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[reidmarieprentiss]

Finding Home Again: Part One

Summary: Y/N meets Spencer Reid when she is 11-years-old, her older brother, Adam, is his classmate and friend. They reconnect at Adam's wedding.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, one bed trope

Warnings/Includes: mild bullying, name calling, bisexual spencer reid (it's canon to me), wedding activities, swimming in underwear, alcohol consumption, reader wears a dress, suggestive content (16+), commitment issues, emotionally unavailable parents, bad relationship with parents, confrontation

Word count: 12.4k

a/n: part two is here!!

main masterlist

Spencer Reid was a terrified 8-year-old freshman in high school. As he navigated the crowded hallways, his small frame was easily overlooked, but his presence still drew strange looks and whispered comments. He felt extremely uncomfortable and out of place, his heart pounding with every step. By the end of the day, he still hadn't had a single student offer any help or kindness to him. 

His last class of the day was Algebra 2, and he felt a flicker of hope. Math had always been his sanctuary, a place where numbers and equations made sense when nothing else did. When he walked into the classroom, he noticed that there was assigned seating. Relief washed over him; at least he wouldn't have to struggle to find somewhere to sit.

As everyone got settled in, Spencer found his assigned seat next to a tall, friendly-looking boy. Before he had a chance to take out his notebook, the boy turned to him and smiled warmly.

"I'm Adam," he said, extending his hand for a handshake.

Spencer looked at the hand and then back up at Adam, feeling a wave of anxiety. "Hi, I'm Spencer, and I don't shake hands," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Adam laughed, not in a mean way, but with genuine amusement. "Hi, Spencer who doesn't shake hands. It's nice to meet you."

Spencer felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. For the first time that day, he felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, high school wouldn't be so bad after all.

— 

Y/N had spent the past few years immersed in the bustling streets and rich culture of Paris, attending a prestigious boarding school that promised to refine her language skills and broaden her horizons. Yet, despite the allure of the City of Light, she often felt the sting of loneliness, her parents' distance echoing even across the ocean. Now, at age 11, she was returning home a month earlier than the American school year ended, her heart a mix of exhaustion and anticipation.

As the chauffeur-driven car pulled up to the grand but cold mansion in the suburbs of Las Vegas, Y/N's heart sank. She had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that her parents would be there to greet her. Instead, the familiar figure of their chauffeur, Robert, was the one to open the car door.

"Welcome home, Miss Y/N," he said with a polite smile.

She forced a smile in return, hiding her disappointment. "Thank you, Robert."

Dragging her feet along the paved path, she entered the house, its opulence doing little to warm the cold emptiness she felt. She made her way to the living room, hoping to find solace in the familiarity of home, but instead, she was met with the unexpected sight of her brother, Adam, and a group of his friends, hunched over textbooks and notebooks.

"Hey, Y/N!" Adam greeted her with a grin, looking up from his textbook. "Welcome back!"

"Hi," she replied, her voice flat. She was too tired and too upset to muster any enthusiasm. Her eyes scanned the room, seeing the familiar faces of her brother's friends that she’d seen in pictures he’d sent. When her eyes finally landed on a boy who was clearly much younger than the rest, with tousled brown hair and a slightly awkward demeanor. He looked up, meeting her gaze with a mixture of curiosity and shyness.

“Who are you?” Y/N hadn’t meant to be rude, she was just slightly shocked to see someone her own age among the older boys.

"This is Spencer," Adam introduced, gesturing to the boy. "Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She just got back from Paris."

"Hi," Spencer said softly, offering a small, tentative smile.

"Hi," Y/N replied, her frustration momentarily forgotten as she took in the boy who seemed as out of place in their luxurious home as she felt. "Nice to meet you."

"Sorry we're invading the living room," Adam said, noticing her weariness. "We're just cramming for finals. Spencer here is a genius when it comes to math and science, so he's been helping us out."

Y/N nodded, her exhaustion catching up with her. "It's fine. I just need to rest, so please, no screaming about fractions."

She turned to head upstairs, her feet thudding against each step as she climbed. She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy towards the study group, wishing she had that kind of camaraderie during her time in Paris. They didn’t take well to American’s, no matter how long she was there nor how fluent she spoke. But more than anything, she wished her parents had cared enough to be there when she came home.

—

The summer before his senior year stretched out long and hot, with the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the hum of cicadas. Adam, now balancing a job cleaning pools and the pressures of preparing for SATs, ACTs, and college applications, found his days filled to the brim. He wasn't working for the money; his parents' wealth ensured he never had to worry about that. But he wanted to break free from the golden cage, to carve out a future where he wasn’t reliant on his parents.

Y/N watched from the sidelines as her brother’s schedule became increasingly packed. She missed the days when they would goof around together, but understood that Adam had his own life to lead. Meanwhile, Spencer Reid found himself spending more and more time with Adam. Spencer wasn't old enough to work yet, but his days were equally busy with preparations for the same academic hurdles.

One hot afternoon, Adam and Spencer were sitting on the back porch, textbooks and notes spread out between them. Adam was explaining a particularly tricky math problem, his hair falling into his eyes as he spoke. Spencer listened intently, his eyes occasionally flicking up to Adam's face, a subtle admiration in his gaze.

"Got it?" Adam asked, looking over at Spencer with a friendly smile.

Spencer nodded, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, thanks. You're really good at explaining things."

Adam laughed lightly, clapping Spencer on the back. "No problem, buddy. We make a good team, huh?"

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the casual touch, his mind racing with unspoken feelings. "Yeah, we do."

Their interactions were always like this—simple, friendly, but with an undercurrent of something more for Spencer. He couldn't help the crush that had developed, even though he knew it was impossible. Adam was older, focused on his future, and saw Spencer as a friend, maybe even a little brother.

One day, as they were packing up their study materials, Adam glanced over at Spencer. "Hey, thanks for helping me stay on track this summer. I know I’ve been busy, but it’s been cool hanging out with you."

Spencer smiled, the words warming his heart. "It's been cool for me too. I’ve learned a lot."

"You're gonna ace those tests, no doubt," Adam said with a confident grin. "And who knows, maybe we'll end up at the same college."

Spencer's eyes lit up at the thought, but he quickly tempered his excitement, not wanting to seem too eager. "Yeah, that would be great."

As Adam slung his bag over his shoulder and headed inside, Spencer lingered on the porch for a moment, watching him go. He knew his feelings for Adam would likely never be reciprocated, but he cherished these moments of closeness, however fleeting they might be.

Y/N observed all this from her bedroom window, a quiet observer to the crush Spencer clearly had on her older brother. She felt the green monster of jealousy coil up inside of her. Why doesn’t Spencer look at her like that? Is she not as smart as Adam? Not as funny? Maybe he only likes older people.

One particularly warm day, Spencer was over to help Adam revise an application essay. They were hanging out by the pool, both to Spencer's excitement and frustration. He didn't want to take his shirt off in front of Adam; he was so scrawny compared to the man Adam was becoming. He didn't even have hair under his arms yet! Spencer found himself getting worked up over the muscle Adam had put on while cleaning pools, feeling increasingly self-conscious.

"Hey, I'm going to grab some lemonade," Spencer said, trying to keep his voice steady as he got up from his lounge chair.

Adam looked up from his notes and nodded. "Sure thing, grab some for me too, will ya?"

Spencer nodded and walked briskly into the house, his thoughts a whirl of admiration and insecurity. As he poured himself a glass of lemonade, having kindly turned down the offer from one of the kitchen staff to do it for him, Y/N walked into the kitchen in a swimsuit. She knew what she was doing; she wanted to see if Spencer would look at her like he did her brother.

"Hi, Spencer," she greeted, her voice casual but her eyes searching.

Spencer almost dropped the pitcher, startled by her sudden appearance. "H-hi, Y/N..."

"How’s it going? Is it hot out there?" she asked, leaning against the counter with an air of nonchalance.

"Mhm, it's hot and, uh, yeah, good. You?" Spencer stammered, trying to keep his eyes on her face and not let them wander. Stupid hormones.

"I'm good, bored. Think I'm gonna go for a swim," Y/N replied, giving him a pointed look.

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling his face heat up. "Oh, cool. Swimming sounds nice."

Y/N nodded. "You should join me sometime. It’s a good way to cool off, especially on days like this."

"I, uh, maybe," Spencer managed, his voice cracking slightly.

She smiled at him. "Well, I'll be out there if you change your mind."

With that, she turned and walked out towards the pool, leaving Spencer standing there, his heart racing. He couldn't help but feel a confusing mix of emotions. He liked Y/N; she was kind and funny in her own way. But his feelings for Adam were something different, something he couldn't quite understand or control.

As he walked back outside with the lemonade, he caught sight of Y/N cannonballing into the pool. Adam looked up and waved Spencer over, oblivious to the tension Spencer was feeling.

"Thanks, man," Adam said, taking the glass from Spencer. "You should take a dip too. Y/N's got the right idea; it's a great way to beat the heat."

Spencer nodded, trying to smile. "Maybe later."

He sat back down, trying to focus on the essay in front of him, but his mind kept wandering. He glanced over at Y/N, who was swimming leisurely, and then at Adam, who was scribbling notes in the margin of his paper. Spencer felt like he was caught in the middle of something he didn't quite understand, struggling to find his place in the dynamics of this family that had become so important to him.

—

The day of Adam's graduation was filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Adam, ever the unexpected, had committed to Florida State, a decision that had shocked and horrified many. Spencer could hardly believe it when he heard the news. Florida State, a school notorious for its party culture, seemed an odd choice for someone who had always been so focused on academics. But Adam was a party boy through and through, and now, with the immense college fund his parents had set up for him, he had the freedom to choose his own path.

That night, Adam's family mansion was abuzz with a grand celebration party. The opulent rooms were filled with friends, family, and well-wishers, all toasting to Adam's future. Spencer, though trying to be happy for his friend, felt a gnawing sense of sadness and anxiety. Graduating at only 12-years-old and moving away to college meant leaving behind the only family that had ever felt like his.

As the party continued, Spencer found himself feeling more and more overwhelmed. Seeking solace, he looked around for Y/N. He found her standing by the grand staircase, looking as though she was taking a brief respite from the festivities.

"Y/N," he called softly, and she turned to him, her eyes filled with concern at his slightly panicked appearance.

"Hey, Spencer," she said gently, sensing his turmoil. "Do you want to go outside?"

Spencer nodded, grateful for her intuition. She led him out of the mansion and into the expansive garden. The night air was cool and soothing, and the garden was a haven of tranquility away from the noise of the party. They walked in silence for a while, the stars twinkling above them like scattered diamonds.

Y/N finally stopped at a secluded spot, a bench under a large oak tree. She sat down and patted the space next to her. Spencer joined her, taking a deep breath as he looked up at the sky.

"I can't believe he's going to Florida State," Spencer said, his voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of sadness.

Y/N nodded. "Yeah, it's a surprise, but it's his choice. He’s an adult now."

Spencer sighed. "I know. It's just... I'm going to miss him. And you. This place feels like home, and now I'm leaving."

Y/N placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll miss you too, Spencer. But you'll do amazing things, I know it. You've always been great."

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "It's just... scary, you know? Moving away, being on my own. What if I don't fit in?"

Y/N smiled warmly. "You will. You always do."

They sat in comfortable silence, gazing up at the stars. The night was calm, the garden a peaceful contrast to the lively celebration inside. Spencer felt a sense of peace wash over him, comforted by Y/N's presence and her words.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking over at her. "For being here. For understanding."

Y/N squeezed his shoulder gently. "I’ll always be here for you, Spencer."

As they sat together, the weight of the impending changes felt a little lighter. The stars above seemed to shine a bit brighter, and for the first time that night, Spencer felt a glimmer of hope for the future.

—

24 years old now, Spencer Reid hadn't thought about Adam in years, but when the invitation arrived in the mail, it brought back a flood of memories. He held the ornate envelope in his hands, his heart pounding with a mix of nostalgia and nerves. The invitation was to Adam's wedding, an event that promised to reunite old friends and acquaintances. Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of obligation to attend. Adam had always been kind to him during those tumultuous high school years.

Despite his apprehension, Spencer decided to go. He meticulously planned his trip, ensuring he had everything he needed to make a good impression. The journey to the wedding venue in Napa Valley, California was a blur of anxious thoughts and memories of the past. As he arrived at the grand hotel where the event was being held, he felt a knot of nerves tightening in his stomach.

Meanwhile, Y/N was also preparing for the wedding. She couldn't help but feel excitement and trepidation at the thought of seeing Spencer again, Adam informed her that he had RSVP’d yes. She had always harbored a silly little crush on him, one that had persisted through the years despite their long separation. The idea of seeing him again, older and perhaps changed, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

The wedding weekend began with a flurry of activities. The hotel was abuzz with guests arriving, mingling, and catching up. Spencer found himself lost in the crowd, his nerves making it difficult to relax. As he checked in at the front desk, the receptionist handed him a key card with a polite smile.

"Here you go, Dr. Reid. Room 212," she said.

Spencer thanked her and made his way to the elevator, his mind racing with thoughts of what the weekend could entail. He arrived at the door to his room and swiped the key card. As he pushed the door open, he was met with an unexpected sight.

Y/N was standing in the middle of the room, her back to him as she attempted to pull up the zipper of her dress. Upon hearing the door open, she spun around with a scream, holding the dress to her chest.

“What the fuck!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock.

“I’m so sorry!” Spencer stammered, equally startled.

“Spencer?” she said, her expression shifting from surprise to recognition.

“Y/N?” he replied, still trying to process what was happening.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, still clutching the dress to her chest.

“I don’t know, this is the room I was told I'm staying in. My key opened the door…” he explained, holding up the key card as if it could somehow explain everything.

