#and my sister openly made fun of me for liking it last year

[alibyactually]

.

[discoreptile]

As of yet unnamed game card art!

[pixie-mage]

I’ve thought about telling you. I’ve thought about bringing it up. You’ve asked me about my purple striped pendant enough times, and I’ve always brushed it off, and you still give it a sidelong look as if you know, so I’ve thought about saying something–

(Or leaving my laptop open on the wiki page, or doodling the flag on a sticky note and leaving it where you can see, or buying a book about it on your Amazon account, or–)

–but I never have.

Maybe it would finally convince you to leave my dating life alone. Or at least, maybe it would convince you that a dating app won’t work the same for someone like me.

Because when you’re asexual, most men on a dating app are expecting a future hookup, whether that’s now or a few weeks down the line…so you’re not what they’re looking for.

Anyway, I’ve thought about it. But I’ve also seen how you talked to me behind my sister’s back when she came out as bisexual, how you were outwardly unbothered and generally supportive but would turn to me with “If this phase lasts” and “She's still young” and “When she settles down with a guy” on your lips. It’s been a while since I’ve heard it, but even now, when she’s college age and openly dating a woman, I get the feeling you still don’t take her relationship as seriously as our brother’s relationship with his girlfriend. I get the feeling you still judge.

(You love us dearly. I know you do. The good and great family memories far far outweigh the bad. And you care about us so much. You’ve fought the world for us in the past and you’d do it again and you’ll always always love and support us in everything we do. But. But.)

And maybe you wouldn’t judge me so harshly for simply saying I’m ace, because it’s not like I’m gay, right? It’s not like I’ll end up with another girl, right? It’s not as big of a deal…right?

But I’ve also seen how judgemental you were when I started crossplaying, when I started choosing male characters to cosplay alongside the female. I was just dressing up for fun and that’s all it ever will be, but still…the judgement. The unspoken judgement of different.

And when I brought up the idea of adoption instead of having my own kids - the one time I opened up enough to mention it - you gave me the most indecipherable look that made me feel like I’d said something horribly, horribly wrong. And I said “What?” and you said “Nothing.” But it was “nothing” in the “I won’t say it, but you should know” way. It was “nothing” in the “I won’t say it, but I’ll let you feel my dissatisfaction from where you’re sitting” way.

And just this year, I got so close. I almost said something. We were having a conversation - god knows I can’t even remember how it started now - but I got brave enough to ask if it would be so wrong to never want to be physically intimate with someone. And I got an exaggeration eyeroll, and a “You have GOT to get over your fear of sex” as if you knew me sooo well that you obviously could see what I really meant. But you didn’t. You don’t. And when I said - rather impulsively - that “I’m not afraid, I just don’t want to do it. It’s gross and uncomfortable” - well.

“That’s a childish response.”

Because god forbid I feel differently than you do about something that would only affect my life. God forbid I dislike something even when the rest of the world expects me to want to love it. God forbid.

So I haven’t told you. With a response like that, why the hell would I?

You always say “you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find a prince”…and sure, I understand the meaning. But why does finding a prince require kissing? Why can’t I hug him instead? Why can’t a peck on the cheek suffice? I’d offer him a Lego minifigure if that would do the trick. I’d much prefer it.

But no, I’m childish for wanting to keep my body to myself.

You signed me up for a dating app when I was in early college. At the time I thought it was funny, and I still kind of do. I know that you want to see me happy and you assume finding a partner is what will do that. And maybe I would be happy with a partner in my life…but not the kind you’re thinking of.

See, the problem with dating apps - the problem with dating - is I know eventually the guy will get bored. He’ll get bored before we hit five months because the whole time he’ll have been waiting for the chance to take me to bed, and unfortunately for him, the thought will have never crossed my mind. Hell, the last time we tried to make out I was probably thinking about pizza rolls and wondering how long people are supposed to keep kissing like that. When is it acceptable to stop? When is it polite to get back to watching the movie? How much kissing is enough to satisfy someone else? Because it sure as hell does next to nothing for me.

I used to think I was broken, you know.

I used to think there was something wrong with me if everyone was explaining kissing and sex as this fantastic thing, and I was sitting there going “What’s there to like?”

I used to think - hell - maybe mom was right. Maybe I just have to keep kissing frogs.

But at some point, you kiss enough frogs that never turn into princes, and you start to realise that maybe the problem isn’t the frogs you’re picking. Maybe the problem is you. Maybe you don’t have the magic in your lips to turn ‘em back into royalty.

And then you date an amazing, amazing guy, and you think “Wow, I could picture a life with him” and you think “This could be something” and you think “This is a prince…right?” …but you still feel nothing. The romance is there, and the joy of shared interests, and the matching sense of humor, and the laughter and the fun and you fit and it’s amazing - but physically? Sexually? Nothing. You feel nothing. You’re still daydreaming about pizza rolls when you’re kissing on the couch, and nothing has changed.

So you think…another frog?

And you end things.

And you think it’s better that way.

And you think maybe you were just excited over a solid friendship and misinterpreted what you were feeling.

But then you find an internet post that is far too relatable. You find an artist that has put into words the exact way you’ve been feeling for years. You find a comic that sends a shockwave of a revelation through your head and you feel - you feel whole. You feel unbroken. You feel like this is what you were missing all along.

One word that makes you feel a little less alone, knowing there are others out there just like you.

Asexual.

A person who feels no physical attraction toward others.

Sometimes they want to be physically intimate with their partner even though they feel nothing, but sometimes? Sometimes they really really don’t.

And it’s okay.

And it has a name.

And it’s not broken.

…and I would tell you all of this if I felt like I could. But.

But.

It’s just a phase and you’d be happier with a partner and that’s a childish response.

Is it any wonder I have never explained what my purple striped pendant really means?

[loserchildhotpants]

My mother is looking for me.

I silently went no-contact a few months ago.

Years ago, when I first went no-contact, I announced that that was what I was doing, and it does occur to me that I didn't owe her an explanation then, just as I don't now. There is an aspect to me that has changed since the last time I went no-contact, though. I'll get to that.

My mother and I were extremely enmeshed for most of my life. Several counselors have referred to the relationship as covertly incestuous, and that stands to reason, actually. I hate it, I hate that terminology, it feels gross, but in retrospect, so does my relationship with her, it's just hard to see it as gross, or the source of such enduring discomfort when it's all you've ever known. So, I definitely didn't see it for a long time, it's hard to see the picture from inside the frame. When I look back, though, her behavior is deplorable.

She was less like a mom and more like a friend, and the thing was, she was a shitty friend.

In summation, she was wildly inconsistent; at times, she rose to the occasion and was what I needed, when I needed it, but those times were rare, and minimal in the face of all the rest of the time when she *commanded* me to be and do things like, rub her feet while she cried about my father's limp dick, or she'd start whining nasally while smacking me with her naked feet, talking about how mean I am to her.

She was always so angry in the face of a boundary. I was maybe 9 or 10 when I had to ask her to stop kissing me on the mouth when I was going to bed, and she got so upset with me. She asked sexually or medically invasive questions, and would often bully me and make fun of whatever the answer wound up being.

She openly bullied my sister, and favored me, and it was really evident that if I held fast to boundaries like my sister did, she would retract her love, just as she had with my sister.

She pit us against each other our entire childhoods, she's been manipulative, vindictive, and careless. She has facilitated some of the worst events of trauma and abuse I've suffered in my life, because her having fun or being perceived some specific way by other adults meant so much more to her than her kids being safe.

