a quick message.

"What's going on with you and Julian?" he questioned. He tried not to show it, but he was extremely jealous. Molly looked at him and frowned, she pushed his hands away and walked to her kitchen table. "That's the reason I came to see you."

"Here was me thinking you wanted to resume our affair,' she cynically smiled. She rested her arms on the marble surface and stared at the Frenchman. He rolled his eyes and walked closer to her. "Shall we fuck right here or in the bedr..."

"Stop playing games Molly," Kylian growled. He grabbed her wrists and pinned her to the table. "Are you fucking him?"

"Yes," she shrugged. He glared at her and released her from his grip, walking away. "But it's different then it was with you, I think I'm starting to like him again."

Kylian punched the wall, taking deep breaths to control his growing anger. "Fuck," he muttered. He held the door handle and turned back to face Molly, he could see the fear in her eyes. "If you don't tell Adam, then I will."

Before she could reply, he slammed the door and left. She fell to the floor and started crying and for once, it was real tears. She felt her heart break all over again. She hated Kylian, she loved Adam but she liked Julian. She pulled herself off the floor and went to bed, she was hoping her life wasn't about to spiral out of control again. She didn't want to become the emotionless person she trained herself up for again, she was starting to feel comfortable in her skin again. She knew she needed to make some decisions and she needed to make them quick.

....

a/n: i know, i’m so bad at updating. everything has gone back to normal in my country, so i’m balancing work/writing/updating and it isn’t working lol.

but, back to the story.. i hope to update again this week. so kylian knows about molly and julian (and he’s not happy!!!!)

love always, stay safe xxx

#Kylian Mbappe #julian draxler #fanfiction #fanfic #football #psg #Paris Saint Germain #Football Fanfiction #football imagine #imagine #kylian mbappe imagine #julian draxler imagine

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adammilligan · 4 years ago

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i ABSOLUTELY want to hear about the fantasy au!!!

OKAY! this is gonna be a ride so strap in. if it's incomprehensible and confusing then whatever let's do this anyway

so adam is from a town up in the far north, right. he lived there with kate until he was fourteen and kate (who worked as the town healer) passed away. kate was respected in the town because she was the best at her job but adam, as a bastard child, could never quite manage to win that same respect from the townspeople (and ofc it being a small town that same distrust generally gets passed down to children as well) so when his mom died adam was like yknow what? fuck it??? i'm leaving i'm out and if i'm gonna die of starvation sooner or later i'm at least gonna visit someplace beyond this icy wasteland for the first time in my life. so he takes what he knows about traveling through the snow and what little possessions he can carry with him and he just fucking. bails. if the town wants a healer they can do it themselves❤

so anyway he travels south and he damn near doesn't make it because he's fourteen and entirely unused to traveling because he's lived in the town his whole life and doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. but he's also stubborn as all fucking hell and doesn't let himself collapse until he starts seeing deciduous trees instead of coniferous and then he's like "wow. that's pretty" and just fucking faceplants. right in the grass.

so of course he doesn't die yet, right, he's found by somebody who drags his scrawny ass to some shelter and it turns out she's a sort of traveling healer??? and like...adam learned a lot from his mom but she was supposed to start REALLY teaching him when he was fifteen and obviously that didn't happen. so adam decides, since he has literally nowhere else to go and nothing else to live for basically, that he'll ask to be the woman's apprentice and (to his MAJOR fucking surprise) she accepts. so for the next six-ish years he basically spends time learning how to properly heal people and traveling along EVERYWHERE (he absolutely has a little summer fling with kristin in a seaside town. this is non-negotiable) and eventually all good things have to come to an end, right? so the woman isn't OLD old but she's certainly hitting an age and she decides that she's gonna settle down and just pass all her shit on to him and though he doesn't wanna leave the only person he's known for years he decides that he stills wants to Go Out and See Things and Help People and so they part ways.

meanwhile, in the world of royalty, there's a battle brewing because one kingdom just Will Not Fuck Off at the border between them and michael's acting as the prince regent right now because chuck is indisposed one way or another and he just sort of decides yknow what? fuck it? if these motherfuckers aren't going to leave then we're just gonna make them leave? and takes a party of knights down to the border to make them fuck off.

adam, who just so happened to be headed straight for the border, is not amused. but we'll get back to him in a moment.