“Shit. Okay. Something must have gotten messed up. I'll check it out as soon as I'm dressed,” Y/N said, her tone calming slightly.

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll just leave you be,” Spencer said, starting to back out of the room.

“Actually… Spencer, could you help me with the zipper?” Y/N asked, her voice softer and a bit embarrassed.

Spencer paused, his face flushing. “Uh, sure. Of course.”

He stepped back into the room, closing the door behind him. Y/N turned around, holding her hair up to give him access to the zipper. His hands trembled slightly as he grasped the zipper, carefully pulling it up the back of her dress.

“Thank you,” she said softly once he had finished.

“No problem,” Spencer replied, stepping back and trying to keep his eyes respectfully averted.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Well, let’s go sort this out. Maybe the front desk can figure out what happened.”

As they left the room together, Spencer couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of awkwardness and nostalgia. Despite the initial shock, there was something oddly comforting about being in Y/N’s presence again. 

—

"So you're saying every single room in the entire hotel is booked? How is that even possible?” Y/N asked, her frustration evident.

“Well, miss, your wedding party is not the only group staying here. It is a very popular vineyard, especially at this time of year,” the receptionist explained calmly.

“So what you’re saying is we have to share this room?” Y/N pressed, trying to find a solution.

“You could stay with someone else, but yes, there are no more rooms available,” the receptionist confirmed.

Y/N sighed deeply, rubbing between her brows. “Okay. Thank you.”

Spencer and Y/N walked away from the desk, both trying to process the situation. Spencer broke the silence with a lighthearted joke. “Hopefully this is the worst thing that will happen this weekend.”

Y/N looked at him, a mix of apology and stress in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t mean to make you think I’d hate to share a room with you… it’s just, this weekend is already going to be stressful.”

“Hey, no, I’m sorry for teasing. It’s okay. It will be like the sleepovers we had as kids,” Spencer said, trying to reassure her.

“You mean where you and Adam slept in the game room and I stayed as far away as possible?” Y/N responded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“Exactly,” Spencer bubbled with laughter, the tension between them easing a bit.

They made their way back to their shared room, Spencer couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic, thinking back to those simpler times. Y/N, too, found herself feeling a bit more at ease, her initial worries about the weekend beginning to fade. 

—

Once they were back in the room, Y/N looked over at Spencer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I was going to pretend to be courteous and ask what side of the bed you prefer… but I have to sleep next to the window,” she announced, a playful smile on her lips.

“Oh, well, thank you for almost considering my feelings!” Spencer laughed, his tension easing. “I don’t mind either way, but if you snore half as bad as your brother, I’m putting a pillow over your face.”

“Oh my god, that man could cut down trees with that chainsaw he keeps in his mouth!” Y/N exclaimed, her laughter filling the room.

They shared some giggles, the awkwardness between them dissolving into familiarity and warmth.

“It’s really nice to see you, Spencer,” Y/N said sincerely, her eyes softening as she looked at him.

“You too, Y/N. You look so grown up,” Spencer replied, noting the elegance and maturity in her appearance.

“Well, 12 years will do that to someone,” she said with a chuckle, her gaze lingering on him.

“Not me, I still look the same,” Spencer said, shaking his head with a wry smile.

“Yeah,” Y/N tilted her head to the side, studying his face. “You really haven’t changed at all.”

“Okay, easy now,” Spencer protested lightly, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Did you ever grow armpit hair?” she teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Hey!” Spencer exclaimed, trying to defend his dignity.

“Oh, come on, Spencer! Show me!” Y/N teased further, taking a playful step towards him.

“No, Y/N. Hey, get away from me!” Spencer laughed as Y/N chased him around the room, her determination to see his armpits turning into a playful game.

With a burst of energy, Y/N ended up tackling him to the bed, sitting successfully on his stomach. “Give it up, Spencer, I win.”

“Nope!” he yelled triumphantly before using all his strength to flip her, pinning her down and tickling her.

Y/N cackled and shouted, “Uncle! Uncle!” between fits of laughter.

When Spencer finally pulled back, they both noticed the precarious position they were in. Spencer was between Y/N’s thighs with his hands by her head, both of them panting in each other’s mouths. The laughter faded as they locked eyes, the weight of the years apart and the sudden closeness creating a charged moment.

“I need to get ready for the rehearsal dinner,” Y/N whispered.

Spencer took the cue and got off of Y/N and the bed. “Mhm, yup. Me too.”

“Um, I showered when I got here. So, uh, I’ll just go get ready in the bridal suite. You can have the room,” Y/N said as she gathered the things she would need to get ready.

“Y/N… you don’t have to leave, I’m sorry.”

“What? Nothing to be sorry about. Just giving you your privacy. See you later, Spencer.”

“Yeah, see—” but she had already shut the door behind her. 

Spencer ran his hands over his face, feeling a mix of embarrassment and confusion. What had he been thinking? The sudden intimacy had caught him off guard, and now he felt a pang of regret for how awkward things had become. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and began preparing for the rehearsal dinner, hoping the rest of the evening would go more smoothly.

— 

Y/N was not a bridesmaid, but she was fine with that. She wasn't all that interested in the responsibilities and duties that came with it anyway. She was still very close with her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Elizabeth, and it was no problem for her to get ready in the bridal suite. Once she explained the mix-up with the rooms, Elizabeth was extremely apologetic and understanding.

At the rehearsal dinner, Y/N’s seat was, of course, next to Spencer’s. He had arrived before her, which meant she spotted the back of his head before she sat down, giving her time to make a run for the open bar before making her way to the table.

As she sat down, Spencer looked over and his breath caught at the sight of her. Y/N looked absolutely radiant in her rehearsal dinner attire. The outfit suited her perfectly, complementing all of her assets and making her eyes shine. Maybe he had been silly to waste all those years alongside her chasing after her brother when she was right there. Although, he figured it probably would have been difficult to maintain a long-distance relationship at 12 while he was in university.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted him, her smile warm and genuine.

“Hi,” Spencer replied, still a bit breathless. “You look... amazing.”

“Thanks,” she said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Spencer chuckled, feeling more at ease. “Thanks. It’s nice to be here. I mean, it’s been so long.”

“Yeah, it has,” Y/N agreed, taking a sip of her drink. “It’s crazy how time flies.”

As they settled into conversation, the initial awkwardness from earlier seemed to dissipate. They talked about their lives, their work, and the memories from their youth, finding common ground and shared experiences. The laughter and joyfulness that had once defined their friendship began to resurface, making the evening feel less like a reunion of strangers and more like a gathering of old friends.

Throughout the dinner, Spencer couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N, marveling at how she had grown into such a beautiful and confident woman. The realization that he might have missed something special by focusing so much on Adam gnawed at him, but he tried to push those thoughts aside and enjoy the present moment.

After all the speeches were given and the eating was rehearsed, the youngest and oldest of the crowd turned into their rooms for the night. The bridal party and groomsmen left as well, all needing to be up very early. This left the young to middle-aged adults to the complimentary after-dinner party. There were free drinks, a dance floor, karaoke, and dimmed lighting.

Y/N looked over at Spencer, not knowing if this was his cup of tea or not. “Do you want to stay for a bit?”

The idea of cutting the night short didn't sit well with him, especially not with how Y/N was looking at him. “No, no, I'd like to stay if you do.”

“Sure,” she smiled. “I’ll stay.”

The two walked over to the bar to get a drink. Spencer had very rarely indulged in alcohol. Gideon had tried to introduce him to scotch, which he hated. Hotch had shown him whiskey, which wasn’t as bad but still too strong. Derek ordered him a Sex on the Beach that he really liked but was too embarrassed to order on his own. So he didn't know what he was going to do when the bartender looked at him.

“What will you have, miss?” the bartender asked Y/N.

“Just an appletini, please,” she replied. The bartender nodded and turned his attention to Spencer.

Spencer could feel his palms sweat as he ran over every drink he knew of. Y/N leaned over and asked, “Do you want me to order for you?”

Spencer nodded gratefully and whispered his order in her ear. Y/N pulled away, absolutely delighted. She told the bartender his drink before looking back to Spencer and saying, “At least ask me on a date first, you men are all the same,” teasing the poor red man.

Spencer blushed furiously but couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you,” he said, his embarrassment mingling with amusement.

The bartender soon returned with their drinks—Y/N’s appletini and Spencer’s Sex on the Beach. Y/N handed Spencer his drink, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Here you go, pervert. Enjoy.”

Spencer blushed even more, laughing despite himself. “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip and feeling the sweet, fruity flavors calm his nerves.

They moved to a small table near the dance floor, the music a pleasant background to their conversation. Y/N sipped her drink and looked around, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

“So, Dr. Reid,” she began, her tone playful, “what’s your favorite part about weddings?”

Spencer thought for a moment, a small smile forming on his lips. “Honestly, I’ve never been to a wedding before. Have you?”

Y/N nodded, her smile softening. “Yeah. I think my favorite part is the dancing. I’ve always wanted someone to swing me around the dance floor at a wedding, it looks so romantic.”

Spencer took note of what Y/N was saying, thinking that maybe he could be the one to dance her around tomorrow at the reception. “You know, I never said thank you,” Spencer said.

“For what?” Y/N tilted her head.

“For being nice to me, you and Adam both. You never laughed at me or made me feel weird for being so young and advanced.”

“Spencer…” Y/N said with a hint of questioning in her voice. “Why would we make fun of you for being smart? Oh ha ha, look at this guy, he knows way more than us.”

Spencer chuckled. “I know, but still, thank you.”

Y/N smiled warmly, reaching across the table to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’re welcome, Spencer. You’ve always been special to us.”

Spencer felt his heart grow ten sizes at her words, 'us,' and the fact that Y/N remembered his aversion for touching hands. Screw Adam and Elizabeth, he’d marry Y/N tomorrow. Now, that might be a little dramatic, but whatever.

As Spencer and Y/N continued to catch up and enjoy each other's company, they also consumed more drinks. The alcohol birthed an idea in Y/N’s pretty head, quite a good one if she says so.

“Spencer,” she leaned in, her voice playful.

“Yes, ma'am,” he responded, also leaning in until their foreheads pressed together.

Y/N giggled before sharing her idea, “We should go swimming.”

“What? Where?” Spencer asked, bewildered.

“The hotel has a pool!” she exclaimed, her excitement infectious.

“Isn’t it closed by now?” Spencer asked, skeptical but intrigued.

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head against his, her movement causing his glasses to brush against her eyebrows. “It’s open 24/7.”

Spencer was nervous; he knew Y/N liked to swim, but he wasn’t very good at it, not having done much swimming since his last summer with Adam. But he couldn’t say no to her, it would appear.

“Okay, let’s go,” he agreed, the decision making his heart race.

Y/N squealed in delight, grabbing Spencer by his bicep and dragging him behind her. She squeezed the muscle in her hand before wiggling her eyebrows at him and saying, “Wow, doctor, did you put on some muscle?”

Spencer blushed something fierce. “I had to, I’m in the FBI.”

“Ohh good, I’m gonna need a big strong man in case we get into danger,” Y/N teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer felt like he already was in danger, but a kind he was willing to face.

—

Once at the pool, they were both relieved to find no one else there; it was pretty late after all. As they approached the water, Spencer suddenly realized a flaw in Y/N's plan.

“Y/N, wait,” he grabbed her arm. “What about swimsuits?”

She smirked at him and pulled her arm away before grabbing the hem of her dress and pulling it off. Spencer's eyes were as wide as saucers, hilariously magnified by his frames.

“Close your mouth, doctor. Wouldn't want you to catch flies,” she teased, and with that, she jumped into the pool.

As Y/N resurfaced, Spencer noticed her makeup was impressively intact, probably some of that new waterproof stuff they make. She swam over to the edge in front of Spencer before looking up at him with a gaze not unlike a siren luring in prey.

“Come on in, Spence. The water feels amazing,” she coaxed, her voice soft and inviting.

Spencer, under the influence of something much stronger than alcohol, started shedding his clothes down to his briefs. Y/N wolf-whistled once he had his shirt off, causing a full-body flush to take over him. As soon as he was down to his last article, he jumped into the water to avoid her staring any longer.

The cool water enveloped him, a refreshing contrast to the heat he felt under Y/N's gaze. He surfaced, pushing his hair back and adjusting his glasses, which had miraculously stayed on.

“There you are,” Y/N said, swimming over to him. “Isn’t this nice?”

“Yeah,” Spencer admitted, feeling a bit more at ease now that he was in the water. “It’s actually really nice.”

“Are you ready?” Y/N asked, her voice low and taunting, getting very close to Spencer in the water, their bodies almost touching.

Spencer felt like he was going to pass out. “Re–ready for what?”

“Race ya!” she exclaimed, and with that, she was off, swimming away with powerful strokes.

Spencer blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden challenge. Then, with a determined look, he launched himself after her, his competitive spirit kicking in despite his nerves. The cool water rushed past him as he swam, his strokes becoming more confident as he pushed himself to keep up with Y/N.

She reached the far end of the pool first, touching the wall and turning to see Spencer still making his way towards her. She laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet night air.

“You’re slow, Dr. Reid!” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer reached the wall, panting but smiling. “Not all of us are part fish, Y/N.”

“Hey, I’m not that fast,” she said with a playful pout. “You did pretty well for someone who has never won a swimming race, ever.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replied, catching his breath. “But next time, I’ll beat you.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he said, feeling bolder. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I like when you get cocky, it suits you,” Y/N said, her voice dropping to a flirtatious purr as she swam closer to him, their bodies almost touching again.

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest. “Oh really? I didn’t know I had it in me.”