So, she's not motherly, she's not a nice friend to have, she is mostly a highly reactive child that needs constant gentle-parenting, and will not be held to account for anything she feels makes her 'look bad.'

All this to say, she can't function in any capacity for me that is worth the risk of the injury I incur when I'm around her. She is the elephant's foot of mental illness to me; the closer I get, the longer I stay, the sicker I become.

She's poisoned her entire side of the family against me, she'll tell basically anyone that will listen that I'm a pathological liar who inexplicably hates her for no valid reason, that I'm mentally unstable, and that she's clearly failed as a parent since I turned out so horribly.

On top of all this, we are morally antithetical to one another. At a fundamental level, what I think it means to be a good person has nothing to do with what it means to her, and there's no compromising that.

I used to feel great anxiety at the prospect of never speaking to her again, I used to wrack my brain for a way that this could be a failing on my part, because if it's my fault, I'm just a bad daughter, maybe I can fix that.

I've made myself so small for her, I trimmed so much down, and masked the rest to look how she wanted it to, and she was *still* unhappy with me. There's nothing I can do to secure her love, it's too conditional, and frankly, I don't want to perform like that anymore.

So, when separating by any degree, no-contact or low-contact, over the years, I'd feel anxiety, self-reproach, guilt, shame, but I don't feel that this time - or - that may be a lie. I *do* feel those things, just not in the quantities I have before.

Mostly, though, I feel badly for her.

Things weren't awful all the time, she wasn't *always* terrible, and in fact, with my father living and breathing under the same roof, she was still my only remotely functional parent. It's not as though I don't have love for her - I was born with love for her. It comes naturally, inherently.

I keep thinking to myself that she didn't think life would turn out the way it did, and she must spend a lot of time very sad about that.

When she calls my sister, sobbing about how she can't seem to contact me, she's not crying because she misses me, she's crying because this wasn't how the story was meant to go.

As enmeshed as we were, and as masked as I was to her, she was unmasked to me, and I think I know her pretty well.

I think she lived under this impression that the high's of life were all that mattered, and if she just avoided thinking about things that caused her discomfort, they wouldn't happen; she'd be young and hot forever, she'd always be the most popular girl at school, the most likable boss bitch at work, she'd have this air of Dignified Woman about her, she'd be super lucky just the way she was born, cultured, well-traveled, charming, upper-middle class, and life would *look* a certain way.

But she didn't invest in the future, didn't save anything, spent wildly, and we lost our home in 2008. Soon after, she divorced the man she'd spent 30 years with, the both of them hating each other the entire time. Then her eldest went no-contact, then the ex-husband needed to do the same, and then her golden mini-me, her youngest 'abandons,' her just the same.

So, she doesn't live a lavish lifestyle with cosmopolitan friends on the Upper East Side, she works 3 jobs in Florida that she'll be working til she's in her 70's, her ex-husband won't risk being near her because he has minimal contact with their kids and feels that consorting with her will pass whatever contagion she has onto him and he'll lose what crumbs he considers a successful relationship with his daughters. (The guy also thinks he's a Good Father for not having beaten us regularly, so his metrics about what is quality is pretty questionable)

In her head, she had this idea - she'd marry this really handsome guy, and her love could Fix him, y'know? He was so angry, so sad, so 'damaged,' and they had such great physical chemistry while they were young, she'd make it work, so they'd *look* great together. He'd work a particular kind of job she got him (and he did, for 15 years), she'd work a high paying job too, and still do all the housework, keep everything trim and pretty, including herself and her kids. We'd be a perfect family unit, beautiful to look at, unburdened by profound societal despair or existential thinking, we'd all be socially acceptable, and lovely, and she'd retire at 60 with comfort, if not a friend in her husband than a partner at least, she'd certainly never feel alone, and that's not what happened.

Her family unit fell apart, because nothing meaningful was holding it together. She might argue that love was holding it together, but if the love is conditional, that foundation will invariably, eventually fail.

I think that's why it's not enough for her that she has all of her blood relatives rallying around her, validating her perpetual victimhood, telling her how much of a martyr she is, and how wronged she's been. The sympathy is fine, but it's not lasting, and that pitying attention may sustain her for a while, but then she's alone again, sitting in the ruins of the future she built for herself, not wanting to look inward at all, because to her, accountability is tantamount to personal attack. She won't look inward the same way she would never self-harm.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. I get it. I get that, at 66, it has to be fucking heart-rending to look back on one's life thus far, and take stock, and think 'no, no, no, it wasn't supposed to be like this at all!'

It doesn't really matter that her expectations weren't rooted in reality. She maintained them, and so she's disappointed.

It's a sad affair, the entire thing. I feel badly for her. She thought she'd be young and hot forever, she thought the family unit she built and birthed would owe her complete, unwavering fealty, she thought she'd be so much more comfortable than she is, and here she is, full enough of self-pity to drown in it, unable or unwilling to recognize that she is the only one that can save herself.

It's not like she's at the end of her life or anything, if she wanted to change herself, and her life, and what it looks and feels like, she could do that. It would take focus, discipline, and frankly a lot of therapy, but it could be done. It's not like the wrap up music is playing.

Still, it won't be the life she dreamt of for herself, and when I think of her, I see this injured child, red-faced crying over dashed hopes. It's sad.

I need to stay away, because if I get near the crying child, she begs me to comfort her, and then scratches, punches, and claws at me, screams at me that her misery is all my fault, that I'm the one that abandoned this child and she'll never forgive that, she'll never forgive how heartless and cold I am, and all of that hurts very much, because she's *not* a child, she's my mother, and so when she says these things, yells, cries, transfers all that onto me, it wounds me.

My mother is looking for me, and I can't let her find me. At least, not right now. I don't have the emotional bandwidth for that sort of interaction right now.

There's no point to this really. I just had to put my thoughts down somewhere.

[isakyakihasmyheart]

Mind Dump 5 years on...

This is the first time I've logged into this account since 2019(ish) so I'm pretty sure there's going to be no one left here but if you are, Hi! I'm just going to dump this post here because I am a tumblr girl at heart and laying my most deepest thoughts to strangers on the internet is all I've ever known...

After the recent news of the death of Liam Payne 2 days ago I've been thinking about this website non-stop. Like many people, this news hit me so unexpectedly emotionally. Grieving someone I never knew, but also grieving a time in my life I can never ever experience again.

My life has changed so much since I last logged into this account, and yet so little at the same time. I started this account in early 2017 after I got into SKAM back in 2016, abandoning a previous Dan and Phil centred account I had from 2014. I was still in school, the last season of SKAM lining up with my own life of leaving school and starting university. I remember thinking that was so cool, watching these characters I grew to adore also experiencing their last year alongside me. I started university in late 2018, studying to become a nurse but yet never got over SKAM. Instead, I became obsessed DRUCK and connected to Matteo in a way I haven't ever experienced with another fictional character since (the only close match being Connell from Normal People in that one uni scene iykyk). However, I ultimately ended up abandoning this account in 2019.

I don't actually know why I stopped coming on this website. Because since I was 14 this website was all I could ever think about. Me and best friend in 2014 were absolutely obsessed with tubmlr. We would literally spend hours on this website reblogging the most random things, and things that at that point in our lives meant so much to us. And with this recent news, I've felt this strong tsunami of nostalgia for that period of my life.