anyway the fight starts, shit gets wild because there were more people down there than they thought, and michael's party is pretty much forced to in the midst of battle (like some "EVERY MAN FOR THEMSELVES" thing) but the PROBLEM is, michael gets hit and he gets hit BAD. like someone sliced him up and then a fleeing horse trampled him for good measure. the thing though is while michael's party was forced to flee, the opposing side was also forced to retreat because more of their numbers were taken out than he thought. so michael's essentially bleeding out on the forest floor, adam's been hiding up a tree this entire time because....what the FUCK just happened. and then he sees someone who's very obviously royalty just laying on the grass and decides to go up to him and poke him with a stick because if he's dead then HEY⁠—free stuff he can loot off his body to sell, right? give him a break he could always use the coin.

so, as it turns out, the dude's not dead! fan-fucking-tastic, right?

and adam TRIES to leave him behind. he really does. but then he thinks about how he would've died if the healer hadn't helped him and he thinks about what his mom would do and he bangs his head against a tree a couple times before finally turning around and performing the speediest emergency patch job on this man who might not even make it and all the while he's just like "don't wanna be here. people are gonna accuse me of murdering nobility. i have better things to do that be executed. cmon" and he's not even sure that the royal dude's gonna MAKE IT but he does his best anyway. he's using up supplies for this. royal dude better be fucking grateful.

once it finally seems like royal dude's not gonna die if adam moves him more than two inches, adam (veery slowly) drags him to a nearby cave system that he'd seen when he'd passed through the area before and decides to just look after him from there.

eventually, after adam has been looking after him for a While, royal dude wakes up. and he's Not Happy about it. so, naturally, he and adam get into an argument where he declares he's a prince and how dare adam lay his filthy hands on him yada yada yada and adam's like lol i'm not the one with the major fucking injury but alright. but also he's worried that michael's gonna kill him after he gets better but he doesn't want to leave him to die either and also he put too much work into this pretentious mf to just leave him now SO he might as well risk death.

and michael TRIES to do things independently at first. he REALLY does. he tries to the point where he keeps tearing his stitches and adam starts absolutely raising hell about it because his supplies are already wearing thin enough without angryfuck mcstubbornmeister fucking ruining them every chance he gets. and then he just fucking storms off for literally eight hours and michael's like "FINE. DIDN'T NEED HIM AROUND ANYWAY" but is also worried because he really can't move around all that much and he doesn't WANT to die and just as he's sort of accepting that he's been left adam storms back in with new supplies that he spent the last of his coin on and literally just starts raving about how if michael fucks these up too adam will LITERALLY smother him in his sleep. prince or not. and honestly adam's surprised michael didn't try to forcefully claw his way out of the cave but michael's just surprised that this commoner didn't just leave for good.

they both make an effort to get along a little better after that.

and then they actually get to talking and realize that they have more in common than they thought. which is odd, because they're also so different but they're similar in all the ways that matter and eventually they start trading stories while adam starts helping michael finally move around again and oftentimes the caves would echo with their laughter, so loudly would it reverberate around the stone walls. when michael is finally able to start walking (albeit REALLY stiffly) without assistance, he insists that he's going to go hunt because adam's been doing it for the both of them all this time and he hates just sitting around doing nothing. and when he ends up unable to catch anything because the pain flared up a bit too much, adam doesn't say a word, just flashes him a smile and shoots down a rabbit that they share without a word. and then adam lets him get water from the river instead, and somehow they end up laughing and soaking wet because they started a little splash fight even though adam starts fussing about the wounds afterwards.

but then the day comes; the day that michael can finally move around normally without too much strain, and at first neither of them acknowledge it. at first, they still sit by the riverbank and fish and tell each other whispered stories (whether fact or fiction) by the cooking fire, faces tanned from the heat and sitting a little too close than they'd like to mention. but michael brings it up one day, with hunched shoulders and a weary frown at the reminder, that he has a kingdom to rule. that his father was out of commission, and the longer he stayed hidden away the weaker the kingdom would seem, and adam sighs and concedes.

michael asks, a little hopeful, if adam would come with him. he could be appointed as the court physician, and he wouldn't ever have to worry about money or shelter or supplies ever again. but adam is used to small houses and worn paths and the ache of travel and the hard earth as his bed and his pillow, not downy mattresses and pampering. besides, constantly having to be in the presence of all those snobby nobles would be the absolute death of him, and he knows it.