“There’s a lot you have in you, Spencer,” she replied, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath catch. “Maybe you just need the right person to bring it out.”

“And who, um–who do you think that person is?” he asked, his voice trembling and nervous.

“Someone who,” she whispered, her lips just inches from his. “Would have se–”

“Hey! What are you two doing in here?” a security guard called out.

“Nothing!” Spencer yelped.

“Just leaving!” Y/N added quickly.

They scrambled out of the pool, grabbing their clothes and running down a hallway towards the elevators. Once they were safely inside one, they looked at each other and started laughing.

“I thought you said it was open all night!” Spencer exclaimed between breaths.

“I may have told a fib to get you to come swimming with me,” Y/N admitted, giving her best puppy dog eyes. “Are you mad at me, Spence?”

Spencer could see her hard nipples poking through the soaking wet, thin material of her bra and couldn’t find himself to be anything but aroused. “Uh, no, no. Not mad, that was fun.”

Y/N caught him looking but didn’t say anything. What man wouldn’t look at wet breasts right in his face?

“Yeah, it was,” she agreed, smiling. “Thanks for going with me.”

As Spencer looked up at the ceiling to avoid staring at Y/N’s half-naked body, she took her opportunity to glance down at his scantily concealed half hard bulge. She could see the entire outline through his wet, hot pink briefs.

“Never took you as a pink guy, doctor,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer blushed fiercely, trying to cover himself with his clothes. “They were a gift,” he mumbled, embarrassed but unable to keep from smiling.

“Well, I think they suit you,” she said with a wink.

The elevator dinged, and they stepped out, making their way back to their room, still dripping wet and grinning from ear to ear. Once inside, they both burst out laughing again, the adrenaline from their escapade still coursing through them.

“Here,” Y/N said, grabbing a couple of towels from the bathroom and tossing one to Spencer. “Dry off before you catch a cold.”

“Thanks,” he replied, wrapping the towel around himself. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Me neither,” she admitted, toweling off her hair. “But it was worth it.”

Spencer nodded, his heart still racing. “Yeah, it was.”

They both stood there for a moment, wrapped in towels and basking in the afterglow of their impromptu adventure. The tension between them was palpable, but so was the camaraderie and affection.

“Well,” Y/N said finally, breaking the silence. “I guess we should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed reluctantly, not wanting the evening to end. “Uh, do you want to shower first?”

“Thanks, Spencer,” Y/N nodded her head and grabbed her things.

The next 10 minutes were the hardest, literally, of Spencer's entire life. Knowing Y/N was naked and wet on the other side of the door was pure torture. He could hear the water running, imagine the steam filling the room, and envision her silhouette behind the shower curtain. When Y/N cracked open the bathroom door and peeked her head out, Spencer sat up faster than ever before, super not obvious at all.

“Sorry… I kind of forgot to bring any clothes in, so I need to come out in my towel. Is that okay?” she asked, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“Ye–yeah. Mhm,” he cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. “That’s totally fine, no big deal. Why would I care?”

“Okay, weirdo,” Y/N looked at him skeptically, a playful glint in her eye. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

Spencer nodded and waited until Y/N was facing her suitcase to make a break for it, sprinting to the bathroom so she didn't see his very prominent boner tenting his pants. Y/N turned around quickly at the sound of the bathroom door slamming, finding his behavior odd.

In the shower, Spencer turned the water to cold and willed his erection away. The icy water was a shock to his system, but he needed it to calm down. He had not indulged much in self-pleasure and had certainly never seen as much of a woman as he saw today, let alone been touched by one. Eventually, it did go down, and he got out, only to realize he hadn't brought a towel. Of fucking course.

Spencer was now the one sticking his head out of the crack he made in the doorway, “Y/N…?”

“Yeah, Spencer, what’s up?” she called back, now sitting in the bed.

“I, um, forgot a towel,” he admitted, feeling his face heat up again.

“Oh shit, let me grab yours,” Y/N replied, getting up and walking over to his bag to retrieve the towel.

“Thanks,” he muttered, trying to make himself as small as possible behind the door.

When Y/N walked over to hand the towel to Spencer, she couldn’t help but immediately break into giggles.

“Oh, that’s what every guy wants to hear. What is it?” Spencer asked, mortified, his head barely poking out from behind the door.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped between laughs, “it’s just that I can see your butt in the mirror.”

Completely horrified, Spencer slammed the door shut and banged his head on it. “Can we please forget about this?” he groaned, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Absolutely not! You have the cutest ass I’ve ever seen!” Y/N called out, her laughter echoing through the room.

Spencer felt his face burn even more as he dried off and quickly dressed. When he emerged from the bathroom, he avoided eye contact with Y/N, who was still chuckling softly, a wide grin on her face.

“Ready for bed?” she asked, a playful glint in her eye, clearly still amused by the situation.

“Yeah,” Spencer mumbled, trying to hide his embarrassment as he climbed into his side of the bed.

They settled into their respective sides, the awkwardness from the bathroom incident lingering but slowly giving way to a more comfortable silence.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” Y/N said softly, turning off the bedside lamp and snuggling under the covers.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, settling into his pillow and trying to calm his racing thoughts.

As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, Spencer couldn’t help but smile. Despite the awkward moments and his own nervousness, he felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt since that last summer. This weekend, for all its surprises, was turning out to be something special. And as he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

— 

When the room’s phone began ringing with a wake-up call in the morning, both Y/N and Spencer groaned at being woken up. Y/N stuck her arm out, grabbed the phone, and hung it up to stop the sound rattling in her head. Much to her surprise and gratitude, she was not hungover, just very tired. She went to roll over to go back to sleep when she noticed her body was being restricted by multiple different body parts, none of which belonged to her.

Spencer had one arm around her waist, his other beneath his head, one leg on her hip, and the other between both of her legs. The man had wrapped himself around her like a human octopus. He was also awake, not having slept through the wake-up call, but was paralyzed out of fear or embarrassment, maybe both.

Y/N felt him tense up and his breathing grow rapid, signaling that he was awake. “Well, good morning to you too, Dr. Reid. Or is it Doc Ock?” she teased, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Spencer mumbled, his face burning with embarrassment.

“I know I am, thank you,” Y/N said, a smirk playing on her lips.

They lay in silence for a few more moments, both of them thoroughly enjoying the feeling of the other's body pressed against their own.

“So, not that I'm complaining, but were you planning on letting me go anytime soon?” Y/N asked, amusement evident in her tone.

“Oh god, yes. I'm so sorry,” Spencer said, hurriedly trying to disentangle himself. In his haste, he managed to rub his morning wood against Y/N’s ass.

“Jesus, Reid! Any of your other body parts you want to touch me with?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, nope. Actually, I think I'm just going to open the window and jump out. I think the 15 floors will kill me,” he said, his voice muffled from behind his hands that were hiding his extremely red face.

Y/N laughed softly, reaching out to gently pull his hands away from his face. “Hey, it’s okay. It happens,” she said, her tone reassuring. “No need to jump out the window.”

Spencer looked at her, still blushing but grateful for her understanding. “Thanks, Y/N. I’m really sorry about that.”

She shrugged, giving him a playful smile. “It’s all part of the fun, right? Besides, I’d miss having you around.”

Spencer managed a small smile, feeling a bit better. “I’d miss you too.”

They lay there for a moment longer, the initial awkwardness giving way to a comfortable silence. Until Y/N, unable to resist tormenting Spencer, said, “Did you want a hand with that?”

“What??” he half-squeaked, half-screamed.

Y/N threw her head back, laughing hard in the early morning light shining in.

“You’re so mean,” Spencer muttered, his face a deep shade of red.

“Aww, did you really want me to?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’m not answering that,” he replied, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

“All in good time, young grasshopper,” Y/N said, patting his arm playfully.

Spencer, rolling his eyes and unable to stand Y/N’s antics any longer, got out of bed to get ready for the day. He needed coffee, and maybe 50,000 shots of alcohol. What he failed to consider was that he was still hard, in loose gray sweats, and that he was sharing a room with Y/N, the worst person, ever.

“Whoa baby! I didn’t realize you were holding out on me! Get back here!” Y/N called out, patting the bed and laughing even harder.

Spencer, mortified, ran to the bathroom, his face burning with embarrassment. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, trying to calm his racing heart. The cold shower earlier had been nothing compared to the icy plunge he felt now, thanks to Y/N’s relentless teasing.

Inside the bathroom, he took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. He couldn’t deny that a part of him enjoyed the playful banter, but another part of him was utterly overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings. He needed to collect himself and face the day, starting with a much-needed cup of coffee.

Back in the room, Y/N was still chuckling to herself, thoroughly amused by Spencer's reactions. She began getting ready, her thoughts drifting to the upcoming events of the day and the unexpected pleasure of Spencer’s company. Despite her teasing, she was genuinely glad he was there.

As Spencer emerged from the bathroom, now somewhat composed, he glanced at Y/N, who was busy with her morning routine. “Truce?” he offered, a tentative smile on his lips.

“Truce,” Y/N agreed, smiling back at him. “For now.”

They both laughed, the tension easing as they continued preparing for the day ahead. The morning light filled the room, promising a day full of possibilities and perhaps, a few more moments of unexpected connection.

—

The morning sun cast a warm glow over the vineyard as Y/N and Spencer wandered through the charming village, the scent of grapes and fresh earth filling the air. They didn’t have much to do in preparation for the wedding, so they decided to venture out in search of coffee. The village was picturesque, with cobblestone streets, quaint shops, and inviting cafés.

As they strolled, chatting about old memories and catching up, they suddenly found themselves face-to-face with a woman Y/N recognized all too well. Christa, one of the girls who used to bully Spencer in high school, stood before them. Adam had warned Y/N about all the mean girls and boys, just in case they had any younger siblings at the school.

“Oh my god! No way! It’s the baby freak and boarding school!” Christa exclaimed, her voice dripping with mock surprise and disdain.

Spencer immediately tensed, the old nickname hitting him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t been called that in years. Y/N, feeling a surge of protectiveness, stepped forward.

“Christa!” Y/N exclaimed with a bright, exaggerated smile, moving in for an overly enthusiastic hug that left Christa visibly uncomfortable. Christa awkwardly patted Y/N’s back, clearly thrown off by the unexpected embrace.

“Uh, hi,” Christa muttered, her confidence wavering.

“How are you? What has it been, 15 years? You don’t look a day over 40,” Y/N said cheerfully.

“I’m 30,” Christa replied, her tone icy.

“Oh… well, sunscreen is your best friend!” Y/N said, her voice dripping with false innocence.

Christa’s face twisted in offense, while Spencer struggled to hide his laughter behind a cough.

“Baby freak… you look exactly the same. Still scaring everyone away with your freaky genius powers?” Christa sneered, her eyes narrowing at Spencer.

“I–uh, no, I–” Spencer stammered, the old insecurities rushing back.

“Spencer, here,” Y/N said, emphasizing his name, “is not a baby, maybe compared to the looks of you. And he is not a freak, unless you want to talk about more private matters, but judging by the turn of your nose and the stick up your ass, I’m going to go ahead and assume you have no idea what I’m talking about. How long has it been since a real human touched you?”

Christa was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to come up with a retort. Finally, she sneered, “I bet Spencer’s never been touched by a human ever.”

Spencer looked down, his face turning red with embarrassment, feeling like the insecure 12-year-old all over again.

“Really? Like this?” Y/N said, pulling Spencer down into a kiss before Christa could say another word.

The kiss was brief but intense, and when Y/N pulled back, Spencer’s eyes were wide with surprise, his cheeks flushed. Christa stood there, stunned and utterly speechless, unable to come up with a reply.

Y/N turned back to Christa with a triumphant smile. “Awe, Christa, you look like a fish. Never speak to me or my boyfriend ever again, okay? Okay, sweetie. So good to see you!”

With that, Y/N took Spencer’s arm and led him away, leaving Christa standing in the middle of the street, fuming and defeated.

As they walked away, Spencer glanced over at Y/N, his heart still racing from the unexpected kiss. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Y/N squeezed his arm gently, a warm smile on her face. “Anytime, Spencer. You deserve better than people like her.”

They continued their walk, the tension from the encounter melting away as they enjoyed each other’s company, feeling closer than ever before. The weekend had taken another unexpected turn, but this time, it was for the better.

—

After grabbing their coffee, Spencer and Y/N realized they still had plenty of time before they had to start getting ready for the wedding. The charm of Napa Valley beckoned, and they decided to indulge in one of the region’s finest offerings: wine tasting. The idea seemed perfect, a way to enjoy the beautiful vineyard and create some new memories.

They made their way back to the vineyard and signed up for a tour. As they strolled through the rows of grapevines, Y/N kept her hand looped around Spencer's arm. It felt natural, a comforting closeness that neither of them felt the need to mention. The guide led them through the process of winemaking, from grape to glass, sharing interesting tidbits and answering questions.

Once the tour concluded, they were led to a private table on one of the many balconies the vineyard’s main building had to offer. The view was breathtaking, with rolling hills and endless rows of vines stretching out under the clear blue sky. A tasting flight of wine was set before them, each glass glistening with rich, inviting hues.

Y/N took a sip from the first glass, savoring the flavor before turning to Spencer. “So… about earlier,” she began, her voice soft.

Spencer nodded, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “Yeah. That was… unexpected.”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Y/N said, looking at him earnestly. “I just couldn’t stand her talking to you like that.”

Spencer shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You didn’t overstep. It was… nice. Surprising, but nice. No one’s ever stood up for me like that before.”

Y/N blushed slightly, taking another sip of her wine. “Well, you deserved it. She was horrible.”