I was never a 1D blog, but I loved 1D. Not very openly as I had older sisters who made fun of me for it. I squashed any outwardly expression of my love for them to avoid this at all costs. A major cost being turning down to go and see them in concert in 2014/2015 when my friend (mentioned above) had an extra ticket. I think about that often and regret it every time. When covid came around and we were in lockdown I was in the mid/end of my 2nd year of uni, 20 years of age. I know a lot of people talk of how they regressed back to their younger passions, and so did I. I had the full 1D experience I never let myself have, not caring about others' opinions on it (mainly my older sister). I listened to their music nonstop every single day, watching so many edits and even reading fan fics. I truly felt like I was 14 again. But there was always that voice in the back of my head saying, "you're too late, it's not the same, you've missed out on it all." I yearned with everything in me to be that teenage girl again. It was during this period in 2020 that my family relationships also became very volatile and dysfunctional, meaning 1D became an even bigger safe space for me.

I've always been a nostalgic person in the worst way possible. I can't help but let the regrets of things I never did consume me. The thoughts of how different my life could be, how different I could be, it always plagues me. I know this sounds dramatic because I'm talking about a 2010s boyband, believe me I know it does.

But I was 14 when my life started to go to shit, when my mental health first started to decline and truthfully it has never recovered. Maybe because in the back of my mind, I always felt like that 14 year old girl, scared and alone and hurting so bad with no one to help her. And the unbelievable shocking news of Liam Payne dying, it's just transporting me back to that period of my life. Even more so as I lost my dad very unexpectedly and traumaticly in March this year.

I just feel so full of grief for so many things all at once, all separate yet all so intertwined. I would truly give anything and everything I have to just relive being that teenage girl, even the unspeakable bad parts. And it makes me so angry to know I can't. And of course, I can't, because that's not how time works! Yet it feels like I can't breathe when I come to that realisation. In all its dramatic flare, it genuinely feels like it's killing me that I can't ever experience that life again.

All in all, I'll never truly forget this website. Especially not this account, I loved this account! Maybe this is just the part of growing up I'm currently struggling with. I'm 24 now, which in itself is scary because no matter what I am and always will be that 14 year old girl.

Girlhood is forever and always xx

[sea-owl]

Have some in-laws, Colin and Felicity. Set in the arranged marriage au which is also the same universe as this post.

-

Felicity knew it was fair to say she grew up without a positive male influence. Her father, Lord Featherington, had been a drunk and a gambler and then had the nerve to pass away when she was seven. She had no biological brothers, just three older sisters. They don't say it, but Felicity knew she was actually a last-ditch attempt for a male heir. It's pretty obvious when the sister closest in age to you is seven years older.

Then, when Cousin Jack came to try and place a bid as the new Lord Featherington, the ladies of the house were quick to figure out he was another liar and scammer. Mama was not one to take that lying down so she made quick work of him, quietly getting papers that said the first daughter to have a son will inherit the estate.

So yeah, the male influences in her family kinda sucked. But Felicity also thought that to say she didn't have any positive male influences was kind of a false statement.

Though she will never admit it to his face, ever, Felicity had Colin Bridgerton.

Colin has been engaged to Felicity's favorite sister, Penelope, since before Felicity was even born. The way the story goes that once Mama and Penelope no longer had to be isolated from everyone else and could receive visitors the Bridgertons came over to congratulate Mama on the new baby. With them was their five year old son Colin Bridgerton. While the other children played and their parents talked Colin apparently made himself comfortable next to whoever was holding Penelope. If she was passed to another set of hands Colin would follow and replant himself next to the new person.

The adults finally took notice of the little boy's fascination with the baby when Lady Bridgerton asked Colin if he wanted a biscut.

Colin, who at the point was sitting next to the crib they had put Penelope in, said, "No. I want to stay with my Pen."

Felicity thought they were lying the first time she heard this story, but then others including Colin himself confirmed it.

It didn't take long after that for their parents to officially arranged an engagement and ever since then Felicity has been stuck with Colin. At least it wasn't Lord Fife. She might've actually shot Fife if he was around as much as Colin is.

So Colin was there throughout the years. Felicity wasn't sure what happened during the early years, he was getting ready to go to Eton when she was born, but she does remember him coming over whenever he was on break.

"You're here again," Felicity gasped when she saw Colin in their family drawing room. "Didn't you just leave?"

Felicity was nine years old, and Colin was back on break, getting ready to go on his Grand Tour to finish out his university years.

Colin smiled his charmer smile. "Good to see you too Felicity."

Felicity ignored him and crawled up onto the sofa next to Penelope. She half laid on her older sister, hugging her around the middle and resting her head on her shoulder, shooting a victorious smile at Colin. Because despite the fact that he and Pen are engaged, he can't be openly affection with Penelope like this.

Colin's eye twitched.

Felicity giggled, Hyacinth was right. It's fun to rile up older brothers.

A year later, when Felicity was ten, her mother Portia had debuted Penelope at seventeen. Too early in most of the Ton's opinion.

Penelope looked miserable every time she went to a ball dressed in one of their mama's citrus colored dresses.

Felicity was worried. Her mama, Prudence, and Philippa all liked going out to balls. They enjoyed it. What was it her mama called it again? Husband hunting? Penelope already had a future husband, though. Was she upset that he wasn't there?

Felicity asked Penelope.

Penelope looked down at her younger sister, though Felicity was quickly catching up in height, and smiled. "I am alright, Litty. There are just a lot of people there who are very insistent they talk to me because of my engagement to Colin."

Felicity's eyebrows shot up. So this was Colin's fault? These people make her sister miserable that she does not get to enjoy the balls like her mama and other sisters do because she is engaged to him. Yet he is not here to take responsibility for that!

No, this will not do. Felicity's favorite sister deserved to have fun too! If Felicity has to drag Colin back by his ear she will!

Felicity began to pen a letter in her neatest handwriting.

Colin Bridgerton,

You must come home! Mama has debuted Penelope, and all these strangers harass her! Because of you! I can not think of any other way to say it. She looks so sad when she goes to balls, and when she comes home, she looks sad and tired.

You must take responsibility Mr. Bridgerton! Come home and make my sister happy once more, or I shall drag you back myself!

Felicity

Mixing it with Penelope's letter Felicity knew it would get to Colin soon.

Two weeks later, Penelope came home from Lady Danbury's ball and she was smiling!

Something good must've happened then. Felicity so wished to ask her sister. Oh if only she wasn't meant to be sleeping.

The next day, Felicity walked into their family's drawing room to see Colin Bridgerton sitting next to Penelope. Penelope was tracing the spine of a book Felicity hadn't seen before. Meanwhile, Colin was tracing Penelope's hand. They were both smiling.

Felicity grinned. Her letter worked!

"You're back!" Felicity cheered.

Colin smiled at Felicity, one of his genuine ones she's seen him throw at Hyacinth a few times. "Good to see you to Felicity."

When Penelope left the room momentarily, Felicity tapped Colin.

"When I am supposed to debut in society can I live with you?"

Colin made a weird face. "What? Felicity that wouldn't be appropriate."

Felicity frowned. "Why not? You'll be married to Penelope then," Felicity paused. "Won't you? And Ms. Evans lives with her sister, Lady Hunt, and her husband, while husband hunting. Why can I not do the same?"

