#also the authors note where you said it wasn’t romantic enough?? It was so good the way while it wasn’t said you could tell immediately how | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daycourtofficial · 9 months ago

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Now I’m in exile seeing you out

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 4k | warnings: none

Summary: a follow up to you’re losing me - You've reached your tipping point where you can't forgive Azriel's constant choice of work over you. Can he fix things? Or did things get wildly out of hand and it's too late?

Author’s note: you guys loved part one, hopefully this offers a satisfying conclusion 🥰

2k celebration masterlist

Your new apartment was quiet, not even your neighbors were making noise. You had grown accustomed to the silence the past few months - Azriel always being gone had left the house a certain way - too large, too quiet, too much without him. This silence felt different.

It wasn’t full of expectation - of wanting Azriel to come through the door or expecting him to treat you like he did in the before.

Now you’re in the after, your finger feeling light from the lack of the ring on it. Fae don’t usually wear rings - a human custom that Feyre had told you all about, one that Azriel found quite romantic.

“So that way when we are buried and our scents are gone, if anyone found our bodies, they would know what we were.”

His words were romantic, but now the tan line on your finger just made you feel hollow, as if this wasn’t supposed to be happening.

Any sound you made just echoed through the too empty space - you had foolishly gotten rid of most of your previous furniture when you and Azriel bought a house - your new furniture not arriving for a few more days. Feyre had found you this apartment rather quickly when you showed up at the River House in the middle of the night, uncertain of where else to go. She and Rhysand had agreed to let you stay there until you found a place of your own and they also agreed to not tell Azriel where you were.

“We could start fresh,” you had said to him, mainly wanting a good enough reason to throw out the couch you’ve had for half a century. But now all the new furniture was left behind, in a house too big for one occupant, probably laughing at your past words.

A knock at the door interrupts your thoughts, and you look through the peephole to find Feyre standing outside with a large plant of some sort. You unlock the door, letting her in. She gives you a soft smile and hugs you, the absurdly large plant making it somewhat difficult to get your arms around her.

She chirps a greeting to you, rubbing your back gently as you pull back from her. She knew why you had done it - you spent several nights over the past year on her couch crying to her over Azriel and his lack of time for you.

Behind her came Rhys, carrying several buckets of paint, rollers, tins, tarps. Your eyebrows raised, “is this your new art studio, Feyre? Are you going to teach Rhys how to paint?”

She giggles and Rhys rolls his eyes at you, setting the things in his arms down before kissing you on the top of your head. You lean into his touch before he pulls away, softly telling you, “we’re helping you paint the place - white walls are boring.”

In the days to come over the next week, you had multiple visitors. They all made you feel better while they were here, but whenever they left you felt that Azriel shaped hole in your heart all over again. Cassian had been the first after Feyre to visit, barreling into your apartment, nearly squeezing the life out of you once he got in the door, upset he had to wait so long to see you.

“Cass, it’s been four days.”

“The house’s not the same without you.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Cassian gave you a look that you didn’t like, and the two of you were teetering on the edge of the forbidden. You had asked Feyre to tell everyone they can come visit, but not to talk about Azriel in any way.

Unfortunately, much of Cassian’s life involves Azriel so he had a much harder time than everyone else. Any time he’d veer into Azriel territory, he’d quickly go, “oops” and cover his mouth very quickly, as if he had cursed in front of a child.

Elain had visited the next day, offering to help you prepare some potted window plants. The two of you walked through the Velaris markets, Elain prattling on about different kinds of plants. You knew she was trying to distract you, help you pick up the pieces of your broken life. So you picked out different plants for your windowsill, the weight of them in your arms much lighter than the weight of your emotions.

It was hard wandering the streets with Elain - this city felt so much like him, the streets littered with cafes the two of you frequented. Elain, whose presence you enjoyed greatly, felt like a stabbing reminder of what you lost.

You know Elain came in with you when you got back to your apartment, repotting the plants into the window planter she brought. Fresh dirt covered their roots, allowing them to grow in their new place. You can’t remember what Elain spoke about, just nodding along with her until you eventually found yourself alone again.

Each day brought a new member of Azriel’s family to visit, and you loved them, truly loved them, but it was hard to feel like they were coming for you as opposed to coming on behalf of him. You knew they loved you, despite whatever was happening between you and Azriel, but your interactions were always colored with him in the background.

You had been expecting Nesta to show up when you opened the door to find Azriel looking back at you.

You were a bit surprised at the restraint he maintained waiting so long, a whole week passing since you had left, but you said all you wanted to say in that note. You wanted him to feel awful, to finally see how you were feeling.

You just hated that it came to this to get him to see you.

He looked terrible. His shadows were pooled at his feet, darting towards you with affection, dancing around you. His wings were practically dragging on the floor, his shoulders sagged, his hair was a mess. His eyes looked lifeless, his jaw covered in stubble.

Good.

“Azriel,” you bit out, not an ounce of affection in your tone. “May I help you?”

“I want you to come home.” His words were clipped, agitation clear in his voice.

“This is my home, you may come in for a few minutes if you want to talk.”

You didn’t really want to invite him in, wanting him to stand outside your door, feeling as unwanted as you had for so many months. But you had new neighbors, and you weren’t sure you wanted to find out how nosy they were with this conversation.

The sight of him made you so angry, but a tiny part of you wanted to reach out to him, running your fingers through his hair, and coax him to come to bed so the two of you could actually sleep.

He shut the door behind him before turning back to you.

“Please, come back. I’ll be better.”

Your hands nestle onto your hips, your jaw rotating in annoyance. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He sighs, his feet moving of their own accord across your floor, pacing back and forth on the hardwood floor.

“Was I not enough for you?”

His words send you into a tailspin of rage, your vision going red. “Azriel,” you say, voice rising, “that’s a funny thing to ask, when you were never there! I gave you everything. Endless excuses, endless empathy. I spent so much time telling people that what you were doing was okay, that I forgot it wasn’t! You weren’t there!”

His hands run down his face, shaking his head in denial. His shadows swirled the room, and you could hear them whispering to him, but what they were saying you couldn’t make out.

“You’re the one who decided that everything I had wasn’t enough for you.”

Your words hit their mark, and the Illyrian before you halts and removes his hands from his face, looking nothing like the formidable soldier he was, but rather the boy he had been. You take a deep breath, opening your door once more behind him.

“I needed you to risk something, I needed you to choose me.”

You stop forward, pushing him through the threshold.

“Most of all, I needed you to choose yourself, too.”

You shut the door on him, leaning your forehead against the wood. The place was suffocating you with its silence. It was a new silence, compared to the one you’d wait in while Azriel was off.

This one felt full of hope and possibilities.

Three decades passed since that fateful night, but you could still see Azriel’s eyes in the shadows some nights. You hated burning candles - the way the shadows flickered and danced reminded you of the shadows that curled your fingers, the ones that kept you company whenever Azriel spent too long away.

You had dated here and there since Azriel - none of them lasting more than a few years. They were fine - all attractive, all nice, but they all ended for one reason or another. One moved to a different court, which you didn’t want to do. Another’s mother didn’t like you and it just didn’t work out after that. Several relationships fizzled out because there just wasn’t a spark between you two. You felt cursed, unlucky in love, destined to be alone.

Or perhaps destined to always be heartbroken.

It wasn’t all bad - you just weren’t lucky with romance. You had fallen back in love with Velaris a few years after leaving Azriel, the city lights coaxing you back. You had actually considered leaving entirely, the city feeling too much of him.

Until one day, about five years after you left, you had walked the Sidra one night, the reflections of the street lights giving the city and the river a new glow.

It enchanted you, waking you up from the stupor you had been in for so long.

After that, you spent a lot of your time around Velaris - running events for the city, making friends with several of the business owners. It felt good to find a new support system in the city - one not connected to your ex boyfriend.

You clutch your coat tighter around yourself as you weave through the streets of Velaris, heading back to your apartment. You walk by some apartments, a few men standing around outside, their boisterous laughs making you feel uneasy. One of them starts calling for you, but you ignore his words and walk faster.

You heard footsteps behind you, and you turned a corner hoping he’d stop following you.

“Leave her alone.”

You knew that voice - the deep timbre one you heard in occasional dreams, calling to you even after all these years. You stop your fast walking, turning just in time to make eye contact with those hazel eyes you’ve been dreaming of forever. You can’t run - he’s already stopped still at the sight of you, as if time was stopping for this unexpected reunion.

He stands behind the guy who was following you, his face peering over the male’s shoulder at you.

“She your bitch?”

Azriel’s growl shocks you, and the male turns, allowing his siphons to glow bright in the night. The male stops his chuckling, replaced with deep apologies, running off in the other direction as Azriel moves closer to you, and the two of you start walking in the direction towards your apartment.

The streets are quiet as Azriel follows your lead, his boots scuffing the cobblestone street. It felt strange to be next to him again, the wind rippling against the skin of his wings a sound you never thought you’d hear again.

He clears his throat, “sorry about them.” He gestures behind himself before adding, “I saw them yelling at some female and just wanted to keep anything from happening.”

You look up at him, drinking in his appearance. Thirty years had passed since he came to your apartment that day - since you yelled and screamed at him. You had wanted to yell more that day, but you were so drained from how things ended, you just wanted to move on. He looked much the same - his jawline sharp, his large nose littered with the freckles you loved so much. They were more prominent now, likely a result of the summer sun. His hair was a little lighter, cut a little shorter than you remembered it, the curls lightly dusting the top of his forehead.

You had hardly spoken to much of his family recently, your new job and not living in one of their properties making it quite difficult to schedule dinners and lunches. The last time you saw any of them was either when Elain visited you about six years ago or when you saw Cassian in a coffee shop, a tiny babe in his arms some odd years ago.

You had caught glimpses of the inner circle over the years - a wave to Feyre across a restaurant, the sight of Rhys’s smirk through a window, the bookshop clerk down the street mentioning Nesta. Glimpses of their lives, but you never allowed yourself to stop for too long to get caught back into their orbit.

You had once been so integrated into the family, but it was hard to continue when you pulled away from Azriel. They loved you, you knew that, but they were his family and it never felt quite right without him, every one of your conversations with them overshadowed by the lack of Azriel. So, you had pulled back. It’s not what they wanted, it’s not what you wanted, but it was what you needed.

So many things were the same, but he somehow looked lighter, as if the weight of the world weren’t on his shoulders anymore. It made him look so free and so beautiful.

Maybe he found someone who could finally help against his demons.

“It’s quite alright - I actually should thank you for that and for walking me home. I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking home alone after that.”

You two continue on in silence, the only sound your shoes against the cobblestones and the fae moving about on the streets, heading off for their nights to start as yours ended on this strange note. The silence was lingering for too long, old emotions stirring beneath the surface. You had to break the tension.

“Is Cassian a dad now?”

Azriel’s eyes widened before throwing his head back laughing. You had almost forgotten just how beautiful that sound was. Almost. “Fuck no.”

His chuckles bounce off the streets of Velaris as he mutters, “but he and Nesta still fuck like they’re desperate for one.”

“But I swear I saw him out with a kid with wings a few years ago.”

Azriel stops to think for a moment before squinting his eyes a bit, “do you remember the issues we had with wing clipping?” You nod, remembering how just the details of some of the things Azriel’s seen at the hands of his people made you queasy. “We helped a few of the women escape the camps - we’ve been trying to make safe spaces for them to live in to prove to the males that they don’t need them. It’s slow, but we’ve got a few dozen living in and around Velaris.”

Wow, you thought. Your smile is genuine as you congratulate him, “that’s impressive, Az!” He shakes his head at your celebratory tone. “Really, I know progress is slow with them, but that’s great.” You beam up at him before scratching the back of your head, “but it still doesn’t explain the kid I saw.”

“A few of the females brought their kids with them, and Cassian likes to spend time with each of them one-on-one. He says it’s a good excuse to get ice cream, but I think he just likes seeing them have a present male in their lives.”

You two continue winding through the streets, a cool breeze lifting through your hair. It was so odd to be here with him, odder still for this to feel normal. Azriel clears his throat, his voice a bit uncertain, “I’ve been uh delegating more.”

You pause, feet stopping on the road. They’re just words, nothing more, but Azriel’s never delegated. A true perfectionist to his core, he never even considered delegating any task Rhys asks of him. You turn to look at him, his hazel eyes looking back to you full of regret and longing.

“I’ve been uh, using some of the spies under me more. I’ve been trusting them with more important work.”

The two of you reached your apartment door, the same one Feyre had painted silver all those years ago. You can hear his shaky breath as he continued. “I don’t deserve you. I never have. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t-“ he sighs. “I don’t deserve you, but I do deserve love.”

His voice breaks at that and some piece of you shatters all over again at how poorly he was treated to never feel like he deserved anything good or kind.

“This is coming out all wrong,” he huffs, tugging lightly at some of his hair, “but Madja’s been helping me for a long time. I- it’s so hard to let me be deserving of love. I always felt I had to earn it. I felt I had to do the impossible things asked of me and that would finally make me worthy.”

He sighs, a slight thump from the door as he leans his forehead against it.

“I am worthy of being loved. And so are you.”

His hands are shaking, but his shadows wrapped around them, forming something similar to tight fitting gloves, offering some kind of security to him to continue.

“If the damage is too much, I understand. You can tell me to fuck off at any point. But if… if you would let me, I’d like to.. I’d like to show you that I’m trying. That I’ve been working on myself.”

You continue to look up at him, gobsmacked at this confessional from him.

“It’s hard. I couldn’t make progress overnight, hence my long absence. But I have made progress. I’ve uh actually been taking days off. I started going on trips to Day and Summer a few years back. I read three books at the beach a few months ago, actually.”

He laughs at the absurdity of his trip - a vacation. Something he’s never done. To spend days on his own, nothing but a book to keep him company is all you’ve ever wanted from him.

A pause. A breath. But he keeps going, needing to get his jumbled thoughts out of his head and into yours.

“It’s been a long time, but I think about you every day. I’ve probably made a fool of myself out here, but if there is any way you aren’t seeing anyone and if any part of you misses me at all…” He trails off, his fist lightly hitting the door. “I just wanted you to know that I’m trying. I’m bettering myself. I am better. I know it’s late, but..”

He trails off, unsure of how to finish his sentence. Your silence was eerie, leading him to keep talking, his words unable to stop.

“I just- I never wanted things to get here. I was foolish, and I didn’t appreciate you. It took you leaving to realize I could not continue like I was… I can’t.. Let myself hurt the people I care about anymore.”

You stay rooted, pressed against the door, not moving.

They were just words, the same things that hurt you over the years of broken promises and missed dates. But they’re so thought out. He’s had thirty years to mull things over, and he feels so much lighter than before.

You’re conflicted, but the optimist in you wins out as your voice finally finds you.

“Show me.”

Every Sunday for several weeks at 8 AM Azriel would stand on your doorstep and knock gently. You would open the door and he would present you with a bouquet of flowers - varieties of colors and species made their home on your dining room table as the weeks go by.

The two of you stroll through the city. The city you loved so dearly and for so long, parts of it feeling impossible to look at without thinking of the male next to you.

He would usually open up with some story about Cassian or Rhysand to break the ice. Then he’d tell you about his week - where Rhysand had sent him off, what he did on his days off that weren’t Sunday, anything that stood out. The two of you wander the streets, only stopping for occasional treats to eat while continuing your walk.

As the weeks go by, he starts filling you in on the past thirty years. For a long time, he saw Madja almost daily. She began providing him with herbs that helped regulate his moods, helped him sleep better, and helped him feel better. She also began having him comb through the deepest parts of himself he tried to forget, the memories of that little boy abandoned in that dungeon. He’d also tell you about how the rest of the Inner Circle was doing - Feyre and Rhys were trying for a baby, Elain was traveling a lot, Nesta and Cassian were… Nesta and Cassian.

Now he only sees Madja every other week, and she seems quite impressed by his progress. She should be, you think, he’s a far cry from the male you kicked out of your apartment all those decades ago.

After a few weeks, you began opening up to him as well. How hard it was to leave, your relationships in your time apart, how empty everything had felt without him, how you’d developed some strong friendships in the years apart.

“I had to pick up the pieces of myself too, Az.”

His heart pangs with guilt, but you reach out for his elbow, eyes bright with beginnings.

“I always wondered what I’d do if you came back to me, but I never thought you’d be how you are now. You seem so… light?” Your voice comes out more like a question, and you chuckle. “You just seem so different, but in a good way.”

“I feel different. I feel like I’m not… like I’m not that little boy anymore. Like I don’t have to prove myself to be loved. If not by you, by someone.”

His words linger in the air and you couldn’t help the pride that swelled in your chest at his words.

“I do want it to be you, though. If you’d have me, that is.”

Your heart wanted you to lean forward, wanted nothing more than for you to wrap yourself in his embrace. But before either of you could move forward, you had to know, one way or another.

“Why did you keep pushing the wedding back?”

Your voice was soft and shaky, but the question had been lingering on your mind for so long, it was on the tip of your tongue every time the two of you met up.

“I couldn’t tell you before because you would have been so nice about it, but I- I thought I was ruining you. I didn’t want you, so kind, so wonderful, to be tethered to me for all eternity. But I was too selfish to let you go. I still am, I suppose.”

He shrugs, his shoulders folding inward toward you, his wings drooping a bit. “I know now how ridiculous that sounds, but I.. wanted you but I also wanted better for you.”

He turned toward you, his skin shining like gold in the sun. He was radiant - a word hardly ever used for him before. He looked as Helion does, as if the sun was redirecting its rays through him.

“So I became better for you, for myself, for my family.”

And that was what you needed to hear. It was never about you (in many ways it was), but at the end of the day, you always wanted what was best for the both of you.

And he became that.

On a beautiful summer day, you stood on your tiptoes, your hands reaching upwards to pull his face into yours.

And by gods even his kisses felt lighter.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

People who asked for a part two: @piceous21 @itsswritten @leeknows-wife @12344321heyyy @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @naturakaashi @janebirkln @slut4acotar @kaitttttttt @queerqueenlynn @anuttellaa @dee-writes-smut @bunnyredgirl @historygeekqueen @michealharrypotter @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @dyingsinglecuzimfangirl @crazylokonugget @yearninglustfully

Thanks for reading 💕

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar writing #azriel #azriel x y/n #azriel angst

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it-happened-one-fic · 10 months ago

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Sparring Sessions - Silver

Author Notes: So.. this fic is a sort of odd one in a lot of ways. I guess you could say I was inspired by a line from Silver's P.E. uniform where he says something about how he thinks Prefect has talent with a sword. To be honest, this fic has just been sitting in my google docs gathering dust and occasionally getting workshopped for quite some time. I really didn't know what else to post this week, so this one ended up being the lucky fic. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ platonic or romantic

Word count: 1154

I panted slightly. Sliding backwards through the sand but not landing on my butt through sheer willpower and determination. From across the sandy sparring area, found in the shadow of Diasomnia’s dorm, Silver straightened. Ever calm and elegant.

He didn’t look out of breath or the slightest bit worn out, despite the fact that I was struggling to even halfway keep up with his pace.