Spencer glanced at her, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the wine. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything. It’s been a long time since I felt… protected.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome. And for what it’s worth, you could have handled it really well all on your own. I just… wanted to make sure she knew she couldn’t mess with you.”

Spencer chuckled, relaxing more as he took a sip from his glass. “You definitely made that clear.”

They continued their tasting, discussing the nuances of each wine, but the earlier conversation had brought them even closer. The view, the wine, and the company made for a perfect moment, one that felt both nostalgic and new.

As they moved through the tasting flight, they found themselves laughing and reminiscing about old times, the tension from the earlier encounter long forgotten. The vineyard, with its serene beauty, provided the perfect backdrop for reconnecting, and they both felt a sense of peace and happiness that had been missing for too long.

Y/N looked out over the balcony, her hand still resting lightly on Spencer's arm. “I’m glad we’re here,” she said softly. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me too,” Spencer replied, his voice equally soft. “It’s like coming home.”

They clinked their glasses together, a silent toast to new beginnings and cherished memories. The weekend held more surprises, but for now, they were content to simply enjoy each other’s company, letting the wine and the moment carry them away.

“Speaking of home… do you think you’d ever come back?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

“To Las Vegas?” Spencer replied, looking at her curiously.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, feeling somewhat hopeful.

Spencer took a moment, thinking it over. “I’ve never thought about it, really.”

“Oh, I guess if I left, I wouldn’t want to come back either,” Y/N said, a hint of sadness creeping into her tone.

“Y/N… it’s not that. There’s just nothing there for me anymore.”

“Yeah, nothing,” she said bitterly, sipping her wine.

“No, no, no. That’s not what I meant,” Spencer said quickly, his eyes wide with concern.

“It’s okay, Spencer. You don’t have to pretend. We haven’t talked in over a decade. I can’t blame you,” Y/N said, looking down at her glass.

“Y/N–” Spencer began, but she cut him off.

“I’m going to head back and get ready. Can you give me an hour alone, please?” she asked, her voice strained.

“Yeah, of course,” Spencer said softly, his heart sinking.

Y/N stood up, giving him a small, tight smile before walking away. Spencer watched her go, feeling a pang of regret. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, and now he felt the weight of their years apart more heavily than ever. He sat there for a moment longer, staring out at the vineyard, before deciding to take a walk to clear his mind.

The serene beauty of the vineyard provided some solace, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N. He realized how much he had missed her, how much he had missed having someone who understood him. The years had created a distance between them, but he hoped that this weekend could be a step towards bridging that gap.

As he wandered back to the room an hour later, he knocked softly on the door, giving Y/N the space she had asked for. He hoped they could find a way to reconnect, to rebuild the bond they once had. The weekend was far from over, and he was determined to make things right.

— 

By the time the ceremony rolled around, Y/N and Spencer hadn't talked yet but took their seats next to each other. Spencer tried to apologize again, but Y/N brushed him off, telling him it was okay. The ceremony was beautiful and didn't drag on too long. Y/N cried, and Spencer put his arm around her shoulders, letting her cry on him.

They took their seats for dinner after, being seated again with her parents and close family. Though her parents weren't there for the rehearsal dinner, they were now. Spencer was extremely nervous, having never gotten a good read on Y/N and Adam's parents before. All he knew was that they shipped their young children off to boarding school and then left them home with hired staff more often than not.

As the first course was being served, Y/N's mother eyed Spencer with a mix of curiosity and disapproval. “Y/N, who is this man you brought?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Mother, this is Spencer Reid. He grew up with us, don’t you remember?”

Her mother pursed her lips, shaking her head. “No.”

“I’m not surprised,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Her father, catching the exchange, leaned in. “Watch your tone, that’s your mother.”

“I’m 24,” Y/N said, her voice steady but strained.

“And you’re still our child,” her father retorted.

“I’ve been financially independent since I was 18. What are you going to do? Take my salad fork?” Y/N shot back, her frustration evident.

Her parents rolled their eyes in unison. “No wonder it’s your brother getting married and not you,” her mother sneered. “You were always so bitter. Determined to hold grudges.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open, ready to fire back, but Spencer quickly intervened. “Actually, Y/N and I have been together for what, 2 years, darling?” he said, his voice smooth and confident.

Y/N was momentarily stunned, but then a wicked smile crept across her face. “Yes, baby. And that present you gave me for our anniversary was so… sensual. I can still feel it,” she said, biting her lip for effect.

Spencer tried to contain his laughter, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looked at Y/N. 

Her mother’s face turned a deep shade of red. “Y/N L/N! You are incorrigible.”

Y/N shrugged, unfazed. “I don’t care,” she said, a defiant glint in her eye.

The table fell into an awkward silence, but Spencer felt a sense of triumph. He had managed to diffuse the situation and even brought a smile to Y/N’s face. As the dinner progressed, they exchanged knowing glances, each feeling a little more at ease despite the tension surrounding them.

As soon as people were encouraged to get up from their tables, Y/N and Spencer shot up. Their first stop was the open bar, both needing a drink after enduring a whole dinner with her parents.

“Can we get an appletini and a sex on the beach?” Spencer ordered, his voice only shaking slightly.

“Spence!” Y/N yelled, hitting his arm playfully. “I’m so proud of you!”

He smiled to himself, feeling a sense of accomplishment. They stood at the bar, sipping their drinks as they observed the crowd. The lively atmosphere was a welcome contrast to the tension they had just experienced. Y/N’s eyes were on the couples dancing, and Spencer remembered what she had said earlier about wanting someone to swing her around the dance floor.

“Do you want to dance?” Spencer asked, turning to her.

“Oh no, it’s okay. I know you don’t like to dance,” Y/N replied, her gaze lingering on the dance floor.

“Y/N… I want to dance with you. Do you want to dance with me?” Spencer asked, his eyes earnest.

“Yes, very much,” Y/N said, her face lighting up with a smile.

Spencer set his drink down and took her hand, leading her to the dance floor. The music was a soft, romantic melody, perfect for a slow dance. As they found a spot, Spencer placed his hands gently on her waist, and Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck. They swayed to the music, the world around them fading as they focused on each other.

“I can’t believe I’m finally doing this,” Y/N said softly, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Me neither,” Spencer replied, his voice equally soft. “I’m glad it’s with you.”

Y/N’s eyes were shining. “You’ve always been special to me, Spencer.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You too, Y/N.”

Her heart raced at his bold gesture, not expecting such a move from Spencer. They stayed on the dance floor for a few more songs, enjoying the moment and the connection that had been rekindled. Eventually, Spencer took Y/N's hand and led her away from the floor.

“Spence… you’re holding my hand,” Y/N said, glancing down at their intertwined fingers.

“I am,” Spencer replied, his voice steady.

“You don’t do that,” she pointed out, her heart still fluttering.

“I don’t,” he agreed, looking at her with a small smile.

“But you are,” she continued, her eyes searching his.

“Right again,” Spencer said, his smile widening.

“Why?” Y/N asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Because I like you,” Spencer admitted, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity she hadn’t seen before.

Y/N felt her breath catch, her heart pounding in her chest. “You… you like me?”

Spencer nodded, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. “Yes, Y/N. I like you. I guess I was just too afraid to admit it before.”

A smile slowly spread across Y/N's face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I like you too, Spencer. I always have, since we were kids.”

Spencer's face lit up with relief and happiness. “Really?”

“Really,” Y/N confirmed, squeezing his hand.

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background as they gazed at each other. The years of separation and unspoken feelings seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of their rekindled connection.

“Do you want to get some fresh air?” Spencer asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Y/N replied, her smile never wavering.

They walked hand in hand out to the vineyard’s garden, the night air cool and refreshing. The walk through the garden was very much reminiscent of the last time they saw each other. The path was lined with twinkling lights, casting a soft glow over the grapevines and flowers.

“Did you really not know I liked you all those years ago? I was so obvious. I did everything to get your attention,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“No, I really didn’t know. I just thought you were really nice!” Spencer replied, his brow furrowing in surprise.

“And you liked Adam,” Y/N stated, a hint of a teasing smile on her lips.

“I–I, what??” Spencer stammered, caught off guard.

“It’s okay, Spence, he doesn’t know,” Y/N said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. I could see it in the way you looked at him. It’s fine, really,” Y/N said, her voice gentle.

Spencer looked at her, his eyes filled with a mix of embarrassment and relief. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward back then.”

Y/N shook her head, her smile softening. “You didn’t. I just wish I had known how to tell you how I felt. I was always so nervous around you.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him. “I was nervous around you too. I didn’t know how to handle my feelings. I guess we were both a bit clueless.”

They laughed together, the sound carrying through the quiet night. As they continued their walk, the memories of the past seemed to blend with the present, creating a sense of closure and a new beginning.

“Do you think things would have been different if we had talked about it back then?” Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Maybe,” Y/N said thoughtfully. “But we were just kids, and you had so much ahead of you.”

Spencer nodded, feeling content with her answer. They reached a bench under a large oak tree and sat down, the stars twinkling above them. Y/N leaned her head on Spencer’s shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.

“I would move back home,” Spencer said softly.

“What?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with warmth and curiosity.

“I would move back home,” Spencer repeated, his voice steady. “If it meant being with you eventually. I’d come back to Las Vegas.”

Y/N lifted her head to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise and emotion. “Spencer, you don’t have to do that for me. We aren’t even dating.”

“I know,” he said, gently cupping her cheek with his hand. “But I want to. You were always like home to me, Y/N. Being with you feels right.”

“I would never ask you to give up your job; you worked so hard to get there,” Y/N shook her head.

“But I—”

“Stop,” Y/N interrupted, pulling away from his touch. Her heart raced, and she felt a wave of panic wash over her. “This is too much, Spencer. We’ve just reconnected, and now you’re talking about uprooting your entire life for me. It’s overwhelming.”

Spencer’s face fell, his hand dropping to his side. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I just wanted you to know how important you are to me.”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. “I appreciate that, really. But we need to take things slow. I need time to process all of this.”

Spencer nodded, though the disappointment was clear in his eyes. “Of course. I understand. We’ll take it slow.”

There was an awkward silence between them, the weight of their conversation hanging heavily in the air. Y/N felt a mix of guilt and relief, unsure of how to navigate the intense emotions swirling inside her.

After a few moments, Spencer spoke again, his voice soft. “I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you. I just care about you a lot.”

Y/N managed a small smile, her heart aching. “I care about you too, Spencer. But let’s just see where things go, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, though the tension between them remained palpable.

They spent the rest of the evening in a subdued silence, both lost in their thoughts. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of unease, and she wondered if she had made a mistake. But she also knew she needed to follow her instincts and not rush into anything that didn’t feel right.

That night, the walk back to their room was a silent torture. Each step felt heavier than the last, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. Spencer desperately wanted to fix things, but he didn’t know how.

When they finally reached their room, Y/N wordlessly grabbed a pillow and placed it between their bodies on the bed, creating a physical barrier that mirrored the emotional distance between them. The gesture was small, but it felt like a chasm had opened up.

Spencer lay on his side, staring at the wall, his heart aching. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to reassure her, but he couldn’t bring himself to cross that line. The fear of pushing her further away was paralyzing.

What was far worse, was when Spencer woke up to an empty bed and an empty hotel room. Panic set in as he called out her name, hoping she was just in the bathroom or getting breakfast. But there was no response.

The reality of the situation hit him hard. Once again, he had managed to lose one of the only people who ever felt like home. The weight of that loss settled in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He sat on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands, trying to make sense of what had gone wrong.

The silence of the room was deafening, and the loneliness was overwhelming. Spencer knew he had to find a way to make things right, but at that moment, he felt utterly lost and alone.

—

Downstairs, Spencer was checking out when he heard a familiar voice call his name. He turned around to see Adam bounding towards him.

“Hey buddy!” Adam, as broad as ever, swept him into a hug, picking him up in his excitement.

“Whoa! Hi!” Spencer laughed, caught off guard by the enthusiastic greeting.

“How are you? Thank you so much for coming. I’m sorry it’s been so crazy, I can’t believe I almost missed you!”

“Yeah, hah. Glad I ran into you,” Spencer replied, trying to keep his composure despite the turmoil inside.

Adam, unaware of Spencer's inner turmoil, continued with a big grin, “So, I heard you had to bunk with old Petit Chou.”

“Y/N? Yeah, I did,” Spencer replied, the nickname bringing back a wave of memories.

“How was it? Was it like old times?” Adam asked, his tone cheerful and curious.

“Um, no, not really. We got along a lot better,” Spencer admitted, a small, sad smile forming on his lips.

“Oh, you dog! Did you sleep with my sister?” Adam's tone was teasing, but he looked extremely pleased.

Spencer's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. We just... caught up.”

Adam laughed, clapping Spencer on the back. “Well, I’m glad you two reconnected. She always had a soft spot for you, you know.”

Spencer forced a smile, trying to push away the sadness. “Yeah, me too. She’s... she’s great.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Adam teased in a big brotherly fashion.

“So, I thought you’d be gone by now on your honeymoon?” Spencer asked.

“Oh no, Lizzie wanted to have some time as newlyweds in our house first. You know, get settled in, put all the presents away and such before we leave. She really thinks everything through,” Adam explained, love evident in the way he talked about Elizabeth.

“She sounds wonderful. I’m so happy for you, man,” Spencer said sincerely.

“Thank you, little dude. Are there any lucky ladies in your life? Lucky lads?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Huh, no,” Spencer replied, shaking his head.

“Dude, you should have totally made a move on Y/N! She yapped about you for years after you left. When I told her you were gonna be here, she practically threw away her suitcase and bought all new clothes, wanting to make a good impression or something,” Adam said with a grin.

“What?” Spencer choked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Yeah, man, she had it baddd. It was kind of cute,” Adam chuckled.