so he says no, and very nearly changes his answer when michael's form deflates, the prince regent's face pulling into something downright sorrowful, and adam promises to accompany him to the border before they part ways.

they make it to the border, and it isn't even two moments of them awkwardly standing there shuffling their feet before adam thinks to hell with it and pulls the prince regent of one of the largest kingdoms in the land into a hug, except...they don't separate. they don't separate until adam pulls back, just enough to look michael in the eyes, before kissing him. it's soft and light and chaste, something that begins and brings with it the promise of never quite ending, even after they finally break apart, their foreheads gently meeting as they stare at each other.

michael asks if they'll ever meet again. adam doesn't know what to say, because life is tumultuous and messy and he might die before the year is at an end, so he only smiles. he smiles and he kisses michael once on the cheek and tells him that his kingdom is waiting for him, all while thinking (but never voicing) that it is his kingdom that needs him and michael has never been nor ever will be bound by the wants of a nameless travelling healer, and they finally unwind from each other and turn their separate ways, determined to not look back even as their minds scream for them to.

michael heads south, towards his kingdom, and adam heads west, always veering just the smallest bit north but never quite making it back to the town of his roots⁠—what holds him back, he's not sure yet. but there are people in need of help, and he'll be damned if he's going to let them suffer.

and so, it ends.

(until the unwritten sequel, where michael returns to his kingdom⁠—only to find it in utter shambles)

#ask and ye shall receive #this got really long sorry about that #if i ever was to write another multi-chap fic would yall be interested in something like this or would you let it flop #asks #thank you for asking!#midam #michael #adam milligan #story

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midnightsnyx · 5 years ago

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Jesperi Kotkaniemi - Honesty

pairing: jesperi kotkaniemi/reader

warnings: angst & fluff (+one swear word lol)

word count: 959

requested: yes / no

my masterlist

Jesperi Kotkaniemi

When you wake up to hear a knocking on your window, your first instinct is that somebody is trying to break into your apartment so looking out to see your best friend throwing pebbles at your window at 3 in the morning comes as a shock. You open the window and shiver when the cold January air rushes in and you mentally curse Jesperi for waking you at this ungodly hour.

“If you’re not dying, you’d better have a good reason for waking me up.” You shout from the window of your second story apartment.

“I need someone to talk to.” He yells and normally you would tell him to go home and call in the morning but there’s something in his expression that makes you sigh and tell him you will be down in a few minutes.

Winters in Montreal are something you’re still getting used to. There was a different bitterness that came with it that made the winters longer so you bundle up in as many layers as you can before heading outside.

He’s waiting at the front entrance and the sheepish smile he gives you lessens your irritated mood.

“I’m sorry.” He says but you wave it off, taking his hand when he offers it. You both start walking down the empty street and the silence starts to eat at you so you’re about to make a joke but stop when you hear a quiet sniffle. It stops you in your tracks and you pull on his arm until he comes to a stop as well. He pulls his winter hat down a little like he’s trying to cover his eyes and it tugs at your heart strings.

“Hey,” you whisper, walking closer so you’re standing directly in front of him. When you try to make him look at you, he shakes his head stubbornly and keeps his eyes trained on the ground.

“What happened?” You ask but you already have an idea of what is bothering him. He shrugs, still staring at the ground so you wrap a gloved hand around his chin and force him to look up. His eyes are filled with stubborn tears that are threatening to spill out. It makes your heart hurt.

“Is it about hockey?” You ask quietly, already knowing the answer. He sniffles again and nods, making a few tears fall down his cheeks that are red from the cold. It makes you wonder how long he was outside before he decided to wake you up.

“Do I need to kick someones ass?” You joke and he lets out a wet laugh and shakes his head.

“I just feel like I’m not good enough anymore.” He whispers and you shake your head in disbelief.

“Are you joking? Looks like the only ass I have to kick is yours.”

“I’m not kidding around, Y/N.” He sighs. “I am not playing nearly as good as I should be! I can tell that everyone is disappointed in me. I’m disappointed in myself.”

A frown forms on your face and you can’t help but sigh and shake your head. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“I should be hard on myself.” He argues. “I’m playing like shit.”

You open your mouth to argue but stop, knowing it’s useless. You’re both quiet for a few minutes before you look up at him and smile softly.

“I think you’re playing good.”

“You’re my best friend. It’s your job to say that.”