"Oh," Colin said like he just connected two dots. "Felicity is there a reason you would want to live with me and Pen?"

Felicity fidgeted in her seat. "Penelope was miserable at the balls. She didn't want to go, but Mama made her anyway. What if I'm the same way? What if being out in society makes me sad, but Mama forces me to go to balls? I don't have a Colin to make balls better."

Colin nodded, now seeing the full picture. "Felicity, like you wrote in your letter, Penelope hating balls was my fault. There are people in the ton who want to weasel their way into the Bridgerton family, and they think going through our fiances is the way to do it. I wasn't here to protect Penelope from that. If I knew she was going to be debuted this year, I would have been here from the start. Now if I wasn't engaged to Penelope her dance card would have been full of suitors just like your's will be when you debut.:

Felicity giggled. "Your name would've been on her dance card the most."

Colin chuckled. "Yes, it would have." Colin reached over for a box. "And it's not like you won't have a Colin to protect you. You'll still have the original Colin! Only my protection for you will be a little different."

Felicity gasped. The pistols in the box were the most beautiful she's ever seen. They were small, around six inches and could be easily hidden in a pocket. Ivory handel with butterflies carved in.

"Now," Colin said. "I know you've been learning how to shoot a shotgun bit you need something smaller to be able to hide on you so I'm going to teach you how to shoot these. These will keep you safe, and keep those unruly suitors at bay."

Felicity giggled.

At twenty-one years old, Felicity was cleaning her pistols when her suitor, Geffory Albandsdale, dropped the most curious piece of news to her.

Felicity furrowed her eyebrows. "Geffory, why are you making plans to travel to York when my closest male relative lives in Bloomsbury?"

It was Geffory's turn to be confused. "Felicity I thought your sister was the one who lived in Bloomsbury with her husband?"

Felicity nodded. "She is, as does my brother."

Geffory jumped. "I am so sorry. I was not aware there was a Lord Featherington to ask."

"No there is not one yet," Felicity said. "I do think Penelope will have the first boy though, and that means the estate will pass to her, lord knows I don't want it."

Geffory just stared at the woman he loves. "Felicity, darling, I do not understand. You say your brother lives Bloomsbury but then you also say there is no Lord Featherington?"

Felicity crossed her arms. "Mr. Albansdale, I am talking about my brother in-law, Colin Bridgerton."

An understanding flashed across Geffory's eyes. "Your sister's husband."

Felicity nodded. "Colin has been the longest male influence in my life. We've been stuck with him since his engagement to Penelope when he was five years old. He has been there since I was born, when my father died, when Cousin Jack was found to be a charlatan, and we are still stuck with him to this day." Felicity playfully turned away. "I will not marry until you attain his blessing as my closest male relative."

Geffory smiled in understanding. He bowed to Felicity. "Very well darling, I shall make the trip to Bloomsbury soon."

A few days later Dunwoody opened the door to find Mr. Geffory Albandsdale looking to call on Mr. Bridgerton.

"I would like to ask your blessing to marry Felicity."

[opinated-user]

So a bunch of anons have been going to Ginger about Lily drama, and her and Lily have been having fun reblogging some of these messages, calling them stalkers, delusional etc.

A quote that got my attention was Ginger saying she won’t stop being friends with Lily “because she's cool and I like her and the fact that Lily isn't a spiteful person”. Look, I don’t know her personally so I have nothing to add about the first two points. But the third one?

She isn’t a spiteful person?

Lily Orchard?

Lily “made a comic, video and hate campaign to harass her ex” Orchard?

Lily “stole her exs last name as revenge and now her wife has that name too even though it would have been the perfect opportunity to change it” Orchard?

Lily “writes self-indulgent fan fics where she straight up murders the characters she doesn’t like” Orchard?

Lily “we should kill all cops and republicans” Orchard?

Lily “commonly uses the phrase “drink bleach” or other methods of suicide as a retort” Orchard?

Lily “several past friends and fan have come out and openly talked about her toxic behavior and proceeds to openly say their names so her fans can harass them” Orchard?

Lily “her sister came out about her trauma surrounding their family and Lily herself, and Lily calls her a liar and an abuser” Orchard??

…Does Ginger seriously have her head stuck in the ground, or does she simply not care about how Lily had treated other people?

(Note: the fanfic one is fine on its own. Everyone should have freedom of expression. My point was that, and everything else put together paints a pretty telling picture)

not only all of that you mentioned, but i remember how LO was right after she and Ginger broke up. maybe ginger forgot or doesn't care or legitimately forgave LO for it, but i still remember those posts vagueposting about ginger, about how upset she was about the break up, about how unfair it was and it all looked like simple rage bait into having Ginger react negatively just so LO could have a new punching bag. just like how she did out of Lizzy, just like she did out of Carousel. LO was willing to have a whole "comedic" bit on their TOH podcast episode about how Ginger being so weeb was the reason they broke up, without telling Ginger about it mind you, and even MO, who usually is the ultimate yes woman for everything her wife does, was shocked that was ever her thought process. Ginger either is in the deepest hole of pure denial because of all the years of grooming LO put her through, or she truly never realizes how close she was to be the target of LO's spite for the crime of not wanting to be her girlfriend anymore. either way, her lack of any compassion towards the many obvious examples of her injustified ire tells me too much about how little she cares about others outside of herself.

[lovehanni]

Character information page!!

+ a bit of stuff about creator

Name: Hannah!!

Age: 13

Birthday and zodiac: 25th of April (Taurus♉️)

Favourite foods: peaches, cupcakes, icing, sausages.

Hobby: dressing up, drawing

Likes: Justice, Law, legally blonde, peaches, music, Roblox, friends, hugs, cuddling, human shows.

Dislikes: demons, loud noises that aren’t controlled, people not listening, people who openly don’t care, people who are too confrontational and don’t take the time to hear others out.

Fears: becoming immoral and being rude to others, failure.

Looks up to: big sister (Valerie.), Mentor (Zadkiel), other archangels, Shiloh

Who is she based off?: I don’t know the exact date I made her but it was around mid to late may of this year. She was meant to be a secret oc of an obey me ask blog I really like that has helped me through my depression and I’ve gotten quite obsessed over but I ended up wanting to show her and talk about her. She’s based off sweetheart from omori because I think it’s a really fun game!!

About creator (Ooc!)

Name: Avery, I do also get called Pluto by my friends since I went by it last year when we met. I wanna start going by lazari at some point!!

Birthday: Nov 12 ♏️ (Scorpio!)

Nationality: 🇦🇺

Favourite food: probably sushi or pesto pasta!

Things I’m interested in if it helps: Kpop, I mainly stan Kiss of life, I’m trying to get into Ill-it. Hxh, drawing, alien stage, Milgram, phantom Siita, the crane wives, obey me (I haven’t played much to be honest, I’ve just watched content of it for a while..since 2020, I don’t remember when obey me came out..I’m too lazy to fully play it though) I was HEAVILY into shifting from 2020-2022, I still kinda believe in it but I’m not active in it. I like creepypasta, I got into it during 2017? 2018? From a comic named I eat pasta for breakfast (it’ll always have a place in my heart 💔) Tokyo ghoul, Life makeover and cats!!

PS: I’m not the most aware since I don’t have much interaction due to homeschooling so I sometimes say bad things I don’t mean or things that in general don’t make sense. Please be aware of this!! If I ever make anyone uncomfortable talk to me in DM’s, I have RSD but I will will listen!!