“Oh, I had no idea,” Spencer said, feeling a little bit of shock and regret.

“Well, if you’re ever in Vegas, you know who to call,” Adam said, clapping Spencer on the back.

“Yeah... where are you living nowadays?” Spencer asked, trying to shift the conversation.

“Georgia! Met sweet little Lizzie at Florida State and followed her home after graduation. Never left,” Adam replied, his eyes shining with happiness.

“That’s great, Adam. I’m really happy for you,” Spencer said, genuinely pleased for his friend.

“Thanks, man. And seriously, don’t be a stranger. If you’re ever in the area, you’ve got a place to stay,” Adam said, giving Spencer another friendly hug.

As they finished checking out, Spencer’s mind raced with thoughts of Y/N. He needed to talk to her, to clear the air and understand what had gone wrong. But for now, he was grateful for the brief distraction that Adam had provided. It gave him a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make things right.

—

Y/N went back home, feeling the weight of the weekend pressing heavily on her. She barely had time to sit down and process everything when her best friend and roommate, Billie, showed up at her bedroom door, armed with snacks and drinks.

“Hey, thought you could use some company,” Billie said, giving Y/N a warm hug as they entered.

“Thanks, Billie,” Y/N replied, her voice tinged with sadness.

They settled on the couch, surrounded by an array of comfort food and drinks. Billie opened a bag of chips and handed it to Y/N. “So, tell me everything.”

Y/N sighed, taking a deep breath before recounting the events of the weekend. She told Billie about reconnecting with Spencer, the intense emotions, and the difficult conversation that left her feeling lost and confused.

“I feel so silly,” Y/N said, heaving a big sigh. “Mourning something I can’t have. We live on opposite sides of the country. How would it ever work?”

Billie reached over, giving Y/N’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not silly at all. Feelings don’t follow logic. You’re allowed to feel sad, even if it seems impractical.”

“I just... I really thought maybe we could make it work,” Y/N said, her voice breaking.

“Hey, you never know what the future holds. Maybe things will change, or maybe you’ll find a way to be together despite the distance,” Billie said, their tone comforting.

“But what if we don’t? What if it’s just not meant to be?” Y/N asked, her eyes searching Billie’s for answers.

“Then it's not, you can't control what's out of your hands,” Billie said, offering a comforting smile.

Y/N nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. They spent the rest of the evening talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. While the ache in Y/N’s heart didn’t completely disappear, she felt a sense of peace over the situation.

— 

Spencer wanted to reach out to Y/N, knowing he couldn't even use the excuse of not having her phone number—one of his best friends could hack the Pentagon for fun if she wanted. But he didn’t want to face the rejection he had a feeling would be coming his way. He knew it was impractical: his job was demanding, they lived nowhere near each other, and on top of that, they didn’t even know if they would work. Maybe the magic between them only existed in the air of the wedding.

They went weeks in radio silence, both resigning to move on. They had gone 12 years without each other; they could handle some more. That is until Spencer found something in one of his luggage pockets. He was repacking his go-bag after returning from a case when he opened a pocket that he did not often use, planning to put a fresh pack of gum in there.

He quickly took the note out and opened it, seeing it was in handwriting that he didn’t recognize. His heart skipped a beat as he began to read:

Spencer,

I’m sorry for leaving unannounced. I truly loved seeing you this weekend. It was wonderful to catch up after so long apart and to see that you are still the same sweet, loving guy. I hope you never change.

I left without saying goodbye because of my own issues, not because of anything you said or did. Please understand that. You mean so much to me, and I would hate to jeopardize our friendship over something silly like this.

If you’re ever in Vegas, you always have a place to stay.

Y/N

[spidybaby]

Leaked

Summary: A few leaked pictures revealed the truth about your relationship.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of cheating, gaslight.

Part Two

"One pic." You smile at him, eyes begging. "Just one, c'mon."

You try to take the polaroid of him, but his hand brings the camera down.

"Kylian!" You pout. "It's for me. I won't show it." You smile. "I wanted a picture of you with the beautiful sunset." You say, hugging him and bumping his nose with yours.

He shakes his head, smiling at you.

You love him very much, even tho sometimes you feel like being secretive about your relationship was a big burden.

He tries his best to make you feel loved and to let you know that no matter what, you are important to him.

"It's so pretty." You say, admiring it.

"Pretty like you, mon amour." He says, smiling at you.

You blush at his comment. You love compliments, especially if they came from him. Even better.

"Want to go back to the house?" He asks, taking his key out of his pocket. "Want to see my driving abilities?"

"No, sir. I would love to make it to dinner." You laugh. "Can I drive?"

"Maybe later." He smiles.

You two walk closer to his car, he opens it, giving the key to his chauffeur. He opens the door for you.

You grab a bottle of water from the small cooler the car has. You love Madrid, but the weather not so much.

It was hot as hell, even if Kylian says he loves it because he gets to see you in more sexy clothes, you just can't agree.

"I feel sticky." You joke with him. He places his cheek on top of your shoulder. Moving it up and down. "Iugh, Kylian!" You laugh.

"Now I'm sticky too." He laughs with you. "And I smell like paradise." He sniffs the air.

You roll your eyes at him. Placing your hand on his cheek and moving your head to give him a kiss con his forehead.

"Want me to make dinner?" You ask.

He nods, he loves your cooking. It was something he always asked you to perform. "I'll miss you when you are back in Paris." He pouts.

"Me too, baby." You copy his pout. "I can be here for your first Champions League match." You smile at him.

"I'll get you the ticket as soon as we get home."

That's the easy part, you mention something and he get it for you.

Do you like the new Van Cleef bracelet? Okay, it's being delivered to your door in the next few hours.

> But Kylian, it's over 11k euros <

It doesn't matter, that's pocket change for him.

Did you retweet something about a Kelly bag? Done, it's yours.

You loved that. It was amazing how he would spend anything just to see you happy. The best part was that he never expected anything in exchange.

He did it by heart. Even when you tell him that it was too much, that it was just a tweet, it was just a like on a insta post. It was just a comment about his new bracelet.

He didn't care, he would get it for you.

You sometimes wished that he could do that with his time. It was the downside, a weekend, and then back to Paris. A game and back home.

You loved that he got you vip tickets. You loved the first-class airplane tickets. You loved that he would look for you at the stadium.

You didn't love the rumors about him and other girls. Influencers who wore his jersey were making headlines about a possible romance.

He always reassures you. It's all a lie. You trust him. Plus, he was with you.

"Can you pass me the pijama that's on my closet? Please." He asks, seating in bed after eating.

You nod, walking to the closet. You turn the lights on, being greeted by a big white bag with golden letters.

"Seriously?" You ask him, walking with the bag in hands.

He looks at you smiling. "It's nothing." He chuckles.

"This is a lot." You whisper. "You just gave me one when we were in Paris." You remind him.

"But this is a tote. You can take it with you to class, or if you want to go out and take a lot of things." He smiles. You take the box out of the bag, open it, and take the bag out. "Don't you like it?"

You nod. "Thank you." You say walking over to him, kissing him.

"Do you like the orange one or the white one?" You ask him.

"We are using the white one, but that orange one is gorgeous on you." He takes the white one away from your hands carefully.

He throws the jersey on the bed, taking the orange one. He asked you to lift your hands, dressing you with his jersey.

"You look amazing." He smiles, grabbing your waist and kissing your lips. "My gorgeous queen."

You turn to the mirror, his hands on your waist, his face on the crock of your neck. You smile at his reflection.

"If I score, it would be for you." He says.

You blush at his comments, you love the way your cheeks heat up for him. It was something so normal yet so personal.

"Are we doing something after the game?" You ask, hopeful that he would say yes.

"My family is at home." He says, separating from you. "And I have a recovery sesion very early tomorrow."

"Oh." You mumble. "It's okay, I get that you are busy."

He nods, kissing your cheek. "The driver I hired for you is downstairs, just call him when you are ready to leave. He'll also wait for you to take you back here after the game and then to the airport." He instructed.

"Wait, I'm leaving today?" You ask, confused.

You understand that he would be busy with recovery, having his family who you don't know at home, and even being tired after the game.

But when he booked you the ticket, he asked you to bring clothes for more than just a night. So you did, you have a suitcase with different types of outfits.

"Yes, mom wants me to spend some time with them. Sorry." You just nod, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. "Wish me luck." He smiles.

"You don't need it, Kyks." You smile back. "Go, it's going to be late for you." You say, grabbing his cheeks and kissing his lips quickly.

You see how he leaves the room, leaving an empty feeling behind. It was starting to feel like a pattern.

You brush the thoughts out of your mind. Waiting for the right time to leave. He sent you over the contact of the driver.

You feel weird. It's been a good time since you two became a thing. Sure, he never asked you to formalize anything, but you thought that maybe by now you won the meet the parents prize.

He always talks about them, how he loves spending time with his little brother. He talks about his niece and nephew.

You hear him ramble about them, their little adventures. How much he loves them. And you are happy with that. You love hearing those stories.

You just feel that after a year and a half, you were meeting with them at some point.

You aren't going to ask him. If he wanted, he was going to invite you to meet them. It didn't have to be forced by you.

You retouch your hair and a little bit of your makeup, texting the driver that you were ready to go.

The stadium felt so alive, it was the teams' first champions league game. The vibe was high and the feelings were too.

realmadrid

Estadio Santiago Bernabéu

Liked by 1,100,384 others

realmadrid 💥 KYLIAN MBAPPE💥 #UCL

The game was good, it was crazy how the second half was so different from the first one. Kylian scoring just seconds after it started was unreal.

You texted him that you were back in the hotel, picking your things to leave to the airport. You thank him for inviting you to the game and asked him to text you when he was free.

> it's like being a ghost <

You remember the words of your friend. She was the only person who knew about him and you.

You shake those things out of your head. He was busy and wanted to spend some time with his family. They lived in Paris and he barely even see them.

You can always come back.

You take a quick shower, taking the sweat away. You need to be fresh and clean for the flight and also because as soon as you land, you want to go home and sleep.

You pack the things you took out, making sure you won't forget anything. He texted you back, wishing you a safe flight and to text thing when you are home.

The driver took you to the airport, kylian texted you the plane ticket right after he left the hotel room.

You call your friend to ask her to pick you up from the airport. You already know what she's going yo say.

"Hey, how's Madrid?" She asks, happy to hear you.

"I'm actually waiting for my flight to Paris." You say, trying to act as if you planned it. "I have to be on an important meeting, and I have to cut short this trip."

"What?" She says. "Your boss doesn't have another employee to bother?"

"He does, but I have the documents, and he felt like having a meeting." You lie. "Kylian was very understanding tho."

"That's sad. Do you need me to pick you up?"

"Can you?" You ask, tired. "If not, I can order an Uber."

"Nono, text me the ticket info so I can pick you up." She says. "See you."

You say your goodbyes to her, hanging up the call and texting her what she asked. You waited a good hour before your flight took you back home.

"Do you want to try paella?" Kylian asks you.

He kisses your shoulder, he scoops water from the pool into his hands, and wet your head. You laugh, shaking your head.

"Is it good?" You ask, turning to him.

You hug him, bringing him as close as possible to yourself. His warmth combined with the water of the pool and the salty air is making you feel in paradise.

"It's so good." He smiles.

He presses his hands on your cheeks, smiling at how cute you look with your hair all natural, you blushy cheeks that are colored by the sun.

"You will love it." He says, kissing your cheek. "I know an amazing place, I can order it and we can eat it here while drinking something nice.

You frown lightly. "Isn't it more comfortable if we eat there?"

"Don't get me wrong, it is." He sighs. "But I don't want people to ruin our night."

You understood that people know him very well. So, for him, it was easier to order the food, order the things, or ask his chef to make it.

"Okay!" You smile, pecking him. "Order it now so we don't stress or go hungry later." You push him lightly, swimming away while you smirk at him.

You two enjoy the rest of the evening on the private pool you have. It was so fun getting to travel with him to where the games are taking place.

"Do you think you are winning this game?"

"I think we have a chance." He says, passing you the towel as you two exit the bathroom after a shower. "Don't you?"

"Don't get me wrong, but this team is really strong, I'm surprised."

"They are." He laughs. "But they don't have me on their team." He smiles cocky.

You laugh at his cocky self. You find funny and kind of cute that he is, he really believe in himself and trust his instincts.

You change as he orders some drinks from the bar of the hotel. You get your hair ready even if you were just staying in the room with him.

"I order you a piña colada pie." He smiles, hugging your waist. "Love your pajamas." He chuckles.

"I know, they match yours." You laugh, hip bumping his. "They have cute fish on it."

"The food would be here in a few, I think it would be a competition between the food and our drinks."

"Do you want me to pick it up from the lobby?" You ask, applying your cream.

"I'll ask my bodyguard. Don't worry, amour." He says, texting his bodyguard. "That cream smells amazing." He sniffs you from afar.

yourusername has added to their story

"I'm tired." You yawn.

You rest your head on his chest, the sound of his heart is calming you even more.

"Sleep, mon amour." He whispers, hands caressing your back and your arm. "We can sleep until late tomorrow."

"That sounds amazing." You whisper back, eyes shutting off.

You feel his heart and his hands on your body. Relaxing you enough to fall asleep.

The only thing that takes you out of your relaxed state is the vibration of your phone. You open your eyes, searching for your phone.

You kick it with your hand, making it fall from the bed. You groan, letting the phone vibrate while you throw the blanket over your head.

"Ky, can you turn the ac off?" You ask, morning voice very evident. "Ky?"

You take the blanket off of you, turning your head to his side, he wasn't there.

"Ky, are you in the bathroom?" You ask, a little louder.