Best friend. The term that is used to describe your relationship with him although you sometimes feel like there’s something more between the two of you. You’ve only recently noticed that it’s different. Lingering hands, looking at him only to find that he’s already looking at you.

“Well as your best friend, I’m demanding that you stop being so hard on yourself.”

He raises an eyebrow and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“And if I ignore your demand?” He asks, stepping close to you and the witty quip dies on your lips.

“Uh-”

“Can I be honest with you for a moment?” He asks and your head starts spinning with how this conversation has suddenly taken a 180 you weren’t expecting.

“I uh… I guess so.” You stutter out and he smiles and the next words that tumble out of his mouth make you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“I really, really like you and I don’t know what to do about it.” He says in one breath and even though his cheeks are already rosy red, you can see the blush that creeps up his neck.

You’re lost for words until you see his face start to fall and it snaps you out of your stupor.

“I like you too.” You blurt out, watching as his face lights up.

“Really? Because I mean, if you’re not ready to say it or you’re just saying it because-”

“Jesperi.” You say, cutting him off.

“What?”

“Shut up and kiss me, already.” You tell him.

And he does.

#jesperi kotkaniemi #jesperi kotkaniemi imagine #hockey imagine #montreal canadiens imagines #nhl imagines #hockey fanfiction

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ofbeastsandwizards · 5 years ago

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Cinderella - Sherlock x Reader

The First installment of my Happily Ever Never Oneshot Collection! Pairing: BBC Sherlock x Reader

Summary: Living in the sucluded, poor and rundown area of London, the young peasant girl never thought she’d meet the prince, the heir to the throne, of England. Nor did she think she’d meet his less popular, detective brother. And even more so, she’d never expect falling head-over-glass slipper for him either.

Warnings: fluff, lotsa angst, a bit of swearing. It’s also hella long so there’s that lol

Enjoy!

————

Her name was [Y/n]. The young girl lived with her stepmother and her daughter in her father’s old home on the edge of London. It was run down, but beautiful none the less. She would have had money. Would have been respected, if her late father hadn’t married the skunk that was sat on the living room armchair. [Y/n] was scrubbing relentlessly at the tiled floors, her clothing old and torn. She wouldn’t have minded working. She really wouldn’t have. If she was getting paid, or even working for somebody even a smidgeon less greedy than her current ‘employer’, who thought nothing more of her than a slave.

Sometimes that’s what [Y/n] felt she was to her. Nothing but a slave. It was sad sometimes, but she tried her best to maintain her composure.

Today, however, her stepmother’s daughter, Anna, had received an invitation from the royal family. As her father had been a once wealthy duke, the entire family was requested to attend, despite him no longer being alive.

Anna screeched giddily when [Y/n] had handed over the envelope. They hardly ever got mail. It was almost always over the internet nowadays, not that they could afford to even own a laptop or computer.

Her stepmother was stuck in the past anyways.

[Y/n] stood patiently until Anna’s ear-piercing screams were silenced. She bounded towards her mother. “Mum! Mum look! We’ve been invited to the royal ball!” She exclaimed.

Her mother examined the paper and grinned slyly. “Well! I suppose we’ll have to find you a beautiful gown now won’t we?”

[Y/n] frowned. She knew it wasn’t her place, but surely, she’d get to go? “What about me?” She asked quietly.

Anna’s screeches were silenced at her words and her stepmother sent her a deadly stare. “Did I say you could talk, brat?” She hissed.

[Y/n] began to boil and she bit her lip, staring at the ground, to keep from an angry outburst. “N-No, ma’am.” She mumbled.

She huffed, and stood from her seat brushing past the young girl. “Besides! I wouldn’t want you there anyways! Ruining my image! Are you insane?” She laughs.

The girl shook her head once more. “N-No...not at all ma’am.”

She scoffs. “Well you act it sometimes! Get ahold of yourself girl!” She tuts, hitting her shoulder harshly as she waltzes out of the room. She turns. “So, you are not going! You need to finish your chores! And I will not have a filthy girl like you be standing with me at the Royal Ball!” She exclaimed, exiting the room with Anna in tow, a small frown of pity on her face.

[Y/n] was left standing there, like a time-bomb, ready to explode into a million, fuming pieces. She turned and stomped her way up the steps to her attic room, and closed the door in anger, locking it.

She threw herself onto her bed and screamed into a pillow.