[witchersmistress]

The Calm before the Storm

Back into the lion's den, like nothing ever happened. Like they didn't leave me tied to a tree in the middle of the swamp, bleeding and begging for death. Even when August handed me over to his brothers and walked away. I came back after 4 months like nothing ever happened. I worked from home so I never had to see those men again. I still have nightmares about what Baron and Duke did to me.

“The twins wrap the rope around the tree above my head, so my hands are pulled up against it. I try not to howl in pain when my broken hand is crushed against the rough bark. Standing back, they look me over, breathing hard and spitting blood from their exertion while subduing me.”

Grace and Dixie kept in the loop about what happened in the office. All the gossip and rumors. They never mentioned the twin or august but i never asked i didn't want to know.

One of our co-workers was having a party and those girls would not stop bugging me about going, so with much disdain I agreed to go. 

Dressing in dark skinny jeans, that made my ass look fantastic, a light colored tee and my black ankle booties. Swiping my eyes with one last coat of mascara, touching up lip gloss, I was ready to head out. Grabbing my keys to the escalade and snagging my leather jacket. I darted down the stairs and into my waiting car, just wishing this night was already over.

Parking I took one long last look in my visor before getting out to find Grace or Dixie. The party was slowly coming to life, people dancing and passing drinks, i go several hugs and welcome backs as i made my way to the 3 season porch on the backside of the house, where i found Grace and Dixie in a heated debate, grabbing a red solo cup off the beer table i joined in. they squealed with excitement and gave me hugs. The rumor around the office was, I was pulled away for a field assignment and I would continue to work via computer. It was better than the truth that August and the twins left me to die for something I had no control over. 

Pushing those thoughts away I just regroup and refocus on the party, staring off at  party goers, huddled on the porch and the tall stranger standing in the doorway.

Suddenly, my gaze jerks back to the person I just scanned over as I was staring off. August Walker is leaning against the railing inside the screen, watching me. My heart flips, and for a second, forgets how to beat. I close my eyes, sure that when I open them, it’ll be someone else, the way he must see his sister in a crowd now and again, only to realize it’s a stranger.

But it’s not a stranger. He’s still there. Our eyes meet, and I swallow so hard I nearly choke on my own tongue. What is wrong with me? Why is my heart hammering, and not with fear? God, I’m a fucking mess. “Hey.” I tear my gaze away from August to find a safe boy standing a few steps away. “Hey, Walter,” I say, trying to shake off the weirdness of seeing August here. He lives in my town. We run in the same crowd. Lots of the parties last year had a mix of current coworkers, former co-workers and retirees. Which means I’m bound to run into him now and again, even if he’s not doing it intentionally anymore. One day, maybe he’ll be just some guy I pass in the grocery store and pretend not to know. 

The idea aches in the pit of my stomach, cold and deep.

“You look… good, like really good,” Walter says, glancing at my leather jacket. “Thanks,” I say, holding out my cup. “Congrats on solving that case.” He bumps his cup against mine before leaning on the wall beside me. I can feel August’s eyes boring into us, but I don’t look in his direction again. “Are you having fun?” Walter  asks. “Sure,” I say, stepping away from the wall so I can turn my back on August, since he’s being a total creeper and openly staring. “You?”

 He let out a low chuckle “Not really, this isn't my thing but what else was I going to do, go home and have a beer by myself, but they had dragged me out here” sweeping his arm to his team as two of them down pints while the other shouted. I felt a low chuckle leave my throat.

“So, listen,” Walter says, shifting uncomfortably against the wall. “There will be a  hockey game in a few weeks” “Walter,” I say, holding up a hand. “I… No. I can’t. But thank you. Really. You’re, like, the best guy I’ve ever met, and you’re insanely brave, like, you have no idea how brave you are to even ask me. But I can’t.” 

“Why not?” It’s not Walter who asks. I flinch, squeezing my eyes closed. When I open them, Walter is staring over my head. I don’t have to turn to know August is standing there. But I do, because I’m scared for my new friend. August doesn’t look pissed, like he might put the sophomore through the wall, though. He towers over me, a slightly confrontational glint in his eye, but he doesn’t make a move toward Walter. “How long have you been standing there?” I ask. “Long enough.”

 Walter’s gaze moves back to me and then to August and then back to me. “I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I—Grace said you broke up. I had no idea.” “We did,” I say firmly. “We’re not together.” “That’s right,” August says, sipping from his drink. I know it’s his first one, that over the next few hours, he’ll nurse one or two more, nowhere near enough to affect a guy his size. August doesn’t get drunk. He doesn’t lose control. I hate that I still know him so well, that I know him at all.

“I’m… Just not ready to date anyone yet,” I say.. I’m sorry, Walter.” I lean in and give him a quick kiss on the cheek, and he turns beet red. “It’s okay,” he says again, edging away from the wall. “I’ll… See you Monday.” He ducks inside, and I feel like the biggest asshole on earth.

August chuckles. “That was fun. Want to do it again? There’s another kid over there who was checking out your ass when you walked in.” I sigh and turn to him. “What are you doing?” “Mingling.” I glare at him. “So, you’re just going to follow me around chasing off any guys who ask me out?” “Oh, you think I’m being protective of you?” he asks, drawing back cocking one of his brows “No, Cherry Pie. I’m protecting those men from me and what I'll do to them if they lay a hand on you.” “He’s a grown ass man with a teenage daughter.” “So?,” he says, sipping his drink and looking down at me with hooded eyes “Guess we’re back to hating each other.”

“I never stopped hating you.” he said

I gaze back into his eyes, but there’s nothing there. He’s not the hollow-eyed man who almost killed me the first time we met, but he’s completely closed off in a way I haven’t seen in a long time, since before I really knew him. It’s his cool, indifferent mask, as obscuring as the one Preston wears. “Good,” I say lightly. “I hate you, too.”

[t-the-ring-master]

OC facts and headcannons.

Request: no

Requests open.

There will be a mini story about him soon. This is a

Bramble: the mountain king OC I made specifically for a request. I’ll have a link to it for those who wanna read it. But I did get permission to use the requesters OC for it so you’ll get that very soon. But for now we are Focusing on Mari and who he was

The request

Mari is the thin/buff(?) troll that kidnaps Olle’s sister. I’m saying buff because I’m rewatching the gameplay and that sucker had a six pack.

Mari was the assigned guard to the princess, king Nils daughter.

Due to the busy schedule of the king, I can definitely see Mari watching her most of the time. She definitely forced him into a tea party or two.

He came from the same village as Näcken, although the two were very different ages and Mari was already working in the castle by the time Näcken had killed everyone.

The princess and her brother Ulrik definitely played pranks on him growing up. They weren’t very sneaky though so he’d just pretend to fall for them.

Mari was one of the witnesses that saw Prince Ulrik pass, he was also one of the first effected by the kings deeds. When the strange plants started taking over the castle, they had snatched him up and changed him.

He doesn’t remember his human life all that much. But one of the things the troll remembers was when he first woke up. He had stepped on a plain wedding band.

Mari had been married only a couple years, that is probably why the memory didn’t stick to the troll.

Mari was killed by day light when Olle made him stay until the light came. Mari did always like the sun light.

When the king was freed, the statue of Mari crumbled. The only thing that was left when the dust cleared was the wedding band.

He is actually named after my dog Mars - a mastiff- and a small streamer I watch called Marrixwrld, who is a young teen who often just streams for fun.

Mari liked to bake, so he would often bring sweets for the prince and princess.

Great baker, awful cook. He just can’t get it down for some reason.

A family man through and through.

By the time he was turned into a troll, Mari was already well into middle age, about 43 years old.

Most of the recruits would hear from him is complaints about his back.

He was one of the only people who openly objected to the murders the king committed, the only reason he was never punished was because of the princess.

When Prince Ulrik got sicker and ultimately died, Mari had already transferred to be his guard until he got better, or passed away.

When Prince Ulrik finally died and Mari became the princess’ guard again, it wasn’t long until the bramble took over the castle. That was the last time Mari saw the princess, king or any one of his fellow servants.

Mari’s appearance.

Mari was sickly pale, making him have a grayish pale appearance.

Shoulder length, loose curly black hair with a swoop to the bangs, making his forehead visible.

A thin but sturdy frame, with long legs, thin slender hands and lengthy arms.

Sunken almond eyes, dark brown in color with specks of green scattered throughout.

A sharp jaw and an Italian nose, thin lips with a deep Cupids bow, pointed up in the corners giving a light permanent smile.

If not in uniform, he was often in normal peasant clothes, the only “expensive” item he wore was his golden wedding band.

Much thanks to the requester whom allowed me to use their OC for his mini story, it is soon to come after I finish one of my other requests.

I’ll have character art for him Eventually.

[hwbicq]

*SISTERLY LOVE*

My sister (F/24) and I (F/25) have grown up only a year apart. We’ve always shared a lot including a bedroom our whole childhood and teenage years. We grew up bathing and showering together till about 11/12 or so nbd. We would explore and play house or doctor as kids do. Not knowing what we were doing we’d play mommies and daddies and lay under the covers, spoon, cuddle, wrestle mostly “innocent” things. But there was always a tingle or thrill. Needless to say we grew up very close and comfortable around each other.

As teenage years started setting in obviously things changed. We didn’t shower, play house, or mommies and daddies. We stayed up late, watched movies and talked about boys. Yea the childhood innocence had come and gone and things were changing. And what do teenage girls talk about? Music, friends, and cute boys. Till one night the topic changed from cute boys to cute girls. That’s when we both found out we were both bi.

That’s when things really took a change. It started with late night talks. And talks turned into thoughts. And things start getting really warm, and tingles, and flushness, and moisture happens…

Before you know it as you’re talking you’re both masturbating under the covers. You can’t stop yourself from touching the throbbing soaking under the covers.

Then we stepped up to watching videos on our phones as we masturbated hidden in the dark and under the covers. From our own beds. But in the same room just hearing the others moans and the wetness as we fingered ourselves.

Soon the darkness and covers were less and less and we would openly watch each other as we masturbated from across the room.

Before long we were watching the same videos from the same bed. Neither having the courage to do more than feel the soft smooth warmth of the outsides of our legs pressed together as we orgasmed next to each other late in the night.

Till that one time. We lay there thighs touching, bodies on tingling, throbbing, on fire and she reaches across and puts her hand on my pussy. I thought I was going to explode. I came soo hard just at that one first touch and I was hooked.

I rubbed her pussy as she rubbed mine. Then we gave into taboo passionate lust. We made out vigorously. As we touched and explored every part of each others soft smooth supple toned bodies. Kissing, squeezing, kneading, licking sucking. Doing everything we seen in all those videos we watched. We scissored, 69’d, fingered, ate out, made out and every part of it was deliciously amazing. We both came so many times we both lost count. Neither could get enough or wanted to stop. We laid there on our sides, chest to chest, our legs intertwined, our soaking pussies and throbbing clits still subtly twitching grinding against the others leg. Kissing with the smell of our pussies on each others breath till we passed out still embraced.

Needle to say the bowl of fruity pebbles over breakfast were a little shy and awkward. But later that night we were still naked, under the covers, and sharing orgasms. It was festival of carnal lust like that first time. But it quickly became accepted this was going to be a regular thing.

This happened when I was 18 shortly leaving before college. And for the last 7ish years me and my sister have continued a sexual relationship. We know it’s taboo. That probably part of what makes it so soo everything. It’s mostly harmless, no one’s going to get hurt. But it’s fun, it’s exciting, it’s hot, and it feels SOOO damn good!

We both live normal lives. Jobs, cars, bills. We both date and have actual real relationships. In fact about 4 years ago I got married to my high school sweetheart(M/25). He’s learned all about our past and history. I don’t lie or keep secrets from him. We’ve actually had many threesomes at time when she’s been single. And I have to say sharing them both and seeing them fuck each other is as a whole new level of hot. Sneaking off at family parties is always a fun game and everyone assumes we snuck away to smoke weed which we also do lol.

Being the crazy unusual circumstances that they are. My sister and I love teasing my husband. Sending photos and videos. Joking about how lucky he is. And it’s never something he complains about.

Seeing how I cum every time we watch one of our videos how can I stop.

Anyways that’s my story on sisterly love and our taboo little secret.

B. 💕 K.

👩🏽💕👱🏼‍♀️

[fragileswift1313]

Need for Speed Unbound!

Or as I like to call it, High-speed Head-on Collision Simulator 2022

Kia ora, friends!

This is gonna just be a short one this week due to ongoing mental and physical health issues, but on that front I have some news: I think I’m slowly but surely getting better!

But anyway, I wanted to talk a little bit about Need for Speed Unbound this week because I have been playing it a lot over the last few weeks (when I have had the energy) and I can’t think of a game in recent history that has made me rage quit and want to throw my controller so many times but still is able to pull me back in. I love a good arcade racer; my favourite series in this genre is obviously Forza Horizon (and to a lesser extent Forza Motorsport, which I am still excited for in October), but I have been known to dip into Need for Speed now and then. This latest entry, launched last year, recently came to Xbox Game Pass, so I decided to check it out.

My first dive into this game was via Xbox Cloud Gaming and y’all, that service is great for some games, but for a game as fast-paced as Need for Speed Unbound, I absolutely do not recommend it 😅. Playing it this way, I was constantly crashing into things that I didn’t see because the frames fell out, so it didn’t take long for me to decide to make some space on the tiny Xbox Series S internal storage and download the game to play locally. Once I got that out of the way, I started to have a blast… for a while. My TV, which was 1080p, died a couple of months ago, so since then I’ve been using a TV I borrowed from my sister, which is 720p, and let me tell you, again for a game like this, it’s… a less than optimal way to play. Once I started getting into faster and faster cars, I started crashing into things again. A lot. This isn’t a failure of the game itself, I don’t think, I’m just playing it in a really stupid way 😭.

Apart from all the technical stuff I just mentioned, Need for Speed Unbound is really fun. I think my favourite part, though, has been customising my character, as well as the paint/wraps on some of my cars.

I wish I had more pictures of the different outfits I’ve had my character wear, (I haven’t had the time to go back to the game before writing) but I still really like this look. And oh boy do I love that car. It’s one of the cars the game gives you in the beginning, a Nissan GT-R from I want to say 1997 (or thereabouts), and it’s fast, great at drifting, extremely hot, but the best thing of all: I made it look queer and non-conforming as fuck.

The game limits what you can write on your cars, I assume because it’s possible other players could see it, so it wouldn’t let me write ‘queer’ or ‘gay’ or ‘bitch’ or ‘fascist’ - those first two are kind of bonkers considering the amount of queer representation this game contains, but I digress. So I substituted ‘fascist’ with the succinct ‘fash’, and instead of ‘basic bitch’ I wrote ‘basic beach’, which the latter is honestly kind of better anyway.

The racing is fun, though frustrating sometimes thanks to the game only giving you a maximum of retries per in-game 24-hour period, but what really stands out to me is that there is so much queer representation here - like way more than I’d have ever expected from a Need for Speed. There’s one NPC racer you meet and race against named Justicia who is from Mexico and is openly transfem. There are signs around the city that say things like ‘love is love’, or simply have the pride flag on them. And as you may have noticed on my car in the pictures above, you can just put the pride flag and trans flag all over your car if you want - and not just that, they have every single type of pride flag I could think of, which blew me away. Seriously, more games need to be this open about supporting queer communities. There’s also a bunch of representation for people all over the world - the music in Need for Speed Unbound includes tracks in Arabic, Japanese, Spanish, French, and a few I couldn’t nail down just by listening, and it’s honestly super refreshing.

Anyway, that’s all from me this week. Sorry if it feels a bit like it was put together at the last minute because, well, it was, but I wanted to make sure I had something for you.

Thanks so much for reading, y’all, I appreciate it. As always, if you have any comments or questions, hit me up on the social links at the bottom of the page, or flick me an email! If you want to read more stuff from me, you can check out my Letterboxd reviews! This week I reviewed Robot Jox (1989), which I believe may have inspired some of the aesthetics of things like Neon Genesis Evangelion and Pacific Rim.

Stay safe and warm out there (or safe and cool, if you’re in the northern hemisphere!) y’all, and I’ll talk to you all again really soon. Ka kite anō au i a koe. 💚

Rebecca

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[strayloveletter]

i know that “do it out of spite” for academic achieving women is considered iconic but its so daunting. i’m hardly motivated and have the attention span of a goldfish but i’ve been trying to push myself anyway and have been barely making any progress (like 10% progress when 100% daily is like average) when i know i have the potential to do twice as much as the average person, or at least i used to. i don’t have much time left either. 

 i met the reason i’m doing it out of spite last week, my childhood bully. as she never openly admitted to anything she’d done and pretends to be just a childhood friend, we have a cordial relationship but anyone with a pair of eyes can sense the tension. she’s also a distant family friend, and though my family mainly cut contact with her’s after all the bullying and shit, i see her every couple of years or so. 

she got into USC. she’s probably going to become a doctor in the future. she and her sisters tried to pretend she got in straight after high school, but i know she transferred bc she took the exit exam sophomore year. USC isn’t child’s play. i know they look down on me for attempting to enter a uni out of the country even though its a quicker process and still challenging, but what if i don’t get in? they don’t know this but this is my second attempt. i got my diploma a year early and attempted the exam once before and missed by 8 points. 

i don’t know if my spite can fuel me any longer. what if my desire to end up better than the girl who ruined my entire childhood isn’t enough to motivate me into creating my success? i’ve always been obsessed with the perfect balance of revenge, evident in the many revenge-themed novels and comics i read and i’m not ready to accept the fact that thats rarely the case. people don’t get their perfect revenge. i was so sure it was real. whenever my dad would beat me, he would immediately face issues at work which would miraculously fix themselves once he’d apologized. people who’d say things about me behind my back would immediately bump into something or get hurt. maybe it’s the tiny things where god and the universe would be by my side, but will things work out where it really matters? i’m not so sure any more... i’ll never be better. i’ll never make her regret what she did. i’ll never make her wish she could turn back time and not isolate and bully the six year old who was so excited to see her family friend in a sea of unfamiliar faces at her new school until they were teenagers. 

the perfect balance was always so important to me. i was basically obsessed with it. i had the predisposed notion that if someone had an awful home life, they’d have an amazing social life. if they had an amazing home life AND an amazing social life, they probably had financial issues or weren’t too intelligent. but i had a shitty home life and an awful, lonely school life since i was like six. we were never poor and are well-off enough even to american standards today, but back then my parents saved every penny but i guess they never made us feel poor. i was very intelligent and fine health-wise, despite the chronic headaches that have only gotten worse. but back then, the main holy balance was either a good home life with parents who don’t hit or yell at you for trivial reasons and aren’t extremely fucking strict and a school life with no bullies or isolation and a bunch of fun unique friends who hung out all the time and even outside of school, whose groupchats are never dull. my dream was to have an average balance on the scale. kind, slightly neglectful parents that i had the luxury of missing and a couple friends i could trust. lol i was pretty naive. my parents are nice now but still incredibly strict. i don’t really have any friends at all, unless you count the passive kind that i still love but never really talk to. i’m also not a genius anymore.

i should be better now. i’m not bullied anymore. my household isn’t abusive anymore. heck, they even apologized. (yes, it’s a big deal. i never thought they’d do that) it’s been so, so many months since i’ve been slapped and they get me all the little things i want too. we’ve settled into the facade of the perfect family quite well :) but i still can’t seem to focus or learn. it’s like all my energy and excitement has been sucked away from me before i even had the chance to reach eighteen. i’m sure nobody’s actually reading this lol especially not up till here but i’m so so scared i’ll never get to be anything and will end up being an average person arranged to marry some average guy and raise his children while cursing myself and my bully and complaining to anyone who will spare a second to listen about how shitty my life is and how it’s not my fault but her’s. i really hope i won’t be forced to watch her live my dreams and think about how much of a failure i am forever. still, i can’t seem to push myself to do anything to change the trajectory of my life. i’n not going to fail and then blame others for it. i’m going to have to succeed and make her wish she was my friend. i’m going to live the life of my dreams idc. (iA)

 i’m going to study some more now

[edenfenixblogs]

Here’s the deal:

I’m Jewish.

I grew up celebrating Christmas with my best friend/sister. I loved looking at all the lights and helping put ornaments on the tree.

But that wasn’t a secular experience for me. It was a loved one inviting me to partake in their culture, which was lovely and kind of them. It was like if I asked my friends to come to a Passover Seder or a my bat mitzvah.

It’s a joyous time for those who celebrate, and it’s very kind when a member of a culture of which you are not a part invite you to join them in their joy. It is a sign that someone you love also loves you and wants you to be present in moments they associate with joy.

But that does not make it ok for you to ASSUME that EVERYONE celebrates, wants to celebrate, or has fond associations with the things that you celebrate at that time. For the vast majority of Christian history, celebrations of Christian religions were often very intermingled with violence and oppression against those who were not Christian.

I grew up being surrounded by loved ones who celebrate Christmas and made it (and Easter!) super fun times for me.

But some Jews grew up watching people celebrate Christmas joyfully while knowing they couldn’t celebrate any of their own holidays openly because they would be targeted for bullying or violence.

Some people grew up watching people who bullied them get presents from a magic man who brought gifts to all the good boys and girls…as long as they were Christian. And they grew up wondering why Santa thought Billy the Bully was worthy of the nice list but didn’t think their non-Christian self wasn’t worthy of the same.

Some Jews grew up with parents who fled nations that were hostile to Jews and had to leave behind everything in order to start fresh somewhere else. And their parents might not have had fond associations with Christmas in their home countries. So the kids didn’t grow up with fond associations with Christmas. But they did get asked by all their Christian friends why they were weird and didn’t celebrate like all the “normal” kids.