You shrug, not giving it mind. He sometimes has an early meeting before a match. It was a common thing.

You were about to fall back to sleep when your phone started vibrating again. You groan, stretching to pick it up from the floor, it was your friend.

"Good morning sunshine." You joke with her.

"Check my message." She says, stern tone.

You frown, putting her on speaker and opening your messages. "Are you okay?" You say while searching her message.

"I am, I just want to make sure you will be." She says as her tone stays the same.

"What?" You noticed she was texting you very early. Without success to get an answer from you. "What is this?"

You click on the link she sent you, the wifi from the hotel making it very hard.

"Girl, it's not loading." You say.

"Then try again, fuck!." She nervously say.

After a few tries, the page finally opened. You feel your heart sink.

Leaked pictures?

Leaked video?

Who was this girl who people now say is his girlfriend?

"Y/n?" Your friend calls you. "Are you still there?"

You don't answer, scrolling down to search the pictures. The page doesn't really show them.

"I'll call you back." You say, voice cracking. "Just give me a minute." You hang up the call.

You open X to search for the info you want. His name is a trending topic on X. Different variations of it. The name of the girl is also trending.

You press with shaky fingers on his last name.

The first thing you see is a collage of the "leaked" material. A compilation of very risky and sexy Polaroids.

The video, but not one, two.

Even when she has dark hair on the pictures and videos, she is the girl from the article. It was obvious.

One is this girl filming herself adjusting her clothes, she smiles at the camera and shows her middle finger, she then rotates the camera showing kylian sitting on a chair he has on his room in Madrid.

You know that chair, you helped him pick it up when he moved.

The other video is him filming, the girl now has a red lingerie set, you can't really see her face but you know the hands are his.

He was putting her in handcuffs, her hands on her back as he maneuvered to click the cuffs with only one hand.

What's sticking in the video is the gold bracelet you know he has. That because you were the one who give it to him.

She has pictures with his family, with his nephew and niece, and with Ethan. She has a picture with his mom and dad.

You can't help but cry, feeling sick. You let the phone fall back onto the floor. You sob the hurt your heart is feeling.

You don't know how much time you spend in the same position, crying. You heard the door opening. Making you shiver.

He closes the door slowly. Maybe he thinks you are still sleeping. He walks slowly to the doors that reveal the bed area.

He finds your eyes looking at him. The tears in your eyes, your wet cheeks. You take your sight away.

There's no point in lying.

You want to ask him, want to confront him, but you don't even know what to say, what to ask.

He sits back on the bed, he's silent.

The room would be dead silent if it weren't for your sobs. You have your head in your hands as you cry.

You get up, walking towards the bathroom. You slam the door. You keep crying there. You don't want to be in the same room as him.

You wash your face and brush your teeth. You try to get it together, even when you look like shit. Even with puffy eyes and a red face from crying.

You open the door, walking towards your things. You start packing your things. He's just looking at you.

"How long?" You turn to see him. "How long were you pretending to have me like this?" You ask him.

He doesn't answer. He only hang his head low.

"We were together for a year and eight months, Kylian." You sob. You try to calm yourself, taking a deep breath. "And I know, you never asked me to be anything, but I thought that after all the time we were together, you somehow cared about me."

"I do." He finally answer. "I care about you."

You shake your head, not believing his audacity. "You call this." You point at him and then back at you several times. "Caring?"

He shrugs. "She doesn't mean what you mean to me."

You laugh. He shivers at how your laugh sounds so different from your usual one.

"You can tell yourself that I mean a lot, but you introduce her to your family, you take her to your family trip, she knows the kids of your brother." You start to point all the things he did with her. "I don't even know your friend Tchaga." You whisper.

You feel humiliated, how you really thought that you matter for him. How you told yourself time after time that he didn't introduced you to his family because he wasn't ready.

"I feel so stupid." You whisper, trying not to cry. "I thought you loved me." You sob. "Cause I do, I love you."

He gets up from bed, walking over to you, but you shake your head no, taking a few steps back.

"I love you." He says. "I really do."

"I don't believe you, Kylian." You shake your head. You can't even look at him for longer than ten seconds.

"I hide our relationship because it was nobody's business." He explains.

His excuses felt like knives on the heart.

"Does she have any humor?" You ask, making him frown from how random was your question. "Does she laugh at your jokes? Can she look past the rumors? Does she know how it goes?" You keep asking him.

He doesn't even have time to process the questions you asked before you start questioning him again.

'Did you ever feel bad while you were doing what you did?" You question him. "Did you ever think of me while you were with her? Did you ever cared that I was in Paris, waiting for you?" Your eyes fill with tears. You try to blink them away. "I am in love with you."

"I'm in love with you too." He whines. "You need to believe me."

He tries to get closer once again. You walk away from him. Grabbing a change of clothes as your lock yourself inside the bathroom.

You quickly change off of your pajamas, not wanting to spend any more time with him. You were going to accept that he did what he did and that you can't change the fact that he lied to you.

When you exit the bathroom, he stands up from the bed. "We can fix this, please." He begs. "Don't do this to me."

You scuff. You push him away from you as you grab your shoes and put them on. You throw the pajama inside your luggage.

"If I ask you something, can you at least be honest?"

He nods, the glossy shine from his eyes almost making him look innocent.

"Was she worth losing me?"

[octuscle]

Expats

Gabriel was quite a freeloader. Of course he didn't come to Dubai as an expat because he was stupid or lazy. But he also knew pretty well that he would have had a much harder time in France affording the life he could afford here. Life in Dubai was luxury, pure luxury. He had a cool house with a pool, a gardener, a housekeeper and a chauffeur, and he earned a huge amount of money. He didn't necessarily work nine to five, but he didn't necessarily work himself to death either. In short, for him, life here was pure paradise!

Gabriel had heard the news that the climate had turned a little against the privileges of expats. But he wasn't interested in it. He would do his job here, he was saving a lot of money, which was safely invested in Switzerland, if necessary, he would be on the plane back to Paris tomorrow and look for a job in Riyadh or Kuwait. The United Arab Emirates were not the only place on this planet where he could make money. And besides, he didn't really care about it today. It was Saturday. Tomorrow he would have to sit in the office again, today he wanted to work out at the gym and then hang out with a few friends at the beach club for the rest of the day. A few cocktails, lobster for dinner and then to bed. The only problem was: his driver had the day off. And even though Gabriel had been living in Dubai for several years, he couldn't drive a car himself! He had forgotten how. That's why there were drivers. So he ordered a taxi.

The porter at his community had announced the driver. Gabriel took his sports bag. A quick check in the mirror: yes, he looked good. He opened the door. The brand new Toyota taxi was parked in front of the door. The driver got out and asked in English if Gabriel wanted to put the sports bag in the boot. Gabriel barely looked up from his phone and just shook his head. He didn't feel like having any more contact with the driver than absolutely necessary. The driver opened the back door for him, Gabriel got in, repeated his destination once more and continued playing with his cell phone. The driver remained quiet at first. But then he started talking. First in English. About the weather, about football, where Gabriel came from, whether he liked Dubai. Gabriel simply didn't react. The driver just kept talking. That he had fled from Syria. That he had been in Dubai for four years. That he had two children. He showed Gabriel pictures in his wallet. His English became more and more incomprehensible. A mixture of English and Arabic. Gabriel continued to pretend to be deaf. The driver kept talking. In Arabic. He was ranting about the expats. About the arrogance of the infidels, who thought they were better than everyone else, even though they were dependent on the mercy of Allah, who had given the Muslims oil.

Gabriel was annoyed. He wanted to work on a few e-mails and not talk about politics. What did he care about politics? So he snapped at the driver, "Rakkiz 'ala al-siyaqa, ana mashghul!" The driver smiled. He looked in the rear-view mirror. God's plan was working.

The taxi driver's language began to change again. Arabic with a French accent. Gabriel sat in the back on the worn imitation leather seats of the old taxi. In the front, Ayoub couldn't stop getting worked up about the last few games of Olympic Marseille. Djibril grinned. He knew the feeling. When Ayoub was in a rage, he was in a rage. Fortunately, they were almost at the wholesale market, then his brother would let him out. Ayoub would drive his shift to an end. And Djibril would see what kind of job he could get. He and his pals ironically called themselves the expats. It was true in a way… His brother and he had immigrated from Morocco ten years ago. They had family in Marseille. Djibril had really tried hard at school, but at some point he stopped going and started working as a day laborer at the wholesale market. He was doing well. By now, Djibril had his network, he knew his way around. And he was strong and fast. He saved what he earned. He was proud of his brother Ayoub, who made it to get a taxi license and his own taxi, which was also Djibril's goal.

He checked his messages. It was still dawn. Ayoub was on his way to the banlieue to sleep. It was good when he drove the night shift, then he and Djibril didn't have to share the small bedroom. So far, no one had contacted him to request Djibril's services. If necessary, he could help out in his aunt's café in the kitchen. There was no money for that, though. But a café and a lunch. Life as an expat wasn't so bad.

[420days]

CODY RHODES | GALA NIGHT

"Baby!"

"Can you come zip this dress for me?" Giselle called out to her husband as she finished applying her makeup.

"You look beautiful. This is the dress I brought you?" He asked as she turned around to face him.

"Mmh, this is the one you surprised me with in Paris. I can't believe how much my body has filled in so much." She smiled and rubbed her small stomach that was visible in the dress.

"The weight looks good on you babe." He told her before stepping back and allowing her to look into the mirror.

She ran her hands over the smooth material of the emerald green dress that clung to her body. She loved how the bottom of the dress was hemmed to show off her toned legs.

"These the shoes you're wearing? I don’t wanna hear you feet are hurting Giselle." He pointed towards the four inch silver strapped heels that sat on the vanity chest.

"Yeah, and I'm going to be sitting the whole time so that's fine!" She said as he lifted up her dress and placed her foot on his lap.

"Stop! You always wanna get something started!" She lightly pushed his arm as he rubbed up her thighs and back down to her foot.

"It's not my fault you look all good, skin all glistening and smooth." He sucked his teeth and strapped her heels for her.

"Is Gianna dressed? Do they need my help getting her ready?" She asked referring to their personal styling crew.

"They got her babe, but go ahead and help anyways because I know how you are."

“And be careful on those stairs.” He told her.

Slowly walking down the steps Giselle held onto the banister and made her way into the glam room where Gianna was sitting in a mini pink directors style chair getting her toes painted.

"Mommy, you look so pretty! Like a princess!" The girl gasped at her mom making everyone turn towards her.

"Thank you baby. You look pretty too." She leaned down the best she could and kissed her cheek.

Gianna Dream Rhodes was the couples oldest child and she was a literal spilting image of her mom. From her smooth chocolate skin to her huge almond shaped eyes and perfect teeth, she was the mini version of Giselle.

At times Giselle hated how much they were alike because her attitude reminded her too much of her own.She hated scolding her for it because she could almost understand her attitude but wouldn't tolerate the disrespect.

"Are we leaving soon?" She asked.

"Mmh, as soon as your toes dry." Giselle nodded her head and took a seat in one of the empty chairs.

Tonight Cody was receiving an award for all the work he's done for the community and the foundation threw him a huge gala event to celebrate.

Every year during the holidays the couple would do huge food drives and give people in need everything they needed to be satisfied for the upcoming holiday.

There was a variety of things they did for others because it extremely important to give back to the community in their eyes.

"Hi TT!" Gianna yell making Giselle look up from her phone and see Cody’s sister, Tara walking into the room.

"Hey Auntie's girl, you look so pretty." She smiled done at her before making her way over to Giselle.

"Giselle, how are you?"

"I'm doing alright T. You look pretty.” She smiled while looking over her appearance. Her blonde hair was styled in an updo allowing her slender face to be shown. She was dressed in a baby blue dress that came just above her knees and fitted her small curves.

“Thank you sister.”

"Look all my favorites in one room." Cody walked in and placed a kiss on his sisters cheek before picking up Gianna.

"You like my polish daddy?" She asked him.

"Of course, it looks beautiful." He kissed her cheek once more before placing her on the ground.

"Y'all ready to go?"

"Mmh, come on Gigi."

Gianna grabbed her hand as they exited the house and walked down the stairs to the metal gate where the car was waiting for them.

"Thank you." She spoke to chauffeur as he held the door open and allowed Giana to climb inside, her puffy taking up extra space as she sat down.

"Everyone alright back there?" Cody turned to face us from the passenger seat.

"Yup, we're good babe." She nodded.

-

A few hours later

"Y'all look just alike when y'all are tired." Tara said as she looked over at us with a laugh.

"You know we can't hang sis." Giselle laughed before letting out a yawn and rubbing her hand over Gianna's hair.

"Gigi, you tired baby?

It was about ten at night and the family had been at the gala event for a few hours now. Cody gave his speech and also donated a good amount of money to the Children's Foundation which was an organization close to their hearts.

They walked around with Cody after the speech and spoke to a few of their closest friends and family members before Cody mingled around and thanked everyone.

Gigi and Giselle decided to sit down because Giselle’s feet were killing her and Gigi was tired of talking to people she didn't know.

"Mmh." She mumbled tiredly before letting out a yawn, laying her head on her mothers arm again.

"Okay, let's go find daddy." Giselle said as she grabbed her hand. Eventually they found him talking to a few of his friends and people who put the event together.

"What's up G?" Randy, his best friend spoke as they walked over to them.

"Hey Randy, I see you got it going on with this suit." I motioned towards his crisp and perfectly tailored suit.

"You know I gotta be clean at all times. Gianna youre not gonna say hi to me?" He joked while clacking her beads together making her she push his hand playfully.

"Stop it." She whined.

"She's tired." Giselle laughed as she let go of her hand and let her walk over to Cody. If she wasn't sleepy she would be all over Randy because he was her favorite person. She loved her godfather more than anything.

"Daddy." Gianna mumbled and reached her arms out for him to pick her up.

"Y'all okay?" He asked while picking her up like she wanted him to. She was beyond a daddy's girl and could win him over whenever she wanted.

"I mean we're fine but a little tired." Giselle said letting a yawn slip out and he laughed.

"Let me thank these people and we can go." He rubbed his wife’s back before making his way over to the microphone still holding Gianna. Both Giselle and Tara offered to take her but he brushed them off and said it was fine.

"I would just like to thank all of you for coming out and celebrating this achievement with me. It's an honor to be accepting this award for all my hard work." He started off saying.

"Most importantly I would like to thank my beautiful wife for being there every step of the way because none of this would be possible with her." He said and she smiled as everyone clapped their hands.

"Once again thank you everyone for being here but as you can see it's about time for me to go." He pointed towards a sleeping Gianna making some people coo and others laugh as he held his baby girl.

"Help yourselves to the refreshments and enjoy the rest of your night." He spoke before handing someone the microphone. He made sure to speak to Randy before making his way over to his family.

"You did amazing babe." Giselle kissed his lips.

"Thank you baby." He smiled.

[lightgaswaterelectricityrent]

Reporters tantalized their readers with stories about the “plutocratic Osage” and the “red millionaires,” with their brick-and-terra-cotta mansions and chandeliers, with their diamond rings and fur coats and chauffeured cars. One writer marveled at Osage girls who attended the best boarding schools and wore sumptuous French clothing, as if “une très jolie demoiselle of the Paris boulevards had inadvertently strayed into this little reservation town.”

Many of the Osage would rush to see a gusher when it erupted, scrambling for the best view, making sure not to cause a spark, their eyes following the oil as it shot fifty, sixty, sometimes a hundred feet in the air. With its great black wings of spray, arcing above the rigging, it rose before them like an angel of death. The spray coated the fields and the flowers and smeared the faces of the workers and the spectators. Still, people hugged and tossed their hats in celebration. Bigheart, who had died not long after the imposition of allotment, was hailed as the “Osage Moses.” And the dark, slimy, smelly mineral substance seemed like the most beautiful thing in the world.

A short, stout man, with a luxuriant mustache and a shock of red hair, Burns had once aspired to be an actor, and he cultivated a mystique, in part by writing pulp detective stories about his cases. In one such book, he declared, “My name is William J. Burns, and my address is New York, London, Paris, Montreal, Chicago, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Seattle, New Orleans, Boston, Philadelphia, Cleveland, and wherever else a law-abiding citizen may find need of men who know how to go quietly about throwing out of ambush a hidden assassin or drawing from cover criminals who prey upon those who walk straight.”

Meanwhile, Ernest’s aunt was muttering, loud enough for all to hear, about how mortified she was that her nephew had married a redskin. It was easy for Mollie to subtly strike back because one of the servants attending to the aunt was white—a blunt reminder of the town’s social order.

Hoover demanded that his staff wear dark suits and sober neckties and black shoes polished to a gloss. He wanted his agents to be a specific American type: Caucasian, lawyerly, professional. Every day, he seemed to issue a new directive—a new Thou Shall Not—and White put on his big cowboy hat with an air of defiance.

Blackie, evidently enjoying himself, looked squarely at Burkhart and said, “Ernest, I have told them everything.”

The judge advised the jury members that they must set aside sympathies or prejudices for either side. He warned, “There never has been a country on this earth that has fallen except when that point was reached…where the citizens would say, ‘We cannot get justice in our courts.’ ”

In 1932, the bureau began working with the radio program The Lucky Strike Hour to dramatize its cases. One of the first episodes was based on the murders of the Osage...The broadcasted radio program concluded, “So another story ends and the moral is identical with that set forth in all the others of this series….[The criminal] was no match for the Federal Agent of Washington in a battle of wits.”

The historian Burns once wrote, “To believe that the Osages survived intact from their ordeal is a delusion of the mind. What has been possible to salvage has been saved and is dearer to our hearts because it survived. What is gone is treasured because it was what we once were. We gather our past and present into the depths of our being and face tomorrow. We are still Osage. We live and we reach old age for our forefathers.”

Killers of the Flower Moon, dir. Martin Scorsese // Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann (3/3)

[camisoledadparis]

saga: Soumission & Domination 329

Sosthène dans le grand bain

Alors que je vais pour le mettre aux enchères comme toutes mes nouvelles recrues, je reçois un appel d'Henri l'ami d'Emma et " père " de Kev. Il voudrait offrir un mec à son " fils " pour son anniversaire et pour être sûr de ne pas se tromper quant au physique qui le branche vraiment, il me dit qu'il me fait confiance. Pae ailleurs il sait que Kev adore les belles queues et me demande si je n'aurais pas un beau noir pour satisfaire cette exigence.

Je pense aussitôt à Sosthène. Je lui explique le cas mais aussi que j'allais le mettre aux enchères pour sa première vrai prestation dans ma société. Il connait le principe car je crois bien me souvenir qu'il en avait été l'instigateur. Evidemment il me dit que ce n'est pas un problème mais qu'il n'a pas 2 heures à passer pour obtenir ma dernière acquisition. Pour couper court, il me propose un chiffre qui se situe dans le très haut de ces pratiques mais ajoute qu'il le gardera 24h du samedi PM au dimanche PM. Bien sûr il prend les frais de voyage en 1ère à sa charge.

Je ne peux refuser. C'est un ami ! En plus cela retardera d'autant son passage aux bites XXL, même si Kev avec ses 21x5.5 ne fais pas partie des petites bites !

Evidemment la date est fixe et je vérifie vite avec Sosthène sa disponibilité. Je lui annonce aussi les conditions de sa première prestation. Ça l'excite d'être un cadeau d'anniversaires. Que ce soit pour un ami à moi par contre lui met un peu la pression. Je le déstresse. Le fait que ça lui prenne un WE entier (voyages compris) ne le dérange pas. Il me dit qu'il bossera dans le train.

Henri m'envoie un mail pour les détails. Un chauffeur viendra chercher Sosthène à la gare et l'emmènera directement chez lui. Il me demande de lui mettre dans ses bagages un costume chic pace qu'il comptait l'emmener avec Kev dans un des plus grand restaurant de Paris pour fêter son anniversaire.

Le samedi matin, Sosthène passe au Blockhaus faire ses bagages. Je lui choisis le costume qu'il va porter, la chemise et la cravate. Pour le reste il se débrouille et je le vois mettre un soin particulier au choix de ses sous-vêtements. Il emporte aussi des jeans de marques et des hauts fashion qui mettent en valeur son physique. Quand je l'emmène à la gare, je vérifie qu'il a suffisamment de liquide sur lui, qu'il a bien l'adresse d'Henri et ses coordonnées téléphoniques. Ça le distrait. Il emporte aussi son portable pour travailler dans le train. C'est la première fois qu'il voyage en 1ère et me demande comment on fait pour déjeuner. Je lui dis que j'ai pris l'option plateau à la place avec son billet. Il n'aura pas à trainer au wagon bar.

Rapport d'Henri :

L'Escort a été pris en charge par mon chauffeur à l'heure prévu. Quand je le vois entrer dans mon appartement, je suis content. Pas surpris, car je sais que Sasha ne m'aurait jamais envoyé du second choix, mais le garçon parait ouvert et aborde un visage intelligent. Quand nous échangeons quelques mots, je ne me suis pas trompé. Il me dit être en étude de lettre et que sa soeur fait l'école des Chartes. Je lui demande s'il a prévu d'aller la voir ce WE. Il me répond que non, il n'était là que pour moi et ne l'avait même pas contactée. Il verrait s'il lui restait du temps avant son train dimanche soir.

Nous discutons littérature. Il a de bonnes bases en classique et les dernières parutions ne lui sont pas étrangères. Le dernier Nobel de littérature non plus, je note qu'il a lu plusieurs de ses ouvrages. C'est agréable de ne pas avoir à parler économie de marché et vision économique du monde. Le temps passe et Kev ne va pas tarder à revenir des courses que je lui ai demandées de faire. Je lui propose un café et il accepte de m'accompagner.

Coté physique, Sasha me l'a bien choisi. Son jeans serré ne cache pas grand choses de ses " qualités " innées. Je suis sûr que Sasha y a pensé lorsqu'il me l'a recommandé pour Kev. Je sais que mon " fils " qui est surtout actif avec moi aime se faire démonter l'anus de temps à autre.

Kev entre dans l'appartement. Je lui laisse la suite du compte rendu.

Kev :

Quand je rentre chez Henri avec mes paquets plein les mains, je vois en face de lui, en train de prendre un café, un jeune black assez beau. Cela m'étonne parce que depuis que je suis avec lui, c'est la première fois que cela arrive. Peut-être avait il fait appel à des escorts mais jusque-là jamais en ma présence. Sans que cela ne me vexe, je suis peiné qu'il ne m'en ait pas parlé. Il est vrai que nous en faisons plus l'amour autant qu'aux débuts de notre relation. Le fait qu'il m'ait adopté, a aussi participé à ce ralentissement, je m'en aperçois maintenant. Alors que je reste figé devant le tableau, je dois arborer une figure qui en dit long puisqu'Henri se lève, me rejoint et me roule une pelle. J'ai du mal à l'apprécier comme d'habitude. Henri s'écarte et me montrant le black me souhaite un bon anniversaire. L'imbécile, il m'a fait peur !! Je comprends enfin la véritable raison de la présence du tiers. Il se lève et se présente. Sosthène ! Il n'y a que nos Caribéens pour utiliser des noms aussi anciens. Il est jeune mais je sais qu'Henri aura fait attention qu'il soit majeur. Il est canon et le renflement central de ses jeans attire tout de suite le regard.

Henri me dit que c'est un des Escorts de Sasha. Il vient de chez lui, c'est son premier contrat et il est pour lui jusqu'à demain après-midi. Comme je connais les tarifs des premiers contrats chez Sasha, je remercie Henri pour ce cadeau d'une telle valeur.  Henri continu en me donnant le programme du soir. Il nous informe qu'il a réservé le restaurant pour 20h30 et souligne que cela nous laisse 3h30 pour que j'installe Sosthène chez moi. Il nous chasse et nous demande de revenir au plus tard vers 20h. Je l'aime trop ! Il se doutait que je bandais et qu'il me serait dur d'attendre la fin de la soirée. Je laisse les paquets en vrac et prends le bagage de Sosthène et lui dis de me suivre. Il me demande de lui laisser les porter mais je ne m'arrête pas. Il est obligé de me suivre. J'aime assez la timidité qui le prend alors que l'ascenseur descend.

Quand nous entrons dans mon immeuble 2° plus loin, il admire l'architecture rénovée. Il trouve très bien aussi mon duplex dans lequel nous entrons. J'accroche son bagage dans l'entrée et le pousse jusqu'au canapé dans lequel je le fais tomber. Sans précaution j'ouvre mon " cadeau ". Son t-shirt vole en même temps que son pull cintré. Pour le pantalon c'est plus dur comme il colle à sa peau. Du coup j'ai juste le temps de voir la marque du slip qui descend avec. Je reconnais un des fournisseurs préférés de Sasha. Un bel Aussiebum, à effet je le parierai ! Quand il se dresse nu devant moi, je lui tends son sous-vêtement pour qu'il le remette. Effectivement le choix était judicieux. Le paquet, soutenu par la poche, son paquet est projeté devant lui et avec son volume de départ... J'adore. Il s'approche alors de moi et commence à me déshabiller. Il prend son temps et je crois bien qu'il s'aperçoit que je bous intérieurement. Il me met torse nu et se plaque contre mes pecs pour me rouler une pelle. J'aime ses lèvres et sa voracité. Souvent les mecs que je trouve refusent de se laisser embrasser et encore plus que je mette la langue ! Quand il quitte mes lèvres c'est pour laisser les siennes glisser sur ma peau jusqu'à mes tétons. Ils sont déjà gros habituellement à force de les travailler mais là, sous la sollicitation de sa langue et de ses dents, ils sont tout gonflés. Il me laisse alors pour s'agenouiller et défaire mon pantalon. Ma bite déforme déjà le tissu et il sait ce qui l'attend ! Comme moi tout à l'heure, il arrache mon boxer avec le chino. Ma queue en jaillit comme un diable à ressort. Mon gland lui frappe la joue alors qu'il se plaque sur mon ventre. Sosthène se penche alors et mes 21cm disparaissent entre ses lèvres. Dieu que c'est bon ! J'ai eu beau m'être fait sucer il y a pas une heure par un vendeur de chez Abercrombie où je faisais quelques emplettes, sa bouche est 10 fois meilleure. Elle est surtout beaucoup plus profonde que celle du minet hypertrophié des épaules. Je ne sais pas où Sasha va les chercher mais les quelques Escorts que j'ai eu l'occasion de pratiquer ont toujours été tops.

Je le laisse faire jusqu'au moment où je vois qu'il compte continuer jusqu'à me faire jouir. Pas si vite, nous avons 3 heures, enfin plus que 2h30 devant nous !

Je le relève avant qu'il n'ait réussit son coup. Je profite un moment de ses lèvres soyeuses. Je suis plus large et plus costaud que lui. Dans mes bras, il ne peut ni fuir ni changer de position. Je sens sa bite gonfler son trunk. Je décolle mon bassin juste le temps de faire tomber ce dernier morceau de tissu qui nous sépare. Sa bite se dresse contre la mienne et j'ai bien l'impression que c'est lui qui gagne à la compétition de qui a la plus longue ! Mes mains quittent sa tête pour ses fesses et tout en le maintenant contre moi je lui fais rouler des hanches. Nos sexes se frottent l'un cotre l'autre et j'aime trop ça. Il décolle ses lèvres et, dans mon oreille, me dit qu'il est recto/verso tout à ma disposition. Ça, je le savais mais c'est toujours bon de l'entendre de sa part. Mes mains s'avancent dans le sillon qui permet de séparer ses fesses. Mes doigts s'enfoncent et je pose mes deux majeurs sur sa rondelle. Pas un poil n'a gêné ma progression en dehors de son buisson hyper taillé au-dessus de sa bite, il est d'une douceur pré-pubértienne. Ça aussi c'est la patte de Sasha.

C'est à mon tour d'honorer sa virilité. Depuis le passage d'Éric dans ma gorge et mon cul, il n'y a pas beaucoup de bite que je ne puisse prendre des deux côtés ! Celle-là va passer toute seule. Son gland vient me gratter les amygdales et je l'entends souffler au-dessus de moi. Ses mains viennent même se poser sur mes épaules pour soutenir sa station verticale. J'aime faire cet effet.

Il me redresse à son tour et toujours tout bas, comme s'il avait peur de sa propre voix, il me dit de l'enculer. Si j'aime préparer longtemps le cul qui va recevoir ma bite, des fois je suis trop excité et alors le mec mange grave ! Ça va être son cas ce soir. Je l'envoie valser sur le canapé. Je lui tire le bassin en arrière et comme je me kpote, il prend la position idéale pour une prise en levrette. Mes kpotes sont quand même bien lubrifiée et la sueur qui coule entre ses fesses vont faciliter la pénétration. Je présente mon gland et alors que je le pose sur sa rosette, cette dernière palpite d'impatience. Sasha l'a bien formé. Il attend patiemment le désir du client. Il ne recule pas avec impatience pour abréger le supplice, il attend, tendu comme une corde de piano. Quand je le pénètre, ce n'est pas un cri de douleur mais un soupir de soulagement qu'il laisse échapper. Sans m'arrêter, je continue ma progression dans ses muqueuses et je ne cesse de pousser que quand je sens mes couilles se coller aux siennes. Là, j'attends, non pas que Sosthène s'habitue à ma bite mais je suis trop bien au fond de lui. Sa rondelle pulse autour de la base de ma queue et me fait comme un effet de pompe. J'attends qu'il n'attende plus pour me déchaîner. Il s'accroche au dossier du canapé pour garantir sa position alors que debout derrière lui, mes mains accrochées à ses hanches, j'utilise la totalité de mes 21cm pour le limer. De temps à autre, j'attends que sa rondelle se referme avant d'y replonger ma bite. Comme il me l'avait confié, il accepte avec plaisir les effets de mon excitation. Je le redresse pour lui tourner la tête et abuser de ses lèvres. Mes reins, totalement indépendants continu leur oeuvre de labourage. Quand j'arrive à me décoller de sa bouche, je le fais pivoter sur ma queue et le repose dos sur l'assise du canapé, ses jambes contre mon torse et reprend le labourage de ses reins. Face à face, je peux voir directement les effets de mon action sur son visage. Mais bientôt je ne vois plus rien car je ne résiste pas à écraser ses lèvres carmin avec les miennes. C'est collé de la bouche au cul que nous prenons notre premier pied intégral. Quand je sens son sperme se diffuser entres nos abdos collés, je jute à mon tour et rempli ma kpote. Ce n'est que totalement vidés, nos corps apaisés que nos bouches se décollent enfin et que nos langues se laissent. Malgré le temps qui passe nous prenons 10mn pour retrouver la réalité. Après c'est la course évidemment. Heureusement ma douche permet de nous laver ensemble. Je l'aide à mettre ses boutons de manchette. Il n'en a manifestement pas l'habitude. De même je lui fais un noeud de cravate Windsor, plus équilibré que celui qu'il s'apprêtait à faire. Nous sommes un peu en retard mais quand même dans les temps quand nous débarquons chez Henri. Il voit nos cheveux encore mouillés et comprend bien ce que nous faisions il n'y a pas longtemps. Il redresse mon propre noeud de cravate et passe une main dans les cheveux de Sosthène pour y mettre un semblant d'ordre avant de donner le départ. Dans l'ascenseur, il me demande si le cadeau que j'ai entamé me plaisait. Il se permet de me demander cela devant Sosthène parce qu'il connait déjà la réponse. Nos yeux brillants étaient de bons indices. Je l'embrasse tendrement et lui dis que je n'aurais pas mieux choisi moi-même. Sosthène rougit !

Le trajet est lent et je vois que Sosthène regarde par la glace le spectacle des parisiens en train de courir sur les trottoirs. La porte de la berline nous est ouverte et nous prenons pied devant le restaurant. Je déstresse Sosthène que je sens tendu. Je lui dis que s'il a un doute, qu'il me regarde faire et qu'il m'imite après.

Nous entrons et sommes dirigés vers notre table. Le restaurant est quasiment plein. Je vois quelques têtes de connaissances et leur fait un léger signe de tête. Henri fait un écart pour saluer un de ses pairs. La table est un peu en retrait même si nous voyons la totalité de la salle. Une coupe de champagne nous est servie afin d'attendre l'entrée. Henri nous dit avoir déjà choisi les plats et demande à Sosthène s'il y a des mets qu'il n'aime pas, dénégations de sa part.

Henri sort deux petit paquets plats de sa poche et m'en tend un en me souhaitant un bon anniversaire avant de poser l'autre devant Sosthène. Je vois bien que ce dernier ne comprend pas. A voix basse, il essai de refuser et tente de repousser le cadeau vers Henri. Mon homme lui dit que lui aussi gardera un souvenir de mon anniversaire.

J'ouvre. Le paquet vient de la place Vendôme. Trop plat pour une montre, et trop gros pour une bague, j'écarte le papier et ouvre l'écrin. Un jonc en or brille sur le fond noir. Je pense à un cockring avant de voir que son diamètre est un peu gros même pour moi. C'est donc un bracelet. Sans attendre je l'enfile à mon poignet droit. Je dois forcer un peu pour passer la main, comme ça je ne risque pas de le perdre. En face de moi, Sosthène est bloqué devant le même présent. Je l'entends souffler à Henri qu'il ne peut accepter. Et ajoute qu'il est déjà payé pour être là. Henri lui dit que c'est pour ça que c'est un cadeau et pas autre chose. Il lui dit de ne pas le vexer et de le mettre à son poignet lui aussi. Avec un peu plus de mal que moi, ses mains sont un peu plus grosses que les miennes, il obtempère. Sur sa peau, l'or rend encore mieux. Ses joues sont noires de son trouble. Pour le détendre je lui dis que je suis très content qu'Henri ait pensé à cela. Mon cadeau principal c'est lui, ce que nous avons au poignet c'est juste pour nous rappeler ce bon moment. Henri confirme que c'est juste cela et que c'est pour ça qu'il a fait graver la date dessus.

Le diner est délicieux, mais c'est l'inverse qui serait étrange dans un tel lieu. La conversation est intéressante. C'est ça qui est bien avec les garçons de Sasha. Ils sont beaux, baisent bien et en plus loin d'être cons ! Son costume est classe et je le lui dis. Il rit et me répond que c'est Sasha qui l'a emmené faire les boutiques car il n'en avait pas. Je comprends mieux ses problèmes pour nouer sa cravate. Le dessert arrive trop vite tellement le moment est agréable. Je sais qu'il l'est aussi pour Henri. Je commence à bien le connaitre mon " père ". Même pour mon anniversaire, il aurait écourté si Sosthène n'avait pas été au niveau. Quand il apprend que c'est son premier séjour à Paris, il décide de rentrer en passant devant les monuments de Paris. C'est touchant. Si dans un premier temps Sosthène se retient, quand on traverse le Louvre, il a le nez collé au carreau et ne le décolle plus. Je me promets que demain je l'emmènerai à la tour Eiffel. Je sais c'est cliché mais c'est à faire quand même.

Nous prenons un dernier café chez Henri. Je profite d'un court séjour de Sosthène aux toilettes, je suggère à Henri qu'on pourrait se le partager cette nuit. Il refuse que c'est mon cadeau à moi tout seul et quand Sosthène réapparait, il nous chasse de chez lui.

La nuit qui suit est très très courte et j'ai profité de mon cadeau jusqu'à m'écrouler de fatigue vidé complet. Son coup de rein pour propulser sa queue en moi m'a fait autant de bien que sa rondelle musclée autour de ma bite. Je crois quand même l'avoir mis dans le même état ! Au réveil j'ai mal partout et si j'en crois la délicatesse avec laquelle Sosthène bouge lui aussi doit avoir un peu mal aux fessiers ! La douche en commun nous redonne vie et une apparence décente. Je me sens rajeunir à ses côtés. Il a encore une fraicheur qui bientôt va disparaitre avec le nombre de prestation ! Je le presse. Il remet ses jeans à se faire violer sur place et je l'imite, après tout mon physique n'a rien à lui envier. Un coup d'oeil à la glace de l'entrée, j'y vois deux beaux jeunes hommes un blanc et un métis que tout homo normalement constitué mourrait d'envie de mettre dans son lit. Ok je ne suis pas modeste, juste réaliste !

Je le pousse dehors. Il croit quelques minutes que nous retournons chez Henri mais non, direction le métro. Il plisse le nez quand on s'engouffre dans la bouche. Comme nous sommes grands, nous respirons au-dessus des autres, descente à Trocadéro.

La descente, la traversée sur le pont d'Iéna donne une belle vue sur la tour Eiffel. Je prends 2 billets et nous faisons la queue. Je l'abandonne le temps d'aller acheter 2 hot dog. La moutarde coule sur sa main et je la lui attrape pour lécher son doigt. Ça ma vaut une remarque désagréable d'un mec plus loin derrière nous. Je l'entends et j'attrape Sosthène pour lui rouler une pelle. Il me laisse faire et quand l'autre réitère ses insultes, je me déplace jusqu'à lui. Il réalise à ce moment-là qu'il est plus petit et bien moins large que moi. Il s'excuse. Je laisse tomber un " t'es trop con mon pauvre " et retourne près de Sosthène. Autour de lui il doit subir les lazzis que son attitude a provoqués au point qu'il se casse avec la meuf vulgaire qui l'accompagnait.

Sosthène est comme un gamin. Nous prenons l'ascenseur jusqu'au premier et montons le reste à pied. Il me met presque un étage dans la vue ! Tout en haut la vue est superbe, pas chaude mais superbe quand même. Il m'attrape et me roule un patin tellement il est content. Puis il s'excuse de m'avoir fait ça. Il est trop ce gamin ! Quand nous descendons il me remercie de l'avoir emmené là. Nous reprenons un deuxième hot dog et le mangeons en marchand. Il me questionne sur Sasha. Il se demande s'il ne lui a pas fait confiance trop vite, même si jusque-là tout s'est bien passé. Je le rassure. Je connais l'animal depuis maintenant 7 ans et jamais il n'a pris quelqu'un en traitre. Il me croit sinon, comme il me dit, il n'aurait pas autant d'amis ni d'escorts.

Nous flânons il n'y a pas de sexe entre nous et c'est soudain très agréable. Par les quais nous rejoignons le Louvre. Nous prenons un café en terrasse. Deux filles à la table d'à côté nous draguent. Elles sont jolies hollandaise d'après leur accent quand elles parlent en anglais. Elles sont un peu lourdes et je me penche vers Sosthène pose mes lèvres sur les siennes juste un instant. Cela suffit pour qu'elles s'excusent en riant de nous avoir " dérangés ".

Soudain il s'affole de son train et s'aperçoit qu'il l'a loupé. Il va pour courir à la gare. Je le retiens, ses bagages !! Il prendra le suivant. Quand il s'inquiète que Sasha lui a payé le billet en première, je l'assure qu'il pourra quand même l'échanger. On repasse vite à l'appart et je l'aide à ranger son costume dans son bagage. Je l'accompagne en taxi. Nous faisons l'échange du billet et j'attends le train avec lui, même s'il me dit que je peux le laisser.

Je ne le quitte qu'après l'avoir mis au train. J'appelle alors Sasha pour lui expliquer que son petit nouveau aura du retard. Ça le fait rire et il me demande de lui envoyer un compte rendu, d'où le texte ci-dessus.

Je récupère Sosthène avec 2 heures de retard. Il s'excuse de m'avoir fait ce coup-là. Je remarque le jonc qu'il a au poignet. Cadeau d'Henri ?  Il acquiesce. Je lui montre ma caisse et lui dit que ça ne m'étonne pas. Comme il ne comprend pas je lui dis que la moitié de ma SLS est de sa part. Je le ramène au Blockhaus prendre sa voiture. Il monte faire la bise à PH et Ludovic puis rentre vite chez lui.

Jardinier

Paris Metro

City

Monument

[nayelleya]

14 et 15 mai 2024

Je venais de quitter ma mère au téléphone lui disant que j'allais certainement rentrer à l'auberge ou bien me faire un trajet de métro et rentrer à pieds (j'adore me faire des tours de métro sachez-le).

Dans la station, je remarque un garçon qui m'a interpellé : son charme, ses nombreux tatouages et ce qu'il dégageait. J'écris directement à une amie "Je viens de trouver l'amour de ma vie, il est juste à coter de moi". Le métro arrive, peu de place on se serre tous, lui et moi comprit. Deux stations plus loin le métro se vide un peu, je savais que j'avais beaucoup de temps devant moi avant le terminus alors je décide de sortir mon livre "Rêveries du promeneur solitaire" de Rousseau. Je le vois se pencher, tentant de lire le titre. