#although he needs to visit a new barber

[0-twentyone]

THIS BOI IS FINE AF I JUST CANT

[shadesoflsk]

Hiiii!!!! I have an idea! Imagine like getting married to leon/going through the whole process of wedding shopping etc with him. Also do you think he would cry at a wedding? I love your works sm you're so talented I hope you have a great day/night! 💗

leon kennedy x gn reader

Anon... You don't know how much I enjoy thinking about Leon getting married and all those sappy things. It's like you read my mind. And thank you so much ueueue. I'm glad you like my works. <3

I feel like Leon would act really calm and collected in front of you. Even cracking some jokes about not having anything planned out for the wedding. But Dear God that is far from the truth. 

But first, let’s talk about everything before the whole preparation. Leon would definitely struggle to get the right ring size for you. Acting smooth? Not in his dictionary. At first, he���d try it when both of you are ‘sleeping.’ He once read someone could get the exact size by wrapping a string around his partner’s finger.

He tried.

It was unsuccessful. 

You either shifted in your sleep or he couldn’t get the right angle to wrap the thin string.

Ultimately, he just asked you to try some rings, just for funsies… Of course. 

Now, after the exhausting task of buying the ring and actually asking you to marry him, he'd be delighted to start organizing the wedding.

At first, he'd try to brush it off by saying that both of you should go with the flow, not to stress over the wedding. But his old-ass would discover Pinterest and a new world was presented for him. His favorite late-night activity would be searching for wedding ideas and he takes his job very seriously.

Glasses and all, he’d hold his cell phone so close to his face for you not to notice him. Poor guy doesn’t know that you can see through the reflection of them. Usually, he’d leave all the decorations to you, even when you two decided to move in together since he lacks creativity. But a wedding involves two people, and that day is just as special for him as it is for you.

Eventually, he understands he doesn’t need to feel bashful. All of his life has been surrounded by destruction and violence, he may as well indulge in the domesticity and the tranquility of finally settling down with someone he loves.

Leon is a foodie, so his favorite appointments are the ones in which both of you have to try the dishes you want to serve at your wedding. Growing up, he didn’t get to eat home meals, and even when he first started the Police Academy most of his meals consisted of takeouts or food he’d prepare himself. So the mere task of devouring those plates for the sake of the wedding was a great excuse.

He wouldn’t wear a suit and you wouldn’t force him either. However, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t put some effort into how he looks. Part of the wedding planning included a visit to his most trusted barber! He’d definitely shave to look clean in the pictures, but his hair would remain the same.

Leon talks to you and shares his thoughts about the wedding reception. Flashy and showy types of settings aren’t his thing so he suggests going for a beach wedding. The suggestion soon turns into persuasion. He’d show you videos of people getting married on the beautiful Caribbean beaches, or some perfect attires for the beach.

“Oh, it seems that my phone is spying on me or something.” He glances a subtle look at you to see if you’re listening to him. By the tone of his voice, you already know what he is implying.

“Why is that?” And when you finally look at him, you see how his smiles get wider. Of course he got you.

“Because… YouTube won’t stop showing me beach wedding videos. How crazy it is, right?”

So, Leon’s pleas are heard and you decide to go for it. Although, something you both agree on is the fact that it needs to be private, just friends and family.

And yes, he definitely cries at the wedding. One thing he kept from his religious past is the vows, he promises you a future in which he is going to be next to you no matter what. So, in the middle of his speech, his voice would crack, a tiny bit. Clearing his throat he acts like nothing happened but everyone could notice how emotional he is.

Overall, Leon would be delighted to take this next step with you. The last thing he expected in his life was to find love in this messed-up world. And don’t get me started on how Leon would be as a husband because that man is husband material through and through! I’d write a whole essay just for him.

[jessicalprice]

adventures in christian opinions about judaism

(reposted from Twitter)

So a while back I started writing a thing on the trio of parables that ends with the prodigal son (which I still need to finish) and like MAN OH MAN do Christian commentators insist that Jews hate shepherds.

Like, I can't even count the number of commentaries that insist that shepherds were "despised figures" for first-century Jews and the parables of the lost sheep and lost coin were designed to insult the Pharisees by comparing them first to a shepherd and then to a woman.

So, as is my wont whenever Christian commentators make a claim about what was normal for first-century Judaism, I decided to try to hunt down their source on this.

As I've said many times, when it comes to Christian parable interpreters' claims about what attitudes/beliefs/etc. were normal for first-century Jews, get used to the phrase "no sources are cited."

I mean, first off, as a 21st-century Jew, the insistence that 1st-century Jews hated shepherds rings odd, given that <checks notes> Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Rachel, all of Jacob's kids (the founders of the tribes), David, etc. were all sheep-tenders. The image of God as a shepherd is pretty consistent throughout the Tanakh. That image reappears in the Qumran texts, which as far as I know, are one of the few Jewish sources we have from 1st-century Judaea.

The term "despised" gets used a lot, so I decided to dig into that one.

When I was able to find citations, I traced them back to an 1882 commentary by a guy named Frederic Farrar.

Farrar cites Heinrich Meyer as a source for this, but when I looked up THAT citation, it's Meyer saying that shepherds were a "lowly but patriarchally consecrated class" -- in other words, poor, but with a distinguished history and status.

So that's why everyone's tossing the term "despised" around--because Farrar just made it up. But what about primary sources? I went back on the hunt.

Surprisingly, in a number of reference works, like glossaries and Jeffers's "Greco-Roman World of the New Testament," I found similar assertions about the common attitude toward shepherds, for which they cited...

<drum roll>

Aristotle. You know, the Greek guy who lived 300 years before Jesus? Definitely a reliable source for Jewish attitudes of the time.

Some people cited Philo's On Agriculture. Okay, Philo was at least Jewish and lived when Jesus would have, although he was a wealthy Hellenized Jew living in Alexandria rather than a Pharisee living in the Galilee. But okay, at least it's the right culture and time period. (The reference in Philo turns out to be talking about the section of Genesis in which Joseph's brothers come visit him in Egypt. It talks about how they were proud to be shepherds, and criticizes (gentile) kings who look down on shepherds.)

Then we've got Mishnah Kiddushin, in which a bunch of rabbis are having a debate about which professions make you trustworthy vs untrustworthy, and one rabbi lists everyone from camel-drivers to herders to barbers to shopkeepers as untrustworthy. Another rabbi comes back and is like, nah, all those people are fine upstanding folks; it's doctors and butchers you've gotta watch out for. So they're citing one cranky dude with a LONG list of people he doesn't like, who immediately gets shot down, as evidence of the normative attitude for Jews about a century earlier.

Oh, and we've got a citation of Midrash Tehillim which says that God-as-shepherd doesn't have any of the failings of humans-as-shepherds, which... sure. Also, it was codified in the 1300s?

The most compelling citation is from the Talmud (Sanhedrin 25b), in which the rabbis discuss who's qualified to be a legal witness. They exclude shepherds, because shepherds graze their animals on other people's land, which some of the rabbis see as a type of theft.

The Talmud is a record of debates, but this passage definitely makes it sound like this is a majority opinion. (It should be noted that the passage disqualifies all KINDS of people, from those who lend with interest to those who fly pigeons, as having conflicts of interest.)

But the important thing here is that the Talmud includes records of debates from as late as the 4th or 5th centuries CE (300-400 years after Jesus's time), and the passage makes a point of noting that the disqualification of shepherds as witnesses is a later development.

So in other words, the idea that the Pharisees hated shepherds and would have been insulted by Jesus telling a story in which the protagonist was a shepherd is based either on Greek attitudes that are 300 years too early or Jewish ones that are 300-400 years too late.

But people will twist themselves into citation knots (or just not bother citing a source at all) to insist that this was a common attitude so they can position the Pharisees as hating those charming humble shepherds and their fuzzy little lambs.

As to WHY this idea seems to be so important to them, well, you cannot read about Luke 15 without encountering the word "outcast" roughly 90 times per page.

The framing is Jesus was friend to The Outcasts while the Pharisees despised The Outcasts and the Lost Sheep, Coin, and Sons are all parables about accepting The Outcast.

Never mind that neither the sheep, the coin, nor either of the sons got kicked out of their communities. The sheep wandered off, as sheep are wont to do, the coin was lost by its owner, and the younger son decided to leave to go on a spending spree while the older son declined to attend the welcome back party for him after his dad managed to hire a band and caterers but never thought to let his own son know what was going on and he had to find out from a hired hand.

Moreover, the term "outcasts" gets used as a synonym for "tax collectors and sinners." Tax collectors were usually pretty well-off because they ran a protection racket for the Romans. Outcasts? I mean, I guess? But hardly in the "marginalized and powerless" sense.

As far as "sinners," the NT doesn't usually bother telling us what, exactly, they did to "sin," but on the rare occasions when it does offer that context, it's almost always wealthy people.

But why talk about that when they can present the objection the Pharisees had to Jesus's dining with "tax collectors and sinners" as the Pharisees despising lowly outcasts, and insist that the Pharisees hated the idea of such people repenting and returning, and so Jesus was tweaking their noses by comparing them to shepherds and women.

As if, you know, teshuvah wasn't something the Pharisees were ALL ABOUT. If you want to actually understand, consider that the iconic tax collector in the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector shows no inclination to STOP being a tax collector.

The objection wasn't you're having a friendly dinner with poor lowly outcasts for whom we have contempt. It was you're having a friendly dinner with people who are extorting their neighbors on behalf of the invaders who kill us for looking at them funny and have expressed no intention to stop doing that.

Now, there's a good discussion to be had about whether shunning Trump lawyers and Marjorie Taylor-Greene donors or inviting them to dinner and trying to win them over with compassion is more effective, more ethical, more compassionate (to whom?), etc.

But presumably we can see why people of intelligence and goodwill might disagree on which of those approaches is the right thing to do, and why such people might might object to the strategy they don't agree with.

But what really gets me is that Christians have the utter fucking NERVE to paint the Pharisees as inhumanly awful for not wanting to have dinner with tax collectors while viewing Corinthians as Holy Writ:

I mean, Paul's all YOU MUST SHUN ALCOHOLICS AND PEOPLE WHO ARE GREEDY and Christians are like yes, that makes sense, but if the Pharisees are like, no, I don't want to have dinner with that guy who narced on my cousin and got him crucified, Christians are like, they're monsters.

Cool, cool.

Anyway, this has been your weekly edition of Christians Need To Stop Just Making Shit Up About Jews And Then Citing Each Other Like It's Fact.

And there were a lot of "I've never heard anyone say Jews of Jesus's time hated shepherds..." responses: Maybe you haven't, but that doesn't make it uncommon.

Sources in which I've found it:

Craig Blomberg (Denver Seminary, Society of Biblical Literature, Tyndale House, NIV translation committee)

Jared Wilson (professor at multiple Baptist seminaries)

Stephen Wright (Spurgeon College (British evangelical college))

Arland Hultgren (Luther Seminary (ELCA))

Kenneth Bailey (Presbyterian/Episcopalian)

Joachim Jeremias (Lutheran, cited EVERYWHERE)

Bernard Brandon Scott (Disciples of Christ, the Jesus Seminar)

Klyne Snodgrass (Evangelical Covenant Church)

Barbara Reid (Catholic Biblical Association)

That particular trope spans denominations, decades, etc. It's not a fringe viewpoint.

[chapsandcobarbershop]

Barbershop Culture Around the World

You can find records of what we would call barbers as far back as 296BC, where Greek men would congregate at the market for a haircut. They would also chatter and gossip amongst themselves; of what, we have no record, perhaps philosophy, perhaps local gossip. One thing we can say for sure, is that the tradition continued.

Barbering is one profession that is unlikely to disappear anytime soon. Whilst there are heads, there will be hair, and that hair needs to be tamed. In different cultures, haircuts can signify different things, religious, heritage or simply style and fashion.

The Cut and the Chit Chat

The barbershop is often a place of discourse, be that political, social, local or of a more therapeutic nature. A place to talk openly, discuss issues and concerns, relationships or who scored where in what stadium. Whatever your experience of the barbershop, it is likely that socialising plays a large part in the visit.

The birthplace of modern barbering as we know it, is the USA. Back in the 19th century a man by the name of A.B. Molar created the first school of barbering. Offering training and education around the profession, he shaped the barbers we see today. Previously, barbers were also the surgeons and dentists in communities. Take that however you will.

Barbers Around the World

In the US today, the barbershop is teeming with sport talk. The who is who of the NBA and NFL, or who rattled the biscuit in the top shelf over the weekend out on the ice. Politics are often best left at the door in the US, when you are in the chair, the only care are the sports colours you wear.

Barbers in Mexico are often politically charged, with heated discussions around what appears in the broadsheets sat on the table in the waiting area. Taking politicians to task, and discussing socio-economic issues, barbers are often great orators, with a wide range of opinions, formed from speaking to wide demographics of people each day.

The UK barbershops are mostly filled with talk of football. The popular opening gambit for many Brits of “what team do you support, Mate” rarely turns a blank and serves as a perfect ice breaker. Usually, a silence or negative response nods to an assumed rivalry and quintessential British politeness. Failing a chat about the Premier League, the errands the wife has bestowed on the tired husband may also provide some light discussion.

Here in the UAE, an image conscious populace often intent on setting a trend, barbers talk style, fashion and what’s hot and what’s not. Looking for a unique style and to stand out from the crowd, the new breed of barbershop found around the streets, malls and hotels of Dubai scream tradition, although what you find inside should wow even the most modern of gentlemen. Their service is a journey, an experience, a well-rounded pampering.

Industry Insights

Popular and ever-growing barbershop chain Chaps & Co. is one such outfit operating out of the Middle East. Originating in Dubai, they now boast 10 shops in the UAE, across Dubai and Abu Dhabi. Their most recent opening, however, can be found halfway around the world on Broadway in New York City; the brand has certainly got something right.

Founder Jordan Davies alluded to a missing element in male grooming when he arrived in Dubai back in 2010. He said,

“I had been looking for somewhere to get a full service, hair, beard, towel shave, and whilst there were options, they were few and far between. Seeing this gap in the market, I teamed up with friends over here, and Chaps & Co. was born”.

Going from strength to strength, the brand quickly opened 2nd, 3rd and 4th shops, and the face of barbering changed forever in Dubai; he continued,

“After the success of the first two shop, it was a logical decision to expand around the city, strategically placing shops, even inside others such as our Bloomberg branch and inside the hotel, Caesars Palace. COVID of course caused us some disruption, but we’ve bounced back even stronger and now have shops in both Riyadh and New York City”.

When asked about the topic of culture he said,

“Back home in the UK, a trip to the barbershop was like a birth right. You didn’t just pick one, your dad took you to his, you were introduced to Frank, and he became your barber. You could visit anytime, join the queue and soon enough you were chatting with a man who has known you since you were a nipper. It’s quite the experience when you think about it, but also one that’s not uncommon anywhere in the world”.

We Come in Peace, and with Scissors

Perhaps, in a world wrought with indifferences between nations and people, one thing we can all come together on, is that a barbershop is a place you can visit, feel accepted and talk openly without judgement. Perhaps the worlds politicians and policy makers could do good to spend the day as a fly on the wall of any given barbershop, to better understand the people and places that fall under their laws.

What we can say for certain, is that whilst hair needs cutting, barbers will be patiently waiting, with both scissor and conversation. A story as old as time itself.

[xtruss]

20-Year-Old Iranian Confirmed as World’s Shortest Man

— Hassan Ibrahim | 14 December 2022 | Guinness World Records

Afshin Esmaeil Ghaderzadeh (Iran, b. 13 July 2002) is the new world’s shortest man living, measuring 65.24 cm (2 ft 1.6 in).

He is almost 7 cm (2.7 in) shorter than the previous record holder, 36-year-old Edward "Niño" Hernandez (Colombia).