I’m tired of being treated like shit! I’m not some piece of worthless trash!

Then, she began to break down into tears, turning over, as she choked on silent sobs.

Am I?

She shook her head, lip quivering. Then suddenly, a knock on her door interrupted her self-loathing time. She sat up, and wiped her nose of her stained sleeve.

“What do you want?” She yelled. She realized she shouldn’t have sounded so harsh, as it may have been her stepmother and she braced for impact.

“[Y/n]. It’s Anna.”

She practically snarled at her pity-filled voice.

“Go away!” She hissed.

Anna frowned from the other side of the door. Despite being the child of that evil woman downstairs, she wasn’t all bad. Yes, she was greedy and selfish, but she also easily felt pity for those around her and ‘wanted to help the needy’.

“[Y/n] I’m sorry for what my mother told you. I convinced her to let you come with.” She murmured from behind the door. “The ball is tomorrow night.”

[Y/n] was silent then. She had never been that nice to her despite how nice she seemed at the moment.

“Oh.” “Make sure you actually wear something presentable.” She snarked, before her footsteps faded down the steps. [Y/n]’s frown deepened, and she held up her middle finger towards the door, sticking out her tongue childishly.

She frowned and lowered her hand, collapsing backwards onto her bed, sleep overtaking her.

———— time skip ————

It was morning now, and [Y/n] had woken up late, much to her stepmother’s distaste, who had a full day of shopping planned for Anna whilst [Y/n] was to clean the entire house to receive her ‘‘reward” of attending the ball.

[Y/n] had just finished doing her chores, and it was about 4 o’clock now. She had a few hours to spare, and so she took it upon herself to break out the only nice dress she owned. An heirloom from her mother, which was a beautiful baby blue gown, but the problem was, it was ripped and torn, and had blood stained onto the fabric.

[Y/n] wasn’t sure what the blood itself was from, and she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. Her mother’s past was all a blur to her. She was a beautiful woman, yes, but her father told stories of her adventures and how ‘badass she was when he met her’. She chuckled to herself, but grimaced at the sight of the blood once more.

“I can’t possibly wear that.” She grumbled, and tossed it onto her bed. She skimmed through her closet of bland sweatshirts, t-shirts, bandanas and jeans and frowned when she couldn’t find anything.

“Well this just sucks arse.” She bit her lip and stared at the gown laid out on her bed. The sleeve was ripped, and so it no longer laid upright but hung down. The tulle on the skirt was ripped and frayed, and there was a blood stain near the lower hemline, which could easily be concealed, but there was also a rather obvious stain on the chest area, about the size of her head, which colored the blue a wine red.

The idea of wine crossed her mind for a moment, and an idea struck her. She bundled the dress in her arms and raced from her room and down the stairs. She made her way outside and out the separate door and into the wine cellar below her house. She fumbled with the door, before it creaked open and she slipped inside.

The room was dark, and she could barely make out the forms of large barrels and bottles stacked throughout the room.

She reached to her left and flicked on a light, stumbling down the stairway and towards a large bottle of red wine, which matched the color of the blood stained onto her dress. She grinned and cradled it in her arms, stumbling back up the stairs and out into the courtyard, crossing back towards her house and making a b-line for her bedroom.

Once upstairs, she got to work. She located the area of the tulle that was ripped and slit it upwards on the skit, creating a leg slit that looked as through it was supposed to be there all along. She decided she’d hem the slit, and she got to work on the sleeves. She fixed their rosed covered fabric and stitched the sleeve back onto the body of it, re-adjusting it so it went off the shoulder. She stood back. Apart from the blood, it looked like it was supposed to be that way.

Then, she dumped all of the wine into a large bucket and dropped the dress into it. She would let it soak for half an hour and let it dry for another.

Once the first process finished, she dug around for the old clothespin that was buried somewhere in her room and strung it in front of the single window inside her bedroom. She brought the dripping gown up to it and clipped it on.

It sagged, having been still soaked in wine. [Y/n] held her nose at the strong scent of alcohol. She never was an alcohol fan. She suspected she never would be, as she’d rather keep her dignity.

She moved back towards her bed, but tripped on a scrapbook peeking out form under her bed frame.

“Ah!” She shrieked, falling forward and landing on the bed. She grumbled, sitting back up. She leaned over the bed and picked it up, examining the cover.

Her eyes softened as she read the front cover. In words written in glittery writing was the title; “[Y/n]’s Wedding Scrapbook!”

It was everything that she wanted her wedding to be like. She would wear a beautiful off-white gown, complete in a [favorite wedding dress style] style, and a beautiful flowing, floor length train. Everything was perfectly planned out.

Her hand turned a page and she saw her and her mother and father, sitting in the grass, having a picnic. It was an old Polaroid picture.

She remembered the most important thing about her wedding.

She’d have her father walking her down the isle, a proud smile on his face as she approached her soon-to-be significant other. She bit her lip, closing her eyes and tears piled up and out of her eyes, stinging her cheek.

Her lip quivered and she choked a bit, shaking her head and slamming the book closed. She slid it back under her bed, and laid her head back down on her pillow.

She waited for the dress to dry completely, but she grew too impatient, and she didn’t want her stepmother and Anna to see her fixing up the dress. So, in a rush, she collected the damp dress, holding it out in front of her to preserve her clothes best she could.

She reached the laundry room, and put it inside of the dryer, turning it on and waiting as it dried the dress. She hoped it wouldn’t shrink or rip, and took care to put the setting to ‘gentle’.

After the 10 minutes had passed, she took the dress from the dryer and examined it. All looked well and she grinned.

Her thoughts were interrupted, however, by the sound of the front door opening. She gasped and went as fast as she could straight to her room, just as they stepped inside, her stepmother and Anna talking rather loudly from downstairs.

She pushed her door closed in a swift motion and it made a dull click. Then she heard her stepmother yell from downstairs.

“You’d better have something nice to wear to the ball or you’ll be staying here!” She screeched from downstairs. [Y/n] smirked to herself and rolled her eyes.

“You wanted nice. Let’s see your face when you see my gown then.” [Y/n] snickered to herself as she sat on her bed, facing the window. Her dress was still bundled in her arms as she giggled at Anna’s muffled attempts to put on her gown from just below her in her room.

[Y/n] decided she should get ready, and so she changed out of her stained clothing and pulled the dress over her body. It was a bit snug on her, but she didn’t mind. She approached the mirror in her bedroom and admired her reflection. The dress was beautiful, and wasn’t too revealing which pleased [Y/n], as she didn’t really like low-cut dresses, but the fit was close to perfect. She grinned but then her eyes met her hair.

It was a mess of tangled strands, dangling [above/below/at] her shoulders. She grumbled and ran a comb through it, until it looked presentable, wincing the entire time.

After her hair was mostly presentable, she looked herself over once more, and stretched her arm to the jewelry box sitting on the small indent of wall above her mirror. She clicked open the latch, and opened the lid.

Inside was a silver chain necklace with a beautiful silver locket, shaped in an intricate story-book like design. The book opened to reveal a tiny picture of her father and mother, back when they were young and carefree. She smiled warmly at the photo, and clicked the locket shut.

She swung the chain around her neck and struggled momentarily before managing to connect the other end. She nodded firmly to herself once giving herself another once-over.

Then, as if on cue, there was a knock on her door.

“Hey! You’d better be ready!” Anna exclaimed. [Y/n] bit her lip and snatched her trench coat from her bedpost, and buttoned the long jacket over her dress in an effort to cover it as best as possible.

She rushed towards her door and opened it, Anna had a scowl on her face and turned when she walked out her door. She turned and closed it and they made their way downstairs. Anna was clad in a turquoise gown, which was overly poofy, and resembled that of a pageant gown rather than a ball gown.

[Y/n] stuck out her tongue at her sense of style and rolled her eyes as they went outside to get inside of the pickup truck that her stepmother owned. She was already in the drivers seat, and [Y/n] squeezed her way into the crowded and dirty backseat.

Good thing I’m wearing a coat.

———— time skip ————

“Alright.” Her stepmother stopped the truck down the street from the palace. “I have some rules. You-” She waved a finger at [Y/n]. “Stay 20 feet away from us at all times.” She stated. “And don’t even think about talking to my prince!” Exclaimed Anna.

[Y/n] rolled her eyes. “Fine. I won’t.”

“Oh! And don’t you dare go near the ballroom. You are not to dance with the prince or any duke! Have at it with the waiters though, they’re all worthless blokes.” Her stepmother stated.

[Y/n] sighed and nodded. Her stepmother looked pleased, and they all exited the car. The mother and daughter darted straight down the street and towards the palace, leaving [Y/n] to scoff and follow after them, digging around for that letter to gain entrance.