Some kids grew up doing school choir and wondered why the “holiday concerts” included all Christian songs and one round of Dreidl dreidl—which isn’t even our best song but is the only one that Christians could be bothered to learn (even though Jewish kids learned a million different Christmas songs and even some Latin hymns).

And, to be honest, many Jews this year and last year have a lot of trouble getting “into the holiday spirit” when we know that many of the people celebrating “joy and love and peace” have spent substantial amounts of energy shouting down Jewish voices and making our lives demonstrably less full of joy and love and markedly less peaceful.

There are million and a half reasons that Jews and other non-Christians might not wish to celebrate or take part in Christmas or the Christian idea of the holiday season. And that’s ok! They shouldn’t be expected to!

Reminder that Christmas is a religious holiday and all the things that come with it (the tree, the colors, the traditions, etc.) are apart of it (even if you don’t celebrate for religious reasons it still is) and if you say “Oh it’s just part of the season” you’re throwing your Jewish & other not Christian religious participants under the bus

[cas-is-queer]

No one talks about how othering having split parents is, especially dealing with things like last names, holidays, and siblings.

If you know me irl (some of my moots do) you can read this but please dear God don't mention it to me in person. This post is mostly for me, but anyone can read/interact.

Rant post, so buckle up. (cut because this got long)

TW: Eating disorders, alcoholism, non-physical abuse, and others. Please be careful.

I have split parents. Not divorced, they were never married. I wasn't even 2 years old when they split up, and I have no memories of us three together as a family. I ended up with my dad's last name, but my mother got full custody of me. I saw my day Tuesday/Thursday, 3-7, and every other weekend I slept over. I loved my dad to bits, still do, but I always felt like a guest in his house. I knew I was loved, but from a young age I knew I was the odd one out, especially when my now step-mom moved in when I was four. They lived day-to-day lives that I was always intruding on. They always loved me, and I them, but I always felt like a guest in their lives.

My mother, on the other hand, started dating my now step-dad almost immediately after my parents break-up. It was fine for the first few years, before they got married. I did feel like the odd one out, just like at my dad's, but I spent the majority of my time with them, so it wasn't as bad. The three of us all had different last names. I had my father's, my mother still had her maiden name, and my step-dad obviously had his own last name. When they got married, however, my mother changed her last name to his. At this point, they'd had a daughter together, my half-sister. My sister got my step-dad's last name, and when my mother changed hers, I was the only one without the 'family name'. I interrupted their white picket fence life. They complained when they'd have to reschedule things because I would be with my dad, or whenever I so much as mentioned doing something fun at his house. The name thing showed up in various ways that always made me different. Our mailbox has a slip of paper that says our name and address, with their last name in bold black sharpie. My last name is scribbled small and messy in blue pen underneath. Reservations at restaurants? Always just under their last name. Christmas cards? 'To the [last name]'s'. I get weird looks when somewhere involving legal names, because I'll tell them my name, first and last, but my mother (who's usually the one with me) has a different last name. People never say anything, but it's obvious they have opinions on that.

My relationship with literally any of the members of my family is strained. My mom and step-dad think I disrupt the apple pie life they always wanted, and my sister has openly told me she wishes I lived at my dad's full time, so that she didn't have to see me, and because I clearly liked it better over there. My dad loves me, but it's clear he doesn't really know how to parent a whole ass person. He's awkward, and often treated me like I was older and more mature than I was, because he didn't know how to talk to a kid. My step-mom, an absolute angel, knew that being in a relationship with my dad meant dealing with me, and tried her absolute best. She was there for me when my dad was too busy drowning himself in alcohol to be a father, and despite her sometimes harsh moods and tendencies, she was always there if I needed her. Relations with other family, like aunts/uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc, is always hard, because everyone tries to avoid mentioning the other side of my family. Family gatherings with my dad's side are always tough, because most of us have split/divorced parents, and no one really gets along. Everyone tries not to mention it. Gatherings with my mother's side are interesting, because despite also being mostly split couples, most of them believe in the nuclear family. No one mentions my dad, and we all pretend like I'm not from a failed relationship.

The only time my parents ever interacted was involving me, and oftentimes I was in the room. This was probably intentional, on their part, because I'm pretty sure they would've torn each other to bits if I wasn't there. There is a large amount of animosity there, that I try not to think about too hard.

Holidays were always hard for me. The two houses were always trying to one up each other, trying to seem like the better parent. My dad was always more obvious about this, and took it as a sort of petty revenge, I suppose. My mother was less obvious, and it showed in different ways. She always, ALWAYS, had to have me for Christmas morning, otherwise she'd be upset about it all day, henceforth ruining my Christmas as a kid. Thanksgiving was terrible, because I'd often go to both celebrations, eating at both. If I ate at the first house and not the second, they'd think I didn't like the food or was being a brat. Trying to keep the peace, I often just ate two meals. Surprise (not), I ended up with an eating disorder. Shocker, I know. Other things added to my odd food habits, like eating, for a random example, pizza one night at my dads, only to have to eat pizza again the next night at my moms, because they obviously didn't communicate about dinner plans.

As I got older, I made the choice to move towards a 50/50 schedule. So for those unaware, that means one week at one house, then one week at the other. My mother felt betrayed, thinking I was choosing my father over her. My dad was thrilled, because he loved the idea of spending more time with me, (back to the one-upping each other I mentioned earlier). At first, it was really great. I loved spending more time with my dad, because I'm unashamed to admit that he was always my favorite (likely because my mom choose the shittiest, most self-centered asshole for a husband, and sat idly by while he emotionally abused me). But as I spent more time there, I saw the worse parts of my father. I was around 11-12 when I first started spending more time with him, and 13-14 when we switched to full 50/50. Before that full switch, I'd started to grasp how bad his alcoholism really was, but it only got worse once I was there for a fully week at a time. He's sober now, mostly, but it was really bad for a long time. Of course, I couldn't talk to my mom about this, because that would give her an excuse to take me back, because she still technically had full custody (despite my wishes). I was stuck in this sort of limbo where I couldn't talk to anyone about anything, because everything was a competition.

It felt like I was living two different lives, and they didn't mesh. Friends would ask to hang out, when I was younger, and I'd have to say no because it would be a day I was visiting with my dad, and I couldn't miss that. No one really understood that, and I lost a lot of friends. I was torn between two shitty places. My dads, where he was really really great, except when he'd get drunk and ignore me in favor of video games and screaming at the tv; or my moms, where she was great except when her husband was a piece of shit and she didn't stand up for me, and her emotional manipulation involving spending time with my dad. They both had ups and downs, and I was never really content at either house. They never really felt like home. I had to think about things other kids didn't, even when I was really young. (Ex, whenever I was with my mother, I'd refer to her house as 'home', and my dads as 'my dad's house', but the opposite when with my dad. Stuff like that, so that they always felt like they were superior.)

Now, as I grow into my own person living my own life, I don't know how to interact with any of them. My sister is many years my junior, and I don't know how to talk to her. She stands for everything I could never have, and takes it for granted. I try not to blame her, because it's not her fault, but she's openly told me she hates me and wished I lived with my dad my whole life. (She's still young, certainly not adult or mature by any means, so take that with a grain of salt.) As I get more independent and live my own life, I no longer see any of them quite as much. I no longer feel part of the family unit, at EITHER house. I'm just me, just alone.

I don't really know who I am, and neither do they.

[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.