Afshin is the fourth-shortest man ever verified by Guinness World Records. He was flown to our Dubai office where measurements were taken three times over the course of 24 hours, resulting in the accurate record height.

While in Dubai, Afshin enjoyed trips to the tailor and barber before ticking an item off his bucket list: visiting the world's tallest building, the Burj Khalifa.

Afshin was discovered in a remote village located in Bukan County, West Azerbaijan Province, Iran. He can speak both Kurdish and Persian, using the Farsi dialect.

He was born with a body weight of 700 g (1.5 lb) and has grown now to be almost 6.5 kg (14.3 lb).

Afshin’s life in Northern Iran hasn’t been easy. Unable to attend school due to his size, Afshin has struggled with literacy. However, he is delighted to have recently learnt to write his name.

“Continuing treatment and my son's physical weakness are the main reasons why he stopped studying, otherwise he has no mental problems,” said Esmaeil Ghaderzadeh, Afshin's father.

By contrast, Afshin is well-versed in using a smartphone, despite finding it difficult to carry. “Phones in general are heavy to use for a long time, yet I still manage,” Afshin told us.

The house Afshin lives in is modest, and although his family works hard, they sometimes struggle to provide enough for his living expenses, medication and treatment.

Afshin’s short stature renders him unable to follow in his father’s footsteps as a construction worker; in fact, there aren’t any jobs for Afshin in his village.

He spends most of his days watching cartoons and, more recently, scrolling through social media. He has a friend who helps him communicate with followers on his Instagram account @mohamadghaderzadeh_official.

Tom & Jerry is one of Afshin's favourite cartoons, and although you might presume him to identify with Jerry, Afshin actually prefers Tom the cat.

Afshin also loves watching football and supports Esteghlal Football Club in Iran. His favourite football players are fellow Guinness World Records title holders Ali Daei (Iran) and Cristiano Ronaldo (Portugal).

Afshin has a very kind and outgoing personality, thus he is very popular with the locals. Both his parents as well as his community call him by the name ‘Mohamad’.

Although happy, Afshin explained that he wishes he could live like other people, particularly so he can own and drive a car.

He cannot travel around the village alone; he is always escorted by one of his parents. Although Afshin can walk unassisted, he sometimes prefers to be carried.

“I know who the tallest man living in the world is. I might fit in the palms of his hands.” – Afshin Ghaderzadeh

Buying clothes is always a struggle for people with superlative statures. Whilst it may seem harder for tall people to find clothes because they need to be custom made, Afshin also experiences a similar struggle. The only clothes that fit him are those made for toddlers, but as a 20-year-old man, Afshin isn’t a fan of the childlike designs, so he wears a custom-made suit.

Afshin has never been able to play any sports, however, much like the previous shortest man, Afshin loves to dance. He busts out his best dance moves whenever there’s any Iranian Kurdish music playing.

As a child, Afshin was not lucky enough to have owned any Guinness World Records books, but he says human-body related records are his favourite.

“Just thinking about being part of the Guinness World Records family is like a dream. I struggle to believe it sometimes. It is like you wake up the next day and the entire world now knows who you are. That’s magical,” said Afshin.

“I like the attention I get from people. It makes me feel special,” he elaborated.

He may be small, but it sounds like Afshin has big plans for the future: “My dream is to be able to help my parents. This global recognition might help me achieve my dream.”

"It's been a privilege to meet with Afshin and his family, and to confirm him as the new world's shortest living adult man. Judging by the enthusiasm he's shown during his visit to Dubai, he's more than ready to enjoy his new-found celebrity status and become a household name." - Craig Glenday, Editor-in-Chief at Guinness World Records

Timeline of the World’s Shortest Men Since 2010

In 2009, the Shortest Man living and Shortest Female living record titles were split into Mobile and Non-Mobile categories in order to differentiate between those who are able to walk unassisted and those who are not.

April 2010: Edward "Niño" Hernandez confirmed as shortest man living (mobile) (70.21 cm) following the death of China’s He Pingping in March 2010

October 2010: Khagendra Thapa Magar (Nepal) confirmed as shortest man living (mobile) (67.08 cm) upon turning 18. Prior to this, he was the shortest teenager living (male)

June 2011: Junrey Balawing (Philippines) confirmed as shortest man living (non-mobile) (59.93 cm). Junrey passed away in July 2020; there is currently no non-mobile record holder.

February 2012: Chandra Dangi (Nepal) confirmed as the shortest man living (mobile) and shortest man ever (54.6 cm)

September 2015: Upon the death of Dangi, Magar was reinstated as shortest man living (mobile)

February 2020: Upon the death of Magar (17 January 2020), Hernandez (72.10 cm) was re-measured and reinstated as shortest man living (mobile)

December 2022: Afshin Esmaeil Ghaderzadeh (65.24 cm) confirmed as the new shortest man living (mobile)

[captainmalewriter]

And now, please enjoy the second installment of me recounting about men I've possessed

Wesley

As much as I loved being Cylus, I knew that it was time to move on to the next body. After all, the duty of being Captain was calling me, and I simply had to answer. Pride month was coming up at the time. I wanted a body I could go all out in during the month of June. And as I was out clubbing as Cylus one last time, I ran into Wesley. He was a shy one, just keeping to himself at the bar, but then I came along. I offered a dance and he accepted. We danced body grinding against body and during the heat of the moment, I left Cylus and entered Wesley. It was a seamless possession, just slip in and take the wheel, but I had to get out of there quickly before Cylus or any of Wesley's associates caught on to what happened.

Thankfully, I got away without a problem that night. And so started my Pride 2022 living as the sexy Wesley out on the island of Puerto Rico. Needless to say, Wesley was feeling much more body confident while being the Captain. Dancing nearly every night surrounded by hunky men and with minimal clothing... I loved every second of it.

Jaime

Of course, like anything else in life, all good things had to come to an end. Pride was over and so was my time possessing Wesley. Thankfully, however, finding my next body wasn't such a hassle this time around. A college basketball team had come to visit Puerto Rico for summer break. Although the basketball jocks were living wild during the nighttime, the coaching team still had them training long and hard during the daytime. And what was part of their workout routine? A visit to a masseuse to soothe those sore muscles; a masseuse like Wesley. I purposefully waited until I had a chance to massage the entire team; then once I made my choice on bodies, I made my move.

Jaime, number 24 on the team, had walked in with only a white towel wrapping around his waist. He told me he was feeling tense around the back area, and proceeded to lay down on the massage table. I went straight to work massaging Jaime's back muscles. It was so hot rubbing him down from an outside POV one last time. I concentrated my life energy through Wesley's hands, leaving him and entering Jaime through his back. While I fully adjusted myself inside Jaime, I could hear Wesley sounding lost and confused at what had happened to him. I simply raised my head and reminded him that he was in the middle of giving me a massage. Although confused, Wesley went along with it without further questions.

With Jaime under my control, I had yet another successful possession to add to my resume. I gotta say, I didn’t think I'd enjoy the life of a college basketball star but it's been pretty amazing! All the parties... media publicity... the DL jocks in the locker room... And hearing my name being chanted from a crowd of people while I shoot a 3-pointer? A priceless experience, Jaime was the perfect choice for the next Captain.

Shawn

It felt good living the life of a rising basketball star, but that isn't to say it didn't come without a cost. Playing D1 basketball is hard! It was tiring keeping up with the team. After a few months of possessing Jaime, it was time to hang up my shoes and retire.

While I was searching for my next body, a thought had occurred to me. Up until now, I had been inside the bodies of two models, a reality TV star, and a college athlete. Sure, I got a chance to go wild with Wesley, but I wouldn't exactly call it a relaxing time of my life. That was when I decided to take it down a notch with my next body. I had called up Jaime's barber Shawn for a house visit. He came in and proceeded to cut my hair. Once he was done, I shook hands with him and jumped from Jaime's to his. Within seconds I was in control of a new body yet again.

I excused myself out of Jaime's house and went straight to my new home for the next couple of months. I had anticipated Shawn was just an average Joe living the simple life in his early 30s, and I was right on the money. No need to stress about maintaining an image when all I have to do is go to work, cut a couple guys' hair every now and then, and hang out with my new friend group. Thankfully though, Shawn lived alone. That gave me the freedom to do two things; chill in my new house butt ass naked all day, and invite over as many guys as I wanted to get a taste of the new dad bod. Yup yup, life for the Captain will be pretty easygoing for a while, and I'm loving it.

Hope you enjoyed the latest installment of me exploring new bodies! See y'all in the next update. -Captain M.W.

[chuckbass-love]

please do #19 with ransom🤭

A/N: Hey, sweet anon. I let all of my requests build up so hence the long wait, which i am sorry for. However, i really hope you love this. I was supposed to upload an Andy Barber request first but it’s a long one and i’m in the process of editing it for y’all. But for now, here is a steamy, short and sweet Ransom fic because he’s my fave, to keep y’all satisfied for now.

Prompt #19: "Do you need me to finger you first?"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut, vaginal fingering, brief thigh riding, degradation, swearing and a small mention of murder and prison. 18+ as always guys!

Word Count: 2,210

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @evansensations go check them out💕

Get You Ready

It’s 2:45pm, early afternoon time in Massachusetts and you’re currently held up and pre occupied in the middle of nowhere in a rented cabin with Boston’s most notorious playboy. Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

To say you’ve become well acquainted with the convicted murdered would be an understatement to say the least. He’s dangerous, bad news or a bad egg as your mother likes to say. But you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon him when he got arrested, and so the regular visits began. 

At first, you tried to deny him the simplest pleasures of just kissing you, you refused to give yourself to a man with such a unsettling reputation. However, that refusal didn’t last long. He found a way, by somehow coercing you into succumbing to his touch, the slow drag of his lips across yours before he bit down hard on your bottom lip was enough to have you panting and keening for more.

And so it continued...

The kissing turned to touching and the touching turned to more, with your consent of course.

But the haze of white bed sheets and lazy morning sex had to end at some point, that point being the death of Harlan, Ransom’s grandfather. 

From the moment news broke of his death, Hugh began to act shady, and although you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, you knew you had reason to be suspicious.

The will reading then fast approached and it only got worse, his restlessness, the way he seemed to be so irritable yet so unable to find anything to help. Nothing would suffice, not even the soft touch of your hand on his shoulders to massage the tension away. 

And then Marta was handed everything...literally on a silver platter. Though you couldn’t fault Harlans choice, the same could not have been said for the good for nothing, money grabbing Thrombey's and Drysdale’s. They were angry, seething even. However, Ransom was peculiarly calm, it was worrisome. 

Days passed with Blanc trying to solve the mystery of the best selling authors demise but to no avail. No one could figure it out. Fingers were pointed, digs were thrown. But no one knew, just who did kill Harlan Thrombey? It was a mystery. 

That was until Hugh Ransom Drysdale was found out, Blanc clocked on eventually, he realised how Ransom had pulled the wool right over his eyes, for far too long.

This same realisation led to his arrest. 

But with great lawyers, he weaselled his way out of a long sentence. 

The day of his release, and much to your mothers dismay, you rushed into his arms. You wanted to be the first person he saw, the first person he held. You wanted him to know what he meant to you, how loyal you were to him. And you still are.

Throughout all of the shit that’s been thrown at the two of you, you’re still together, albeit in some old cabin in the middle of nowhere, but together nonetheless.

And now here you are on an extremely cold day, wrapped up in his warm embrace as you lay between his spread legs. Your head is rested on his chest as his fingers brush against your clit for the umpteenth time today, you had a taster of his cock inside of you and after days of him being too busy, it hurt a little, the stretch.

See, how you ended up here is a funny story, you dared to tread the waters around him whilst he was working on something in his study and in doing so, you earned a punishment. 

He had told you he was busy one time too many and you didn’t listen, you actively ignored his refusals. 

The whore that you’ll always be for him just couldn’t resist getting on her knees as he sat there man spreading and looking too good not to touch. And the moment you worked at his belt to pull his slacks and boxers down, his hardened cock sprang free from its confines and he looked too good not to taste. 

But before you could wrap your sweet gloss covered and tempting lips around the throbbing tip that leaked his tasty pre-cum, he gripped your face aggressively with one hand. His phone rang in the other and as he answered, his punishing grip relented and he was tapping his lap for you to sit down on it, not before he signalled for you to strip though.

Whilst you undressed, he shimmied out of is slacks, until they dropped to his feet along with his boxers. He stepped out of them and waited for you to straddle him, for you to sink down on his hardened length. But just as you were about to, a better idea rose to light. Instead he manoeuvred the two of you so that you were straddling his thigh, the words ‘ride it’ that he mouthed let you know that that was all that you’d be getting today.

The phone conversation seemed to drag out agonisingly but he’d assist you by moving his thigh just to give you some reprieve, some friction, even if it only lasted a second.

However, once the phone call came to an abrupt end, it was game on. You began to move more, letting moans slip so casually until he stood up with you in his arms. He carried you to the bedroom, taking his time to admire every inch of your face as he walked, you felt warm under his stare.

Reaching the bedroom, Ransom positioned the two of you so that you were between his spread legs, your own legs wide open for his pleasure. He began to toy with your cunt, muttering degrading words while he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you just by rubbing at your over sensitive clit and now you’re not sure you even have another inside of you. 

“Does my dumb baby need my cock?”

Your eyes droop as you fight off your spent state, but you still manage a slow nod as you turn your head to look back at him, eyes pleading for just an inch of him to be buried inside of you.

“Beg for it, baby”

With a dry mouth and zero energy, you whisper “please, daddy. Please fuck me with your cock” 

Your words, nothing but a whine to his ears but since you’ve been such a good girl thus far, he caves in easily until before you know it, you’re on your back with Ransom hovering above you.

He pumps his shaft a couple times, before tapping it against your sex lightly, making you jolt. 

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, lust blown eyes focused on yours as they turn darker. You give a simple nod along with a meek little “yes” to satisfy him.

And with that he slams inside of you, causing you to cry out in pain.

Ransom may be a lot of things, but he can never bring himself to fuck you if you’re uncomfortable. He prefers you to enjoy the sex.

His hips come to a rushed halt as he lowers his head to where yours is laying on the pillow beneath, his thumb brushing your tears away.

“Shhh, what is it, baby?” 

“It’s been a couple days since we last did anything, i’m a little tight, it just hurt that’s all” you explain, trying to signal for him to continue. But instead he chuckles, pulling out entirely and pulling your bottom lip down as his other hand roams south.

“Does my dumb baby need a little help? Do you need me to finger you first, hm? Get that tight cunt ready for me?”

His crass words resonate deep within, sending more arousal to pool at your sore entrance and regardless of how bad it hurts, you want him.

“No, i want you now-”

“Hush, baby. Let daddy take care of it for you”

His lips begin to trail from your tear stained cheek to your lips and then down to the valley between your breasts. He sucks a now hardened nipple into his mouth, biting down and flicking his tongue across it with precision but you daren’t get too used to it as he soon moves further down toward your needy and aching sex. 

Once he reaches it, your chest begins to rise and fall, your breath growing heavier. 

You watch on as he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit and he repeats this action a couple more times before sucking on the pulse point, flicking his tongue just like he did across your nipple. Your back arches and endless lewd moans slip as you struggle to contain how good he feels. 

Two thick digits slip inside of you, scissoring you open and easing you through the stretch to prepare you for him once again. The thing with Ransoms size is that regardless of how often you fuck, he’ll always need to prepare you before he fucks you.

“Tastes so good, baby” he coos, his fingers pumping in and out of you, slowly at first and then the pace picks up until your clutching at the sheets beneath you. His mouth giving your body that extra push toward the edge, the pool of pleasure awaiting you below as you writhe around, enjoying every second of his sinful mouth.

“Ransom” you groan, hips bucking up to meet the rhythm of his fingers, chasing that all important release.

It’s like whenever Ransom is involved, your body ignites and you turn into a blazing inferno, every inch of you so needy for him, it never fades. 