Why exactly had I agreed to learn swordplay from Silver? Because he’d certainly done a good job of marketing it. Good enough that I almost wanted to tell Azul he should think about hiring the young man if it wouldn’t bring quite so much trouble to Silver’s doorstep.

Nonetheless, Silver’s reasoning had been strong.

Swordplay would be a means by which I could defend myself and would ensure that I was better prepared for the next overblot, whenever and if another occurred. Additionally, I didn’t have magic and was likely to be taken advantage of. Being able to defend myself would lessen that risk too.

Silver had also gotten Sebek on the case, who was more than happy to praise the virtues of learning swordplay. Citing it as a way to strengthen character as well as make me more capable.

All of that, plus a longing for something to do outside of Crowley’s many tasks and homework, had led me to this point. Determinedly sparring with Silver yet again, in an effort to beat him at least once.

Of course, before this point, there had been my lengthy training. Malleus and Lilia had both been delighted when I’d showed up asking to be trained, with Lilia even offering to be the one to teach me.

It hadn’t been very long at all, though, before my prospective teacher had backpedaled out of his offers. And I’d been surprised, until I’d learned that Lilia had done this because Silver had, out of nowhere and to the utter delight of his father, stated that he had been planning on being the one to teach me.

And teach me he had. But Silver was not exactly a kind teacher. He wasn’t cruel by any means; far from it. But he also didn’t take it easy on me. And he pushed me hard.

I’d come here to learn, and learn I would. My safety was dependent on it. But I was thankful for the way he pushed me. He didn’t coddle me, which was what I wanted.

But, that said, it didn't make repetitively losing any more enjoyable.

I huffed slightly as Silver shifted, preparing to launch towards me and continue our little joust the moment it became clear that I wasn’t about to tumble over.

His eyebrows rose at my frustrated expression, his single reaction before he darted forward at what ought to be inhuman speeds. Unfortunately, though, he was simply that fast.

I’d learned that the hard way.

Silver would never use magic against me. After all, he was chivalrous and fair, just a bit air-headed at times. However, that meant he only ever used his own innate, albeit trained, capabilities. Even if they seemed vaguely superhuman.

At the very least, I was beginning to understand exactly why Sebek was so frustrated by his seniors' skills. Even though I knew he’d had to train just as hard as anyone else, Silver’s proficiency was definitely kind of annoying.

I dodged to the side and whirled, launching myself at him. Because I knew perfectly well that this was my only chance to get him down.

His eyes went wide as I collided with him, knocking him off balance and sending us both tumbling towards the hard ground.

And I could hardly believe my luck when his back hit the earth.

He let out a soft grunt just before I landed on top of him, my wooden sword pressing into the ground just next to him. I panted heavily, looking down with slight surprise at the similarly startled young man under me.

As shock wore away, I felt pride set in, and a pleased smile curled across my face, “Ha! I win.”

I couldn’t help but teasingly gloat a little, and Silver’s wide-eyed surprise was soon replaced by a slight smile. And, for a brief moment, I genuinely believed that his smile was one of pride in the fact that his student finally won their first bout.

In reality, though, it was anything but.

His hand curled around my wrist, and, with a sudden shove paired with a yank, I had been flipped over and forced onto my back. My wooden sword rolling pitifully away across the ground.

It was my turn to stare wide-eyed up at the young man who now knelt above me, pale hair hanging around his face as he looked down at me.

To make matters worse, one of his hands securely held my wrists pinned to the ground over my head, while the other held his wooden sword to my neck. There was no getting out of this one.

“Never proclaim your victory until it is sure.” Ever the teacher, even with that frustratingly charming, if small, smile still on his face.

For a brief second, I just stared up at him, shocked. And then I felt frustration well up within me.

I began to thrash around, attempting to break his grip or knock him off me, one. Neither happened, though.

Instead, Silver remained unmoved, looking down at me with that slight smile still playing on his face. His eyes gave away his amusement, though. Beautiful purple yet blue eyes gleaming down at me with barely concealed humor.

Normally such a sight was impossible to see, but I’d been getting better at reading Silver and his subtle expressions. It wasn’t that he didn’t get amusement from things; it was just that he had to keep himself calm or risk suddenly falling asleep.

I at last stopped, breathing heavily from exertion, and he tilted his head, ever-patient and not the slightest bit condescending, as he calmly questioned me, “Done?”

I huffed out a sigh, letting myself flop against the ground and turning my face away so that I was looking across the training area instead of up at him. Even then, though, I could still see him perfectly through my peripheral vision, “I yield.”

He nodded, his smile briefly reappearing as he shifted, got off me, and stood. He held out one hand, which I silently accepted, letting him pull me to my feet with ease.

He picked up my sword and watched silently as I brushed the sand off my gym uniform. I glanced over at him, waiting for him to speak, and he tilted his head, “Next Tuesday?”

The tell-tale glimmer in his eyes said everything, but I found myself grinning back at him because I would be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying our little sparring sessions, even if he was a beyond frustrating opponent, “You’re on.”

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sstormyskyess · 1 year ago

Note

so glad i came across your blog. wondering if youu could write simon riley x f!reader where she was a former royal marines and he didn't know and found out after she got called back for a mission. maybe she's a captain?

thank you, love

-V

Glory Days

author's note: thank you for my first request!! i’m glad you found my blog and thought me worthy enough to request something for me 💜 i hope you enjoy!

cw: fluff, military reader, fem!reader, simon being anxious

word count: 1900+

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader "Finch"

♡ Being in the Royal Marines wasn’t necessarily something you were embarrassed about. It was more a matter of wanting to get a fresh start at being a regular civilian, far away from the battlefield. That’s why your previous enlistment never came up in conversation when you met Ghost and got to know each other better.

♡ When you and Ghost eventually entered a full relationship, he was surprised by how understanding you were about his occupation and the things that came with it. You were also very curious about his military activities, something that no other civilian in his life ever had been.

♡ It was about a couple years into your relationship when you got a letter from your previous commanding officer, requesting your services again since they thought your skills would be valuable for that specific mission.

♡ You were hesitant to accept, but eventually you did and you found yourself on your way to meet with your commanding officer and talk business. You didn’t know, though, that your very own boyfriend would be serving on the same mission.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Delta 2-1.” Captain Price says with a smile on his face. You smile in return and give him a firm handshake. “Please, call me Finch.” You correct him happily. “The pleasure is all mine. I’ve heard good things about you and your task force, Captain.” You put your arms behind your back with perfect poise, and give a nod toward the main building, walking off with Price in tow.

Simon stares from across the tarmac. His thoughts were racing, confused out of his mind. He almost had to remind himself to breathe, the amount of questions bouncing around in his head taking over all other thoughts, even his base instincts.

That’s why he almost imperceptibly jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder, tapping twice. He glances over to the person connected to said hand: Soap. “She’s one hell of a question mark, eh, L.T.?” He joins Simon in staring at the direction you and Price walked off to, shaking his head. “Heard she’s gonna be serving in place of Price. You know anything else about her?”

Well, he certainly did know about you. A lot of things about you. Why? Because you were his girlfriend, possibly soon to be fiancée. The only thing he didn’t seem to know about you was why exactly you were here, talking to his superior and ready to head out onto the same battlefield he’d been preparing to deploy into.

“No.” He answers simply. There was a reason Soap didn’t recognize her. He did his very best, and would do anything to keep his personal life and professional life separate; that’s why no one on the task force knew that he was romantically involved with anyone, save for Laswell. She knows absolutely everything, as much as it got on his nerves. At least she was good at keeping a secret. But now, here you were, present and apparently active in his work life. He sighs and looks over to Soap. “Tell the old man I’ll be in the weapons’ locker, if he asks.” He walks off and ignores whatever Soap was questioning him about.

♡ Ghost was shocked that he didn’t know about this particular part of your life, and he was even more shocked that you were actually considering going out on the field.

♡ It wasn’t that he doubted your abilities—quite the opposite, actually—but he was worried you’d get hurt. He was a powerful man but even he still managed to get hurt sometimes. So, knowing that you’d be at risk had him shaken up.

Simon lets out a heavy sigh. “Love, I need you to promise me you’ll be safe.” Simon has his hand on your shoulder, looking you up and down in the heavy tac vest you were adorned in. It was something he never imagined he’d see on you; it was pretty attractive, in all honesty, but he isn’t particularly focused on how attractive his lovely partner was.

He’s mostly concerned about the fact that you were about to be heading onto the field, assigned to a different team and dropped off in a location multiple klicks from where he would be. You shake your head and rest your hand on top of Simon’s. “I’ll be alright, Si. I promise.” You give him a comforting smile, taking his hand and holding it in yours. “This is nothing I haven’t done before.”

You look over Simon’s face, meeting his brown-hazel eyes and inspecting them: reading his thoughts. His eyes were so expressive, just as long as you knew what to look for. You could tell he was overly worried. You could also tell that he was fully prepared to blame himself if you got hurt out there. You swing his hand back and forth slightly, your own thoughts coming to the surface.

“You’ll be careful too, right?” You ask, your thumb running along the back of his knuckles. Simon sighs again and squeezes your hand in return. He was a calculated man but he was still susceptible to making decisions that would save his team, even if he would be putting himself in danger. Having you on the field with him was bound to make it worse.

But regardless, the last thing he wants is to distract you. Him getting himself into trouble was bound to draw your attention away from the mission. So, he nods and pulls his hand away, thinking for a moment. He wraps one of his arms around your waist then pulls the bottom of his mask up with the other.

Your eyes widen for a moment, taking a look out of the small alley between the buildings to make sure no one is watching. He takes your chin and rests his forehead on yours, kissing you gently. You lean into it, reaching up to his cheek to caress it. The two of you meet eyes once you pull away and stand there, gazing into each other's eyes for a few moments before Simon finally pulls away. “We’re wheels up soon. Let’s move.”

♡ He wasn’t expecting it, but experiencing the version of you in the heat of battle had him falling in love all over again. That commanding tone of voice and your proficiency with a weapon in hand, even after your years spent in retirement, were absolutely enrapturing to him.

♡ He wouldn’t have thought this of himself, but it seemed like watching you in your element made him realize that maybe he was attracted to that kind of power. You being his superior was only the icing on the cake.

“Delta Team, push up to the RV point!” You bark into the comms, the sound of grass and foliage cluttering your words. “Roger that, Finch. Move, move, move!” Simon honestly didn’t think he could fall in love with you even harder than he already has. Hearing you calling the shots over the comms was almost hypnotizing. He’d never heard your voice like that and it was a beautiful thing. He had to keep focus, though. He had his own team to direct.

Getting to the RV location was quite the hassle. Under a barrage of enemy fire—standard bullets, grenades, RPGs—keeping your team alive was a downright nightmare. But you managed it, the sight of Simon’s signature mask bringing you a slight bit of relief. “Ghost, sitrep, how long ‘til the charges blow?”

He doesn’t get the chance to respond before your eyes widen all of a sudden. “Look out!” You shout, shoving him to the side and toppling yourself down to the ground beside him. He grunts, looking at you confused before a sniper shot ricocheted off the ground right where he was previously standing.

“Snipers to the north, get down!” You call, taking Simon’s fallen rifle, getting into position to return fire, and quickly taking out the initial threat as though it was as easy as walking. If you weren't focused on calculating the best strategy out of this particular setback, you’d be able to see the stars in Simon’s eyes, his mind committing the sight of you expertly counter-sniping and potentially saving his life to memory. He didn't get much time to dwell on it any longer before he got dragged to his feet and rushed toward the nearest treeline.

♡ Once the operation was complete and you both got back to base with nothing but minor injuries, he finally had time to relax with you and reverse the roles, asking you an endless amount of questions about your time in active service, engrossed in the various stories you shared.

♡ Ghost listened carefully as you showed him the scars he had seen many times before and explained the story behind each one. He’d never asked before out of politeness but he got to appreciate them more fully now that he knew the details of each one.

A trail of goosebumps rises in the path of Simon’s fingers running along your spine. “I got that one a couple years into my service.” You recall, thinking about the scar he was tracing gently. His mind wanders as you talk, your voice soothing him through the imagery your story evoked.

“What about this one?” He rubbed his thumb over an old bullet wound on your side. You shift in your place on the tiny military-grade cot and sigh softly. “That was right before I retired. Sniper managed to hit between the plates.” His eyes widened at that, just a bit.

“And you managed to survive?” He chuckles softly when you nod. He leans down and pecks you on the cheek. “That’s my girl.” You blush, burying your face in the pillow beneath your head, making him laugh a bit again. He runs his hand through your hair, his fingers gentle. “So strong.” He squeezes the nape of your neck softly and feels the knots in your muscles, massaging them.

There was a peaceful silence between you two before Simon sighs. “What are you doing after all this?” You pick your head up just a bit, one brow raised. “What do you mean?” He pulls you close when you sit up to face him fully.

“Once this operation is over. Are you going to stay now that you’re back in?” He watches you process the question quietly. It was a good question. You didn’t really know what your plan was at this point. Leaving the service was a good choice on your part. You were happy just being a normal person, not constantly worrying about dying every time you left your bed.

But even so, being out on the field again was exhilarating. You didn’t imagine it would be a feeling you would miss, but now you were having second thoughts. Plus, it was wonderful being able to protect Simon yourself, knowing that as long as you were there, he was going to come back alive. You bite your lip in thought, before looking back up at him.

“I think I may stay. I’m not sure.” You run a hand up his shirt and over his back, your nails gently trailing against the scarred skin. He hums, his fingers starting to drum against your hip. “Don’t worry, Si. It’ll be okay. Promise. Plus, you need someone to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt.” You smile, kissing along his jaw and up his cheek. “I know, love, I know.” He smiles back, burying his face in your shoulder.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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eleanorblythe · 1 year ago

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Romantic Homicide - Anton Chigurh x Original Female Character - Chapter 2

This has been so much fun to write. I had honestly just intended to write some filth and call it a day, but the more I wrote the more I cared about these characters. I promise filth is coming, but right now it’s a whole lot of angst and emotions.

You can STILL use this as a reader insert because I STILL haven’t given her a name, but I think at this point it’s more of a deliberate choice than the lack of a good name, it gives her some mystery (and maybe makes me a little pretentious??)

I don’t think this will be a fully fledged fanfic, like I said this was meant to just be some disgusting smut, but apparently I need foreplay and I have ideas in the back of my mind for one off scenarios - so if I do continue this I would be open to any suggestions you have or want to see - requests will be open.

Also on Ao3 with author notes and translations - here

When she rose the next morning it was almost easy to forget there was anyone else in the house. When she walked through the dining room and peered into the bathroom to get to the kitchen, everything was exactly as it was meant to be. There was no mess, no blood and no glass. She couldn’t help but look over at her cabinet and see the empty spot where her sixth rocks glass ought to have been, but there were slightly more important things to worry about.

But first. Coffee.

Like with everything else in her home, she had the best (his) money could buy. So she was lucky enough to have a coffee machine that came with all the bells and whistles. This included a steam wand that was used for frothing milk. She quickly filled a small cup with milk and turned on the steam wand, letting it make the most awful noise. Screeching and wailing while she simply turned on her stovetop and placed her stovetop coffee maker on it to make a pot of black coffee.

She never has milk with her coffee.

Her antics did the trick. Before long Anton came wondering into the kitchen, somewhat bleary eyed and wondering at the hideous cacophony of sounds emanating from her kitchen. Her eyes tracked him from the dining room and once he set foot onto the linoleum of her kitchen she switched the steam wand off and poured her cup of frothy milk directly into the sink.

Anton clenched his jaw as his eyes bore into her. He watched her pour black coffee from her stainless steel pot into a rather elegant looking glass coffee cup.

She raised her cup, in the form of a mocking cheers or toast and kept steely eye contact with him as she sipped her coffee with one hand, and proceeded to pour the entire pot of freshly brewed coffee down the sink with the other.

Anton exhaled through his nose, whether it was with amusement or frustration or derision, she could not say, his face betrayed nothing.

But his eyes did. There was anger, exhaustion and…hurt? With her or at the loss of a very nice cup of coffee, she wasn’t entirely sure.

She made a satisfied sound as she savoured the first sip before she wondered out of the kitchen to go about her usual morning routine, once again leaving him with barely an acknowledgment of his existence.

She knew she would eventually have to confront the issue head on, but for now he would have a small taste of the type of existence she has lived through these past months.

Or perhaps he would prefer it this way?

She dressed and readied herself for the day. She had nowhere to go, but she contemplated whether to take herself off somewhere for the next eight hours, until she realised she was being childish.

This was her home, why should she be the one to leave it?

Instead she granted a small kindness, by calling Andrews from her bedroom and asking him to visit discreetly, as she was not convinced Anton had the skills to mend his arm on his own - skilful as he was.

She stepped out onto the front porch to collect the mornings’ paper. She noticed an unfamiliar car sitting on her driveway behind her own car. She thought he might have had the foresight to park it far away from the house, but the pain must have overridden all else. She took a moment to look out at the rest of the neighbourhood. Quiet. Calm. Private. She surprisingly found herself suited to the suburban life, what a difference a few years can make. She could have done without the snobbery of some of her neighbours, but she found that she was able to combat them in other, more creative ways now, that didn’t involve guns. Or knives. Or ropes. Or explosives…

She was not entirely sure Anton could. But she was sure once his arm was mended he would be back on his way again. The only sign he was alive being the regular cheques found in her mailbox. There was never a letter or note accompanying the cheque. Ever. Just a rather large number and his signature.

She looked along her fence and saw one of the boards had splintered slightly. She resolved she would have to replace the whole fence. Ridiculous. She knew, but she kept up hope believing that one day she would finally have wasted too much money on all these frivolities and open the door to find Anton glaring down at her and be given the dressing down she so dearly deserved.

And needed.

And wanted.

Desperately.

She shook herself out of her reverie and came back into the house to find Anton sitting in the living room staring at the television - that wasn’t on. It was her turn to exhale through her nose, her derision quite clear. She turned on the tv as she passed before seating herself at the far end of the farthest chair and opened up her newspaper making as much unnecessary noise as she could possibly make.

Anton’s deep, withering gaze slowly made its way from the screen to her, but by now she was completely covered by the broadsheet with only her hands peaking out holding up the sides. He noticed she still wore her ring. Not all hope was lost then.

The newscaster quietly droned on in the background, Anton wondered if this was what domesticity was. Well it would have been, he supposed, without the arsenal of weapons they both had buried under the floorboards.

There was now a reporter standing outside a motel in El Paso, surrounded by police and caution tape. He talked about the bloodshed that occurred there and linked it back to similar incidents in other motels within the surrounding area.

At the mention of El Paso, the newspaper came down a little until she was peering over the top. She knew that was one of the places Anton had been and wondered for a morbid moment whether they would show any of his handiwork on the screen. The reporter mentioned something about locks being punched out of doors. From behind her paper she allowed herself to smirk, knowing his trademark.

“Your work, dear?” She finally asked, after raising the newspaper back up when the report was over.

“Some of it,” he mumbled, his eyes still glued to the television. He couldn’t help but hear the bite in her voice at the word “dear”

She offered no other comments or conversation and for a while they remained in this seemingly blissful image of home life. Until there was a knock interrupted the quiet.

Anton snapped his head towards the front door and wished he had his pistol to hand. She curled the corner of the paper down and peered out of the window.

“You’d better get that, darling, being the man of the house and all…” she said as she folded her newspaper and tossed it onto the coffee table. The sarcasm dripping from every word.

He was skeptical, but she didn’t look too concerned so it was probably a neighbour. He rose slowly and stalked his way to the front door glancing through the peephole before releasing a long suffering sigh, recognising who was at the door.

He opened the door just wide enough to poke his head around. Andrews met his eye and his grip tightened around his medical bag.

“Mr Chigurh.” He gave a a tight smile and a nod.

“I didn’t call you.”

“N-no sir, but your wife did.”

“Why?” He practically seethed.

“Because you were half delirious and drunk when you attempted to fix yourself.” Anton heard behind him. She stepped forward, ushering Anton out of the way with a limp wave of her hand. “Come in, Andrews. Use the back room, keep him quiet, not that, that should be a problem,” she opened the door further to allow Andrews to enter.

Andrews squeezed himself between the small gap left by the couple who had both at one time or another been “patients” of his, as they entered into something of a stare off. He hurried down the hall and began to set up in the back bedroom. She had given him a brief explanation of what had happened and while he was aware Anton was more than capable of taking care of himself, it did sound like a rather serious incident that needed at least some modicum of professional care.

Anton eventually came into the room, with her in tow. She remained in the doorway as he gingerly sat on the edge of the bed.

“We’ll start with the arm, if you please, but I’d like to take a look at your leg too,”

“My leg is fine.”

A quiet scoff pulled their attention.

“Just do what the man says, Anton.”

Anton saw from his peripheral vision, Andrews gulp and exchange a tense and worried look between the two, then pretend to busy himself with his latex gloves.

She continued to stare at him, like a teacher deciding whether he needed admonishing. She must have known what he knew. The bone wasn’t set properly.

He needed help.

He did contemplate rolling his shirt sleeve up but it was too tight to do so without causing pain and he didn’t want to cut up yet another shirt. He slowly began to unbutton the first two buttons before stopping and flicking his eyes up to her. Her eyes narrowed in questioning then widened and barked out a laugh at his apparent shyness.

For a single moment, Anton saw warmth, even tenderness creep into her eyes. It quickly dissolved and she looked on in that cold and dispassionate way of hers. The whole moment reminded him of watching her at work, the way she could switch between different people, different personalities like a switch.

Once Anton begrudgingly finished unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, Andrews helped carefully peel off the shirt and started to examine the red and swollen area, all under the watchful gaze of her.

He tried. He tried so hard to show no weakness. Not in front of her. But with every poke and prod, he could feel his mask slipping. At one point Andrews must have struck a nerve because Anton flinched violently and let out a small shuddering gasp. He couldn’t help but look back at her.

She had the most inscrutable expression. Her eyes obstinately on his arm, but she could feel his eyes on her. Her eyes were moving, almost frantically, between Anton’s arm and whatever Andrews was doing with his hands.

After rummaging around in his medical bag, Andrews drew out a scalpel, he cut through the stitches Anton had obviously done the previous night and she watched as the deep crimson seeped out and started to bleed further down his arm and drip onto the plastic sheet spread over the bed and floor.

She was reminded of another time - all that blood, all that pain…

Anton gritted his teeth and kept his reactions to the pain as minimal as he could. He decided to anchored himself to her, tried to find his strength in her. His eyes never leaving her face as he waited for her to look back.

When she did finally look up at him, he was a little taken aback. Her jaw was stern, her mouth drawn in a thin line, her nostrils flared, her eyebrows drawn. But her eyes…

There was no anger, no contempt, no mocking, just total understanding, empathy and…fear. He watched as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Her lips parted as she drew a sharp inhale, like she wanted to say something, but snapped her mouth shut and immediately left the room.

Andrews muttered something of an apology followed by an almighty crack. Anton gave a chocked off scream mixed with a groan. He gripped the edge of the bed, the rustling of the plastic sheet almost deafening.

There were other cuts, other breaks that had to be made and throughout he felt weaker and weaker. At one point he had passed out.

He awoke to the pleasant relief of a cool towel being dabbed against his forehead, he opened his eyes to see her leaning over him. She met his gaze and lay the towel against his forehead. He felt the faintest brush of her fingers down his temple and cheek as she reached for something he couldn’t see. He then felt the unpleasant stab of a needle in his uninjured arm.

“Morphine.” She said quietly. “I found some, in your stash,” she pulled the needle out and placed a cotton wool ball over the small bead of blood that escaped the puncture wound.

“How long?” He all but croaked.

“A few hours. Andrews said it was worse than he thought, but it’s done. He suggested a cast, but,” she glanced over at his left arm, so did he. He saw instead of a plaster cast, an arm brace; “I thought this would be a better alternative,”

“What else?”

“The gunshot wound to your leg is already healing quite well, he didn’t need to do too much, the laceration on your other leg has a few stitches as well as the one on your forehead. You broke 3 ribs, but I imagine you already knew that, you’re to remain here for the next six weeks. After that…” she gulped as she tidied away the morphine and needle “You can go back to what you’d like,”

Anton now knew what was wrong. He never pretended to know about people and their seemingly unnecessary emotional ways - that was always her strength, but he always thought he’d at least be able to read her well enough. Perhaps the reason for his problem was the very reason she was upset and trying desperately to hide it behind her cool and facetious exterior. He wasn’t here. He hadn’t been here. For months. A wife needs her husband, and if he was honest; this husband needed his wife. The work gave him purpose, but she sustained him.

It was, perhaps, easier for her when they were both in the field, the fleeting moments when they might cross paths on separate jobs and frenzied, passionate nights in dirty motels when the adrenaline was coursing through both of them. It had been enough then to sustain them both, but after what happened, when the tables were turned on them, on her…

They both knew they always had to be prepared to die to do what they did, it was an inevitability and reality they confronted everywhere they went, but for her, it was not the fear of death, but a deep betrayal that had forced her to step away and after months and months of recovery, almost slipping into death’s arms so many times, she found that she would not - could not - return to that world, even after her arteries stitched themselves back together and wounds and scars faded to faint lines along her skin(Anton had counted and treated every one of them, with rapt attention).

He had stayed throughout her recovery, made sure she had everything should could ever need or want. He was the one who had saved her from bleeding out. He was the one who stitched her up. He was the one who relentlessly hunted down the ones who did this to her. He was the one who suggested marriage. He was the one who gave her the home he was currently laying in.

And yet despite it all.

He was the one who needed her.

So why did he stay away for so long?

It was something he continued to turn over in his head while she cleaned and tidied up her equipment. When she rose from her perch on the bed to leave, he attempted to sit up.

“Mi querida…”

“No.” She said, finally broken. She gently pushed him back down and picked up a tin tub that was filled with murky red water. “Ve a dormir.” He always enjoyed hearing her speak in his native tongue, but now she sounded so fragile, so heartbroken, so alone.

She left without looking back and closed the door behind her. She emptied the tub, put away the morphine, did the washing up. She did anything to keep herself busy, but the second she stopped a loud and horrible sob ripped it’s way out of her and she could do nothing but slide herself to the floor and try to silence her own cries.

And from his bed, Anton heard it all.

#fanfiction #anton chigurh #anton chigurh x reader #no country for old men

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ladythornofrivia · 2 years ago

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Endless Reds and Blues

Here's the link for the synopsis and the chapter list) Pair: Kakucho x Reader

(Warning: Inappropriate jokes and dialogue (if you're under 18, I'm sorry but you can't read this)

Author’s Note: This is my first post on writing a fanfic. I’m still not confident on writing here because of plagiarism or that it might be not good enough, but I’m still trying my best to write. Enjoy this chapter. (Note: Report if someone decides to steal the synopsis and my story. And notify me. Thank you) ❤️

Prologue: Meeting the Girls

Next Chapter

It is natural for men to be in a finery and elegance to withhold power bestowed upon girls. Girl after girl after girl, young men never fails to find way to collect their gazes and hearts at every turn, at every chance they get, whether at parties, malls, or even school. Hearing ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ never cease to stroke their ego, their established pride grew stronger, and their beauty hadn’t received a slight streak of conflict.

In their world, there’s no such thing as seriousness. ToTenjiku, school is all but a playground. A playground to which where they received undying admirations and compliant from their female classmates—privileges is all they’ve gained. No troubles come to them.

*~~*~~*

“That last girl we saw is cute,” Ran said, violet eyes twinkled with delight under his hooded lids, strutting down the halls, where girls have the full view on the open doors and class windows, unlocking them for a stable glimpse of their lithe figures, muttering with a tone of sharpness despite their inside voices activated. ��Big tits hiding under a uniform, too.”

Bonten had the advantage of captivating their hearts over a millisecond, also been favored and vouched—won by the hearts of their classmates and strangers alike. More so, they’ve captured the hearts of the principal and assistant principal. This is Tenjiku's way of getting out from trouble.

“That last girl you talked to has a severe case of anger issues,” Rindou said.

“How can you tell?” Ran waved his hand at the girls bypassing them.

“Because she caught her boyfriend cheating on her—threw a glass at him and the other girl. Guess you didn’t see her hands, they were filled with deep scratches.”

“She told me it’s from gardening.” With Ran’s lips, he formed it into a childish pout, his sharp, angular cheeks drawn forward with a round bump.

“It wasn’t gardening. Who the hell has time to take care of plants? Only old people do that crap when they’re bored.”

Ran hissed in disbelief. “Ah, that’s too bad. Maybe I could bring out the best of her bad side in the bed.”

“Good luck with that. She also has an unbreakable attachment during the relationship.”

Behind the Haitani brothers, Sanzu, on the other hand, is uninterested with their conversation. He wished that a piece of pill would swallow his sobering consciousness up and be as careless as he always has been, never minding what others think of him. Alas, he has no pill to fill his void at the moment.

“I can be that kind of man,” Ran answered, his lips drawn into a smirk.

“Bullshit.”

“I swear, I can do better than Casanova.”

Rindou’s eyes squinted. “You don’t take these things seriously except sleeping in your bed on days end. You overslept for more than eight hours. If anything, you’re more romantic on committing to your bed than with a bunch of girls.”

“That was ONE time,” Ran reasoned. “Although I love my bed.”

“You never let anyone go near your bed. You often pushed the girls away whenever they go to your bedroom when we invited them at the party.”

“It’s expensive!”

“You made them sleep on the couch after sex.”

“It’s a ¥300,000 bed!”

“You never give them blankets and pillows. And you made me them leave during midnight.”

“I love my blankets and pillows, too!” Ran’s eyes glazed, wounded by his younger brother’s words.

With his right hand, Rindou placed it onto his forehead, tightened with annoyance. “Whatever. I’m really starting to think who’s the mature one out of the group.”

Within seconds, his wounded expression changed when Ran winked at the girl with pigtails; she squealed with her hands clapped at once and pressed it hard against her chest with a blush caressed her sullen cheeks.

Rindou scoffed, rolling his violet eyes, the same eye colors like his older brother’s. “Don’t bother. That girl is a stalker.”

“Since when do you know shit about personal information from girls?”

“Since day one,” Kokonoi, with a shining and silken hair slipped past onto his shoulders, his thumbs typing onto the phone screen.

“I thought you’re invested with money,” Ran answered, baffled. The girls’s voices grew louder inch by inch.

“I am.” Kokonoi swept his silver locks aside. “But I do my personal time on investigating people at this school on my end.”

“Where are we heading again?”

“At the cafeteria. They’re selling boss’s dorayaki.”

“We got to hurry. Boss will be angry if we didn’t get what he wanted,” Kokonoi added.

“He’s always sleeping,” Ran commented.

“That’s Mikey’s job. You know that Mikey hates classes, but loves sleeping during class. He recollects his energy,” Kokonoi replied.

Ran guffawed. “Good thing the teachers didn’t give a shit about it.”

Girls swarmed around them, trying to reach and touch their clean and customized uniforms with their palms. Unfortunately, their daydreams on reaching close to them when the girls pushed others, going onward to Bonten with ultra confidence embodied on their walks and wide smiles from ear to ear.

Heels clicked as the group of three girls make their way to Tenjiku, who were parting a sea of crowd to get their boss’s special request for lunch. Three girls shoved the spectators aside with a slight sounds of complaints coming from other admirers. Tenjiku managed to grab every single lunch they could get. Trouble from being late—stalling from girl to girl, flirting and showering them with compliments. Boys had it rough on the sideline, watching Tenjiku gravitate girls towards them with just a look on their eyes. Other than girls, Tenjiku had their own end of shenanigans, but it was the last thing they need at this moment.

Crowds are closing in, their adoration of screams submerging, deafening their hearing. Though the girls who pushed other aside went at Tenjiku’s direction.

“Sanzu, Kakucho, get Boss’s favorite drinks, too. We’re going to be stuck here for a while if someone doesn’t get his full set grub.”

Sanzu sighed. “Kaku,” he said.

“Way ahead of you,” Kakucho said with eyes lowered at the ground, marching ahead without anyone detecting him and Sanzu. After all, Haitani brothers and Kokonoi are the popular members of Bonten.

“Ran, its so good to see you,” the girl said, Akari, her eyes glimmered in flirtatious piercing behind her animated smile.

“Good to see you, too,” Ran said, somewhat awkwardly stiff.

“When are you going to have the next party?” Akari twirled her hair.

“Your last party is so fucking cool,” Akari’s friend, Noriko beamed.

“You’re so handsome in person, Ran,” Kaori added.

Akari sent a glare at Noriko’s direction. Noriko stayed quiet, backing in two steps.

“I was wondering if you’re going to let me know about the next party. So that,” Akari went near towards Ran and slithered her index finger, lining it downward on his chiseled chest beneath the suit, “so we could have some alone time.”

Ran’s face scrunched, leaning his upper body backwards from her slithered touch.

“I appreciate if you try to keep the fingers to yourself,” Ran advised, his voice unsteadied for a second but recollect back to his usual calm self.

“Oh, I’ve been keeping fingers to myself. I kept busy, thinking about you. You’re all I could think about, me and you at your bedroom, talking so sweetly to me.”

“You mean his dick and his money?” Rindou intruded, standing beside Ran.

“I’m sorry I don’t ever recall on asking you to talk, puny mushroom.” Akari crossed her arms, and with a tilt on her head angled on the side, she gave Rindou’s sudden appearance with pure disgust in her eyes, despite wearing a sweet smile etched on her lips.

Rindou’s brow twitched.

Ran cleared his throat. “I appreciate the compliment, but as of right now, we’re in a hurry to grab lunch for my friend.”

In an instant, Akari wrapped her arms around Ran’s right arm, hugging it against her chest, tight as an iron grip.

“We could make time. Starting now. Just you and me, together, talking about us.” She released a half-hearted giggle. “We’re going to be best of friends, or whatever you wanted me to be as.”

Rindou pushed her back with brute force, and watched Akari fell back on the floor with a squeak slid from her shoes.

“Ow—hey! What the hell?!” Akari said with a sharp hiss. Her shoulder pained from a sudden push.

“Stop touching my brother,” Rindou warned. “There’s a rule to anyone who shouldn’t touch a Bonten member or going near us by 3 inches.”

“You know what that means, don’t you?” Kokonoi dared Akari.

“Bitch,” one shouted from the crowd. “Respect their space!”

“Get off of their space!” Another voice shouted from the thickened crowd.

The crowd roared with agreement, chanting.

Akari, who drew a long sigh onto her pain, gave one last look on Rindou before scurrying from the cafeteria with her friends following her. The chanting soon died down and went back onto their lives.

“It turns out she’s nothing but a cheap knock-off, dubbed herself as a rich girl,” Rindou said.

“How do you know?”

“She stole some her parents’s money from the bank account from winning a lottery,” Kokonoi informed, scrolling onto his latest smartphone.

Rindou and Ran whipped their head fast. “They won the lottery?!”

“Since two weeks ago, their fortune is around the cost of 900 million yen.”

“And none of her parents noticed her stealing their shit?” Ran exclaimed.

“Akari blamed it on her relatives. Apparently she declared and dubbed her relatives as poor and desperate. She also claimed that she got a job that has a high-paying salary. She never got a job.”

The Haitani brothers drew their breath in.

What a fucking nightmare to be with.

“Well, that explains why she acted so confident,” Ran said.

“Let me ask you this question. Did you fuck her at our last party?” Rindou asked.

“Never,” Ran answered. “I was at the bar the whole time with Kakucho, serving up time for other ladies who are demanding my attention. Besides, I don’t recall on fucking her silly. I’m completely sober all night at our last party.”

“Was she at our last party?” Rindou whipped his head, asking Kokonoi.

“I don’t think so. I didn’t see her and her friends’s names on the list.”

“So, she decides to talk big on us,” Ran concluded.

“On you,” Rindou emphasized.

“What a joke. She doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Akari’s usually a quiet girl. What made her changed her alterego?”

“Her parents’s winning lottery.”

They all laughed. By then, they were still waiting up on Sanzu and Kakucho.

“What’s taking them so long?” Ran scratched his head, then fixing his usual hairstyle back again in gentlest caress, flicked his wrist to check the time on an expensive watch he bought two days ago.

“Dunno,” Rindou said. “We should catch up onto them. You know how girls are, they can be real rowdy, still trying to block our way.”

“That’s what we get for being pretty,” Ran said with a cheeky smile.

Kokonoi was the first person on heading straight towards Sanzu and Kakucho. They marked and registered the school’s map in their minds. They walked around school several times—in the matter of their routine—to fill the girls’s heads with cloud nine. This should be a cinch to them.

Little did they know, there was a real challenge lurking at their path, soon to divulged, to be crossed with their world with someone else’s.

141 notes · View notes

k-x-tana · 2 years ago

Text

'I see you'

Pairings: Merida DunBroch & Hiccup Haddock Horrendous III (mostly platonic)

Word count: 5,424

Synopsis:

After reuniting with his mother during a crusade for magic, Hiccup is overwhelmed by the things that this event has awakened, however, he is not alone, a good friend comes to help him.

Or, where Merida and Hiccup tell each other parts of their lives that they hadn’t allowed themselves to share with anyone else.

(Most of this is just Hiccup and Merida telling each other how they viewed their stories)

Warnings: Abandonment issues, regret, insecurities.

Author's note:

Hi everyone! First of all, this is my first fanfic ever, I wrote this just to please my 9-year-old-self and she was obsessed with mericcup, but it has little to no romantic content, it's more of a character study, I needed to understand MY Hiccup, because I changed A LOT of the HTTYD plot, I really just stayed with the first movie, the rest it's just little bits of all of the other things, so keep that in mind. For me it's just the start on a slow burn but but you don't have to see it the same way.

Also, this is part of a RoTBTFD saga, and if you just like all of this people being friends, no shipp drama (not even the canon one), then the first book of said saga is for you, no shipps, just friends and bonding and a little bit of angst, after that, there willl be slowburn mericcup, so stay tuned! (The thing with Hiccup and Valka would be fixed eventually, it's in their nature to understand).

Thanks for reading!

Other places to read:

AO3 (english)

AO3 (spanish)

Wattpad (spanish)

That morning, Hiccup discovered that her mother had not been killed by a dragon, leaving no trace behind, but left Berk, she had seen how a dragon showed curiosity for her son, saw that dragons are not bloodthirsty beasts, she thought maybe there was something else behind all this ridiculous war, but if so, in the village they would never listen to her, they would probably throw her overboard; being the village chieftess would not gain her any privileges. So she left her son in the care of her husband, and left the only home she had ever known.

When Valka and Stoick reunited, she was sure he would hate her; but her husband simply took her face, wiped her tears and welcomed her back into the family; turns out that Vikings don’t usually stop to think about the past. Or, well, most Vikings.

At first Hiccup was happy, but as the day went on, he began to think about what it meant for his mother to be gone, everything plummeted when in his mind a short, simple and hurtful phrase echoed: "So, that’s why she left me".

That terrible idea did not come alone, it took many different forms, but so far it had not left him alone. Hiccup retained his emotions as much as he could, it wasn’t something he used to do, but this time he didn’t really know how to act, so he kept a slight smile all day and just watched her parents dance, love and tell how much they had missed each other. During the night everything exploded. In his insomnia, Hiccup was scheming so many ideas and questions that he thought he would ignite at any moment. Then he began to feel that he was short of air and that he had a big, heavy lump in his throat, he needed fresh air urgently, so he began to walk towards the exit, and he inadvertently started running; he only stopped outside the ice cave, then the air began to fill his lungs again, but it was not enough to continue to hold the cry and fell on his knees. Shortly after that, Toothless arrived, he brought a boot and a blanket, the dragon had accompanied him for many nights where it was only him, Toothless, the fire of the chimney and his silent tears, today he did not care to let out sobs or gasps, he was tired of being silent.

The pair of friends were huddled together, until the sound of the iron falling interrupted them.

-Hiccup? Oh my, are you hurt? Is everything okay?

It was Merida, her hair looked even more agitated than usual and she had an untied boot. What they heard was the girl’s huge sword that she had dropped to the ground as soon as she saw Hiccup hugging Toothless and rushed over to make sure they were okay.

-What are you doing up?

-I... couldn’t sleep and I heard you running away, I thought something would have attacked you, besides, I don’t know if your sense of direction is as bad as Corona’s and I didn’t want you to get lost here by yourself.

She finished scanning them and their agitated breathing began to stabilize, apparently no one had hurt them. However, she noticed his friend’s wet eyes and the dragon’s sad look.

-Oh Hiccup, do you need anything? I can give you some space, or listen to you or just stay with you without talking or-

-Stay. Please stay.

The boy wiped his face a little, sat on the edge of an overhanging rock and pointed the place to her. She sat and then turned to him:

-Do you... want to talk?

-I’m not sure, but I’d like to try.

-Whatever you need.

She smiled at him, and he returned the gesture. Toothless moved a little so that Merida could reach his head to scratch it. Hiccup took a deep breath:

-These days have left me exhausted, but today more than tired, I am... confused, I think, a little angry even. Meeting your mother after 20 years shouldn’t be so painful, I should be happy, all my life I was imagining what my life would have been like if she had been with me at Berk. I thought that would have made the days where I haven't met Toothless yet, well, easier. I never imagined there would be a life with her away from the island, and now I’m not sure what I would have preferred, or why I care so much to answer that question.

-How did you imagine your life with her before?

-Well... I don’t know, I think that more than having her with me, I needed someone to keep me company, anyone. I know it’s hard to believe, but I wasn’t always "Berk’s pride".

In the last sentence Hiccup made his voice deeper and bent his arms showing his thin biceps. "At least he still maintains his terrible sense of humor," she thought. Then the boy returned to his hunched pose, resting his elbows on his knees.

-I tried to fit in as much as I could with the other Vikings, to be strong and big like them, but as hard as I tried I could never, not quite. You know? For the last attack before we faced the red death, my father needed volunteers to go on an expedition to find the nest, and nobody wanted to go until he said that whoever stayed would have to take care of me. Of all the adults in the village, only Gobber, the old woman and a couple of farmers stayed on the island. Maybe they didn’t see me as a productive member of the community, and I was always screwing up, but they didn’t gave me a chance to prove otherwise either, they’re too stubborn to do something like that. Before I understood that dragons are not enemies, I was always to be equal to others, or not to get in the way. I was so lonely for so long.

Merida thought of her father, he taught her that she had potential, to develop it, she couldn't imagine what life could have been in the castle without him. However, the walls of the castle were very lonely as well, more so when her brothers were not yet born.

-And today, to see her, to know her a little... We are very similar, now I see that all of this-

He pointed at all of himself.

-Didn’t came out of nowhere. I think having her would have made me feel accompanied, understood. And the worst thing is that she saw Berk, she lived there, Gods! She was the head of the village! , she saw everything that was wrong about dragons, and she saw me, she knew I was not as strong as the rest because I came early to this world and almost died in the crib. Still, I don’t understand what made her think Berk was a good place to leave me all alone. And I know it’s unfair to say that, I had my father and Gobber, but being the Chief while grieving her, I wasn’t his only responsibility, since I was 7 he left me almost totally in charge of Gobber, and neither of them ever listens to me. I don’t understand how anyone can make that decision... But I’m willing to listen, maybe I don’t like what she'll say, but I think I need answers.

The boy turned to see his friend, and was surprised to see her gaze fixed on him, it seemed that she was about to release an arrow, one would think that that expression would be intimidating, but Hiccup had seen her frown the same way when Jack showed her the way, or when Rapunzel explained to her how they had solved the whole matter of her hair, the sun and the moon; she was simply paying attention to him, only that he had never seen her so determined (and so close). The boy felt the heat running down his face to his ears and looked down, he thanked for his tan skin and Odin who hid the sun so she wouldn't notice. Even now that he was used to being listened attentively by the entire village, he had never talked about that part of his life with anyone, not even Astrid, because it was not necessary, she had seen it with her own eyes.

-What about the blonde girl? I thought you and her... Well, you have a very strong connection, I thought she would have been with you since the beginning.

-You mean Astrid?

-She’s the only blonde girl in the group, Haddock, I doubt you can mistake her for Gobber.

The boy smiled slightly, she was right, and he really needed sleep.

-Oh, well, she became my friend thanks to Toothless, like everyone else, although our story is a little more complicated than that. I remember when we were barely 10 years old I used to go out and walk in the woods as far as I could, and once I got lost, that time I thought the rest of my life I would live among deer and rabbits, but she found me, told me "no Viking should be left behind", then took my hand, guided me through the forest showing me in detail what was the way back. By the time we saw the village again, she had my heart in her hands.

-You really are easy to impress, huh?

-Hey, that was the first time someone from the village care to help me. And the first time someone called me a 'Viking'.

-As you say, lover boy.

-Well, after that, it was about four years of absolutely nothing, at best she scolded me, saying that I had to take my place among others, take things seriously or try harder. Today I understand why she told me all those things, she was one of the few who had a little common sense, and it was always central to her the commitment to Berk and the community, without blind trust, of course. She was the first to trust me and Toothless, the first to know about him, and the first to support me in the fight against the red death. But it was only until that moment that she really saw me, that she regarded me as more than just another child in the village. And after the battle with the dragons ended, she... Well, she fell in love with me, and she didn’t know what to do with that, so she acted like nothing happened, and when I tried to get close to her, she would get me away, usually with hurtful words.

-How did you solve that? You look so close now...- She had the same eyes a kid has when the bedtime story gets too exciting.

-Actually, we fixed it because I exploded and asked for an explanation

-Did you have to explode to ask for an explanation?

-Huh, I guess so.

-And did you told each other how you felt?

-It sounds easier than it is, but yes, long story short we did. Now that we knew that we loved each other, it seemed pretty easy to fix everything, right? Well, we tried to be together for a while, but we realized that we wanted different things, she wanted to stay and I wanted to leave, and that what was good for us was just to support each other and that made our friendship even stronger, she would make sure I don't lose the floor and I would help her... Well, I’m not really sure, but she likes me a lot so I guess I have to do something right. She’s like my soul mate and she’s one of the most important people in my life.

-So you’re not together now?

-Nope, this guy is single. Why? You interested?

Hiccup arched an eyebrow and gave her a smirk. A very dumb one. Merida let out a chortle, although it really sounded far away from a normal laugh.

-Okay, I have experience with rejections, but you didn’t have to make fun of me like that.

Hiccup’s remark only made her laugh more, and instead of feeling offended, the laugh became contagious.

-I guess I have a bright future, I have found my mother, new friends, a mission, an opportunity to learn more about dragons... Maybe I didn’t get a girlfriend with a stunning Scottish accent, but whatever.

-If you keep making me laugh we’ll wake up the others.

-It seems that I touched a nerve.

-You have no idea.

-I could, if you'd like to tell me...

-I would like to, but I’m not sure this is the right timing, you are my priority right now.

There was silence for a moment, a warmer feeling in Hiccup's stomach.

-Gods, you have no idea how much I like to hear that.

Hiccup smiled at Merida, and this time she was the one who suddenly had her face as red as her hair. She didn’t thank anything nor anyone, she was well aware that even in the dark night her carmine face was evident.

-I’d like to say that to you more often, but if you’re going to get all sentimental every time I do, then I think I’ll keep it for special occasions only.

-Ha ha, how funny, even when you blush for my charms you take advantage of my vulnerability.

-You’re not as charming as you think, Haddock.

-Ouch, okay. Thanks for your consideration, but I think a distraction might help, let me listen to you for a while, would you?

Merida sighed, took her hands to her face, hoping the cold touch would help lower the temperature of her cheeks.

-Okay, I’ll tell you.

Hiccup got up, moving a little away from the edge, Toothless accompanied him and settled down so that the two friends could lie down on him and look at the stars. Merida understood and settled down on the side of Hiccup, arranged the blanket that Toothless had brought to cover them both.

-You see, a few years ago, my mother sent three letters to the lords of the allied houses, Macguffin, Dingwall and Macintosh. I had already reached the appropriate age to make the traditional games for the heirs of each house to fight for my hand in marriage.

-Wow, do they really do that in your village?

-I’ll get to that. And actually, we are a kingdom.

-Alright new-world girl, get on with your story.

-So, all my life I lived inside the castle, I only went out to ride Angus or for some lesson; I do not know how my mother expected me to be ready to marry when I had only had human contact with my family and the people who work in the castle; or maybe that’s the whole point. Anyway, back then, my mom and I had a terrible relationship, she wanted me to become this perfect princess, a symbol of righteousness and grace that is always at the service of all and whose life is limited to tending the castle and the lands. And I’ve never wanted that, I mean, now I understand why all the boring protocols I’ve been taught throughout my life are important, and why I'm important. But at the time my mother only thought that this was the only goal of my life and I thought that nothing that happened made sense.

-I think I would have thought the same as you.

-It was difficult not to do so when no one ever explains you the reason for something but force you to obey it.

-Touché.

-When the lords and their sons arrived, my mother explained the rules "Only the firstborn of each clan can compete for the hand of the princess of DunBroch", and well, I am the firstborn of my clan. And, according to tradition, the princess chooses the activity with which the clans compete.

-Let me guess, you chose archery

-Duh. Nonetheless, when I faced the clans to defend my hand I almost started a war. My mother was furious, we had a big fight and I thought that the only way to achieve what I wanted was by changing my mother so that the thought that bethrothing me to some lord was not necessary. I took Angus and I rode into the forest, we reached some very old stone steles, in my kingdom we say that those stones were placed by benevolent trolls, and that there they wrote instructions to control magic, as a symbol of peace between the men and the creatures of the forest. It’s a very important magic center. When I got there, the first thing I saw was a path of little blue fire-like creatures, what we call Will-o’-the-whisp, souls that decided to stay longer on earth to guide the living to their destiny. They took me to a witch’s cabin and I asked for an enchantment to change my mother, I wanted her to stop believing that marriage was a good idea, but when I came home and gave the enchantment to my mom, she turned into a bear. Once again I acted without knowing the consequences.

"Magic really is strong in DunBroch", he thought while trying to hide his amazed expression. At the same time, he remembered having an encounter with something very similar to this souls Merida described, but kept it to himself.

-Then I had to take her out of the castle, and try to find answers. Meanwhile, my mom and I had the opportunity to get to know each other a little better, she listened to me and I listened to her, or something like that, she was a bear, she couldn’t communicate with anything but gestures.

-That explains why it is so easy for you to understand Toothless.- he said, althoug he didn't mean it to be outloud. He scolded himself.

-You think so? Corona is also tactful with animals and this boy gets along very well with Jack.

She said as she scratched the dragon’s forehead, he seemed very comfortable and happy.- He relaxed a bit, he hadn't lied anyways.

-Yes, but you listen more calmly and do it more often, I think you are the only one who "converses" with him besides me. I would even say you're his second favorite, after me, of course.

Toothless turned a little to lick Merida’s face.

-Toothless, I told you that doesn’t come off! Stubborn, giant lizard. Wait, I have a handkerchief over here.

-Don’t worry, that's how you show affection, don’t you? oh, poor boy, the bad Viking mistreats you?

Toothless nodded, feigning a painful scream as Merida scratched his chin.

-Great, another rejection.

-What can I say?, everyone wants a little of me, you should get used to it.

-And here I thought that this trip would lead me to make more friends, not to lose those I already have.

-Do you want to keep listening to my story or are you going to keep feeling sorry for yourself?

-Please continue, at least I will know well who is leaving me alone in the world once more.

Merida rolled her eyes, but she contained laughter.

-Well, we went back to the witch’s cabin, and it turned out she left us a message, said we only had two days to undo the enchantment or my mother would become a bear forever, and just recited a couple of rhymes as a clue.

The girl cleared her throat a little and gave a more mystical tone to her voice:

-’Fate be changed, look inside. Mend the bond torn by pride.’

Hiccup felt chills, sometimes he forgets that Merida can have visions and recite prophecies, when the girl’s blue eyes became glassy, as if looking at something in the distance, while speaking in Gaelic.

-That was really creepy.

-I think you’re too soft.

-Oh come on, attacking me again. Better keep talking.

-As you wish. The point is that it didn’t really tell us anything, so we left, frustrated. Well, before that we made a couple of weird mixes with the jars the witch had left and almost destroyed the whole cabin.

-I think we should reconsider entrusting you with the spell...

-Haven’t you just say you wanted a chance to prove yourself despite your mistakes and-

-Okay, okay, I get it.

-Better. Then we were discouraged and nervous, but once again the will-o’-the-whisp guided us, this time towards the ruins of an old kingdom. That’s where I had my first vision. I touched a broken carved stone, and I saw a man become a bear in an ancient throne room. You see, my mother always told me the story of an ancient kingdom, the king divided the kingdom among his four sons before he died, but the elder was superb, and proclaimed himself the legitimate leader of all the land above his brothers, The war on those lands continued until my father and the lords united to defeat a common enemy. Remember when I told you how my father lost his leg?

-He was attacked by a bear called Mort

-Mor'du, but yes. It turned out that in all that time, the greedy son who faced his brothers became Mor'du, he wanted the strength of 10 men and asked the witch for the same enchantment as me. When I returned to the present and saw the broken stone, I understood what the witch told me: during the fight with my mother, I cut in half a tapestry that she was making, the whole family was in it, I sliced my sword right were my mother and I held hands. That tapestry had to be mended. Suddenly, in the shadows I saw a huge beast full of arrows that pierced his thick skin, a blind eye, and a black and ruffled fur that was advancing dangerously towards me. Without knowing it, we had entered Mor'du’s home. My mother and I ran and we managed to lose him. Now that we knew what to do, we went sneaking to the palace. Meanwhile, in the castle, things were getting tense, the lords wanted to know which clan I was going to marry. My father defended me every second...

Merida smiled slightly, remembering her father's courage.

-Before mending the tapestry we had to avoid a war, so I went to talk to the lords while my mother explained to me with signs what to say, and against all odds, my mother asked me to say to break with tradition and give me and the young heirs, the opportunity to follow our heart and find love in its time.

-That's hard to believe, amazing.

-I know, I wouldn't have expected it, I was honestly about to pick one of those three before my mother stopped me to give a precious speech about making our own decisions.

-Really? Which one were you going to choose?

Hiccup's eyes were mischievous. In less than a second, Merida’s face was boiling.

-It is not important.

-Oh, come on, I don’t even know them.

-Most likely you will.

-Even if I have the pleasure of meeting then, I promise not to tell anyone.

-Hiccup, I trust you, I’m not worried that you’ll tell them, I’m worried that you’ll know.

-All right, I won't insist further.

Until then she had not wanted to tell anyone, but Hiccup had entrusted her with a vulnerable part of his life. It wasn’t that she owed him anything, but she wanted things to be reciprocal, so she took a deep breath and let go:

-Macguffin, I would have chosen Macguffin.

Hiccup seemed surprised, but ventured to ask more.

-What is Macguffin like?

-Well, today I know he’s kind, altruistic, sensitive and a great friend, but at the time I would have chosen him more than anything because the other two guys didn’t show their best side, Macintosh had a terrifying outburst of anger when his shot wasn’t perfect, And Dingwall just looked distracted and you could tell miles away that he was only there to do a duty to his clan, at least Macguffin seemed interested in me and not in my title. Although if we’re strict, I should have been Lady Dingwall, he was the one who hit his the bullseye, even if it was mere coincidence.

-Merida Macguffin... It doesn’t sound so bad. They match.

The girl hid her face between her red curls, and spoke to Hiccup in a very faint voice.

-For Gods’ sake, Haddock.

The boy laughed.

-Come on, Merida, I’m just messing with you.

-I know...

-Why don’t you finish your story instead? I suppose you managed to break the spell.

The girl looked up at Hiccup, nodded and came out of her hiding.

-Fortunately, although it was not easy, the will-o'-the-wisp led me once again to the stones, they were about to kill my mother, I had to fight with my father, and if it was not enough trouble, Mor'du decided to go out to greet. My mother and the devil bear had a gruesome fight, but Mom got one of the stones to fall on him. When Mor'du stopped breathing, his soul came out of his body and gave us a little bow, before turning into a whisp himself; it seems he just needed someone to free him from the bear skin he got himself into. When it was all over, the sun began to shine, I hurried and covered my mother with the tapestry, begging the gods and fate not to be too late. And for a moment it was it, I saw my mother lose the white in her eyes and become just a creature of the forest, and I felt the weight of the world on me. I thought I had lost her forever, and it was my fault. There are still days when I have nightmares where I really lose her like that, where i loose her because I was selfish and stubborn.- He saw something in Merida, something he thougt impossible: fear, regret.

-That day, life gave me another chance, and my mother returned to her human form, just like my brothers. After all the fuss, my mother and I really changed, I took her lessons more seriously, and she was more patient with me. Now we both hear each other, and we understand each other, we’re closer than ever.- Merida was watching something beyond the sea in front o of them, her eyes full of love and pain at the same time. She was far from home.

-Despite everything, I wanted to learn more about magic, how to use it, stop it, and mold it as much as possible. So without telling my parents, I went to take lessons with the same witch who gave me the spell that time, I mean, she just gave me what I asked for, and I know some problems would have been avoided if she had explained in detail what was going to happen and how to undo the spell, but she’s the only one who knew magic in the whole kingdom, and being something so alive and so present in our lives, it seemed wrong not to know anything about it, even if in doing so, I hurt the relationship with my family... My parents didn’t want me to go near magic again, but being in DunBroch that’s impossible.

-I think I understand you, the dragons were also as present in our life as the sheep and we never stopped to think why they attacked us. We just took the war for granted.

-You know? The relic I’m trying to save on this mission belongs to one of the clans, blesses them with good harvests every day of the year, and we all rely heavily on those harvests during the winter, if I didn't have asked the witch for help, right now we wouldn’t know what to do, chaos would ensue and everyone in the kingdom would be dead by next spring. I honestly think we all make a great team, I’m sure we’re gonna make it. I know that even after we recover the magic of the relic, we have a lot ahead of us. You don’t know how grateful I am to everyone for helping us with this and trusting me.

Merida tried to hide a yawn, and failed. Hiccup sneered.

-Don’t you think I should have been the one bored by your story? Or doesn’t Her Majesty usually sleep late?

-My story was not boring, Haddock. And, just so you know, I sleep a lot, sometimes in the castle, it is necessary for my mother to take the triplets to bother me to get me out of bed. And between my unexpected insomnia, Toothless and this delicious blanket, I’m more comfortable than you’d expect to be out in the open at midnight.

Hiccup realized that he was also starting to feel heavy on his eyelids. Finally, he was resting.

-Sorry I woke you up and worried you, but i'm thankful that you did.

-Hey, we’re more than a team, okay? We’re friends. The day you need me and I’m not there for you is the day my heart stops beating, I promise.

He took a moment to see the stars shining on him, and then to Merida and the kind smile she had over him. There was something comfortable in her, and not just that, she was amazing in all kinds of aspects; he found himself mentally listing all of them.

-Well...- She looked nervious and her cheeks were light pink, maybe he stared at her a little too long- I think it's time for us to go back before we fall sleep here, don't you think?

-Yeah, sure, you're right.- He got up in a jump. -Let's go.- He extended his hand to help her get up, she took it.

-I'll take the blanket!- She said in a playful tone, and hurried to cover herself with the thick fabric.

-How considerate of you...- He looked at her like she was dressed in jewels and silk. Fortunately, Merida was already walking back and didn't noticed.

That morning Hiccup thought that he would have a broken heart for the rest of the trip at least, but as he saw her leave, he realized that he wasn't so sure anymore.

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mikathemonster · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! I saw your 'pick a prompt' post, and if its not to late i'd like to request Number 3 from the situation prompt with Kili

Have a good day and make sure to stay hydrated!

"signing my life away"

author's note: OH MY GOD I'M SO GLAD SOMEONE FINALLY REQUESTED THIS ONE IT'S MY FAVORITE!!! I've been dying to write something for this prompt in particular, so I'm so glad you requested it <3 (definitely wrote this while having covid so I made reader get sick so I could relate to something lol) maybe i’ll even write a second part to this? idk yet

Pairing: Kíli / Gender-Neutral Human Reader

Word Count: 3,246

summary: being a scribe-for-hire is easy. a scribe for a dwarven prince? not so much, especially when he drives you insane.

content warnings: illness (it’s a cold), kinda enemies to lovers??, regular Kíli shenanigans

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks and you already wanted to quit your job as a scribe-for-hire. But of course, the grand kingdom of Erebor had other plans for you in mind. Other plans that seemed to come in the form of two equally-annoying princes.

Of course, they hadn’t bothered you much when you had first arrived at the Lonely Mountain. No, for your first week had proven quite fruitful and lovely, with most of your work coming from the commissions of young dwarrowdams who wished to court their fancies with letters proclaiming their love. It was something you easily found yourself enjoying, being a romantic yourself. It was also through these commissions that word spread like wildfire of your services. And that fire had seemed to blaze even brighter to the two dwarven princes of Erebor.

Fíli and Kíli, you had come to know, were quick to approach you after only being in Erebor for a week and a half. For the price of following them around at will and answering any scribe-worthy commission they could think of for the next month, they had offered to completely furnish and compensate your life while living in the dwarven kingdom. And how could you have said no to such an offer? You had barely come with enough wealth for yourself!

But soon you were finding yourself to have made a grave mistake. On days when Fíli wasn’t busy on diplomatic matters, he’d summon you for his daily walks where he’d muse about writing rude letters between his friends. At first, you thought the idea was amusing, albeit strange. You questioned his judgement, but nevertheless followed through with his requests, writing letters to people such as Dwalin, Bofur and Nori. At first, it didn’t seem to come to fruition of anything. But you were quickly proven wrong when suddenly you found yourself caught in the throng of a huge fight between such people who had come to Thorin for advice while he and Fíli had been lost in conversation. You had only one mental note from that day forward: never anger a dwarf. It seemed that Fíli, though mindful and royal as he was, had a propensity for wild discourse.

And his brother? Goodness me, he was even worse! Kíli, the youngest dwarven prince of Erebor, was a henchman of chaos himself. At times, it even reminded you of your own youth, though you could not recall being nearly as wild as this. His requests were similar to Fíli’s, but decidedly targeted his whiles to a more heightened scale. Rather than reducing himself to rude letters, he had commissioned you to write scandalous rumor articles that all surrounded a rather dangerous man to make an enemy out of: Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. At first, you had refused; how could you do such a thing to the one person who could surely banish you from the entire kingdom? But reminding you quickly of your deal, Kíli had been quite insistent, and so you had no choice. And by the gods, you wished you hadn’t; Thorin couldn’t escape whispers and laughter in the halls for three entire days, much to your help! You were lucky he didn’t know who had written such things.

And thus came the conclusion to your first two weeks in Erebor. Only two weeks in, and you were already getting worried of how this new job of yours would reflect on your reputation, especially if you continued to entertain the endeavors of these two princes.

The next week grew to be a slight bit easier, but only when it came to Fíli, who found himself much too busy with princely matters than to find himself using you as an instrument for his grand pranks. You had hoped that through his busy schedule, you could avoid Kíli, but the youngest prince had quite the tenacity for hunting you down. Indeed, it seemed he couldn’t fathom the idea of leaving you alone, for your latest days had been spent with him following you around as he aimlessly threw about silly little ideas for equally insane writings. The same thing was occurring today as well, as you found yourself trying to meander out of the forges and to the library for some peace and quiet.

“Oh, and just think of what mess we could make of Bombur!” He grinned like a cat, and you thought him to be a child. “He’s so easy to rile up, he is. I bet we could even get Bofur in on it.”

“We?” You said, your voice dry. “Please do not make the mistake of binding me together with you. I’m merely doing a job that you paid me to do.”

“Aye, and what a wonderful job that is,” he said smiling, practically beaming at you as you bobbed and weaved through the various working stations of the ironsmiths. “I must start recommending you to others. Or perhaps I won’t, and keep you all to myself.”

You raised a brow at his comment, finding yourself irked. “I didn’t come here to stage pranks, I’ll have you know. I wish to be taken more seriously than simple games.”

“Games?” He mused, laughing. “Does the meaning of the word ‘fun’ escape you?”

This time you turned completely, stopping in your tracks to face him as the heat of the forge grew on your face. You were getting annoyed. It seemed Kíli could see this, and it seemed to only fuel his teasing. “I’m serious,” you said. “When I first arrived, I was writing wonderful love letters. Love letters! All you ever make me write are rude, childish things.”

“Love letters?” He said, his teasing expression dropping for a moment as curiosity replaced it.

“Yes, love letters!” You said. “And I was excited to establish my name on them! But now, I worry that all I’ll be known for are your stupid pranks.”

“Well, tell me more of these letters,” he said. “So that I may get to know your penmanship better.”

You scoffed, walking away. You were getting tired of this man who seemed to adore making fun of you. “Oh please, you don’t actually mean to entertain this conversation. For the last three days, all you’ve done is rile me up with these wild requests of yours! I won’t risk you sullying my name any longer, Kíli.”

“Sullying your name?” He said, chasing after you and out of the forges as you made a beeline for the libraries. “How have I done such a thing?”

You groaned into the air, turning quickly on your heel to seethe at him. Too quickly, mind you, as he clumsily fell right into you, leaving you both to tumble to the floor with a panicked gasp. You expected your head to meet the cold and hard marble of the floor, but found yourself surprised when it met Kíli’s hand, protecting you from the stone. For a moment, mostly out of shock from the moment, you looked at him to find him scanning your face for any sign of pain.

“Are you hurt?” He said, and soon you realized just the predicament you were in. His eyes were worried immensely, and for a second you almost forgot yourself. Almost.

“This is exactly what I mean,” you said with frustration. “First your brother makes me forge letters, then you have me writing scandals, and now we’re both lying on the floor on top of each other! What would someone think, should they see us?”

Seeing you were healthy enough to argue, he sighed, standing up and dusting himself off. “What a lucky dwarf?” He mused, offering his hand to help you up. You refused it, getting up and continuing your trek to the library. “Aw, come on, Y/N!” He called after you. “It was merely a jest!”

“Stop following me!” You said. “I don’t want to see you, and I would rather you leave than force me to resort to cheap tricks to get you to do so!”

“Cheap tricks?” He scoffed. “Of what kind?”

“You think you’re the only one who can think of witty writings? Well, think again,” you boasted. “Just think of the unsavory things I could write about you!” It seemed your threat did well to stop him in his tracks, for soon you stopped hearing his footsteps trailing from behind.

That was a week ago. One week since you blew up at a dwarven prince, one week since you had done any work as a scribe, and one week since the guilt of your attitude began to gnaw at your insides. You knew you had been too harsh; you should’ve just kindly rejected their offer, there had been no need for yelling. But then again, Kíli and his brother could’ve helped a great deal more if they had been more understanding. But how could they have been, anyways? You were a stranger to Erebor, they barely knew you! It seemed it was nobody’s current fault but your own, and the guilt of knowing that was becoming a bit too much.

You had originally planned on apologizing the day after it had happened, but had quickly found yourself sick with a cold; you summed it up to being some sort of penance. In that week, neither of the two dwarven princes had summoned you or requested your presence. A good thing, probably, as you needed the rest to recover, but you worried that it was your previous actions that had led to the halt of communication. Most unfortunate of all was your lack of friends in this new city; in all your time so far, you had been so busy with the princes (especially Kíli) that you hadn’t had much time for putting yourself out there. As a result, there was no one to check on your condition, leaving you to cough and sneeze and blow your nose alone in the silence of your home.

Hours passed by as you drew yourself a bath, weakly tried to clean your bed, and slept away to help your body recover. You weren’t even sure what time it was when you awoke from your nap, but a thin layer of sweat covered you as you tried to move some of the sheets off of you. You felt feverish, as if your body was on fire and ice all at the same time. You were so busy trying to keep yourself warm but not overheated that you hadn’t even heard the soft pounds on the door as you shivered into the bedsheets.

“Y/N?” A distant voice called, but you didn’t have the energy to answer; your voice felt hoarse, like sand. You barely even registered that you had heard it, chalking it up to sleep claiming you once again. And you were happy to give in, desperate even, as you knew your body needed rest.

Soon, your door opened, and a figure approached your side, their soft brown eyebrows furrowing in concern. It looked like Kíli, but there was no way it could be him. He hadn’t summoned you all week, what could’ve changed now? “Y/N,” he said, and you once again figured it to be a dream. “Oh Mahal, no wonder I couldn’t find you. Wait right here.”

He quickly left just as he had appeared, but when he returned, he was armed with a pitcher of water and a cloth. He soaked the cloth before placing it on your forehead, and soon you found it even harder to stay awake. “I’m fine,” you tried to croak out, feeling guilty for whatever poor soul was taking care of you.

“Nonsense, you’re burning up,” he said, refusing to leave your side. “Have you had anything to drink?”

“It’s just a cold,” you tried to explain, worried that you were becoming a burden to whoever this wonderful helper was. Still in your feverish state, you weren’t convinced it was Kíli, thinking him to be a figment of a dream. But the dream-helper wouldn’t relent, quickly pouring a glass of water as they tried to help you sit up in bed.

“Here, this will help,” he said, putting a pillow behind your head and lower back to support you as you now layed in bed on an incline. It certainly felt more comfortable to breathe, but the fever still prevailed and took over your mind. He brought a glass to your lips, and you gingerly opened your mouth as he poured some water into your mouth. It brought a sense of relief as you swallowed it down your throat, cooling you for but a moment. He continued this process of feeding you water until you had downed a third of the cup, which seemed enough to satisfy him as he set the cup down. “How long have you been sick?”

It was now that you were starting to figure that this wasn’t any dream; Kíli, son of Dís, master of your frustration, was taking care of you in your home. “A few days,” you said, your brow furrowing for a second as a cough escaped you. You wanted to ask him why he was here, why he was taking care of you, but words seemed like such a steep hill to climb when it came to your mountain of thoughts right now. Not to mention the fact that sleep was desperately trying to lay claim over your mind, as your eyes kept feeling heavier and heavier. Kíli spoke something else, possibly a question, but you couldn’t tell as you closed your eyes, letting sleep take over your body, the inky blackness calling you from the cooling relief of the cloth on your forehead.

When you next awoke, your room was just as black as your vision had been while you were sleeping; someone had put out the candles, and Kíli was nowhere to be found or seen. Even the cooling rag on your forehead was gone. For a moment, you wondered if him being there had been the dream itself, as some sort of fever-induced lucid dream. You felt your fever was no longer, your body much more at ease. Had it really all been a fever dream? You sat up in bed, feeling much better already as you squinted your eyes to try and peer about your dark room, but the absence of anyone did little to sway your mind. Perhaps it really had all been a dream, then…

But soft knocks on your door challenged that thought as you blinked away the last remnants of sleep. “Mm, come in,” you answered, running a hand through your hair as the door opened, letting a few slivers of light pool into the room. A worried Kíli entered your room, a candlestick in one of his hands as he shut the door behind him. He came by your bedside as you sat up to meet him, questions still brewing in your head from before. But for now, you bit your tongue, curious as to whether or not he’d answer them himself first.

“How are you feeling?” He said, his eyes scanning your face intensely. You almost felt naked under his gaze, like he was looking into you from afar.

You cleared your throat, letting out a small cough. To this, he was quick to fetch you a glass of water. “Much better now,” you said. “I think my fever has passed, finally.” Gingerly, you took the glass, sipping from it with a skeptical heart.

“That’s good,” he said, nodding. “I’m glad to see you up again, I was worried you’d stay bedridden.”

“And why is that?” You asked, raising a brow. You still weren’t sure what to make of him suddenly taking care of you. He too seemed caught off guard by your question, but it seemed to be more from an obvious standpoint.

“I hadn’t seen you for a week, Y/N,” he said. “Fíli hadn’t heard anything from you. We were both worried something had happened.”

“Like what?” You asked.

He sighed, sitting on the side of your bed now, and you shifted to give him some room, sipping your water to get some fluids in your body. “When we last spoke, you had wished not to see me. You had said I was sullying your name… I was worried that you were right, and that someone had gotten to you from the letters.”

Now it was your turn to be caught off guard. “Are you serious?” You tried to hold back a snort. “Did you think me to be kidnapped? From writing rumors about your uncle being shorter than he says?” You couldn’t hold it back anymore, letting out a laugh. Who knew the wild prince was softer than he seemed.

Kíli’s ears turned red at your questions, now realizing he had jumped to conclusions. “Well, if it was anyone’s fault then it would be yours for putting such ideas in my head. Why would you call them silly if you were so angry about them then?”

You slowly started to settle back down. “They weren’t ideas, you know,” you said. “I meant what I said about refusing to write your ‘silly’ requests anymore. I won’t do it.”

“And I won’t make you, nor will Fíli,” he nodded. “Besides, Thorin keeps him busy enough these days.”

“So why did you stay?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” He said.

“So you thought I was kidnapped,” you said. “And you came to my home and found me sick. But instead of leaving, why did you care for me?”

He grew flustered again, deflecting the question. “Would you have preferred I leave you to rot in bed?”

“I was already doing that on my own, thank you.” You said. “But I wouldn’t think you’d offer to help so easily after our argument.”

“I wanted to apologize,” he admitted. “I felt guilty and wanted to see you back to health. A life for a lie.”

“It’s a life for a life,” you corrected. “And that’s not how the saying is used.”

“Fine, I’ll admit it. I was worried for you.” He looked away, running a hand through his hair before meeting your gaze again. “I didn’t want you to get worse.”

“I see,” you said, taking a breath. You bit the inside of your cheek, knowing you’d have to swallow your pride and admit what you didn’t want to. But you were bigger than your pettiness, at least in this moment you were. You reached your hand out to place it over his, which seemed to startle the poor dwarf as he looked at you with a wondrous gaze.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said. “And I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have been so harsh, and I didn’t mean it when I said I’d write awful things about you.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle. “I’m surprised you hadn’t done so already,” he said.

“Well, I’ve been a little preoccupied,” you sighed. “But I’m serious about no longer writing pranks. I want to be taken more seriously, I deserve some respect.”

“You deserve much more than that, Y/N,” he said, and it made you lose your breath for a moment. Since when did his words steal your breath? “And I too would like to apologize. I won’t force you to write anything you don’t like any longer, so long as we remain friends.”

“Friends,” you smiled. “Yes, I’d like that.”

#kili x reader #kili fanfic #kili durin #kili fanfiction #kili fic #kili #lotr fanfic #lotr x reader #lotr imagine #LOTR fandom #LOTR #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit fanfiction #The Hobbit fic #the hobbit

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buckybarnesdiaries · 4 years ago

Text

a place called home

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Request by @dora-wolfram-blog: Hi <3 so happy to see your requests are open! How about ex Avenger reader who can manipulate the forces of nature and she comes to help Sam? (Idk maybe calling fish from the sea so his family can sell and earn enough money for the boat?) There she meets Bucky who she briefly met after endgame and they get to know each other? Domestic stuff is my weak spot so thank you so much luv u <3

word count: 1.206 words.

warnings/tags: none. bucky being a gentleman and sam a pain in the ass as always.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

Saying that Bucky and you were friends wasn’t something exactly. You fought together a couple of times before you retired from superhero life. Like many of them, the war had finished and you chose calm over being a private agent. More or less like the ex-soldier, with the difference that he went to New York and you didn’t be able to find a home until Sam made you a call. He was quite the opposite of Bucky for you, connecting since the very first second you met. After he told you about his sister’s financial trouble, he offered you a roof to sleep under in exchange for your powers to control the tide and promote the movement of fish stocks. Of course, it was a hit, and you finally found peace in Delacroix. A celebration was inevitable, it was part of Wilsons’ DNA, but you weren’t expecting Bucky to show up with Sam; although he told you in your last call that they were working together. Or something like that.

As soon as your eyes laid on him among the crowd, you knew he had changed after more than six months without seeing each other. You couldn't help but feel happy for Bucky when you saw him smiling for the first time. He had a beautiful and innocent smile, seeming like a new man. Renovated, with want to live, enjoying playing with kids and talking to old men about war stories.

You had placed your back against an oak column, away from the crowd but close enough to check on everyone, in case they need help with anything. A beer was resting against your lips, doubting on continuing drinking, lost in your thoughts. There was something about Bucky going from one side to another, laughing unworried, that had fully captivated your attention. You weren't able to stop looking at him, chuckling when you saw one of Sam's nieces putting a magnet with the form of a crab on his left arm.

“I have that teen-in-love's face on camera”.

You frowned at Redwing some inches away from your face. As a response, you tried to slap it down. But your friend was faster than you controlling that thing.

“He looks good, uh?”

“Oh, shut up…” You replied by clicking your tongue and rolling your eyes, having a sip from your drink to put your eyes away to the sea.

“He asked if you'd be here… Just saying”.

“Shut up, Samuel!” You implored, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

As the night went on and the guests started to leave, Sarah asked you to take Jim and Jody home while she stayed there cleaning with his brother about the business. You were exhausted too, and she noticed it. And after saying your goodbyes, you headed to the parking where your car was stationed, carrying the younger Wilson onto your arms —peacefully sleeping— as his big brother was yawning loudly. At that point, you realized that it was going to be a tough mission to put them in the car.

“Wait! Lemme help”.

The male voice coming from behind you made you turn around and before you could react, Bucky was taking Jody from your arms to his. You smirked softly in response, looking for the key in the right pocket of your jacket to unlock the car. The soldier tucked the younger in the back seat, placing the belt around him as Jim occupied the other side of the SUV.

“It's been good to see you”. You said after closing the door, staying outside in front of him.

“Same”. He replied, not knowing what else to say.

Puckering your lips and clapping the key on your palm, you nodded with your chin, feeling the nerves running through your veins. “Good night, Bucky”.

“Good night, (Y/N)”.

You gave him your back, sighing inappreciably, to open the pilot's place and came in.

“He— Hey, wait”.

“Uh?”

“Sam told me… you were tired. I might give you a ride back home. I can wait for him there”. The offering made you glance towards him, already sitting in your car but with a leg rest on the ground. “If you want, I mean…”

Of course he did (...). That son of a bitch had the audacity to push you onto the other. You bit your inner cheek, landing your eyes on the wheel. Yes, you were tired. You woke up at five to sail with Sarah, then you organized the party and cooked for it. You hadn't had a single second of rest during the whole day. And Sam took advantage of it, feeling like he was some kind of Cupido. And you had to recognize that it was also very considerate coming from Bucky.

“I'd appreciate it… actually”. You ended up agreeing, stepping out to give him the keys and ceding your seat.

The ride was silent between the two of you, hearing some quiet indie music playing on the radio while you fought against your brain to stay awake. Luckily, it didn't take him too long to reach Sarah's house —although you were barely keeping your eyes open at this point. Again, he helped you with the kids, walking indoors and following you to their respective rooms. You tucked Jim and Jody on their beds, making sure they were comfy before placing a kiss on their foreheads and wishing them a good night. Bucky had rested his back against the wall, in front of the elder’s room, just waiting for you. And you could swear that you saw him briefly smirking because of the tenderness in your actions.

After closing the last door, you waved your head to urge him to follow you downstairs to the living room. With an exhausted sigh escaping your lips, you let your body fall on the sofa, curling on a side of it to give Bucky some space. You couldn’t help but yawn, turning on the TV by using the control remote.

“It’s good to have a home to come back”.

“Yeah… After all the shitty situations we’ve been through… We deserved a rest, don’t you think?” You replied grabbing a cushion from the floor, using it as a pillow over the armrest. “Sorry, I… I’m deadly tired…”

“Come here, that will hurt when you wake up”.

Bucky didn’t hesitate on beckoning to his arms, taking off his boots heel against heel to place both legs over the coffee table. You didn’t resist, knowing it would be comfier by his way. Sitting up, you lied to the opposite side, being wrapped instantly and snuggled against his warm body. Shameless, you rest your head on his right forearm, practically laying over his lap. But you felt good. You felt like it was a good reward after a long day, rolling down your eyelids and focusing on the caresses in your hair you didn’t know you needed.

For a moment, your mind wandered and fantasized about this last hour being part of your real life. Putting your kids to sleep and then cuddle with your husband till falling asleep. Smell Bucky’s strong and edgy scent. Your hands scratching his back. His fingertips stroking your scalp. Your legs laced (...)

Oh, God, Sam. What did you do?

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battybubs · 3 years ago

Text

Billy’s a bitch ✯|part two|✯

IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE: This story was written specifically for male readers, fem/ fem aligned people, please do not interact.

Also, requests are open!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x male! Reader

Type: Romantic

Warnings: Swearing, slight mentions of racism (Billy, ofc), homophobia, hateful language (homophobic slurs, also Billy), mentions of fighting ~~~~~~~~~~

Being with Steve was everything you could have asked for, and more. He was so sweet and caring. He was the perfect gentleman. The one thing about being with Steve was, you had to hide. That was the main thing you were worried about when you started dating. You were both worried that you wouldn’t get to do couples stuff, and you weren’t wrong in thinking that. You had to be super secretive, but you made it work.

Most of your time together was spent at each other’s houses, but “friendly outings” weren’t uncommon for the two of you. You were also usually able to sneak in a little alone time between class periods. Small kisses or hugs in the empty hallways. In hindsight, it wasn’t the sneakiest of ideas, but that wasn’t important now. Not as you looked into Steve’s beautiful brown eyes, giving him a quick kiss before heading off to your next class.

Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend decided to hang back for a bit before heading to his history class. Unbeknownst to him, Billy Hargrove had been just around the corner, eavesdropping on the two of you. Before Steve had the chance to walk away, Billy decided to take the opportunity to walk up to him, with some hateful choice words just waiting to spew from his pathetic mouth.

“Who would’ve known, The ex king of Hawkins high was a fag.” Steve knew you had been caught. That one simple statement was enough for him to know that the two of you were in deep shit. “What the hell do you want, Billy?” Steve started to say something else, but he was caught off, by the mullet wearing asshat who stood in front of him. “I want you to keep that nasty shit to yourself, before I tell the whole school the little golden boy and his freak best friend are dirty queers” Billy stomped off, knowing he had leverage over the two of you.

Steve knew one thing, he didn’t want you to have to deal with Billy’s dumbass so he decided to visit you after school.

Once the school day was over, you walked toward your house. It took a while, but you had your walkman playing, so it wasn’t too bad. Once you got home you went to your room and started working on your homework, which only took a few hours. Right as you were signing your name on the last page of math homework, you heard knocking on your window, looking over to see Steve, practically dangling off of the tree outside his window.

As you let him in, Steve pulled you into a tight hug, immediately telling you about what had happened. After a long talk about it you decided to “break up”. You were gonna stay away from each other in public and act pissed if you had to be together. And that’s exactly what you did. Everyone thought you had just went through a bad falling out, except Billy.

Three weeks later you and Steve were in your living room, curled up watching a horror movie. Someone began to bang on the door and you got up to get it, since your parents were out of town. Steve walked stood behind you as you opened the door to see Billy. You were best friends with his sister, and you had been good friends in middle school until yo realized how much of a bitch he really was, so of course yours was the first door he came banging on when Max would sneak out.

“Where’s my sister?” Was all he said, not a greeting or anything, which didn’t really surprise you. “She’s not here, Billy.” You looked back as Steve spoke up knowing damn well he had just unknowingly started something. “Hold on, i thought you faggot freaks broke up.” Billy said, obviously even more pissed than before. You stepped outside, trying to close the door behind you, but of course Steve just had to follow you out.

“Billy you need to leave. She’s not here, and who i do and do not date isn’t of any concern to you. We haven’t been friends for years.” Before you could say anything else, you felt something slam into your jaw. He punched you. The next few minutes were a blur, Steve started beating the shit out of Billy. Max and Lucas showed up from wherever the hell they had been running around. Max started yelling, so did Lucas. Billy threw out a few racist comments, per usual. Billy and Max left, so did Lucas, and Steve ad dragged you inside.

A few weeks had passed, and you and Steve were back to your usual routine, and Billy had finally decided to leave you alone. You had been back to dealing with your “children” and putting up with Robin’s teasing,and the two of you couldn’t have been happier. You all knew one thing though, and it was that Billy’s a bitch.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy it :D <3 I’m not super happy with how this turned out, so if you would like, I can try to re-write it for you :)

Part two of the request from @mack-thedork

#steve harrington x male reader #buggaboowrites #battybubswrites

69 notes · View notes

alluringjae · 4 years ago

Text

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.”

892 notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

Text

Even Though We May Be Hopeless Hearts Just Passing Through, I Was Made For Loving You PT. 1

Batsis x Kyle Rayner

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I realize the other story didn't follow the whole, dating the brother's best friend trope, so I decided to remedy it. And what do you get when you cross a hopeless romantic with someone who's new to love? Perfection. That's what. Enjoy! -Thorne

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

Saturday mornings, in Dick’s opinion, were meant for sleeping in and quite possibly going to IHOP when everyone finally crawled out of bed at ten. They were not meant for being shoved in the side by a little brother.

“Golden-boy,” a voice grouched from beneath the bedside. “Your phone’s been going off for an hour. Either put it on silent or answer the goddamn thing.”

Dick let out a tired ‘pfft’, rolling onto his stomach, face buried in the side of the bed as he looked down to the floor. “Annoyed much, Little-wing?”

“I am going to shove that phone so far up your—”

Reaching over, Dick put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Where are you?

“Still in bed,” he responded, sentence ending in a groan as he stretched. “Why?”

You were supposed to be on the flight back to Gotham two hours ago.

Dick’s eyes went wide, and he sat up, gaping at the bedside clock. “It’s today.”

It is today. I can’t believe you forgot it was today.

“Oh my God, it’s today and we missed our flight.” He stumbled out of the bed, barely registering the shout from Jason as his foot landed in his brother’s stomach. “Jason, get up! It’s today!’

“What’s today?” his little brother griped, rubbing his abdomen.

“(Y/N)’s coming back!”

Jason’s eyes went wide, and he scrambled to his feet, hurriedly finding his bag to change out of his nightclothes. “Christ, I can’t believe we forgot that (Y/N) was coming home today!” he looked at Dick. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Dick yelped. “How is this my fault!”

He scowled. “Big brother wanted everyone to be with a sibling for the night, so they’d be together and be punctual but you and I both know neither of us have any concept of time.” His scowl grew. “I knew I should’ve bunked with Cass. She’s on time no matter what happens.”

Dick threw Jason’s sweatshirt at him. “Dress now, bitch later.” He put the phone back to his ear. “We missed our flight, but we can drive there.”

Your car’s in the shop.

“Shit,” he hissed, spinning in a circle to help his brain circuit enough to think of something new. “Uh-uh-uh—”

“Kyle!” Jason shouted, pointing at him. “Kyle’s like thirty minutes away from Manhattan! We’ll go to him for a ride!”

Dick grinned. “We’ll find Kyle.”

You sure Kyle’s at home?

“Pfft, Kyle’s always home on the weekends. He’s lazy.”

Just get here. (Y/N)’s plane is going to land in less than four hours.

“We’ll be there,” he said. “Is Diana coming too?”

Of course. She is (Y/N)’s mother.

“Nice. Alright, see you in Gotham, Bruce.”

Love you boys. And be careful. I’ve already heard that Cass, Tim, and Steph got into a fender-bender with Damian and Duke.

Dick blinked. “They’re…they’re legitimately driving separate cars? How’d they hit each other?”

Don’t ask.

The line went dead, and Dick looked at his brother. “Ready?”

Jason nodded. “Already got an Uber to Kyle’s place.”

“We could always just Uber to Gotham?” he offered, and Jason recoiled with a shocked look.

“And pay a ridiculous amount of money instead of just paying Kyle’s gas? Fuck no, big brother.” He shoved his wallet and keys into his pockets. “C’mon!” he chirped, rather excitedly. “Our baby sister’s coming home!”

***

When he swung the door open to yell at whoever was pounding on it, he wasn’t expecting to see two of his best friends grinning like idiots. “Wha—”

He’d barely gotten a word out when Jason shoved a bag of fast food in his hands. “Get dressed. You’ve gotta drive us to Gotham City.”

Kyle blinked, glancing down at the bag before looking at Dick. “Why?”

“Our sister’s coming home, and we overslept and missed out flight outta here.”

“And you came to me…why?” he asked.

“Because you have the functioning car.” Jason retorted, antsy on his feet. “C’mon Kyle. We have to hurry! (Y/N)’s coming home!”

Figuring it was better to agree than to argue, Kyle relented, handing back the bag of food before he disappeared into his apartment, reappearing moments later, dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a graphic tee, and his usual slim casual jacket. He took the bag back and started digging around in it.

“Who’s (Y/N)?” he inquired, biting into a breakfast burrito as he locked his front door behind him.

“Our baby sister.” Jason said.

“I thought Cass was your baby sister?”

Dick nodded, getting out his own breakfast from the bag. “She is. But (Y/N)’s like…the OG baby sister.”

Kyle blinked, glancing over at him as he pushed the elevator button. “That makes no sense.”

“He means that (Y/N) was around before Cass was.”

“And she isn’t with you guys why?”

“She’s been on Themyscira for the last few years training with her grandmother and the other Amazons.” Jason answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world, stepping onto the elevator.

Kyle merely stared at the two brothers who were looking back at him; he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Wait, your sister’s an Amazon?”

“Yep.”

“Who’s her mom?” he asked, stepping between them.

“Wonder Woman.” Dick said.

Strike two. “Who’s her dad?”

“Batman.” Jason responded.

Believe it or not, Kyle went three for three punches to the gut. “Bruce and Diana had a kid together?”

“Yeah.” Dick murmured. “I think it’s also why B’s so insistent against inter-team-relations.” He nudged Jason behind Kyle. “First time he attempts dating a coworker he ends up with a baby.”

Jason snorted. “And all those lessons about, ‘Children, whatever you do, don’t date anyone on your team. It’ll only lead to babies and limited visitation’.” He laughed again, then he frowned. “I don’t think any of us have followed that lesson.”

Dick opened his mouth to make an excuse but all that came out was a pitiful, deflate of air followed by, “That’s actually a good point.”

The elevator dinged and they watched the doors open before walking out towards the parking garage. They climbed into Kyle’s car, Jason in the front because his legs were longer than Dick’s, and Dick was a contortionist anyways so if anyone deserved to have their knees in their chest, it was him.

Halfway through the drive Kyle asked, “You guys are paying for my gas, aren’t you?”

All he received was unsure responses and he merely sighed.

***

He figured he should’ve just dropped Jason and Dick off at the airport in Gotham and drove home, but he couldn’t help but want to see just what the daughter of Wonder Woman and Batman looked like. He imagined a little girl dressed in a Batman suit three sizes too big and wielding a sword and a lasso way too heavy for her. It made him smile, the way that the two brothers gushed about (Y/N). From their praise, she was their world. Kyle had to see her though, because nothing was going to satiate that curiosity of seeing the big Batman’s daughter.

He watched Dick and Jason crane their necks like birds as they looked around. And honestly, the family shouldn’t have been that hard to find considering that every time Kyle was around the entirety of the Batfamily, they were like psychos on steroids—he very much so understood why the entirety of Gotham’s villains became flighty when every member of the Batfamily was out patrolling.

Kyle wasn’t expecting a voice to crack over the airport, loud and bubbly. “Brothers!”

All three of them stopped, even him who wasn’t even a sibling, looking over towards the call and Kyle’s jaw dropped as a young woman sprinted over to Dick and Jason, slamming into them with the weight of a train. The three of them collapsed into a pile on the floor, but they were laughing so Kyle assumed the siblings were alright.

“Princess!”

“Baby girl!”

“Oh, I am so glad to see you both!” she exclaimed. “I have waited so long to come home!” she was on her feet in moments, pulling them to theirs as if they weighed nothing. And Kyle knew Jason weighed a lot—he’d been crushed under his best friend before in fights.

Suddenly, she stopped and looked over at Kyle who immediately felt his heart lurch under her sharp gaze. “Who is this you have brought?”

Jason gestured to him. “(Y/N) this is Kyle. He’s a friend of Dick and mine. Kyle, this is our little sister, (Y/N).”

She huffed laugh. “I am not little, Jason. I am twenty-one.” Reaching out, she immediately pulled Kyle in for a hug, squeezing him tightly. “It is good to meet you, Kyle.”

“You too,” he murmured, feeling his cheeks warm as she pulled away and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Any friend of my brothers is a friend of mine.” (Y/N) smiled. “Are you a superhero as well?”

He couldn’t help but toss a quick glance towards Jason who nodded. “Uh, yeah. I’m a Green Lantern.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in wonder, and she let go of his shoulders in favor of grabbing at his hands until she found his ring. She stared at it, murmuring quiet, ‘ooo’s and ah’s’. “That is simply amazing!” she chirped, looking at him, and then she silently gasped, raising his hand near his eyes. “Oh…your eyes are almost the same color as your ring.”

Her smile made Kyle’s heart beat a little faster as she expressed, “They are beautiful.”

They gazed at each other, too captivated in the moment to understand that the family had gathered around them by then. Someone’s hand curled around (Y/N)’s wrist and she looked over seeing Dick tugging her hand away.

“C’mon Princess, let’s go get your things on the belt.”

She smiled and followed, giving a small wave to Kyle, who returned hers shakily whilst grinning like a dope.

Someone elbowed him in the ribs, and he gasped, holding his side as Jason muttered, “Don’t ever stare at my sister like that again.”

Kyle blinked, glancing at him. “What’re you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you goddamn skirt-chaser.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Kyle spluttered.

“You’re thinking about it.” Jason warned, pointing a finger in his face. “Make a move on (Y/N) and I’ll kill you with your own ring.” Kyle recoiled just as she and Dick were coming back, both holding a suitcase.

“Father!” she called, glancing at Bruce. “Dick and I have retrieved my luggage.”

He smiled at her. “Let’s go put it in the SUV then.” He paused, looking over the large group. He and Diana had ridden together, and since his children had fender-benders, they’d picked up Cass, Tim, Stephanie, Duke, and Damian; there wasn’t room for (Y/N) too.

“Father? Is something the matter?” (Y/N) was staring at him with concern.

“There’s not enough room in the SUV for you too. Maybe we—”

“There’s room in my car for (Y/N)!” Kyle blurted out, smiling nervously at Bruce. “I can follow behind you.”

Before anyone could screech ‘NO!’, mainly Dick and Jason, (Y/N) lit up like the morning sun. “Oh, that is a wonderful idea!” she grabbed onto Diana’s arm. “We should all stop for ice-cream though! Mother, what do you say?”

She smiled at her and leaned over, kissing her head. “I say that sounds like a fantastic idea, daughter.”