Once they reached the gate, the guard looked over the paper and nodded, letting them inside. Her stepmother and Anna went straight inside and [Y/n] lingered behind, climbing the steps.

She entered, and pulled off her coat, handing it to one of the men collecting them, and took a deep breath. She listened to the distant music and laughing people down the hall. She strayed a bit away from the crowd and stayed on the outskirts of the ballroom. A man carrying a tray with glasses of water passed her. She gracefully picked one up and took a sip, thanking the man.

She then spotted somebody much like her, staying near the outskirts and leaning against a marble post. She approached him and leaned on the next post over, sipping her water.

They both stood in silence, before she looked towards him, examining him. He had brown- almost black, curly hair, and a defined face. He was wearing a suit, which was fairly casual for this style of party, yet still very formal.

His eyes were scanning the crowds of dancing couples, solemnly watching them dance. Then, his eyes landed on [Y/n].

She sucked in a breath and turned away, choosing not to talk to the man. Then, he broke the silence.

“I’m guessing you’re not a fan of party’s then either.” He stated. The music blared dimly in the background. [Y/n] sighed. “No, not really. You aren’t then?” She asked.

The man shook his head, eyes still watching the crowds. “No. My brother’s always forcing me into them.” He stated.

[Y/n] chuckled and followed the man’s gaze. “I’m sure he means the best. He can’t be any worse than my stepsister.” She stated.

The man was silent. [Y/n] turned and leaned towards him, her hand extended. “I’m uh, I’m [Y/n].”

He eyed her hand and looked back up, ignoring her gesture. “Sherlock Holmes.”

[Y/n] stiffened at the name. That detective prince guy? She cleared her throat, and leaned back, returning to her place, bringing her water up to her lips once more.

They stood like that for a while, before Sherlock made a sudden movement towards her, which startled [Y/n] half out of her mind.

“You haven’t left yet.” He observed. [Y/n] froze and gave him a cheeky smile. “Why haven’t you left yet?” He asked, a bit more concerned this time.

[Y/n] furrowed her brows. “You haven’t given me a reason to leave yet.” She stated, rather confused.

Sherlock studied her face and leaned back a bit, still examining her.

[Y/n] stood her ground under his harsh gaze before his eyes softened a bit. “Well, usually when people hear my name, they go running.” He stated.

[Y/n] shook her head. “It takes a little more than a name to scare me, Mr. Holmes.” She smiled, and Sherlock narrowed his eyes in contemplation. He then looked away.

“You’re very different from the girls that usually attend these types of things.” He said.

[Y/n] smiled crookedly. “Is that good or bad?” She asked, crossing her arms, whilst still holding the glass in her left hand.

Sherlock didn’t answer for a moment, before glancing back towards the ballroom, and looking back at [Y/n] with an intrigued smile.

“Do you want to dance?” He asked, sounding a bit unsure of himself. [Y/n] smiled, and nodded. “I’d love to.”

Sherlock let himself smile a bit wider, and [Y/n] stopped leaning on the wall, and placed her glass on a nearby table-top. The pair made their way to the ballroom dance-floor and stood near the center.

[Y/n] placed her hand on Sherlock’s arm, and her other connected with Sherlock’s. Sherlock hesitantly placed his other hand on her waist and they began to sweep across the floor gracefully. [Y/n] refused to meet his gaze, and instead decided to talk a bit to lighten the mood.

“So.” She started, her eyes barely flickering to his. “I take it you know how to dance then?” Sherlock turned to meet her eyes. “Yes, I learned when I was fairly young. And what about you?”

[Y/n] stifled a laugh and took a deep breath. “My father taught me when I was five.”

Sherlock nodded. “You had to have come here with somebody.” Sherlock mumbled, which seemed more of like a comment to himself rather than to [Y/n]. But the young woman caught his words almost immediately.

She smiled. “If you mean being left alone by my evil stepmother and stepsister, then you’d right.”

Sherlock hummed, and his gaze scanned the crowd. His eyes then widened as they met something in the distance. “Get down!” He yelled a bit loudly, pushing [Y/n] onto the ground as he crouched low to the ground as well.

Gunshots echoed through the hall, the crowd erupting in screams, people ran like wild and a few bodies were scattered along the floor. “Dammit!” Sherlock hissed.

‘‘What the hell?” [Y/n] was growing anxious and her body began to shake. She sucked in deep breathes and looked around at the screaming people. Sherlock turned. He now has a gun in his hand. It was pointed to the floor and [Y/n] eyed it suspiciously, before meeting his gaze as he spoke. “Listen to me. You need to get somewhere safe, and stay low to the ground.” He began to stand up, but [Y/n] grabbed at his coat tails hurriedly.

“No!” She stumbled on her words for a moment. “I-I’m not running away. I’m not hiding. I’ve been doing that all my life. I’m coming with you.”

He narrowed his eyes and looked her over, the screams growing louder. He groaned in annoyance but held out his hand for her to take. She offered a bittersweet smile, and took it.

Sherlock pulled her up, and the pair scurried into the hallway where they had previously been standing. [Y/n] picked up her glass from before, and smashed it against the marble posts, creating a fairly large and sharp piece of glass. Sherlock eyed her, and she shrugged, a smirk on her face.

He turned back around and held his gun in front of him, slowly making his way towards where the person was shooting from the staircase. [Y/n] held her shank in front of her, following in Sherlock’s steps as they made their way closer.

Sherlock cued her to go on the opposite side of the staircase and wait for him to give her the signal, (which was Sherlock firing his gun), and the young woman obeyed. Sherlock approached the man, who was clad in a trench coat and had a balding head.

Sherlock stood near him, and the man ceased his firing, the screams still filling the room from below. “Hey!”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Come to stop me Shirley?” He growled, pointing his gun at Sherlock. Sherlock shrugged.

“Not really.” Then, Sherlock pointed his gun to the ceiling, and fired.

The man let out a sickening laugh.

“You missed.” He snarled, a hideous smirk on his face.

“You’re right, I did.” Sherlock lowered his gun. ‘‘But she didn’t.” Just then, [Y/n] stabbed the glass into his back and the man gasped, falling backwards. [Y/n] stopped back and watched as he fell to the ground, gasping for breath eyes staring up at [Y/n] as Sherlock approached and looked down at him.

The glass dug deeper into the man’s back and he narrowed his eyes. [Y/n] dusted off her hands, which were now stained with blood, and joined Sherlock’s side.

“I hate you.” The man spat, blood pooling from under him. [Y/n] frowned, and hummed.

Sherlock put away his gun and pushed his hands into his pockets. [Y/n] looked to him. “What now?” She asked.

Sherlock looked her over at her, then looked towards the door. ““We should probably leave.”

[Y/n] laughed and nodded. “Good idea.” She smiled, and the duo made their way to the palace gates.

Once outside the large doors, they stopped in the garden. “We never did finish that dance, did we?” Asked [Y/n]. Sherlock looked down at her and smiled a bit.

“No, I suppose not.” “So....?”

Sherlock took [Y/n]’s hand and they began to dance again. The night was peaceful despite the commotion from inside. They danced in silence for quite a while, until they tired, and stopped dancing to walk about the garden.

“Y’know, I never thought something like this would happen to me.”

Sherlock glanced down at her as they walked. “What? Killing a murderer?”

[Y/n] snorted and looked away. “Well that, and-” She motioned is between herself and Sherlock. “This.”

Sherlock looked at her in confusion. They stopped walking.

“You’re a prince. I’m nothing but a common girl living in London.”

Sherlock looked a bit offended. “Like that should matter?” He asked.

“Well it usually matters to most people. I’ve never even danced with anybody but my own father. I never thought I’d even go near the palace. And yet here we are.”

“Exactly. Why does your social rank have to have anything to do with if you can meet new people, or dance with them?”

[Y/n] looked away. “I was raised by my stepmother to think that way, I guess.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to think that way.” He reasoned. [Y/n] smiled a bit. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They stood in silence for a while, continuing their walk. “Hey, Sherlock?” She asked.

Sherlock hummed. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He asked.

[Y/n] smiled. “For tonight, for the dance, for everything.”

Sherlock returned the smile, and [Y/n] leaned over to hug him. Sherlock froze and stood still while she clung to him. He rolled his eyes and slowly, hesitantly wrapped his arms around her form. “You’re welcome.”

Woahhhhh that was fun to write! :O

I don’t know! What did you guys think? Anyways! Let me know if I missed you on the tag list! I lost a few of the asks so maybe resend them if you get the chance! Thanks! :>

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