He has you right where he wants you and you feel absolutely no shame in that.

Your bodies are drawn together constantly, like a magnetic pull is responsible. And as much as your family don’t approve, you adore it.

The feel of his fingers curling inside of you, the tips poking that spongy spot deep within you that has the power to send your body into a shaking mess. You crave that release now, you’re starving for it. And you’re going to make sure he gives it to you.

The continuation of your hips rolling and bucking alerts Ransom of how close you are and a smirk appears on his sinister face... here comes trouble.

Without missing a beat, he withdraws his fingers from your tight cunt, lifting them up for you to see the way your slick covers them beautifully. His tongue dips out to wet his lips as he ogles the sight of your arousal before he takes them into is mouth, his tongue working expertly, making sure that every drop hits his tastebuds. 

An overly satisfied and deep guttural groan rumbles from him and you feel your eyes widen at the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. Ransom in his element, pleasuring you until you break for him. 

There’s just something about the way he fucks, the way he teases, the way he touches and kisses. It’s him in all of his glory.

He merely has to look in your direction with those darkened lust filled orbs and you’re a goner, weak at the knees. Some people’s talents lie in photography or creative writing, but Ransom’s lies in the art of seduction and pleasure. He knows exactly what he’s doing and no other man has ever come close to him. 

It makes you question how you coped all that time before you met him.

“You think you can handle me now, hm?” his degrading tone doesn’t skim over your head, but somehow you live for the way his entire demeanour switches when it comes to these things. 

He hovers above you once again, his hands braced either side of your head as he urges you to lift your legs up as high as you can before he drapes them over his broad shoulders. 

Your breathing picks up, your chest rising and falling as your eyes remain locked on his, the tip of his impressive size nudging at your entrance. The edging he put you through now a distant memory as he eases in, or at least for the first 2 inches. Then he slams in, forcing you to take the rest of him, all the way.

“God” you scream, hands scrambling around again, searching for something to claw at as his hips snap into you, his pace nothing short of unforgiving. 

“God can’t save you now” he grumbles, mouth falling open as he scrunches his face up in reaction to the feel of your pussy wrapped around him in a fist like grip. Wet and perfect.

The noises filling the room are making you grateful that you’re well away from everyone else, your own little safe haven in the middle of nowhere, no one can interrupt you now.

And It’s bound to be a long night....

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

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[alluringjae]

au cours de l’été - jjh

⤑ translation: over the summer

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

⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

⤑ masterlist

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

3 juin 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jaehyun! What brings you here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Une nouvelle venue?” (A newcomer?)

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

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

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

“Jaehyun?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shucks, he was pretty cute.”

12 juin 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Correct.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

début de juillet 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s infatuated by you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Bonsoir, (Y/N).” [Goodnight, (Y/N).]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“En voyant notre mine ravie,”

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

“Les passants dans la rue, nous envient,”

Your hand perched on your cheek, admiring his talent.

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

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

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

“Un espoir merveilleux, qui donne le frisson…”

À la mi-juillet de 1957

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Get dressed and some sleep, (Y/N).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Call me that again, please.”

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

“Tu peux m'avoir.” (You can have me.)

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

This time, it’s different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fin de juillet 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep them on when you ride me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Je t’aime aussi, Jaehyun.”

16 octobre 1957

Autumn made its way to the countryside.

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

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

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

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

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

“Still breathtaking.”

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

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

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

“Write to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, what was he up to?

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

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

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

You giggled at his silliness, throwing out flying kisses.

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

21 octobre 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get to the point please!” You screeched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could the next summer come any faster?

14 février 1958

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I beg your pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your fairytale.

“Jaehyun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He spoke about me to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he your favorite muse?”

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

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

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

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

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

“So tell me about your new book.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What really went down in Provence?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

6 ans plus tard (1964)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remember when you said how his mansion felt too big?

It no longer did after getting married.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouvre-le.” (Open it.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

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

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

Excluding being drenched from the rain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

copyright © 2021 by alluringjae.

[buckyownsmylife]

Diving Bell - Andy Barber smut

The one where Andy has been a patient librarian, but now that you’ve accepted his advances...

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, dubcon, (andy pushes the relationship into boundaries that weren’t previously consented), age gap, (reader is over eighteen and in college), semi-public sex, somewhat of an exhibitionism kink, oral (f), andy’s definitely dark but reader is generally into it, she just doesn’t know what “it” will be, dirty talk

Word count: 3k<

A/N:  this is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them, instead of on Thursdays, which are my usual one-shot posting days. Hope you guys like it!

Reader’s P.O.V.

My face burned and I wondered how I hadn’t spontaneously combusted from how hot I felt under the hot new librarian’s gaze. Sure, the girls had warned me about it - I’d hear so much about him, in fact, that I was sure I’d be disappointed when I actually did manage to meet him.

Boy, was I wrong.

He was the definition of daddy, luscious beard and hair just begging to be pulled and I could feel the burn his jaw would leave behind if he deposited kisses down my neck - or better yet, on the insides of my thighs - but he was at least twenty years older than me.

There was absolutely no way I’d ever catch his attention. Not when so many girls had tried to get in his pants - girls hotter than me - and had failed miserably, as I’d been told time and time again from the very same seductresses.

So I saw absolutely no point in trying. Although, one could very well admire, right? Also, fantasize couldn’t do any harm, not even to my extremely vulnerable pride. It’s not like I could control it, anyway.

But another thing I couldn’t control was his effect on me. The way my whole body warmed up when I felt his eyes on it, how I couldn’t immediately focus on his words whenever he addressed me.  I even stopped coming to the library to study because 1) I couldn’t concentrate with him around and 2) his presence had brought a whole new wave of first-time library users, and seeing as their interests weren’t on the actual books, they tended to be extremely loud.

Once essays started to get assigned though, there wasn’t much I could do. I had to get back to the library, and so I chose to go when it was already dark, hoping he wouldn’t pick up that shift, and knowing most frat girls would be at an impromptu Thursday-night party to celebrate (once again) the start of classes.

I didn’t understand why they couldn’t just throw a party for the sake of partying. Did they have to reuse the same excuse, over and over again? It’s not like anyone cared. I certainly didn’t, and the people who went for the free beer didn’t care about anything just as long as the alcohol kept flowing.

“What are you doing here?” His voice startled me, almost making me drop the pile of books I’d been gathering. Even though there was no way I’d confuse him with someone else, I still looked over my shoulder to make sure it was really him, that he was actually there, staring at me with those caring warm brown eyes.

“S-should I be anywhere else?” I tried to sass, even if my own voice gave me away. He chuckled though, extending a hand to help me with the load in my arms, and although I hesitated for a second, I ended up accepting his help. It was his job, after all. This couldn’t really be considered flirting, right?

“I don’t know. I’ve heard about this party tonight, figured you’d be there.” Frowning, I finally turned to stare at him directly in the eyes, almost immediately regretting my decision. Damn, he looked good.

“How do you know about the party?” I asked, and his lips immediately curled up, trying to contain a smile from stretching over his face.

“Some girls may or may not have invited me to meet them there.” Clicking my tongue, I decided to look back at the bookshelf, instead of paying him any more attention.

“Why? Are you jealous?” The question felt too much like something a fuckboy my age might ask me at a party, not a forty-year-old man who worked a full-time job. When I turned to look at him again, eyebrows raised high, he chuckled.

“Sorry, that’s not usually my style… I’m just at a loss of ways to get you to notice me, that’s all.” Well, now I was beyond shocked.

“Why do you want me to notice you?” I asked, utterly confused, but Andy just laughed, shaking his head at me like he was profoundly amused by my ways.

“I always notice when you’re around. Even worse, I always notice when you aren’t.” And then, as he looked around like he wanted to make sure other people wouldn’t hear him, he leaned over me and confessed, “It gets pretty lonely here without you.”

The accompanying wink almost gave me a heart attack. Stuttering out something even though I didn’t know what to say, I moved away from the bookshelf in search of the nearest table, finding it thankfully empty.

When I turned around to look for him again, he was right by my side.

“I don’t get it,” I managed to admit once my arms were book-free. “We’ve talked like twice. You helped me find books, I acted like a fool. You weren’t supposed to flirt with me, why aren’t you interested in the college girls who actually hit on you?”

He raised his eyebrows before frowning, hands deep in his pockets as he stared down at me in all of his height. “Have you ever considered… that I just don’t want them?”

The insinuation stirred something deep inside of me, leaving me flushed and overall a mess. Stumbling out an apology, I gathered my stuff and left as quickly as possible, determined to process what had happened that evening by myself, so it could actually feel real and I could decide what to do from then on.

But something changed ever since that evening. I stopped trying to run away from him and started to actively go to the library in the times I knew he was there, at first still avoiding him and looking away every time he caught me staring, silently grateful that he didn’t try to force me to open up to him.

His patience was rewarded when in a few weeks, I began to talk to him again. Asking him for book recommendations, never anything other than what was strictly related to his job, but the way his eyes glinted knowingly at me warned me that he did understand where my mind was at.

It didn’t take long for him to start flirting with me, and from then on, I slowly accepted his advances and even began to eagerly wait for them.

I smiled widely when I heard his low whistle, admiring the way he looked in that comfortable sweater as he put away the books he was holding to fully give me all of his attention.

“Well, don’t you look incredible?” He asked as I twirled so he could fully see the dress I’d put on just for him. “Did you dress up for me, pretty girl? Because I like to think that you did.”

Biting my lower lip, I tried to gather the courage I’d been trying to build up all week, before finally nodding and admitting, “Yes, I did.” From the stupefied look on his face, it didn’t seem like he was expecting that. Even worse, I wasn’t expecting the outcome of my little attempt to flirt back.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” And that was all the warning I got before his hands cradled my face and he took my mouth in his, kissing me breathless, leaving me aching and soaked when he finally released me.

I was panting by the time he let go of my lips, and he smiled softly at me as he brushed over my cheekbones, saying, “You know… if you ever need anything… You know I’m always here to help.”

Andy’s P.O.V.

“So, what brings you here tonight?” My own smile denounced just how much of her intentions I already knew, from how well I knew her. Her late-night visits to the library had become more and more frequent, and I couldn’t say that I hated it.

“I don’t know,” she feigned nonchalance, shrugging while perusing the bookshelves before looking back at me from over her shoulder. “The hot new librarian in charge of the night shift has told me he was always available to help me with anything I needed, and I’ve been needing a distraction.”

My chuckle was low, in order not to interrupt the few students still trying to finish whatever assignment they were working on, but she heard it. I watched as she shivered at the sound of my voice, prompting me to lick my lips at the powerful reaction I could so easily elicit from her.

“You didn’t use to be so blunt,” I teased, remembering how she used to come in here looking for me, only to run away at the last second. It was adorable. Ever since I started working at this university, it wasn’t unusual for college girls to come in groups and watch me from a distance, their giggles whenever I glanced at them unmistakable in the almost completely silent environment. Eventually, one or two would always break away from the group and try to flirt while their friends became a captive audience, but I was quick to shut them down.

They weren’t the one I wanted. She was standing in front of me now, pretending to be interested in a random book, biting her lower lip to keep a smile from spreading over her face. “Do you miss it?”

There was something undeniably attractive by her shyness back then, her inability to ask me for information or even sustain my gaze, but now that I knew what it was like to have her meet my eyes, now that I’d had the luxury of hearing her speak, of getting to know the intricacies of her mind, how could I miss what was, back then, a stranger?

“Not at all.” Her laughter, even subdued because of the place we were in, was enough to have my stomach doing backflips. I had to smile, instinctively getting closer to her, just like a moth, drawn to a flame. 

“I want to do dirty, dirty things to you,” I admitted, one hand on the back of her head as I pressed her against the bookshelf, my lips just over her ear as my beard undoubtedly tickled her neck. “Can’t very well protect my soul if I’m still thinking about you as an innocent little thing, now can I?”

Her eyes dropped down to my lips before meeting mine again, and just like that, I had all the authorization I needed to connect our lips and kiss her breathless. Humming in delight against her quiet neediness, her eagerness to open her lips, welcome my tongue with hers, I blindly moved us further towards the back of the library, relaxed in the knowledge that amongst taxidermia books no one would come to check on us.

Not that I cared all that much if they did.

“Hm… Want me, sweetheart?” I pressed, needing to hear her say it, taking sick pleasure in knowing this came from her, this was her own desire. She almost didn’t answer me, eyelids heavily pressing her eyes closed when our mouths parted, but in the absence of my touch on her, she jolted.

“Yeah, I do! I do, I do…” She insisted, pressing herself against me, feeling just how badly I wanted her too. It made her gasp, witnessing how hard she had made me - she didn’t know it yet, but it’d been this way ever since the first day.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I whispered, just to see the way goosebumps took over her flesh while I got rid of her underwear, moving us towards an empty table where I could lay her out to take.

“No, I don’t want you to stop,” she moaned when she saw me leaning over to kiss between her legs, eyes still connected to hers until she closed them to throw her head back, overtaken by the sensation of my warm tongue slipping between her folds. It was better that way, she wouldn’t see the dangerous smirk that denounced that she would come to regret her words before I was done with her.

She tasted just as sweet as I always imagined her to. So wet already, it was clear she was desperate for me. The cock straining against my pants reminded me I couldn’t be too cocky about it - I wanted her just as badly.

“C’mon, honey…” I teased, dipping my tongue in her hole as my thumb frantically rubbed her tiny clit. “Give me more, I want more.” I needed her to cum before I could shove my cock into her. It was important.

The sudden tension of her thighs denounced the arrival of her orgasm, and where usually I’d love nothing more than to keep licking her, delighting myself with her taste and overstimulating her sweet body until she was crying, there was only so much I could take tonight.

“There you go,” I complimented when she easily succumbed to my directions, having turned her around and laid her with her stomach on the table, legs dangling off of it. “Want to feel me now, pretty girl? Want me to fill you now?”

Her answer was a whine as her hips searched for mine. She was offering herself to me, the innocent little thing. Didn’t know I’d take her regardless of it.

I had the instinct of slapping my hand over her mouth as I penetrated her, and so her moan came out muffled. I could still understand a breathless, “so good…” being uttered against my palm, and it only made me bite down on my lip harder, so my own sounds wouldn’t reverberate across the silent library.

It was a twisted kind of pleasure to hold her arms back as I fucked her roughly but as silently as possible, trying not to make the table squeak so it wouldn’t draw attention to us. Even though I didn’t particularly care if someone did find us - I wouldn’t stop fucking her if God himself tried to intervene -  I’d prefer to reach my goal without unwanted interferances.

So I was glad she didn’t seem to mind the fact that anyone could easily look our way and see us fucking. Had I really tempted her that much, that she would let me do whatever I wanted to her body, just as long as I fucked her?

Guess I was about to find out.

“Do you know how many times I masturbated in the back room, thinking about this sweet pussy?” I asked, voice raspy with desire as I kept jackhammering her as quietly as possible, but probably failing to do so in the midst of my arousal. “To think I finally have it now, wrapped around my dick…” My voice faltered as I realized all of my dreams were about to come true, right at that moment.

“Can’t wait to fuck my cum back into you, sweetheart. I’m gonna keep you so full from now on.” I felt her body tense underneath my fingers as she processed my words, but it was too late for her now. My hand still over her mouth, I stopped her from screaming or fighting me in any way.

“Just relax, honey. Doesn’t it feel so good?” I mocked, fucking her harder and harder as my control slipped from me. “It feels good for me, too. So now you’ll have to take it.”

Reaching around for her clit, I started rubbing it in quick little motions, desperate to feel her cunt clenching around me once more, milking my cum.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Cum again for me. Let me keep making you feel good as you do the same for me.” Her orgasm had her legs raising between mine, right when I started to spill inside of her, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Once I was sure she wouldn’t scream, I took my hand away and pushed her back against the desk, massaging her ass eagerly, hoping it would take.

“You’ll look so good all round with my child.” Once I pulled my cock from her, I made sure to adjust her underwear so it would stop my cum from flowing, massaging the damp tissue with a smug expression.

She managed to turn around in my embrace, blinking confusedly, mouth opening and closing as if she couldn’t quite figure out what she wanted to say, and I cooed at her adorableness.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you and the little one.” I rubbed my hand over where she would soon grow, licking my lips at the mental image of her pregnant. God, why did that make me so hard?

“You can trust me,” I assured her, pulling her closer to I could kiss her forehead, before adjusting her body so it rested on mine. I knew there were tears rolling down her cheeks, but it was just from her coming down from the adrenaline high. She wanted this. She just needed to be able to think clearly to see just how perfect this would be. “We’ll be so happy together.”

[randoimago]

Orym and Mistletoe kiss I beg I beg

Mistletoe Kiss

FANDOM: Critical Role, Campaign 3

Character(s): Orym

Type of Request: Headcanons, 🎄

Word Count: 510

Note(s): I love the "I care for others and not myself" dad so much. This was also me attempting to do something besides “d&d group has a party and that’s where kiss happens”.

Orym

You and Orym were walking through the streets of Jrusar, just looking around but also having a list that Imogen wrote for supplies that were needed. Although, the term “needed” was used loosely, looking at this list.

“Where does Laudna even expect us to find ‘actual hair from people’ from? I am not going to give random strangers haircuts in the street.” You made a face as you looked at the obvious additions that Laudna made.

“We could visit a barber shop, see if they want to get rid of some of the hair they have?” Orym suggested and you sighed. “Could also try to find a horse. She won’t know the difference, right?” You just shrugged.

You both kept walking, deciding that potion shopping would be the easiest to do. Sure, getting baked goods is on the list but those would end up being eaten before you made it back.

You both entered the shop, being greeted by the owner. You two were going to start looking around but stopped at a loud “thud” as the owner had slammed their hand on the counter.

“Ey! Tradition!” You looked to each other in confusion before the owner pointed above both of you. You looked up and saw a sprig of mistletoe hanging. “You’ll disappoint the gods if you don’t follow tradition.”

“We, uh, we don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable,” Orym told you as he glanced up. “I’m used to disappointing gods anyway.” You would love for him to elaborate on that, but that’s a conversation for another time.

“I don’t know, with the stuff we wind up in, might be best not to test it...” You trailed off and Orym gave a smile before looking around.

“Uh do you have a step stool?” He asked the owner, who went to go find something for him. You had to hold back the smile as Orym looked back over to you with a sheepish expression. Eventually he got his stool that he hopped on.

“Are you sure?” He asked you again and you nodded. There honestly wasn’t anyone else you’d rather kiss. Orym gave a nod as well as you both leaned in for a quick kiss. The clapping from the shop owner caused you two to separate.

Orym returned the stool but then paused. You gave him a look as he started to look out the windows of the shop. “Are you following us?” He asked, which caused you to be confused.

“What?”

“Laudna messaged me. Asked me if I could take some of your hair the next time we kissed,” Orym told you and you felt a few different emotions at that statement.

“Yeah no.” He gave you a look at that so you quickly added, “no to the hair. I wouldn’t mind more kisses.” He paused a bit at that but a gentle smile went onto his face, before it turned to being creeped out. Ah, must be a new message from Laudna.

You just smiled at the idea of getting to kiss your favorite halfling more later.

[fafulous]

Take Me Home (1/5)

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Themes: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS ((The series is following the BOOK ENDING and not Show)), Sad and soft Andy Barber, Single Mother Reader. Cursing.

a/n: I hope you guys like it. We all know Andy deserves some softness :’)

The one thing you cherished about your neighbourhood was its calming silence.

Away from the hustle and bustle of the 21st century fast pacers. It did not give you any force to lead a rush life. No matter how hard life was you enjoyed this serenity, just like your neighbours.

You were the only one relatively younger in your neighbourhood, for this place was normally owned by retired elderly after experiencing everything life had to offer. But for you and your three-year-old little son, it was a second chance at life. All your neighbours except for that one loner house beside you was occupied by retired veterans and war heroes.

But that soon changed.

A man by the name Andrew Barber had moved to the house beside you. You got to know one day when you saw a huge truck with people going in and out of the house with clean and neat furniture.

Seeing all that, your vivid imagination went running and tried to picture how this man would look. Judging by the furniture (which made no sense), you thought your new neighbour was someone who would be simple and felt it wasn’t going to be someone who was, you know, old.

Oh boy were you right.

Once those packers went by, you saw him.

Andrew Barber was nothing what you thought out to be. Tall and broad, his back muscles would tell you its own tale. From afar you noticed his biceps never failed him too, for his arms screamed whenever he went in and out with a huge piece of cardboard boxes. His facial hair was a bit messy, like he is just moving into his new abode right after a sloth nap. You weren’t sure but his blue eyes had a dull finish that were deep embedded in his sunken face.

You also took notice of his sleek black Audi A6 which was parked by his driveway; It was not easy to peel your eyes away from its beauty.

This was wrong. You’re a single mother with the most adorable kid you could’ve ever asked for. After a struggle of six months your son Nikolai and you have found a hint of stability; single parenting is never easy unless you get the hang of it.

And you did.

Before you could offer any refreshments, your neighbours beat you to it. They were too kind. They were the elderly parents whose snobbish kids only visited once a year. Hence you decided to fill the gap in their lives. They loved you and you loved them back.

So now you decided that maybe when the time is right, you could meet him in a day or two and get to know each other.

Right?

 —

This was new for Andy. Very foreign too.

To live a life without Laurie and Jacob was something he never expected to happen after the trial. It’s been a good handful of weeks since it happened. He did not even have the heart to think more about his son. His eyes would cloud with tears and the whole day would go wasted in drowning himself in sorrow and liquor.

He was still mourning after all.

So he decided to move. Move away from his house that reminded of his 17 years of a marriage that only seemed successful, only for it go wrong in an impulse. Move away from all of the local tabloids that hinted at himself being a next murderer. 

Move away from his unsuccessful lineage.

Scattered around him were boxes of his stuff at his new house, his stuff alone. Laurie’s stuff was nearly packed and sent away to her parents’ home, the last time he’ll ever associate himself with her family.

Yes, her family.

Andy did file for a divorce while she was in prison, but that was a long procedure until it became official. However hard it was to sign those papers; it was as hard to let go of Laurie. Because if he lets her go, he has nobody.

A lone sunken soul.

The packers truck got in half of his belongings, the remaining which will come tomorrow. It was difficult moving especially with one single person. His neighbours were all elderly, so surely, he could not ask anyone for help. Also, it was another reason he chose this locality, he could be alone while he knew he lived in a tightly knitted community filled with respected war veterans. 

He was extremely taken aback when many of his neighbours offered him freshly cooked food and refreshments to get over the day. He was thankful. They knew about his past and still they accepted him and asked him to reach out if any help was needed.

Andy’s day went ahead unpacking his clothes first, which took his time. He wondered if he’d ever need the fashionable suits and ties, he wore to work. There was a job opening at a swimming instructor at the local community gym; all he needs are those Speedos. But nevertheless, he kept then all back, trying to keep his mind preoccupied in cleaning.

But all that effort seemed futile for every memory crashed down when he unpacked his wedding tux.

He felt too claustrophobic, buried his hand in his face. He no longer had a marriage. He no longer had anyone to look after.

He no longer had anyone to look after him.

But amidst all this chaos in his foggy mind, he hears a lovely toothy giggle of a child. 

He peeks out of his window to see a young mother and her small son sitting in their backyard with a picnic spread in front of them, while the little boy kept tripping over the grass purposefully just so he could laugh and make his mother laugh too. Andy had no idea he had a middle-aged family living nearby.

Seeing you and the son spread this familiar warmth inside Andy, reminiscing how he had this. It reminded Andy of a happier time. 

Soon to be replaced with anguish. He would never have that again. He missed feeling the warmth of family, the love of a wife. Life never really gave second chances he believed.

He noticed you, a caring mother placing the little one on your lap while you fed him all the scrumptious food. He didn’t fail to miss how your eyes shined with happiness. A happy woman is always a pretty woman at heart; it is something he used to tell himself. A soft chuckle left out of Andy’s lips as he saw the boy eat the food messily, but you seemed to be patient, responding lovingly towards his naughty antics. 

Her husband is one lucky son of a bitch.

He could watch you two all day, but that would be extremely inappropriate. Right now, Andy wanted his newfound house to look like a home.

Next day went by and it didn’t seem like he was getting anywhere near getting his house ready. He was waiting for another truck to get more of his stuff while he sipped on some bear till the movers arrived. They unloaded most of his stuff at his lawn and went away.

“Need a hand moving those boxes?”

Andy turned around to a gentle voice of the same woman who had he had seen yesterday with the small child.

You.

A chilly afternoon, he wasn’t surprised you sporting a loose, fluffy knitted woollen pullover with black leggings. Your hair was tied up in a bun and then noticed that he was probably staring at you for a long time.

“Uh- No. I’m fine, thank you.”

But you kept standing there looking at him smirking. He was literally struggling to carry all those boxes “Your body language says something else.”

When he looked up you saw his sunken eyes with even more detail as though the man hasn’t slept in days, “Would I be desperate man if I said yes?”

You chuckled, “Not at all. I’m Y/N Y/LN.”

“Andrew Barber”, he stretched out his hand for a warm greeting with a firm handshake. The feeling of his rough palms sends small jitters to you, but you ignored it; and just like that you resumed. 

You helped him lift the bigger boxes to his house even though you knew he carried most of the weight. Two could always get the work done sooner. Both of you didn’t talk much for these 20 minutes but it was a comfortable silence while both of you took sneaky glances at each other’s features.

When you neared him, you realized he was lot more than just handsome. Sunken face was holding two blue eyes that would be enticing if he had put any effort to put any life in them. His beard was neatly trimmed although scruffy, just like you saw yesterday.

Andy on the other hand was just too despondent to, you know, check you out. He thought you to be a beautiful woman with a kind heart, especially after seeing you and your son yesterday.

He even thought of asking you about your son and family, but that would be too intrusive he wondered.

Andy thought you’d leave after moving the boxes but you insisted you’d stay to help unpack his stuff and maybe cook some lunch for him since he didn’t even unpack his kitchen utensils out. He was ready to accept the help only for a second.

The Andrew Barber he knew before the events of the trial would have gladly accepted, maybe even made lunch for the beautiful lady, instead of you, who graciously offered him help. He was divorced now so there was nothing stopping him.

But do you really deserve a fresh start with a lady Andy?

Would she be here if she knew who you really were?

His mind was plagued. He moved here with the intention of a fresh start but, he wondered if anyone would actually accept him. He decided for himself that they wouldn’t.

“It’s alright Y/N. Thanks for your help.”

There was no way a man could set up his home all alone you thought. “Mr. Barber, are you sure? I really have no problem. I’m completely unoccupied at the moment. Besides Nikolai-”

“No.”

You blinked at his curt reply.

“I’m good Y/N. I can take care of the remaining stuff here. You can go now.”

Looking at him made you realise how conflicted he was. His words likely meant that he didn’t require your presence but his whole demeanour looked like just wanted some god damn company. He didn’t mind your help at first, but at the same time now he was pushing you away. What changed?

So much for making acquaintances with the new neighbour, you thought.

Without saying anything you stiffly nodded, Andy realizing the offence written all over your face, and saw you walk away from his abode closing his door politely.

It was probably for the best to keep distance from a kind woman like you. He knew you were trying to get acquainted with him like any normal person would, but Andy was firmly grounded that he and normalcy would never go back again.

The minute you left he opened another beer bottle to sink himself. This fresh start for Andy was just bullshit.

–

You rushed back the minute you closed Mr. Grumpy Cat’s door and made a beeline to your home, only to see your son playing on the countertop with one your elderly neighbour. 

“Thank you, Mr. Arthur, for taking care of Nikolai. I hope he didn’t cause much trouble.”

“I’d do anything for you sweet pea, Nikolai was a sweetheart.” The old man chuckled and turned to leave, “By the way last weekend’s pot pie was delicious. I had to make it up to you.”

Returning a hug, you thanked your neighbour again and leaped your son in your arms, attacking him with kissed while he spurted giggles. “Mommy it tickles!”

“Guess what happened peaches? I met our new neighbour”

Nikolai clapped his hand “Mista Wandew Bahhba?”

Your son was hell bent on knowing the name of the newcomer after he laid his eyes on the stylish black Audi. Boys always know their toys.

You nodded, “He’s a grumpy man peaches. I have no idea what to do with him.” And just like that you began speaking with Nikolai. He was your only company to talk. He never really understood anything, but your talented son did a fairly good job of putting up a pretense to hear.

“I offered him help and he says yes. Then I kindly ask him if I can help him more, you know like cook homemade spaghetti. But instead he becomes snippy with me?”

“Woh no,” your son whispered to your exclamation, which in reality was for his superhero figurines falling on to the floor. “I like his cahr mommy.”

“So do I Niko, but I so do not like him,” you paused and gave him a kiss on the forehead, “Guess we’re the only sunshine in this neighbourhood peaches.”

—

Days went by and you rarely interacted with your new neighbour.

Oh and when it did, it really never went well for you.

The first time was when a few standard posts under the name of Mr. Barber arrived at your doorstep, since he wasn’t available at his house. Like any other hospitable neighbour, you signed the post and made sure to drop it by him when he gets back.

"Uh Mr. Barber the post man dropped this by at our doorstep since you weren’t available. I thought I should give it to you.”

Andy opened the door with a few knocks and saw you standing with a few posts in a fluffy cable knit sweater. He took the posts from you, gently brushing over your hands. He perused through them quickly and gave you that conflicted stern look.

“I appreciate it Mrs. Y/L/N, but next time I’d like to collect my own posts irrespective of its nature. You can tell them I can collect it from the post office”

Was this man for real?

You crossed your arms and gave him back that stern look too. He wasn’t going to get away without you throwing shade. “Oh you know Mr. Barber I was just trying to be a good neighbour. It’s not like I’m dying here to get associated with you.”

He gave you a nasty grin which triggered you to make you leave away from his threshold.

Andy thought for a moment that he already crossed the line with the wrong woman.

The next time you met him was probably the last time you would ever meet him.

Your shift at the library got too late, for you were the Librarian of the local Library. You didn’t have to worry much about picking up your son late for he was at Mr. Arthur’s.

But coming home realising that he was sitting on the front porch of Andrew’s house made you park your car haphazardly in your driveway and run up to your child, ignoring Andrew’s presence.

“I’m so sorry sweetie. What are you doing here Niko?”

Andy interrupted, “Mr. Arthur had to visit the hospital. He was catching the flu and he didn’t want to give it to Nikolai here.”

You didn’t want to meet his gaze, but you forced yourself for you were grateful for this kind gesture. Maybe this Grumpy Cat has a kind heart after all.

“Mr. Barber, thank you so much for taking care of Niko. My phone must’ve been on silent if Arthur wanted to contact me.”

“Oh, don’t thank me Mrs. Y/L/N. I am just filling in the gaps of irresponsible parenting.”

It felt like a blunt hit to your heart. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me.” he whispered so closely that you could smell his musky deodorant with a hint of beer. Your son was out of earshot, sipping on a glass of lemonade that was probably offered by this man. “Trust me I know what happens to a child that is always kept away from their caretakers.”

He quickly went on to say how Nikolai was a special child when your son came near you both and how your family should take more care in your child. You never really listened for your eyes threatened to pierce with tears. No way were you going to cry in front of this man.

“Thank you Mista Wandi.”

“Anytime buddy.”

He went up and shut the door, like it was a personal aimed at you.

And you just stood there feeling numb while Niko tugged on your work coat.

“Let’s go home Mommi.”

The audacity to tell you how to be a parent. Did he even have a child? Does he even know how to it is to take care of a child single handed?