Kyle grinned and held out his arm for (Y/N), her giggling as she took it. “You know, I don’t live in Gotham, (Y/N), but I do know a good gelato store around the area.”

“What is gelato?” she asked, and he groaned.

“Oh, I can’t believe you don’t know what that is.” He started off, pilling her along, leaving everyone behind. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”

Jason’s face pinched and he looked over at Bruce. “Can I break the no-kill rule just once?”

Bruce blinked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched his daughter laughing along with Kyle, both looking like newlyweds already. “Believe it or not, I’m strongly considering it.”

“Bruce.” Diana admonished. “Let (Y/N) and Kyle become friends. You know she doesn’t have many outside this family here.”

Dick growled. “Except Kyle doesn’t want to be friends with (Y/N), Diana. He wants to be her boyfriend.”

“They just met though?”

“Yeah, and Kyle’s a propose on week two type of man,” Jason griped. “Jesus Christ, this is going to be a disaster.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but (Y/N) and Kyle said gelato and you guys are just standing here.” Tim said. “Can we go now?”

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years ago

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fuckboy - chapter iii, part 2

The one where Chris only wanted to fuck you and you were alright with that.

Chris never promised anything more than what he had to offer: a release - and a good one at that. Recently widowed and new to Hollywood, you're eager to learn how to live the single life with the help of such a talented teacher. What happens when Chris is the one to start expecting more from the relationship than you are prepared to offer?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

A/N: Attention! This is the second part of the third chapter. To read the first part, please click here.

That made me stop for a second, already outside the bedroom where I’d been for the last hour. I reread her words, pondering over the different meanings, and had to accept the fact that she was right.

The question made me cringe, remembering the night we met and just how full of it I’d been. I really had to talk to her about it, but this wasn’t something to be done through a dating app.

Already seated in my car, I had to take a moment to ponder, unwilling to put the phone down for even a second but not crazy enough to try to text and drive at the same time. She really was just surprise after surprise. I didn’t quite know what to make of it.

She took me a while to answer and I chuckled under my breath, imagining her with flushed cheeks while biting her lip, undecided on how to admit something like that.

Huh. Does this mean… She’d only ever had sex with one man before?

The thought warmed the romantic in me, suddenly feeling even guiltier for what I had said. I imagined the love story they must have shared, how difficult the grieving process must have been for her. I had to admire her willingness to try, especially considering how I had conceived her to be and knowing how dating works while being in this sort of life. It wouldn’t be easy at all for her to adjust.

Ouch.

Guess I deserved that one, but also reading her use this sort of language was so unbelievably sexy I couldn’t help but imagine her actually speaking like that. How was she like in bed? Did she have a dirty mouth, or was she one of the quiet ones? Before tonight, I’d have bet all of my cards on the second one, but now I wasn’t so sure.

I bit my lip, mind running as I pondered over my next move. Did I really want to do this?

Fuck it. I’ll forever regret it if I don’t take this chance.

Starting the car, I didn’t wait for her answer before asking,

It took a few seconds - she was probably deciding if she should answer my previous message or just ignore it completely. Finally, she made the choice I expected her to.

#my series #chris evans x reader #chris evans reader #rpf #social media au #chris evans reader insert #chris evans reader inserts #chris evans reader imagine #chris evans reader imagines

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poptod · 3 years ago

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Cyber Security (Elliot Alderson)

Description: An online ad leads him to you, though in reality he has little interest in your ad. What interests him is how you accidentally doxxed yourself and how oblivious you are to that fact.

Notes: idrk what to say about this one its one of those things that i wrote at midnight after almost falling asleep to a fantasy and then realizing it could work as a fic. like i did this same thing with ‘close your eyes’ that one was also a before-bed-to-get-to-sleep fantasy. this is also not a particularly romantic interaction, though it can be read as such WC: 2.2k

Sweat drenched his sheets, bathing him in the cold wind that breezed past his only air conditioner lodged in a nearby window. He stared blankly upwards, half shivering and half overheated, as he once again found himself in a familiar predicament—the practice of sleep.

It was no secret he had trouble calming himself down, and that aspect of himself reached into the evening, as well. He already downed three melatonin pills hours earlier, along with smoking a joint that should’ve put him to bed. Unsurprisingly, that did not work.

“Xanax,” he mumbled to himself, hearing it bounce back from empty walls. “Need to get xanax.”

In the meantime he raised himself to his feet, padding across freezing floors to his computer. With a click of a button the white screen buzzed to life, shining bright onto his sleep-heavy eyes, that did their best to acclimatize to the sudden change.

Hypnotization—strange as it might’ve been—had worked a couple times before. Not all the time, but decently enough to give it a try. He had work in the morning and he didn’t need to be more miserable than usual, especially since he hadn’t slept almost the entire weekend.

sleep hypnosis

The blinker flickered for a moment before his fourth finger slammed down on enter, the last step in calculated movements. What popped up first was a video titled [ SLEEP HYPNOSIS ] 8 Hour Loop with a screencap of a spinning black and white screen. Below that, however, was something he hadn’t seen before—a YouTube video titled exactly what he’d typed, lacking the caps just as he had. The title screen appeared to be some sort of poorly-drawn painting.

Curiosity overcame his hazy, aching head, and he clicked, finding a playlist of videos containing what could be the titles of songs, along with several different poorly-drawn title screens.

The first video began to play before he could realize it. What he first noticed was it was bereft of ads—that meant the publisher made no money off the album.

Sat in the presence of God

whose name means filthy old fraud

Captions had been manually added by, he assumed, you. The author. There were three views on the video, no comments, and no likes, leaving few other options.

Maybe it was the melody—maybe the lyrics, who talked of a world plagued by aristocrats. But he found his eyelids heavy, dropping dark eyelashes in his vision that blurred the screen. By the third song, reciting verses of an Islamic poem, he was slouched in his seat.

He slid down to the floor, crawling his way back to flop onto his bed. The music continued to play till the first ad popped up, at which time he opened his eyes, seeing a music video from Katy Perry, at which time he promptly reached over and unplugged his computer. He wasn’t sure which cord he pulled out, but the screen still went black. With that, he just barely sneaked into his covers, dozing until the morning.

It was far too easy to get information on you. Your full name was stated clearly in your youtube bio, alongside several different social media tags leading to instagram, tumblr, and facebook.

Facebook alone provided him the means to your address, and he didn’t even have to go looking for it. Your most recent post was an ad, searching for someone good with computers to aid you in your recording process, which you noted as ‘dismal’.

Are you fucking kidding me? He thought to himself, reading the ad once more.

Your address, your real, physical address was stated as the place you wanted to meet those interested in helping you. On the internet. You had doxxed yourself after less than a year of being online.

Okay, he thought, clicking on your listed email. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.

Three days later—after about two weeks of listening to your echoing voice every night—you replied, sending a cheerful email detailing when you would be available to meet him. After shooting a short message back, the date was organized.

Two more days and he was standing at your doorstep, his neck craned upwards as he scanned your tall, narrow home squished between two other apartments. He just barely knocked before the black door swung open, revealing a familiar face belonging to a stranger. Elliot was dressed in his black hoodie and jeans, a stark difference to your long, colorful robes, coming out of a sort of fantasy world.

“Hi,” he said, his voice grating with how low and quiet he kept it.

“Hello,” you said with a smile that did not match his hunched posture. “Are you Mr. Alderson?”

“Elliot,” he corrected, his chin just barely raising to meet you. “Elliot Alderson. Elliot works.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “Come inside? I was just making tea. Do you like tea? Or do you prefer coffee?”

“I... I’m fine, thanks,” he said softly, scooting past you when you opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He sucked in a breath as his chest brushed yours.

Your home was modern—far fancier than Elliot’s own apartment, with large windows flanked by soft grey curtains. A small, upright piano was in the corner of the living room, set upon a reed mat lined with Korean symbols. The couch was clinical, made of a sort of black plastic leather that matched the grey skies beyond the window panes.

He sat down, shifting his feet closer together as his fingers dug into his palms, continuing to scan the room in its’ entirety until you returned with your own tea.

“What kind of experience do you have? School counts,” you said, setting your cup down on a tiny plate whose decorations matched your teacup.

“I’ve been... experimenting, with computers, since I was around 9,” he said, mumbling the words out as his shoulders hunched awkwardly down. “Have a job at a cyber security firm. Started a while back.”

“You still have that job?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small nod. “Jus’ thought this would be... fun.”

The dead look on his face indicated no humor whatsoever, but you took his word as it was.

“How’d you find the ad I put out?”

“I... I listened to your music,” he answered honestly for once. “Helps me fall asleep.”

“Oh,” you said, clearly taken aback. Your face grew warm as you glanced away with wide eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re not very good with technology, though,” he said in his usual low, grating voice.

“Not really,” you chuckled sheepishly. “That’s why I put out the ad -“

“No, not that,” he interrupted you. “You put your physical address on the internet. You doxxed yourself. Do you even know how dangerous that is?”

The lyrics of your songs pointed towards a kind of brilliance, balanced against emotions felt thoroughly on pages and screens. It didn’t match your actions at all.

“What’s doxxing?” You asked.

Elliot had to physically stop himself from sighing and leaving.

“You want everyone to know where you, a minor celebrity, live?”

“I’d hardly call myself a -“

“I could’ve been a murderer,” he said, reaching into his bag.

He looked you in the eye as he pulled out a gun, clicking on the safety before he pointed it at you.

“This is how easy it would be to kill you.”

As expected, you stiffened at the sight of the iron barrel, your fingers withdrawing to your chest. Your lips pursed as you met his gaze once more.

“Please put the gun down,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He did as you said, resting the gun on the table.

“That’s a hell of a way to start an interview, Mr. Alderson,” you said quietly. “Please get out of my house.”

His heart sank. What had he expected? For you to fall to your knees and sing to him as he desired you to do? He threatened you with a gun to teach you a lesson, and you reacted accordingly. Calmer than others would.

Elliot stood on shaky legs, sliding the pistol into his backpack before he zipped it up. Throwing the pack over his shoulder, he swallowed through a tight throat, shuffling as he delayed his departure.

“Keep safe from people like me,” he said in a strained mumble. “Take that ad down. Meet people from the internet only in inhabited, public areas.”

You tapped your fingernails on the table for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Suddenly you stood, tugging on his sweatshirt sleeve to get him to face you, instead of staring at his feet.

“Alright. If you’re really so good at the internet -“

He ignored your incorrect grammar.

“- and... if you actually do want to help me with my songs,” your tone softened, “then you’ll be able to find my real name, not my stage name. If you do.. I’ll hire you.”

“Alright,” he said monotone, knowing the battle was already won.

Even though he knew your name already, he turned away and left to his apartment, immediately going to work on figuring out everything he could about you. If you willingly still offered him the job after that, he knew it would take a lot to scare you off. He could impress you.

It was, after all, the only thing he was good at.

Two days later he showed up at your apartment again, quietly thanking you when you let him in. The clean floors and walls remained unchanged since his last visit, and you led him to the same table, sitting him down on the same seat.

“Your name is (Y/N) (L/N),” he started with. You already appeared to be surprise. “You grew up near LA and you’ve had a chronic illness all your life. At eleven you saw your first therapist.. that must’ve been when you first got diagnosed with depression... and anxiety.”

“Killer duo,” you muttered.

“Your parents split when you were thirteen, which came at the same time as your dog, Penelope, died. Or... sometime that year. When was that... 1997?”

“1999,” you said quietly.

“Your mom homeschooled you,” he continued. “That’s probably why you don’t know how computers work. Rather eclectic, in a.. boring way... an ex-Amish, right?”

You nodded and his heartbeat tripled. Everything was right thus far despite a two year difference in his guesstimate of your life’s timeline.

“Then there was your dad... logger in the Redwood forests. Burly guy. Not a great man, from what I saw,” he said.

“He was fine,” you said with a small shrug as you looked away. “Didn’t ever hurt me, or anything.”

“Abuse isn’t always physical,” he said faster than he could think, dizzied by his own memories playing behind his eyes.

“I know,” you murmured.

You went silent, so he continued, hoping to pry more precious words from you.

“Your favorite color is yellow,” he said, leaning closer to you. “On Valentine’s you get chocolate strawberries, and on easter you get kinder eggs.”

Nothing.

“You studied mythology as a kid, and you made paintings of the forest you lived in with your mom. Santa Cruz mountains, I think.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I miss the forests.”

“I know. You want to visit Ireland again because it’s a land of faeries and moss, it’s a breeding ground for your song lyrics.”

“How did you find all this out?” You finally asked.

“You use the same password on everything,” he said, though that was far from the actual answer. “Your web browser tracks all your movements and you don’t try to stop it, or hide ads, or stay away from sketchy websites. Your parents aren’t much better, either.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you brought your hand to massage your brow.

“You’re way too smart to be helping me,” you said with soft laughter, blushing with your smile.

“It’s better than working for E Corp,” he said, huffing out a laugh that was hardly humored.

“E corp?”

“My.. uh, place of work,” he brushed off his slip. “My point is... I’d rather work with you and do easy work than work with my current fucking coworkers.”

You laughed, truly and fully this time, curling into a little ball that shook with the force of it. Your feet tucked into your tiny chair, making you even smaller.

“Bad people or just annoying?”

“Stupid,” he chuckled. “Don’t let me wear my sweatshirt.”

“Ooh, now it’s my turn,” you suddenly interrupted him, earning a strange look. “I’ve noticed things about you, too. I couldn’t learn anything off the computer, but you, you have anxiety too. Probably some childhood trauma.. maybe a dissociative disorder of sorts or a form of PTSD. Your jacket is like your home, and... you have sensory issues. Few types of fabric, don’t like to be touched, if I had to guess I’d say you might be autistic.”

“Blunt,” he said after a full minute’s silence.

“Do you mind?” You asked.

“No, not really.”

“Good. Then you’re hired,” you said with a smile, extending your hand for him to shake. “If you still want the job, of course.”

He watched you with evident apprehension, but took your hand after much thought, shaking with a firm grip.

“When do I start?”

#elliot alderson x reader #Elliot Alderson #mr robot #rami malek

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gonzo-rella · 3 years ago

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Dear Old Dad | Jesse Pinkman (ft. Hank and Marie Schrader)

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI | COMMISSIONS INFO

Requested by: @flowercrowns-goodvibes

hi love! i’m SO excited to see that you are now writing for breaking bad!!! could i request a jesse pinkman x reader imagine, where the reader goes to UNM and is hank and marie’s daughter, and her and jesse really love each other but she doesn’t like his business he’s involved in, and hank also gets mad and yells at her because she gets involved with him and according to hank, he’s dangerous and really bad. and the reader is kinda dealing w the consequences of that? :) ty love!!

Relationship(s): Jesse Pinkman x fem!reader (romantic), Hank and Marie Schrader x fem!reader (familial)

Summary: To say your parents are displeased with your choice in love is an understatement, considering your father is a DEA agent and the guy you’re head-over-heels for is a drug-dealing junkie who supposedly gave your Uncle Walt some weed.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol (including implied underage drinking) and drug use (of course; it’s Breaking Bad), inappropriate language, family drama, angst, in depth description of angry/upset reader (i.e. crying, the merciless beating of a pillow, which definitely isn’t based off any of my own mental breakdowns). (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 4k (excluding bonus ending), 4.6k (including bonus ending)

(A/N: This doesn’t follow the exact timeline of Breaking Bad, since I feel like writing something that’s not at all canon-divergent (especially in a reader-insert fanfic) is pretty restrictive. I also decided to make Marie a somewhat prominent character in this too (even though it wasn’t included in the request), since she would most definitely intervene if her daughter was in love with someone like Jesse. Buckle up; I may have gone a little overboard in terms of length and depth with this one, as reflected by this author’s note. But, that doesn’t really matter. It’s probably one of my favourite fics I’ve ever written, which you could probably guess considering how long this thing is. I tried to write it with more nuance than ‘Hank bad; Jesse good’, but I don’t know how well that aspect turned out. Also, I couldn’t choose between two endings I had in mind for this, so there’s a ‘nice ending’ and a ‘bonus ending’. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, because I sure did. I’d love to write more angsty stuff like this in the future.)

The moment you’d arrived at these random girls’ house with your dormmate, you couldn’t believe you’d agreed to come to this party. However, looking back on it, if you hadn’t attended this party, you never would’ve met him. While your dormmate had taken to drunkenly dancing to the blaring music in the living room, you had quickly retreated to the empty kitchen of the party hosts’ house. At least in there, the music was muffled enough to let you think.

As the designated driver, you were obliged to only drink non-alcoholic drinks, so you’d settled on letting a can of Diet Coke you’d found in the fridge and a book about Charles Manson you’d found on the kitchen table to be your entertainment for the night. You’d neglected to ask your roommate if she had any idea at what time she wanted to leave, but knowing her, you’d probably have to drag her to the car at 2 AM, all the while looking like a kidnapper.

Unfortunately, the tranquil emptiness of the kitchen was short-lived when a trio of guys, probably at least a couple of years older than you, came barging in around 20 minutes after you’d settled comfortably in your spot at the kitchen table.

“Seriously, man, you really think these skinny college chicks are gonna have anything that isn’t some low-fat, gluten free shit?” the tallest and stockiest of them said, stood beside the skinniest one as the third one opened and searched every cupboard in the kitchen.

“Hey, Jesse, can’t you just drive us to the store?” the skinny one requested.

“Drive you to the store? If I get pulled over, I’m fucked.” the one rummaging through the cupboards.

“I’ll drive, then.” the stocky one responded nonchalantly. “Give me your keys.”

“You can’t drive either, Badger! None of us can drive!” the one who had just been referred to as ‘Jesse’ responded with frustration. “Unless you want to get another DUI.”

“Jeez, relax.” ‘Badger’ responded, hands raised defensively. “We can just find some sober freshman kid who’ll drive us. They’ll do anything to get the approval of some older guys.”

“Yo, man, you really think anyone here’s sober?” the skinny one, whose name had yet to be determined, said.

“I don’t know...I guess that chick over there looks kinda sober.” Badger shrugged, gesturing to the asocial-looking young woman at the kitchen table, AKA you.

You immediately tensed up, your hope of going unnoticed by them due to them being clearly high and at least tipsy diminishing in that moment. However, you had the willpower to keep your eyes fixed on the book, despite the fact you weren’t actually reading it any more.

“Yo...uh...ma’am?” the skinny one said, approaching you. He sounded unsure about addressing you as ma’am, but it wasn’t like he knew what else to call you. “You sober enough to drive?”

“Yes, sir?” you responded bluntly with a hint of a mocking tone, not looking up.

“You think you could give us a ride to the 7/11 about a mile from here?” he continued.

“Do I look like a fucking cab driver to you?” you asked, finally daring to glance up at him.

“If you give us a ride, I can hook you up with some crystal. Jesse’s got some in his car.” Badger tried.

“Shut up, man! For all you know, she’s a nark.” Jesse hissed, slapping his friend in the arm with the back of his hand.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch; I’m not a nark.” you sighed with a roll of your eyes. Jesse sighed in relief. “But, I ain’t a junkie neither, so you can’t make me whore my car out to you guys for whatever drugs you wanna offer me. I will, however, take cash. 15 bucks minimum.”

“Deal.” Jesse said, reaching into his pocket and placing a 10 dollar bill and a 5 dollar bill on the table in front of you.

“Pleasure doing business with you, gentleman. Let’s go.” you replied, stuffing the money into your pocket and leading them out the kitchen.

That night, something about you intrigued Jesse, and you couldn’t deny that the intrigue was mutual. You suppose that’s why, when he asked for it, you gave him your number.

That was three years ago.

When you hung out with Jesse, as well as Badger, Skinny Pete and (when they introduced you to him) their friend Combo, you couldn’t help but feel like some secretive teenager. You knew that if your dad found out some of your closest friends were a group of meth-heads, you’d be in for...something.

You didn’t know what your parents could possibly do other than aggressively express their disapproval of your choice in company, seeing as you were a college senior by the time they found out.

However, you knew you’d really be in for it when they found out that you were particularly close with Jesse.

Your relationship with Jesse had been a tricky thing to describe up until recently. You were both madly in love with one another, and it was abundantly clear to everyone. Despite this, neither of you had ever been ready to take the step forward that would progress your relationship from that confusing little grey area between friendship and a romantic partnership to...well, a romantic partnership.

Both of you had an unspoken knowledge of why a relationship between you two couldn’t work. Jesse was everything that your father hated, all crammed into the visual epitome of any parent’s worst nightmare when considering their dear daughter’s boyfriend. The only thing Jesse feared more than the threat of your father’s wrath was the threat you would be under if any rivals in the business found out you were the girl that Jesse loved the most in the world. Getting involved with you in such a way would put you in almost as much danger as Jesse was in.

Still, you were both practically still stupid kids; you had the right to actively ignore those risks.

So, a couple of months ago, you’d finally taken that small step.

You were determined to hide the relationship from your family for as long as possible, which proved difficult considering your boyfriend was cooking meth with your Uncle Walt. To say your uncle was at all fond of the idea of you, his beloved niece, dating Jesse would be the lie of the millennium, but the man knew how happy you two were together. Moreover, making Hank any more aware of Jesse was bound to put Walt at risk too, so why bother meddling?

Perhaps it was foolish of the pair of you not to plan ahead in terms of letting your parents know you two were dating. Who were you kidding? It was definitely foolish of you. However, your parents had no idea you were even friends with a group of stoners, let alone that you were dating one. For all they knew, you hated and looked down on those who were involved with the drug scene as much as they did.

You hadn’t intended on them finding out about you being involved with Jesse so soon, especially in the way that they did. Though, as shocked as they were, you had been just as surprised when they let you know that they had found out about your connection to Jesse Pinkman.

It just seemed like you’d been invited (albeit at the last minute) to a normal dinner at your parents’ house, but as soon as you got in, the tension was as thick as early morning fog.

“What’s going on?” you questioned, brows furrowed.

“Um...why don’t you take a seat, honey?” Marie suggested as she wrung her hands and ceased pacing. Meanwhile, your father was stood looking out the window almost absentmindedly, seemingly deep in thought and/or avoiding looking at you as long as possible.

“Jeez, what is this? An intervention?” you joked as you nonchalantly sunk into the couch and made yourself comfortable.

“It’s not an intervention...we just need to talk to you about something that we’re both...concerned about.” Marie insisted, the corners of her lips straining to feign an attempt at a calm smile.

“Okay...” you replied, your evident confusion remaining. “Go ahead, I guess.”

Hank chewed on his bottom lip, exhaled and turned to face you. He scratched his face, clearly trying to formulate an explanation.

“So...uh...there’s some guy me and Gomie have been keeping tabs on in relation to the Heisenberg case. This morning were parked down the street from his house.” Hank began. “Anyway...we...uh...saw you leaving his house. I know you’re a good kid, N/N, so I don’t wanna make any assumptions about the kind of stuff you get up to. But...if there’s anything you wanna tell us, now’s the time to do it.”

“This morning, huh?” you answered, attempting to keep your voice in control as you wiped your sweaty palms on your thighs. “I, uh, wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Sweetie, just tell us the truth, please.” your mom begged. “Or...do you really not know about...who he really is?”

“Who he really is? He’s not Batman, mom.” you responded, trying to avoid answering anything.

“Kid...come on.” Hank sighed. The man was used to interrogating criminals who would rather die than confess any wrongdoings to a DEA agent, but never had he encountered a task as hard for him as questioning his daughter about her relation to a junkie she should’ve hated. “What were you doing at Jesse Pinkman’s house?”

You swallowed your saliva, debating it all in your head. If you went with telling the truth, you’d be ripping the Band-Aid straight off. If you had to have the truth squeezed out of you like a near-empty toothpaste tube, you’d only be riling up your parents even more, and they’d still end up knowing your ‘dirty little’ secret.

“Okay; fine. I’ve been friends with Jesse and some of his friends for around three years.” you admitted. You hesitated before allowing the next set of words to be forced from your throat. “And...a couple of months ago, Jesse and me started seeing each other.”

Perhaps you could’ve chosen a tone that was a little less nonchalant; that probably would’ve softened the blow just a little.

Your mother’s jaw dropped, her lower lip and chin quivering. Her trembling hand cupped her agape mouth. Your father huffed, face scrunching up a little as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He wet his lips with his tongue.

Much like how Hank was fighting the urge to lose it right then and there, you were fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

From their reactions, you would’ve thought you’d just told them you’d gotten knocked up by him.

“You’ve been seeing Jesse Pinkman?” he hissed with all the venom of an adder.

“Yeah.” you responded, attempting to keep your tone of voice as confident as possible.

“We-we...thought...you’d started...using.” your mother said almost breathlessly. Her hand fell to her chest as she took in a deep breath. “But, you-You’ve been seeing...your uncle’s drug dealer? That’s so much worse! What were you thinking, Y/N?”

At least that was all she knew, you thought to yourself. You knew better than to tell them the truth about Jesse and Walt’s connection to one another; you’d hate to incriminate him, or even your Uncle Walt. Even if you tended to keep out of Jesse and Walt’s business as much as possible, you knew enough about the business to know that exposing the truth to your DEA agent father would end badly for all parties involved.

“Jeez, mom, you might wanna be careful, lest you damage those pearls you’re clutching.” you murmured mockingly, folding your arms and averting your gaze.

That was yet another bad call from you.

You had to commend your father’s patience, even if was beginning to run out. It was like watching the top half of an hourglass gradually empty into the bottom half.

He gritted his teeth. You could tell the last thing he wanted to do was yell at you. He loved you too much to make a habit of it, and he knew that it’d only push you away and into that Pinkman’s arms.

“Kid...you must know the guy well enough to know him and the guys he surrounds himself with are all bad news.” Hank said.

“Bad news? Oh, you mean the drugs and stuff? I’m aware of that.” you responded, finally daring to look straight back at him. You knew that he knew about Jesse and his crowd’s involvement in the drug scene, so nothing you were saying was too incriminating. “I get you’re all ‘anti-drugs’. I can’t say I’m that fond of that sort of stuff either, but he keeps me out of the dangerous side of it. So, what’s the problem?”

“Look, I’ve met plenty of Pinkmans in my day. Hell, I’ve had the pleasure of arresting plenty of Pinkmans in my day. Any cop’d tell you the girlfriends of junkies like him end up beaten or in a body bag, be it at the hand of the tweaking junkie himself or the guy who’s getting back at him for owing him 50 bucks.” Hank explained. His tone was sharp and grave, but, hidden beneath the harshness of it all was a sense of pleading.

“If this is your way of trying to get me to break it off with Jesse and steer clear of the guys, it’s not going to work.” you stated with the conviction you’d inherited from the man standing in front of you. “I know those guys way better than you ever will. I know they’re not some...devoid-of-morality lowlifes. And, Jesse’s not some abusive deadbeat. He’s never hurt me and he never will.”

“Honey, I know what it’s like to be young and...in love...and part of a group. But...he’s...they’re all-”

You cut your mom off, standing up in a sudden motion with clenched fists.

“I’m not going to be treated like some melodramatic, clueless, delusional teenager, alright? So, listen now and listen good.” you snapped. “Regardless of whether or not I get your approval on this, I love Jesse. Jesse loves me. For the foreseeable future, I’m going to continue seeing him, and I’m going to continue hanging out with my fucking junkie friends, even if all you see them as is some dangerous gang of losers.”

You took in and released a deep breath, then continued. “Forbid me from talking to all of them. Yell at me. Berate me all you want. Give me an ultimatum. I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

You were so caught up in your irritation, you hadn’t even noticed how uncharacteristically quiet your father had become. In most situations, Hank always had something else to say- a biting remark that served to break the tension or get under your skin. And yet, in the middle of the most intense conversation your family had ever had, he didn’t have much else he could say, even if he did have a lot to say.

Anything he would do or say would be futile, or, at worst, irreparably damage the bond you shared as father and daughter. He’d realised that once you began your speech. After all, you were a Schrader. You’d had stubbornness drilled into you from a young age. Typically, he admired your strong will, but, now that you were refusing to cut ties with Jesse and his merry band of misfit stoners, he abhorred it in this moment.

Hank let out an empty laugh of disbelief, shaking his head as he rubbed his face. After another sigh, his expression became more grave.

“I guess you’ve made up your mind.” he stated simply. “You’re fine with getting shot in the head and buried in the desert.”

You swallowed your saliva, trying your hardest not to break down into some hysterical, screaming mess.

“I guess you’ve made up your mind too, dad.” you responded. “Leave me the fuck alone until you can start trusting me like you should be able to trust your fucking adult daughter. Son of a bitch!”

“Don’t you fucking dare talk to me like that, Y/N!” Hank yelled behind gritted teeth. “I’m your father. It’s my job to protect you, especially from dickheads like Jesse Pinkman! I’ll start trusting you like I should be able to trust my adult daughter when you start acting like an adult.”

“Hank-”

You raised your hand and silenced Marie.

“Don’t, mom.” you insisted with a trembling voice, before turning your attention back to your dad. “I’ll save you the trouble of yelling and get the fuck out.”

You stormed over to the door, pausing and turning on your heel to face them for one last time. “Oh, and, before I go, if you take out being pissed at me on Jesse or any of his friends, you can forget about me ever setting foot in this house again.”

With that, you swung the door open, stepped outside and slammed it behind you. You marched over to your car and got inside, angrily honking your horn as you screamed to yourself in frustration. Tears finally slid down your cheeks.

The drive was an erratic blur. Your mind was so much of a mess that you relied the autopilot-esque muscle memory you’d acquired to take you where you needed to go. Your impulses had already decided whatever that place was.

It was convenient for you that the roads were pretty barren, considering your infuriated state of mind had made you a menace to the road. Your knuckles were paled from how tightly you were gripping the steering wheel. You continued screaming and yelling to yourself throughout the drive, your unrelenting tears staining your cheeks.

Soon enough, you had arrived at your destination by almost crashing your car as you pulled up in front of it. You then found yourself waiting on the doorstep after knocking at the front door.

Almost instantly, the door swung open, revealing the face of the man you needed to see.

“N/N? What’s going on? Are-are you okay?” he questioned frantically, immediately noticing your upset demeanour.

You couldn’t speak to tell him what was wrong. Instead, you just barged past him, storming to his room.

Momentarily, Jesse stood still and watched you leave, unsure of whether or not to follow you. However, after some deliberation, he jogged after you, calling your name.

He found you sitting on his bed, his pillow in your hand and against your forearm as you punched it over and over. You ignored the fact that you were punching yourself through the pillow, too pissed off to care.

Jesse just stood there in the doorway, frozen as he stared at the perplexing and heart-breaking scene unfolding before his eyes. He could hear you muttering to yourself but he couldn’t make out a word of it, since it all came out in a mixture of sobs and frustrated grunting.

It took a moment for him to decide on how to handle this, and he settled on a combination of common sense and acting on instinct.

To know whether or not he could help you with your problem, Jesse needed to find out what the problem was. To find out what the problem was, Jesse needed to get you to tell him what was going on. To get you to tell him what was going on, Jesse needed to help you calm down.

So, his first move was to rush to your side, taking a seat beside you. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on your shoulder, immediately causing you to tense up and stop mercilessly beating the pillow. Your breath hitched in your throat and Jesse noticed a subtle shift in your demeanour.

You buried your face in the pillow, sobbing into it.

Jesse bit his lip, his heart continuing to shatter as you uncontrollably wept. He rubbed your back in a circular motion with his palm, hoping to help you feel better.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” he whispered to you,

Gradually, your muffled sobs ceased and you pulled away from the pillow, allowing him to get another glimpse at your puffy, damp face. You sniffled and wiped your nose with the back of your hand.

“I’m sorry.” you muttered. “I probably should’ve just gone home to have this meltdown.”

“Don’t apologise.” Jesse insisted softly. “As much as I hate seeing you like this...I want to be there for you, okay?”

You nodded, then proceeded to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Do you, uh, think that you’d be okay with telling me what’s going on?” Jesse asked, eyes fixed on you while you kept your gaze locked on the blur of a room in front of you.

You sniffled and nodded again.

After swallowing your saliva, you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You then closed your mouth and involuntarily let out a low whine as you exhaled, prompting Jesse to rest his hand on your knee.

“M-My dad saw me leave here this morning. And...I had to tell him and my mom about how I’m friends with...your friends...and about us.” you explained, voice trembling as you spoke.

“I take it it didn’t go well, huh?” Jesse said gently, ignoring his own feelings in that moment. It took him a second to push them aside, but he managed to keep his composure. After all, how you were feeling was more important to him in that moment than his own feelings.

You didn’t respond to his question, which he took to mean his assumption was correct. Though, considering your state, it wasn’t an illogical assumption to make.

“What did he say when you told him?” he prompted.

“He spewed some crap about how you and all of the others are bad for me. My mom was acting like I was some naïve kid. I told both of them to leave me alone until they could start trusting me...and he said...he wouldn’t trust me until I started acting like an adult. Well, he yelled it. I said some stuff he didn’t like and he said he was trying to protect me...then...Then I told him, if he took it out on you or the others, because my dad definitely would, I’d cut ties with him and my mom.” you rambled.

There was a moment of silence.

“Oh. Okay. Wow.” Jesse said after biting his lip again.

There was another couple moments of silence.

“So...um...if it came down to it...would you pick me over your parents?” Jesse asked, scratching his neck.

You furrowed your brows and thought for a moment. It was a question that you often found yourself contemplating, but you’d never found an answer to it. In an ideal world, you wouldn’t have had to pick between your parents and your boyfriend. However, in an ideal world, Jesse wouldn’t have been a meth dealer.

“I don’t know.” you replied.

“Well, I’d ever make you choose, but if it ever does come down to it, don’t pick me; pick them.” Jesse stated.

“Huh? Why?” you questioned.

“Well, my parents cut ties with me. They don’t want anything to do with me anymore.” Jesse responded. “I know how much you love your family and how much they love you and I don’t want to be the thing to come between that...even if I think most of the people in your family are self-righteous pricks.”

You finally looked at Jesse, making eye contact with him and biting your lip.

“I know they love me, and I know they think I need to be protected from you...but...” you said quietly. “I don’t know if I could choose anyone who would make me choose in the first place.”

“You can’t cut ties with your family because of me, N/N.” Jesse sighed. “I’m not worth it.”

“Well, it’s a good job that they haven’t asked me to choose, then, isn’t it?” you responded. “And, for what it’s worth, I think you’re worth it, even if no one else I’ve talked to today seems to agree with me.”

Jesse smiled faintly, both at the idea that you thought his worth as someone in your life matched that of your family and at the fact you didn’t seem to be as upset now as you had been mere minutes ago. Your tears had finally ceased spilling, and all that remained were damp, glistening stains on your cheeks.

Your stomach growled. It elicited a chuckle out of Jesse, who pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Pizza?” he asked.

“Pizza.” you confirmed.

With that, he pushed himself out of bed and left the room, presumably to get his phone and order your favourite kind of pizza.

While it wasn’t the family dinner you’d been anticipating, eating pizza in bed with Jesse was the perfect way to make the best of a pretty terrible night.

BONUS ENDING

It seemed like mere moments ago that you and Jesse had practically passed out in his bed when you were rudely awakened to the sound of someone banging on the door.

There would be three bangs, a brief pause, and then another three bangs.

Your eyelids fluttered open and you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes with a tired groan. You rolled over to look over at Jesse, who had just woken up too. He propped himself up on his elbows and furrowed his brows.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled. He seemed more irritated than confused, and rightfully so.

“Could you get that?” you muttered hoarsely, squinting as your eyes adjusted to the morning light.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” he responded. He pushed himself out of bed, adjusted his t-shirt jeans and trudged to his front door.

It was from that moment that you heard shouting, though it was hard to tell considering everything that was being said (or yelled) was muffled by the walls of Jesse’s home.

With a grunt, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and got up. You didn’t care that you looked like a total mess; you just wanted to go back to sleep.

However, the sight you found as you reached the front door was enough to wake you up.

“Dad?”

You balled up your fists as you glared at your dad and Gomie. Your dad had Jesse pinned to the ground on his stomach, hands cuffed behind his back. Jesse writhed beneath them, trying to push them away.

“What the fuck?” you questioned. “I-I told you not to take it out on him.”

“And, I told you that if you knew what was good for you you’d stay away from him, but you didn’t listen to me, did you?” Hank replied, a hint of coldness in his tone. “Gomie, put him in the car.”

You knew better than to fight right now. The more trouble you made for your dad and Gomie by trying to stop this meant more trouble for Jesse. Even if you fought and pestered and pleaded your hardest, it wouldn’t do anything to stop this. You sent a look to Jesse, knowing he’d understand what it meant. Begrudgingly, he stopped struggling.

Gomie complied with Hank’s order, pulling Jesse up.

“N/N, call Saul for me, alright? Tell him to get his ass to the DEA office and tell him what’s going on.” Jesse called to you as Gomie practically dragged him to the car.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“What are you still doing here? Don’t you have some spiting me to get done?” you practically spat.

“You think I’m doing this because I’m pissed off at you for throwing a tantrum over your boyfriend?” Hank said incredulously, stifling a sneer.

“No. I think you’re mad because I won’t take your...self-righteous bullshit. You can’t stand that you can’t get me to break it off with Jesse and cut ties with my friends. You’re supposed to be the head of the family, right? So, you’re supposed to be able to overrule me, but it doesn’t work when you just tell me what to do. It’s a kick in the ego for you when you can’t get me to listen to you.” you answered. “By arresting him, you’re taking back control, because, when you’re in control, you feel like a man. That’s all that matters to you.”

Hank scoffed. “Think what you want, kid, but I’d rather have him behind bars and you pissed at me for it than have you end up in a body bag.”

He slammed the door behind him as he exited.

With that, you were left standing there alone in Jesse’s house.

All that remained was silence, but that was soon interrupted by the sound of a car engine starting and a rumble that gradually faded away.

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