But those questions never mattered. No matter how positive you are in life, its never nice to hear someone spew your flaws on to your face.

Meanwhile minutes passed when Andy soon realised how he had royally fucked up. Everyday around 5pm you and your child would come along to the backyard and have a snack ritual while both of you played or read story books. For Andy, though he chided himself for his stalking behaviour, it brought him a sense of peace to see your son scream with shrills of laughter when he ran around the lawn.

He had nothing against you, yet he was being selfish.

I be mean to her; I stay away from here. Simple.

Today however, Nikolai sat facing away from his ypu munching on freshly baked cookies while you sported a tear stained face. He felt a twinge when he saw you staring straight ahead with a blank stare while tears rolled down. His heart successfully sunked when he saw Nikolai trying to wipe your tears and hug you. Andrew then sat down dramatically on his chair when he saw you breakdown into your son’s fragile shoulders.

Apologies wouldn’t fix this. It would, but Andrew Barber the resilient thought that being obnoxiously rude to someone he wants to be close to will make them hate him.

He never thought it would hurt you.

He decided not to take any efforts in an apology; or it could take more than an apology.

—

A few weeks passed by and you tried your level best and succeeded in avoiding banters with Mr. Grumpy Cat. Whenever you saw him, a flurry of rage fell over you. Was it your mistake you were trying to be friendly to your only attractive neighbour?

Strike out attractive. A mean soul was never attractive.

Andrew Barber on the other hand dreaded what had happened; he was a little too late to the party to realise that your house had no male inhabitant, except for that one man who had made a visit.

He soon deduced that you were a single mother.

Too late rather Andy.

And when he recalled what he had said to you, he wanted you to slap him in the face. Hard enough to have a bruise that lasted for a year.

Nikolai and you always woke up late on a weekend morning. Both of you always shared and slept in the same room for Nikolai had regularly occurring nightmares.

You never realised but you and Niko woke up a small commotion outside your house, or probably his house.

Plus, the other day it so happened Nikolai’s father paid a terribly long visit, pleading you to take him back into your life. He felt apologetic for what he did. But that lingering memory was soon cut off by Grumpy Cat’s voice.

Knowing his tendencies to irate his neighbours, (or maybe just you exclusively) you ignored it and began serving late breakfast pancakes for your son. But you soon stopped when you heard a loud, hoarse bellow.

“GET OFF MY LAWN!”

You looked outside of your window to see a bunch of vans and the reporters standing outside Andy’s lawn. Niko ran up to you and carried him over your hip for the little one heard the scary yell too.

Andy’s car was parked haphazardly on the pavement. A pair or more of reporters were taking pictures of him and his vandalised garage door.

“Oh my god.”

You put down Niko and asked him to play with his toys. Yes, you hated Andrew but what you saw on his now tainted garage door made you want to retch. It was such a distasteful thing to do. It appeared as if a spray can paint was used to write whatever it was on the door:

MURDERER, YOU WILL ROT IN HELL TOO.

Andy crouched down on his knees, his hands covering his face and ruggedly running his hands through his hair, while he kneeled down in front of the vandalism.

The very reason he moved away from Newton was now on his garage door.

You wanted to go out and help him, but your ego wouldn’t let you. Why should you help a man who was nothing but mean to you all this while?

Luckily enough you saw Mr. Arthur and a couple of his old friends admonishing the press. They threatened that this community was filled with retired war veterans and that they would charge them for community trespassing and disrupting the lives of people who have lost a limb and more for this country.

Hearing that threat made the desperate amateur reporters leave from the vicinity as soon as possible.

Andy stood up and tried to process this whole situation, looking around for any sort of help, only to lay his eyes on the faint image you from your window.

You expected him to shout and rage and ask you to fuck off from staring at his pitiful state. But he didn’t. You would never forget those embarrassed sunken eyes, silently pleading for help.

He didn’t deserve this. You have no idea about his past or who he was to garner such attention, but this was just cruel. He soon averted from your gaze and went on to thank his fellow elderly friends and made his way inside home.

Later in the evening, you caught Andy scrubbing the ugly writings with cloth and soap water. After a while, he took a few steps behind and saw that they words were still there but faded.

“I had some grey paint for Nikolai’s nursery, but never got the chance to do it.”

Andy turned to that sweet voice of yours and hesitated in meeting your gaze. He was embarrassed, for you stood there, giving out an arm to help him again despite his foul behaviour. He saw little Nikolai standing behind you with his shabby brown hair that reminded him of Jacob, clutching onto your legs while he peaked at him. He didn’t understand what you mean by the whole nursery thing, but he stood up and finally, both of you took in each other’s gaze.

Andy’s eyes were even more sunken than he had when he arrived, his blue orbs sunk in a sea of red. He must have been crying. He saw you were missing your feisty eyes that you always sported. Maybe it’s because you despised him so much.

“It’s not the exact colour of your garage door but it can do the trick I suppose.”

The second you handed over the paint to him, you quickly turned around to head towards your home. But Andy didn’t want to push you further anymore by being a dick. He was ready to apologise.

“Hey please listen up! I really am s- “

“No no no,” your voice trembled; this habit of crying while you were angry was just exasperating you wondered, “I think its best we don’t hold conversation Mr. Barber. This will be probably my last interaction with you; what happened to you was horrid and ugly. You don’t deserve that. That much I know”

Andy was hesitant, embarrassed. “Mrs. Y/L/N- “

“Quit calling me a missus! I am not even fucking married anymore-” you said drawing quotes in the air, to be interrupted by a little tug at your coat. You realised that your kid was standing next to you. And you swore in front of him. Great parenting.

“Oh Niko,” you picked him up and peppered him with a few kisses, “Sorry for that language. Mommy won’t swear again okay. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah”, the kid nodded and buried his head into your neck and hugging you tightly.

"Let’s go, sweetie. I’m done with this man.”

As you went away the little boy who was wrapped around over your shoulder waved with his short hands to Andy. To Nikolai, Andy was the one who had the coolest car and made the best lemonade (which he had when he was made to wait for his mom). He never really understood the intensity of adults’ arguments. He was just a grateful child.

It was only then Andy realised he had to make it up to you by any means for he stood there alone feeling like a real douchebag with a paint can in his hands.

—

Part 2

—

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[shiftyskip]

Joseph “Joe” David Liebgott

The Real Joseph Liebgott:

Joseph David Liebgott was born in Lansing, Michigan in May 17, 1915 to Joseph (Josef) Liebgott Sr and Mary. Joseph Liebgott Sr was of German descent, but he was born in Beresztocz, Hungary. Joe’s mother was Yugoslavian, but was reported as born in either Yugoslavia or Hungary I am not sure which one because records show both. On his father’s side his grandparents were Yugoslavian as well. On his mother’s sider, they seem to be from Hungary. His mother immigrated in 1909, Lieb’s father immigrated in 1912.

Below is a picture believed to be his parents. 

 He was the oldest of his siblings. He has four sisters: Mary, Elizabeth, Anna, and Barbara, and one brother, Stephen/Steffen . Both of his parents spoke German, which would later help him during the war. His father worked in the auto industry before they moved. 

His family soon moved to California around 1927 and his dad became a barber. He was the oldest of his siblings, one brother and four sisters. He was extremely protective of his younger sisters

Liebgott and his siblings attended Catholic schools. This is where learned how to box and played soccer.

After high school, Liebgott drove a taxi around San Francisco. This career was temporary and he soon attended barber college.

He was also previously married before the war. He was married in July 31, 1933  to  a woman named Frances. They had one child, David Albert together on February 27, 1934. But the couple soon divorced within a year, and he was living with his family again by 1940, where he was working on a forestry project. Meanwhile his ex-wife and son moved into her family. Here is Joe and Frances:

He eventually became a barber and this was his career when he enlisted at the age of 26. Liebgott chose the paratroopers to be able to make more money to be able to put a down payment on his parents’ house. 

Included is a photo of Joe and his mother

He has a Jewish service card, registered under his mother’s name. But his family denied he was Jewish, stating he was a German Roman Catholic. I’ll attach it below (filtered for safety). 

In his draft card he is listed as 5 feet and 5 inches tall and was 109 pounds. He had blue-grey eyes and brown hair.

Malarkey remembers meeting Liebgott on his way to Toccoa where they became part of the original Toccoa men. Liebgott was trained under the harsh command of Herbert Sobel.

Liebgott didn’t talk much about the war, so there will be little but other’s words to put here. This is a photo from 1945 in France.

Right before the jump out of the airplane, he put his barber skills to use and gave a few of the men Mohawks. 

He would jump out of the airplanes with the rest of the men on June 6, 1944. He received the bronze star for his bravery at Brecourt Manor, where he worked with Winters and several other men, Compton, Guarenere, Wynn, Lipton, Toye, Malarkey, and Ranney to destroy a German Battery firing on Utah Beach on the day of the D-Day Invasion.

He cut off the finger of a German that he had bayoneted and took the man’s ring near Carentan. At Carentan, Ed Tipper was seriously wounded after clearing out a house with Liebgott. Liebgott grabbed Tipper, yelled for a medic, and told Tipper that he’d be okay. Welsh and Lieb dragged Tipper into the street until Welsh could get him back to the aid station.

After Brecourt, Compton recalls a painful memory with Liebgott in his book, Call of Duty, Compton and Liebgott were patrolling along hedges at dusk. Across the way, in another set of hedges were two men. Both were dressed in German ponchos, one was holding a German gun. Assuming that these men were in fact German, he and Liebgott shot the men. Come to find out, when they checked their dog tags, they were not Germans. They were Americans. They had just killed fellow soldiers in friendly fire.

October 5, 1944. Winters sent a few Youmen out on patrol to take an outpost near a windmill. Liebgott and a few other men (James Alley among them) went with Sgt. Youmen. They sent one man ahead, to look out over the dike. The man spotted German machine guns. German voices approached the remaining boys. Lieb called out for the Youman, as we was trailing behind, only to have grenades thrown at him and the other men. Liebgott got minor wounds while James Alley received 32 shrapnel wounds in his left side, stretching from his face down. They’d run into a company of SS.

Liebgott was known for being rough with prisoners, the fighting that followed the injuries wit the SS company was a prime example of this. After Winters led his patrol to attack these Germans, in which during the fighting they lost William Dukeman, 7 Germans surrendered. The most famous story of Liebgott is as follows, in Dick Winter’s words.

As Winters explains in his book, “Tech/5 Joseph D. Liebgott had been slightly wounded in the arm, but he was ambulatory so I assigned him the mission of escorting seven German prisoners to the rear. Liebgott had earned the reputation of being one of Easy’s best combat soldiers, but we had all heard stories that he was very rough on prisoners. Liebgott was one of Easy Company’s “killers,” so I deemed  it appropriate to take a bit of caution. When he heard me say, “Take the prisoners back to the battalion command post,” he replied.��“Oh, boy! I’ll take care of them.” In his exuberance, Liebgott stood up and paced back and forth and he was obviously very nervous and concerned. I stopped him in his tracks. “There are seven prisoners and I want seven prisoners turned over to battalion.” Liebgott was highly incensed and started to throw a tantrum.Somewhat unsure of how he would react, I then dropped my M-1 to my hip, threw off my safety, and said, Liebgott, drop all your ammunition and empty your rifle.” There was much grumbling and swearing, but he did as I had ordered. “Now,” I said, “you can put one round in your rifle. If you drop a prisoner, the rest will jump you.””

Liebgott got all 7 prisoners back.  

Joe would recover in a hospital in England with Webster, but he was back before Bastogne. Here is the record for that: 

Name:Joseph D Liebgott Race:White, includes Mexican (White) Rank:Enlisted Man Admission Age:29 Birth Date:abt 1915 Admission Date:Oct 1944 Discharge Date:Nov 1944 Military Branch:Infantry, Parachute Troops or Units Diagnosis:FirstLocation: Ulna, generally; CausativeAgent: Artillery Shell, Fragments, Afoot or unspecified Type of Injury:Casualty, battle Injured in Line of Duty:In line of duty Type of Discharge:Duty Length of service:2 Year(s), 6 Month(s)

In Bastogne, Winters made him a runner to get away from the tension and constant stress of fighting.  One story of his service was outside of Foy is the battle of Noville, he and Earl Hale ducked into a barn and took 6 SS officers prisoner. Outside the barn, a shell exploded. One of the SS officers took this as an opportunity and jumped Hale. He slit Hale’s throat. Liebgott instantly shot and killed the officer. He then killed the others. Hale survived miracuously. 

At some point, before the end of the war, Liebgott became first platoon’s interpreter-radioman. This was because he could speak some German. But Webster claimed in his book that the German’s didn’t understand his Yiddish. 

He was with Webster when they took Hitler’s Nest. They spent their time drinking Hitler’s alcohol together with a few other men. He was living with Headquarters Company while there.  

Of course, the war came to an end and everyone who wanted to was discharged.

Over the course of the war, Lieb was injured 3 times and won 3 purple hearts. He refused one because the wound was “just a scratch”. He would receive partial disability for his wounds.

When he returned home, he disappeared for two years. Eventually he was found living in  Yuma, California. He didn’t come to reunions, even when offered multiple times. His father simply told the vets “not to mess with him”. 

After the war, Liebgott was a barber for a short time. He married again to a woman named Peggy in 1949. They had eight kids together. Making Lieb’s total children come to nine, although he was mostly involved with the last eight. They lived on a barber’s salary, not leaving much room for fun activities but everyone had their basic needs met. He often  only had one day a week off and would take his kids to a Long Beach pike, where they would visit an amusement park. 

Liebgott liked to bet on the ponies at the racetrack. Every other sunday, him and his boss would take the boss’ airplane down to Mexico.

He is believed to have never contacted anyone from his days in Easy Company. He just wanted to get away from the war. 

The Liebgotts divorced in  April of 1969. She remarried, but he never did. He was described as really quiet by his granddaughter. 

She states, in Marcus Brotherton’s book Company of Heroes (pages 120-121) “His hands looked like a man who worked with his hands, sunspots all over. He absolutely loved his grandkids. he had false teeth that he flipped out of his mouth and smiled, threatening to kiss us with his gums. He was a tickler. He never held babies over his shoulder...because he wanted them to see everything....He didn’t have a lot of money - I’m pretty sure all he had was his veteran’s benefits...He made all of the bikes for the grandkids by scouring thrift stores for dilapidated bikes. He stripped the bikes down to their frame, fixed and assembled them as good as new. He let each grandchild pick the color of new paint for his or her bike....I always knew the specific foods we were going to eat at his house. He had bite-sized candy bars and store brand soda-pop. There was no drinking water in his house. He always lived in rental houses...” 

He was very neat, and keep his house and appearance orderly. However, he was always working in the garage, so the house had black smudges from the dirt on his hands. 

However, Liebgott was not perfect. While he hated the Nazis, he was also seen as a bigot, maybe even harsher. Rhonda explained that he threw the n word around like it wasn’t a big deal. He blamed the wrong goings of the world on different ethnic groups. Rhonda started seeing a guy from El Salvador, he asked if her partner “even spoke English?”

As he grew older, Lieb got sicker. He eventually lost the use of one of his legs from a hernia. He was confined to a chair and hated any new technology. He was stuck in a wheelchair, angry when he would hit a cabinet. 

Lieb did not talk about his military career until towards his end. He would spend time with his son Jim, watching tv talking about the war during a war movie.  He would talk about the war when he was mad, possibly angry at himself for doing a lot of killing and other things that people his age shouldn’t have to do.

In 1992, Liebgott developed a tumor in his neck, near his windpipe that would cause a lot of pain. Jim took him to the hospital on Father’s Day. Shortly later, on June 28, 1992 Liebgott died. He was against a funeral and just wanted to be cremated, so his family did as he wished. They still have his ashes and letters and the Toccoa book. 

[beyscape]

The Intern - 3

Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: Being Andy’s intern meant you got to spend more time by his side more than anyone. This was fine, however, until feelings got in the way and made things complicated

Word Count: 4114 (oh boy)

Warnings: SMUT, pure filth, age gap, technically cheating, swearing and all that jazz

A/N Contains spoilers from episodes 1-5.

Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5

Getting the day off wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be. Neal was busting his ass trying to prove Jacob was guilty and he wasn’t particularly fond of you, you knew if it had been up to him you would be sent packing the day Andy was forced to leave. So, when you approached him to get the day off, you didn’t even need to use the ‘family emergency’ card. In his eyes, you were just a disposable intern who had spent too much time with Andy fucking barber for his liking. You pursed your lips, not wanting to think of work as you waited for Andy’s black car to pick you up.

You looked around the silent neighbourhood, your small backpack sitting on the pavement next your feet. First rays of sun were illuminating the whole street with a soft light, the early morning chill wiping the last bits of sleep from your eyes. In the one time you had a proper chance to see Andy that past week, you had decided to drive up to Connecticut early Friday morning, careful not to get caught. The plan was to visit Andy’s father in prison, then hang out together before driving back home under the cover of the night. You were busy kicking a small rock and keeping yourself entertained when you spotted Andy’s car turning the corner.

“Hi baby girl.” Andy gave you one of those smiles you so loved seeing on his face, but you could still see the shadows lingering in his eyes.

“Hi.” You leaned in to peck him on the lips. Before you could pull back and get comfortable on your seat however, Andy pulled you back in with a hand sneaking down to your waist, holding you tight. His hot lips never leaving yours, he ran a hand down your back, as if to soothe down the shivers that were also caused by him. He loosened his grip ever so slightly as he moved to look at your face, a grin plastered on his face.

“What?” You questioned, yet your face mirrored his.

“I really like you is all.” Andy faintly remembered the excitement of a new relationship from almost sixteen years ago, everything seemed different and shiny in those first moments, but there was something else he didn’t quite recognize in his heart too. Something that made him believe everything would be okay as long as he had you by his side, despite everything.

“How do you not know this song? It’s impossible you don’t know.” Andy shook his head with a small laugh of disbelief escaping his lips.

“Alright old man, I’m picking the next song.” You stuck your tongue out at him thinking he wouldn’t see it as he focused on driving, you were wrong. You yelped in surprise when Andy reached out and flicked your nose without even looking at you, the corners of his eyes crinkled with a rare, completely genuine smile.

It was so easy to laugh and forget about everything clouding over your heads as you drove further away from Newton, and ignoring the end of your destination, it was a much-needed change of pace.

“Let’s do this again sometime. I know it’s hard with how things are now, but in the future.” You watched the scenery roll by with occasional stolen glances at the man sitting next to you.

“Do what, baby girl?”

“Take a road trip. Leave Newton and our jobs, our labels for a while. Go someplace where you are not a married man and I’m not your intern.” You sighed.

“As you wish.” He looked at you for a second before turning his attention back to the road. “I know how much things suck right now, but I promise you, it will all end soon. We will get Jake off the hook; we’ll finally get the divorce that should’ve happened year ago and… We’ll be alright.” His right hand found yours over the console, gripping tightly.

“I trust you.” After a year of working together night and day, you knew that when Andy Barber made a promise, he made sure to keep his word. So, you knew, eventually, you would be alright.

After one stop to get some gas and morning snacks, your car rolled into the facility in the middle of the lush greenery. The closer Andy got to facing his father he had tried his whole life to distance himself from, he grew quiet. He would still give you small smiles with the corner of his mouth or engage in whatever conversation you started to help him relax, his joyful mood from earlier was gone.

“For Jake,” he had muttered more to himself than you, reminding himself why he couldn’t turn the car back around and drive as far as he could, away from the dreaded conversation. He placed a lingering kiss on your forehead before heading inside the building, in the manner of a silent thank you.

You were messing around with your phone maybe for fifteen minutes when Andy’s sulking figure made its way towards the car, he shook his head negatively when your eyes met, and that was all you needed to know your little mission had failed. You drove back the road you came in silence, the only sound being the low humming of the car engine.

“Fucking asshole.” Andy filled you in before digging into the burger sitting in front of him. It was a classic off the road diner, the kind frequented by the tired drivers at all kinds of odd hours.

“I can’t believe he refused. He sounds like a real piece of shit. Even without the whole murder thing, I mean.”

Andy snorted. “That’s one way to put it. We’ll simply have to skip it.”

“You know Neal will bring it up in trial and try to use it.” You reminded him, that was what you would do had the case been different.

“It’s bullshit.” You stuffed your face with the side of fries as you nodded in agreement. It was complete bullshit, and you could feel the frustration of a parent radiating from across you.

“Do you wanna spend the night here? I really don’t want to go back and deal with Lau- I mean, I don’t wanna deal with this tonight.” You looked up in surprise. Seeing right through him even with him trying to play it cool, it was obvious him and Laurie would get into another fight over this. Your heart sped up at the thought of spending the night together, away from all the things keeping you apart.

“I would like that very much.”  Your knees touched under the table, your gazes locked, both feeling the electric contact and not making any move to break it.

Twenty minutes of driving around was all it took before you stumbled on a small town, where you spent the rest of the afternoon together. Hand in hand, feeling more free than you had in weeks, you walked through the town. It was a great feeling, being able to be a couple out in the public without everyone knowing who you were and looking at you with judgement in their eyes. You looked at Andy, golden hair shining under the sun that peeked behind the clouds, and for a moment you were reminded of a time without his son’s future in the line. It was a selfish thought, but you didn’t want to go back. With his arm around you, holding you secure to his chest, you were content.

After a rather quick and clipped call to Laurie and an excuse of car trouble, you made your way towards the motel on the outskirts of the town. It wasn’t the best-looking motel, it was definitely not where Andy had originally wanted to bring you to, however it seemed to be only option. So, the two floored motel with its orange painting chipped at parts would have to do. That, sleeping in the car or worse, going back to Newton were your only choices, and you both were fast to agree on the first option.

 “A room for two, please.” Andy reached into the pocket of his dark coat to grab his wallet. Knowing the stubborn nature of his, you made no protest to pay although you weren’t too happy. The girl who didn’t look older than twenty looked up from behind the reception desk and eyed you up.

“Name?”

“Andy Barber.” She nodded, typing fast on the keyboard before reaching back for the wall of keys.

“Here you go, Mr. and Mrs. Barber. Room 204.” The girl turned back to her phone after sliding the key towards Andy.

“We-” You began, startled at the assumption although a part of you gushed at the name, but stopped at the shaking of Andy’s head. He couldn’t contain his laughter much more as he led you up to your room for the night, the sound was contagious. You noticed this was the first time he had laughed like that in what felt like a forever, you couldn’t help but join him.

The room was what you expected, the crème coloured walls almost looking yellow due to the lamps sitting on each side of the bed. The bed, occupying most of the small room was covered with pink and blue flower design bedding that looked like it was left there during the 80s.

“I’ll go wash up.” Andy muttered before heading into the bathroom, you dropped your backpack on the floor next to the night stand. You removed your coat, and then your sweatshirt, suddenly feeling too hot despite the room’s temperature being on the cool side. No, it wasn’t the weather itself, you mused as you eyed the bed, but rather the fact that for the first time, you had the whole night alone with Andy Barber. Not a stolen moment, afraid of getting caught. Here, you were just Y/N and Andy. You could do anything you wanted without a single worry on your minds. You gingerly sat on the bed, fiddling with the end of your tank top.

Andy stepped out of the bathroom a moment later, stopping right at the door upon seeing you. He eyed you up and down, so very slow you felt his gaze burn through you, a smirk spreading over his lips. You gulped quietly, but not breaking the stare.

“Waiting for me?” he asked, and two long strides later he was right in front of you. He placed a finger underneath your chin to tilt your head and make you look up to him.

“Maybe.” You drawled, the tips of your fingers tracing his thigh up and down.

 With a hiss Andy leaned down, his lips crashing onto yours in a way you never were kissed before. His large hands cupped your ass as he scooted you to the middle of the bed, not breaking the heated kiss. You moaned when your back met the surprisingly soft mattress but it was muffled with his warm lips never leaving yours, and Andy was on top of you in a matter of seconds. More and more and more was all you could think of, hands roaming on his broad back wildly in a desperate effort to pull him closer than he already was.

 You wanted to feel his skin under your hands, run them through his toned muscles and get rid of all the unnecessary layers between you, Andy knew what you wanted as you tugged the hem of his shirt.  You took in a deep breath when he pulled back only for a second to throw his shirt to a corner of the room, your eyes wandered on his abs and strong arms, he looked down at you with the same hunger in his eyes. You looped a finger around the waist of his jeans, tugging them down with hurried movements and fumbling hands, aching to have all of him. He chuckled at you before slipping his jeans off and sending them to accompany his shirt, now all that was left was his boxers and the silver necklace he always had on him. You bit your lips at the sight in front of you, gently running a hand down his length.

A breathy sound escaped Andy’s lips and they were back on yours, with a quick move Andy swapped your positions. Now, you leaned down to kiss him with your hands going down to unbutton your jeans, the need of getting closer and feel him against your skin almost driving you crazy. You followed suit and slid them off along with your tank top, left only in your lace bra and matching panties. Even though this night was quite spontaneous, you were secretly hoping for such a night and patted yourself on the back mentally for coming prepared.

“Shit, baby girl, you drive me crazy.” Andy ran a hand down the side of your body, stopping on your thighs. You shivered at his touch; Andy pulled you closer to his chest once again. Sitting on his lap, you shifted as you felt him press against you, rock hard. His hands were everywhere, exploring and marking his way as they ran through your hair, your back, the length of your legs… You couldn’t decide if this was pure torture or the best feeling in the world. Maybe a little bit of both.

You got up and lay on your back in the middle, pulling Andy in by the waistband of his boxers, almost begging to be pushed down. He supported himself above you on his elbows, leaving sloppy, wet and warm kisses down the trail of your neck.

“These,” he whispered against the warmth of your skin between kisses, “have to go.” In one swift moment your bra was gone. He placed a kiss to the curve of your breast, so close you felt his hot breath hit your nipples already hard with pleasure. You threw your head back with a whimper as his tongue teased and toyed with you, getting so close before wandering down your stomach.

With each kiss he went lower and lower, but never reaching the one place you wanted him the most. Before long you were a mess under him, with his tickling lips and wandering hands you prayed you would survive the night.

“Andy, please,” another whimper left you as lips connected with the inner parts of your soft thighs, dangerously close.

“That’s right baby girl, tell me what you need.” You felt his smirk on your skin.

“I need, I,” you sighed feeling his fingers toy with the band of your panties, “I need you.”

“Tell me how, and you have me sweetheart. I’m right here.”

“I need you in me, please, Andy,” You shut your eyes, unable to stop the curling of your toes as he ran a finger down your slit, still not making any move to remove the final layers between you. He enjoyed teasing you, seeing you moan and whimper completely begging for his touch was something he never knew how much he needed.

His rough hands finally tugged down the last piece of cloth covering you, leaving you utterly bare and under his control in front of him. Andy felt himself twitch, unable to keep teasing you as the urge to have you took over him.

You opened your eyes to see what he was doing, and the sight you met with almost made you gasp. There he was, fully naked; your eyes trailed down his pecks to his abs, and then to his cock. Standing proud and hard, you took in his length and girth with a hunger in your eyes.

“I need you. Now.” You reached your hand towards him, eager to pull him close and hopefully never let go.

“As you wish.” He lowered himself down, giving you a long kiss as a hand slipped between your legs. You shuddered at the tease of his hand, feeling him play with your clit send electric waves through your whole body. A finger slid in you, then another one, picking up the pace until Andy was satisfied with the wetness dripping down his hand. Placing a soft kiss on your knee he pushed them open, positioning himself before you. He ran his wet fingers down his shaft and his tip, lathering himself well.

Another soft moan escaped your lips as you felt his tip tease your entrance mercilessly, just wanting to feel Andy fill you already.

“Ready?” He asked, you found yourself unable to form words in that moment of euphoria so you just nodded.

Seeing you under him, already a mess for him, Andy swallowed. He took one moment to look you up and down, wanting to burn this moment well into his memory and never forget it. In that moment, he was overcome with such desire, such passion that with a grunt he pushed himself in. Any small thought of protection flew from his mind upon that feeling, leaving no trace behind as all he could think was how good it felt to be in you.

“Fuck.” He moaned and pushed a little bit more inside you. A part of him wanted to fuck you senseless then and there, but the less animalistic and more caring part of him scanned your face for any sign of discomfort. It was a tight fit already and Andy feared hurting you, damn the passion blinding him.

“I’m good,” you breathed out, noticing his peering gaze. You ran a hand down his thigh. “More.”

Andy happily obliged, slowly pushing all of his length in with a grunt deep in his throat.

“You feel so fucking good. Such a good girl you are, Y/N.” He lowered his body down on his elbows to give you a kiss. You felt his tongue push in, penetrating and filling your mouth just as you felt his cock pulse in you. He pulled back ever so slightly, pushing a strand of hair fallen on your forehead.

He started moving slowly at first, allowing you get comfortable with him. Even though you claimed you were okay, Andy planned on using the precious alone time you had as well as he could, so your comfort was of upmost importance for him to execute his plans.

Andy picked up his pace, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into you, each time sending waves of pleasure crash through you as your moans synchronized with his moves. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper as the wet sound and your whimpers mixed with his grunts and the occasional ‘fuck’ that slipped between his lips and onto your skin. Your nails left hot red marks down his back, sending Andy into a whole new level of frenzy.

You couldn’t resist the orgasm threatening to rock through you any longer, you gave in to the feeling as you arched your back, all kinds of incoherent sounds and words glided out of your lips. Feeling you tighten around him and the sweet sounds you made underneath him made Andy shiver as he slammed into you time and time, the rocking of hips becoming sloppier and rougher with each time.

One of your hands pulled at his hair, the other wrapped tightly around his shoulder, your body shook to his rhythm. His trail of wet kisses down your breasts and the teasing tongue left you purring against him, never wanting this night to come to a stop.

Andy swore under his breath as he pulled out, you drew inhaled sharply at the sudden emptiness, disappointed and needing much more of him. He gave you a look as if to say ‘I know’ before pulling you up and on top of him as he now lay in the position you were in mere seconds ago. You purred against him, peppering kisses on his face, your fingers playing with his tip.

“How does it feel to be teased, Mr. Barber?” Your hand gripped one of his balls, satisfied with the moan you got in response.

“Fuck, ride me, baby girl, come on.” He swallowed once. Twice.

  You positioned yourself, hoovering just above his tip, originally wanting to tease him longer but couldn’t resist the urge to lower yourself down and feel him fill you up once more. Slowly you guided yourself down on his shaft, mouth open as you did so, Andy’s hands cupping your ass and helping you.

Soon you were fucking yourself on him, Andy’s fingers gripping you so tightly you were sure it would leave a mark. You didn’t care.

The downright sinful sounds coming from Andy fueled you to pick up your pace, chasing your orgasm. The eagerness of making Andy cum and please him like the good girl he called you was a close second in terms of motivation.

“Are you tired, huh?” Andy managed to let out, grabbing your ass to push you up and down on him. He pulled you under, kneeling as he kept pushing in and out with his hands holding your knees.

“Shit sweetheart.” His sigh echoed as stars began flying in front of your eyes, hot white pleasure claiming you for the second time, you winced when Andy pulled out sharply, stroking himself and shuddering as he finally reached his own release, white thick ropes of cum splattering on your breasts and stomach.

He looked at you with sparks in his eyes, a dumb grin on his handsome face, you chuckled at his expression. A gentle hand reached out, caressing your cheek with a look full of adoration. No words were needed as you hastily cleaned up yourselves, wanting to go back to one another’s arms without any more delays. You had waited long enough.

You lay your head on his chest as a strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, his second hand running through your hair with soft strokes. Your hand lay on his chest too, right above his heart, a tired smile danced on your face as you felt the steady beat of his heart.

Andy looked down slightly at your face, at the happiness he could so easily read, and felt his heart tug with emotion. You were here, in his arms, and he felt so damn lucky.

His.

Andy smiled.

When was the last time he allowed himself to be this happy? Sure, he was happy when he won a case, though it always was shadowed because of the long and exhausting hours he pulled. He was happy at his home, with his family, but the problems of his marriage ran deep and even though he loved Jake with all of his heart, he couldn’t deny the fact that sometimes he dreaded to go home. But now, here, in this moment his heart swell with pure joy and affection towards the young woman he held in his arms. He couldn’t believe it. He used to think maybe he had done something to piss universe off. That’s why things never fully looked up for him.

Maybe the universe wasn’t so bad after all.

“Thank you.” He muttered in a quiet voice, his fingers drawing shapes on your arm.

“For what?” You raised your head slightly to face him. You caught your breath at the sudden closeness, and the way his eyes looked like deep pools of blue you wanted to dive in.

“For everything. For being by my side, I guess. You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

“If it’s anything like how I feel for you, I think I have some idea.” You leaned in to share a slow kiss, unlike those of passion some time ago, this one stirred the deepest of emotions within you. A promise, it was.

You talked of all kinds of things in that embrace, with hushed voices not caused by fear or getting caught, but caused by the level of intimacy. In that moment, where limbs were entangled and pressed together under the god-awful floral print you both laughed about, you didn’t even need words.

You weren’t exactly sure when you fell asleep with your head still resting on Andy’s chest, but you knew when you woke up. You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the dark room, head snapping towards Andy upon the sound hitting your ears. It was faint, sounded like muttering and whimpering, you searched the face of the man laying beside you when it hit you: he was having a nightmare.

“Hey, Andy,” you called out his name softly, “come on, love.” You coaxed him out of sleep, gently running a hand through his hair in the hopes of calming him down. His eyes snapped open with a small gasp, eyes looking around in fear for a split second.

“It’s me,” you got his attention, hard breathing of his chest calming down with your touch, “I got you.”

“Oh, Y/N.” He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. You pulled him close this time, resting his head on your chest as you hugged him, dropping kisses on his head, along his hairline, on the creases that made home above his eyebrows. Just as you thought Andy was back asleep because of his steady breath, he spoke.

“It’s my father.” Was all he needed to say, and you understood him, understood how hard it was for him to open up about the very thing he escaped from confronting his whole life.

“I know, sweetheart. I got you.” You muttered again and again, determined to make him believe and know that you meant what you said. His arms tightened around your waist as you closed your eyes, hand still combing through his soft hair. Neither asleep, you laid there until the first streaks of sun began to invade the room, reminding you both the dreaded car drive back to Newton was closer than you liked. You pushed that thought to the furthest corner of your mind as you turned your focus on the man between your arms, and let sleep wash over you like a cold blanket.

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

5 a.m on the dot as I post this, whew! I’m incredibly rusty in smut writing, so help me practice and send some requests, huh? My inbox is open for requests, feedback and all kinds of asks!

[techgoddessdeluxe18]

SidGeno Parent Trap AU!

Will someone please write this i stayed up till 1 aimlessly typing this, ive already fleshed it out for you pleaseee

So Sid and Geno played together as Rookies for the Penguins in the 2005-2009 seasons, lighting up the NHL world as they had done always, slowly finding love and happiness together (after the Me 3 years Super league convo, you saw how blushy Sid was), quietly getting married in an discreet court house somewhere in Pittsburgh, having blissfully unprotected sex before and after the 2009 Stanley Cup win, just happy and in love and their life and success was just beginning to blossom.

But Sid finds out that he’s been pregnant with twins for some time now, having been nearly 12 weeks pregnant already by the time the final round was played. Geno finds out that there are some legal issues from escaping the KHL in order to play for the Penguins, and so to settle some ruffled governmental feathers, it would be best if Geno went back to Russia to fulfill those duties. Sid is extremely worried about the awful timing of the pregnancy and the sheer amount of alcohol consumed during the Cup celebrations, and Geno is worried about Russia ever letting him out of the country, or worse; finding about his relationship with Sid.

They hole up in a remote corner of Canada for the off season, just trying to soak in the time they have together before Geno goes back to Russia. Days are spent going to doctors visits, holding hands as they walk around the lake, cuddling on the couch at night, Geno’s big hands rubbing Sid’s belly, little feet kicking as hard as they can, while Sid giggles and twists round to kiss Geno.

Sid safely delivers the babies, two identical adorable boys, who have thankfully have not had birth defects as Sid was fearing, and so the rest of the off season is spent trying to decide what to do, how they could go back to their respective corners of the world and try to raise their kids. They agree to split the kids, and keep silent on where they came from.

Geno returns to Russia with a little baby boy, who will mostly be taken care of by his mother and father. Sid does the same, heading back to Cole Harbor more often than he would during the season, always glued to his phone and even taking phone calls from his mother on game days.

So then the actual story goes, 16 year old Daniel Patrick Crosby and Dimitri Evgenevich Malkin meet at Worlds to play for their respective countries, and like a random dinner clash between Russia and Canada find Daniel and Dimitri really confused because they look exactly the same; dark curly hair, strong solid bodies, angular doe eyes. Their teammates chirp them, saying they wouldn’t know who was who if they switched sweaters before the tournament.

They meet up again after Russia wins, meeting in Daniel’s hotel room while his roommate is away. They’re like 

“oh when were you born? September 1st, 2009”.

 “Oh shit me too”. 

“ oh who’s your parents?” 

“Evgeni Malkin, big KHL superstar” 

“Sidney Crosby” because duh who doesn’t know the greatest player ever. 

Maybe they have a ripped picture like in the movie, like with Sid and Geno holding the Stanley Cup like they did in 2017. Daniel has Sid, and Dimitri has Geno, and they’re like “ yeah Dad never talked about who Papa was, but that he loved him, but they couldn’t be together”. So they whip out the picture halves, stashed in their wallets, and tada they fit. They’re twins!

Since the tournament for them is over, Russia with the gold and Canada with silver, they have a few days to themselves to watch the rest. On a midnight run to Tim Hortons, sharing a box of Timbits, they agree to swap places to meet each other’s dad, and then switch back during the Olympics, let say it’s somewhere in America, in a few months time. Daniel and Dimitri spend the next precious days coaching each other on how to be each other. Daniel is conveniently mostly conversational in Russian and can understand better than he speaks, but Dimitri is a quiet kid so it works out. Dimitri works hard to soften his Russian accent and worm eh into his normal syntax more. They get haircuts together, the barber laughing at these rambunctious twins and their beautiful curly hair, and they laugh at the ridiculous stripes they agree to shave onto the sides of their heads.

Before they separate at the airport, they exchange necklaces, a #45 from Daniel and a cross from Dimitri.

Dimitri flies back to Cole Harbor, and finds his dad waiting for him. He looks older than the picture he has, more lines on his face, Definetly shorter and grey-er hair, and sad eyes. If Sid notices his son hugging him tightly and for longer than he normally does, he doesn’t say anything. They chat through the drive home, to the lake house that Daniel told him about. Dimitri can only stare and try and absorb who this man was, the man who birthed him. Sid asks him if he’s ok as they eat dinner on the dock, bare feet dipping into the cold water. Dimitri can only mumble “you’re the best”, as he snuggles his head into his fathers chest. Sid can’t help but think that his son’s voice sounds different; the way he pronounced best sounded just like Geno.

Daniel manages to not say too much on the flight back to Russia, desperately trying to memorize more vocab and grammar before landing and being picked up by his grandparents. The cooing and lecturing is the same in either English or Russian, so he smiles and just lets it wash over him. He tentatively asks where his Papa is, and Grandmama Malkin says he’s probably wining and dining his latest girl. They go home and Daniel is stuffed full of food, everything Grandmama could have possibly made for his arrival. Geno comes home later that night, tired but eager to congratulate his son for winning Gold for Russia. He notices that his son perhaps looks a little different, ruffling the funny haircut that he had gotten, but more at the expression of awe on his face; a similar expression Sid had on his face when he told him he usually went out last before a game, many many years ago.

So yadada ya, they’re enjoying the time that they have with their respective dads, occasionally wringing out a small story or a sad look of their faces whenever they mention anything about each other. So the Olympics are rolling around, and they’re all going to be in one place (lets just say that Sid and Geno had never attempted to make contact whenever they played against each other, afraid that they might get caught) But Daniel has frantically been calling Dimitri over Geno’s new girl and how he might propose and would ruin their plan to get their parents back together.

Shenanigans during the Olympics, one groups disappearing before the other can see them, until Geno is in the elevator shmoozing his girl until he sees THE ASS tm across the room by the front desk. Sid turns around and just smiles sadly as the elevator door closes.

Then the scene where Sid is walking down the hall and Dimitri and Daniel open the doors at the same time and suddenly Sid is confronted with what he thinks is the son he hasn’t seen in 16 years. They pull him into a room, and explain the whole swicheroo, and Sid is mad because there’s nothing they can really do, he’s prepared to let Geno move on and do what’s he needs to, but resigns himself to being alone.

Then the pool scene, where Geno and his girl are lounging with his parents, and Sid walks his fine ass down the stairs and Geno falls in, scrapes up his nose a bit, Sid bandages him up a bit. Daniel and Dimitri reveal themselves to Geno.

Some time in between tournaments, with Russia and Canada on the rise to be competing for the Gold Final, Daniel and Dimitri bully their fathers into a family dinner at a nice restaurant. They cut a handsome swath at dinner, good looking men in good looking suits. Geno instinctually files in last, whether it being his remembered deal with Sid, or merely to ogle a bit as he pushes in Sid’s seat for dinner. For fun, after dinner, they find a nearly empty outdoor rink, equipped with rental skates. Daniel and Dimitri take off, chirping each other and racing and checking each other into the low boards enough for Dimitri to flip over and out of the rink, Daniel wheezing with laughter as Dimitri hefts himself back over. Sid and Geno skate around at a sedate pace, both having played a round that day and simply watching their sons fool around. They don’t say much. They can’t really. They can only quietly enjoy each others presence, wondering where had all the time gone, all the plans they had had.

The final round for Mens Ice Hockey has arrived, Russia vs Canada for Gold, and Daniel and Dimitri can only watch and wonder to see who will come out on top, and what will happen with their parents, watching as Geno checks Sid into the boards. Sid refuses to give up, and so Canada ends up winning the Gold. Like the 2014 picture where Geno and Sid hug after the game, what the camera doesn’t see but their sons see from behind the glass is the shaking hands of Geno and the single tear from Sid.

Like in the movie, before everyone hops onto their respective planes to their respective corners of the world, Sid and Geno make sure their sons aren’t faking this time, and that they go back to who they belong to. It’s how it has to be.

Cue the rain sequence, the sad music, the umbrellas.

Sid and Daniel return to Cole Harbor, still down pouring and quiet. They don’t say anything in the car ride back to the lake house. They finally arrive at home, and take some time to unpack and get comfortable. They silently look at each other, each longing for their other halves. Daniel had become so close to Dimitri, finding out who he was and planning the whole quest to meet their fathers. Sid just missed his husband, and playing against him after fighting so hard to play with him just made him wish for retirement sooner. They hug, and with Daniel under Sids arm, quietly wander down the bank of the hill towards the dock.

Although there seem to be two people already sitting there, with their feet in the water. Geno and Dimitri turn around, identical smug looks on their faces. Dimitri says, his accent hovering somewhere between the hard Russian accent and the rounded Canadian pronunciation, “hey Dad, did you know the Penguins still have those private jets?”

“Ye-yeah, they do bud”, Sid murmurs, still looking at the tall Russian slowly making his way towards him. Daniel duck out from under his arm to sit with his twin and watch the two goofballs that are their parents figure it out.

“I made mistake of not coming for you once, Sid. I’m not do that again, no matter how brave you are.” Geno says

“And I suppose you expect me to go weak at the knees and fall into your arms, and cry hysterically and say we’ll just figure this whole thing out, a bi-continental relationship with our sons being raised here and there, and you and I just picking up where we left off, and growing old together and… And, c’mon G, what do you expect? To live happily ever after?” Sid warbles, his tired eyes welling up with long withheld tears.

“Yes—to all, except you don’t have cry hysterically.” Geno murmurs, cupping Sid’s face and wiping a lone tear as it falls.

“Oh, yes I do—” Sid is cut off as he is kissed (AKA THE BEST KISS SCENE EVER, CUE THE MUSIC)

Daniel and Dimitri can only grin and fist bump as their parents finally kiss after 16 years apart. They put and end to it when Geno starts to dip Sid into a deeper, more lurid kiss and some major groping, and they push both of them into the water.

During the epilogue with This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) by Natalie Cole, scenes flash by of Geno and Sid holding hands in front of a press conference, their sons standing by their sides, as they announce their retirements from both the NHL and KHL after 20 years, and their relationship and their sons to the hockey community.

Another scene where Daniel and Dimitri attention Shattuck St. Mary’s to finish up high school before inevitable being drafted when they turn 18. It would be the first and only time they play together on the same team, Crosby-Malkin proudly spelled onto the back of their sweaters.

Another scene where they’re all playing shinny on a frozen pond somewhere, Geno getting distracted and just sweeping Sid into his arms after he scores a goal, kissing and swinging around until they both fall into a snowbank, their sons launching themselves at them at top speed.

Another scene where Daniel Crosby-Malkin from the Chicago Blackhawks and Dimitri Crosby-Malkin from the Dallas Stars face off for a Stanley Cup final

And finally, a small wedding held in Sid’s backyard in Nova Scotia, where Daniel and Dimitri stand with Flower and Tanger and Kuni and Duper and Talbo and most of Geno’s Russian buddies as their parents finally get married again, kissing happily under the sunset and the lake shining behind them.

Bonus scene: A few months after the wedding and a few days before the season starts up again, with everyone home, Sid comes down the stairs for breakfast with a strange look on his face and something in his hands. He’s a graceful 43 now, grey hairs really pushing now, so when he says “you boys up to being big brothers?” Geno spits out the tea he had been drinking and jumps up and envelops his husband.

[storiesforallfandoms]

my oh my! ~ jeff wittek

word count: 1672

request?: no

description: in which the good girl meets the older ex-con and sparks fly between them

pairing: jeff wittek x female!reader

warnings: swearing, panic attack

based on this song

masterlist

You weren’t usually a club type of person, but your friends managed to convince you to come out on this night, and by the end of the night you were very happy they had.

The club scene always made you feel awkward; a large crowd of drunk people dancing way too close together, standing way too close together at the bar, and guys who were too drunk to really give a shit trying to force themselves onto girls who were too drunk to know what they were doing. You didn’t like any of it, so that’s why you were basically stood in the corner sipping your drink as you watched your friends dance together.

They were already enough drinks deep to be tipsy while you were still on your first. You weren’t a drinker, and honestly the thought of getting drunk in this crowded place really scared you. But they were having a good time, and you were glad that they were.

One of your friends spotted you standing alone and pushed out of the crowd of people towards you. “Come on! Come dance with us!”

You shake your head. “No thank you! I’m not good with crowds of people, especially not drunk people!”

“It’ll be fun! If you don’t like it, you can come back over here, I promise!”

You sighed and agreed to it. Your friend smiled brightly and took hold of your hand. She led you into the crowd of people to your group of friends, who cheered excitedly when you joined them. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the reaction.

The group of you danced together and for a minute, you were actually getting into everything. But just as soon as that moment came, it was gone again when the people around you started to crowd you and you suddenly realized how close everyone was and how tight of a space you felt like you were in. You felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore and everything was spinning.

You pushed out of the crowd without telling your friends where you were going, although they didn’t seem to notice your departure. You stumbled towards the bathroom and tried to turn the knob, only to find it locked. You banged on the door as hard as you could, only to be met with a voice calling, “It’s taken!”

You stood with your back against the door. Everything was spinning so fast you were starting to feel like you were about to pass out, and you could barley breathe. You could feel your hands shaking before you looked down at them, your heart was beating so fast you felt like it was about to burst from your chest. You knew you needed to get out of there to somewhere more silent, but you were so flustered you didn’t even feel like you could move.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You looked up to see a tall guy wearing a leather jacket standing in front of you with a concerned look on his face. You shook your head in response.

“Here, come with me, I’ll get you some fresh air.”

You knew in the back of your mind that this was a bad idea. This was how girls got abducted or sexually assaulted, but you knew you needed to get outside. Once your head was clear you’d be able to fight back if he tried to do anything anyways.

You took his outstretched hand and he led you through the crowded club, one hand extended in front of him to push anyone out of his way. The minute you were outside the club, you took a deep breath and it felt like the best thing in the world.

You leaned back against the wall of the club, regaining your breath. You could finally see straight and you could feel your shakes starting to subside. Your face felt cold and you realized you had been crying and now the tears were drying onto your face.

“Thank you so much,” you told the guy. “I really appreciated it.”

“It’s no problem. You looked like you needed some help,” he said. “My name’s Jeff by the way.”

“I’m (Y/N).”

“Are you here with anyone, (Y/N)?” When you looked up at him with a confused look, he quickly corrected himself, “I mean like friend wise, but also like a guy or-or something. I’m not trying to hit on you, just wondering if there’s anyone in there who’s gonna think I was kidnapping you.”

You giggled as his awkwardness. “I was here with a group of friends, but I don’t think they even noticed I left. They were too busy dancing to really noticed what was happening.”

“Would they notice if you were gone for a while?”

Your eyes widened, suddenly starting to panic again.

“No, not like that. I’m sorry, that sounds so creepy. I was just gonna ask if you to go for a walk to try and calm down.”

“God, I’d love that,” you sighed. Jeff chuckled and offered you his arm. You looped your arm through his and the two of you started walking.

The walk was quiet, but you weren’t about to complain. You were enjoying the calming silence as opposed to the thumping music from the club.

Your walk brought you to the mostly empty beach. You decided to walk the beach a ways before sitting down on the sand. Jeff sat next to you.

“So, what’s your story Jeff?” you asked him. “Are you a born and raised Los Angelite?”

He chuckled. “Oh no, I’m originally from Staten Island. I’m a barber and an influencer here now.”

“A barber?” you question. “An influencer makes sense, most people in LA are trying to be influencers, but a barber? Like on the side or your videos are you cutting hair?”

“A bit of both. I do hair cuts outside of YouTube, but I also have a series called Jeff’s Barbershop, and basically I cut either my friends hair or the hair of other influencers and I’ll make jokes and little sketches and stuff.”

“Sounds interesting. I’ll have to check the series out.”

“Maybe I could cut your hair sometime.”

That got the conversation rolling. You talked for a long time about each other. You told him how you had grown up in LA but had no desire to follow the “Los Angeles lifestyle”. You told him your dream was to live in New York, or to just visit for Christmas at least.

“Maybe I can take you this Christmas,” he said when you told him that. You felt yourself blush and had to look away so he wouldn’t see.

When you asked about Jeff’s past, he seemed a little hesitant to answer. You weren’t going to make him tell you anything if he was uncomfortable, but now you were intrigued on why he was being hesitant.

“There’s one thing you need to know about me,” he said after some time. “I...have been to prison about four times.”

“Whoa!” you said. “Really? For how long?”

“The longest was four months. And before you ask, it was for drug related charges.” Jeff laughed at the expression on your face. “I dealt drugs when I was young. I thought I was big shit until I got arrested. I turned myself around after that. It was like nearly 10 years ago, I’m a changed man.”

“10 years? How old are you?”

“I just turned 30.”

You gasped. “Oh my God, you’re so old!”

“Oh no, how old are you? Don’t tell me you’re some teenager who used a fake ID to get into the bar.”

“No! you laugh. “No, I’m 23.”

“Practically a baby!”

You both laugh together. You found yourself leaning into Jeff, resting your head on his shoulder. You felt his head resting against yours.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Like I don’t want to go back to that club.”

Jeff chuckled. “We can stay here if you want.”

You nodded. “I’d like that. I guess I should let the girls know I’m okay before we sit here for who knows how long.”

You both sat there in silence, watching the water as it crashed to the shore. It was so peaceful. You’d take this over the club setting any night, especially if you could experience it with Jeff.

Eventually you had to get up to go home. Jeff linked your arms together again as you walked. He walked you right up to your apartment door, claiming he wanted to make sure you were safe.

“I really appreciate everything you did for me tonight,” you tell him. “I’m sorry if I dragged you away from your friends or anything.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he said, waving away your apology. “I wasn’t drinking so I was basically just watching them act like drunk idiots. I liked spending the night with you better.”

You smiled and looked down at your feet.

“I meant what I said about taking you to New York,” he added. “It’s beautiful around Christmas time. You’ll love it.”

“You’ll have to take me out before I go out of state with you,” you joked.

“Okay,” Jeff said with a shrug. “Can I have your number?”

You were shocked. You didn’t think he was going to respond that way. He smiled a you stuttered out your number and he punched it into his phone.

“Okay, I’ll text you.” He winked at you before turning to leave, stopping once to wave at you before you couldn’t see him anymore.

You fumbled with your keys until you finally got your door open. You leaned back against it and let out a dreamy sigh. “Wow.”

You phone buzzed in your back pocket. You pulled it out, thinking it was one of your friends checking in on you. You were met with a message from an unknown number that read, “Is it too soon to text you? - Jeff.”

You smiled to yourself. For once, you were happy you went out with your friends.

Okay it’s not just like the song or anything but I liked the imagine a lot so I hope you guys did too!

[iamakiller]

the apt pupil

Wordcount: 2000

Warnings: Murder, obviously.  Mention of drug use.

Notes: Interacting with the charming Mr. Massey the other day reminded me of another insufferable (un)creative type I once knew.  Or did I?  This is fictional, of course!

His name was Chad. Of course it was.

Chad came from a fine theater pedigree.  His father, a renowned director.  His mother, an eminent producer.  The mantel in their Upper East Side home was brimming with awards, and there was no doubt in Chad’s mind that someday soon, he would be adding to the collection.  

However, as he entered the final year of his bachelor’s in theater production, it was starting to become clear that perhaps his lineage, charm and considerable good looks were not quite enough to allow him to continue to coast.

For the first time in his life, Chad was failing.

And that’s where his classmate came in.

***

Charlie Barber ...

Quiet. Unassuming.  His nose always stuck in a book.  Nothing special to look at, in his thrifted clothes and unflattering glasses.  Nothing remarkable at all.

But this unobtrusive exterior belied a considerable amount of talent, which even self-obsessed Chad couldn’t fail to observe.  It shone out of him with the radiance of a thousand suns.  Every piece of work he produced was undeniably brilliant.

What a pity for Charlie that in the theater world, it isn’t what you know, but who you know that makes or breaks a career.  

But what good fortune for Chad.

He made his approach after class one Friday afternoon.  “I’ve got a proposal for you,” he said, without preamble.  “You need my help.”

Charlie clutched his books closer to his chest, and looked at him without saying anything.  

Chad felt very uncomfortable for a moment, before his usual overconfidence settled back into place, and he blustered on.  “Talent can only get you so far, my friend.  You need connections.  Influence.  Social skills.  I can help you with all of that.”

His classmate cleared his throat, and shifted from foot to foot.  He chewed on the inside of his lip.  He was definitely considering the offer.  “Why?” he ventured, finally.

A wolfish smile spread across Chad’s handsome face.    “Let’s just say I’m an altruist.  Genius like yours deserves to be nurtured.  Let me be your friend, Charlie.  I only ask one small thing in return …”

A pleased flush had spread across Charlie’s pale, freckled cheeks at the word genius.  He was eating out of Chad’s palm already. “What do you need?” he breathed.

“Perhaps you would be so kind as to help me with my studies, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble?  Given all the networking I do, I may have found myself falling slightly behind.  What do you say?”

Charlie accepted.

Of course he did.  

This was going to be so easy.

***

Chad “networked” at least five nights a week, if not more.  After he achieved a C on his latest assignment, he kindly allowed Charlie to tag along one night.

Charlie watched with big eyes as Chad snorted a line of cocaine from the bathroom counter. Chad straightened up, rubbing at his stinging nose, and offered Charlie the little white bag of powder.  “You should try some,” he said.  “It’s the best.  Makes you feel like a god.”

“Sounds awful,” said Charlie, with a wry little smile.  “No thank you.”

“Oh go on, Charlie, don’t be a bore.”  Chad’s voice was louder now. Everything he had to say was even more important than usual.  “You need the confidence boost, don’t you?  It might even finally help you to lose your virginity.”

Charlie blushed, and pushed his glasses up his nose.  “I’m not a virgin, you know,” he said.  “I’ve had sex before.”

Chad raised his eyebrows in disbelief.  “Oh really?  And how was it?”

Charlie closed his eyes for a moment, remembering.  “She just lay there,” he admitted, eventually.  “And it was a bit awkward afterwards.  But … I really liked it.”

“Perhaps you’re not as hopeless as I’d feared, buddy,” Chad said, slapping him on the back.  

After a couple of drinks and another of Chad’s coke-fueled pep-talks in the bathroom, Charlie disappeared into the night with a brunette friend of a friend who was wasted enough to not seem to mind his inept attempts at following Chad’s instructions on how to be smooth.

With a smile like a proud father, Chad watched him go.

***

Another assignment, and a B this time.  Chad celebrated by taking Charlie to see an optician, and then on a shopping spree.

In his new contact lenses, and wearing clothes that actually fit him for once, Charlie looked like a completely different person.  He stammered his thanks all the way back to the subway, and Chad basked in the spotlight of his gratitude.

As they waited for the Sixth Avenue Line, Chad’s attention was drawn to one of the many missing person’s posters that had been pasted to the pillar next to them.  It was a brunette female, about their age.  Very pretty.  She looked vaguely familiar.

Charlie followed his gaze.  “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” he said, softly.  “All these girls going missing.  I heard them say on the news that they think there might be a serial killer on the loose.

“If you ask me, they deserve it,” Chad scoffed.  “Those dumb bitches shouldn’t be so trusting.”

Charlie nodded earnestly.  “You’re so right, Chad,” he said.  “They shouldn’t.”

***

After an A on an assessment right before Christmas, Chad invited Charlie over for the holidays.  He knew he was an orphan – some tragic tale that he hadn’t bothered listening to properly because quite frankly he didn’t give a shit – so he really was being quite selfless, saving him from yet another day spent eating ten cent ramen noodles on his own and doing god knows what he did in his free time.

Chad’s parents took to Charlie immediately, especially his father.  They spent almost the whole of Charlie’s visit talking enthusiastically about plays and novels that Chad had never even heard of, let alone bothered to read.  Chad had never seen his friend so talkative, so alive as when he talked about the productions he’d seen, and the ones he one day hoped he’d have the opportunity to make.  

“What about you, Chad?” asked his father, trying to bring him into the conversation.  But Chad just shrugged, and went back to his cellphone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to the theater. Probably the last time he’d been forced to attend one of his dad’s boring opening nights …

He felt relieved when Charlie was gone, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on why that was.  But he definitely didn’t like the way his parents kept mentioning his friend fondly over the weeks and months that ensued ...

***

There was only so much that Charlie could do to help Chad with his final piece.  The old adage was true: you can take a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.  And you can give a budding young director all the help and advice in the world, but you can’t make up for a lack of imagination or creativity when it comes staging a performance …

Charlie’s piece – which happened to directly precede it - was lauded by their tutor, and their classmates.  Years from now, everyone would still be talking about it.

Chad’s was ripped to shreds.  He was humbled, humiliated, in front of everyone he knew.

When he walked into the party that night, Charlie was already there.  He had one girl sitting on his lap, and another clinging to his arm.  A large group of people had gathered around him, and they all seemed to be hanging on to his every word.

Chad hung back, watching.  Something twisted in his gut.  His blood felt like it was rising to a boil.  In the entire duration of his short, charmed life, he’d never felt anything resembling this sensation before.  Had he been more self-aware, he might have realized that it was jealousy.

As the night wore on, he made trip after trip to the bathroom, until the little plastic bag was empty and he had given himself a nosebleed.  He drank so much cheap Scotch that his limbs went numb.  But the burning, boiling, itching sensation in his veins only grew worse.

Finally, he found Charlie out on the roof, having a cigarette.  It was the first time he’d managed to catch him alone the entire evening. And since when did he smoke?

“Congratulation on your success,” Chad choked out.  The words tasted like ash in his mouth.  He took a couple of staggering steps forward.  God, his head was spinning.  

“Thank you,” said Charlie, evenly.  “I’m so sorry things didn’t go to plan for you.  I know how hard you tried.”

“You were supposed to help me,” Chad whined, sounding exactly like a petulant toddler. “Like I helped you.”

Charlie smiled lopsidedly.  “I did my best,” he said.  “But there’s only so much you can do with such a hopeless case.”

It took a while for the words to sink in, and for Chad to realize that he was being insulted.  “Fuck you!  Don’t start getting above yourself! You’re still a nobody,” he spat out.

Charlie was still smiling.  “I was a nobody,” he corrected.  “But now I’m somebody. Thanks to you, friend.  I’ll always be grateful.  I’ll always remember you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Chad slurred.  “Why are you talking about me like that?  Are you going somewhere?”

He watched as Charlie dropped the cigarette butt on the ground, and stubbed it out.  As the other man advanced toward him, he wondered why he’d never noticed how tall he was.  How broad.  How strong. “You shouldn’t stand so close to the edge,” Charlie told him. “You’re drunk, and high as a kite.  Something bad could happen.”

Nothing bad had ever happened to Chad in his entire life, until today.  He couldn’t relate.  “Like what?”

Charlie’s smile was a wolf’s grin, sharp and dangerous.  His eyes were razor-bright.  “Even now, you don’t get it,” he said gently. Softly.  Like he was talking to a particularly naive child.  “You’re so dumb, Chad.  So trusting.  Like those bitches on the missing person’s posters.”

Chad was so wasted he couldn’t even process what he was hearing.  He just didn’t get it at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Charlie sighed, and rolled his eyes. “This isn’t my usual style,” he said.  “But needs must, I suppose.  Oh, Chad.  I told you not to stand so close to the edge.”

And with one hand on the middle of Chad’s chest, he gave him a little shove.

By the time Chad registered what was happening, it was too late.

***

It was such a lovely memorial service.  

Everybody had such kind things to say about Chad that it was obvious most of them hadn’t known him well at all.

Chad’s father came and found Charlie at the wake, and pulled him into a hug so unexpected that it took Charlie a few moments to reciprocate. “Thank you for trying to save him,” he said.  “His mother and I are still reeling.  We had no idea how depressed he was.  Failing that last assignment must have been the final straw.”

Charlie nodded, sadly.  “I’m so sorry for your loss.  He wanted me to tell you both how much he loved you.  It was the last thing he said before …”  He tailed off, averting his eyes and swallowing thickly.  He let his lower lip tremble, like he’d seen people do in movies when they were upset.

“You were such a good friend to him.  I’m sure he appreciated it.”

“Thank you.  I just wish I could have saved him, you know?”

They stood in silence for a long while, and then the older man cleared his throat.  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Charlie.  His mother and I have decided to set up a foundation, to honor our son’s memory. Something that will help young people with talent to build their career in theater.  And we can’t think of anyone we’d rather have as the first recipient than you.  What do you say?”

Charlie accepted.  

Of course he did.

This had all been so easy.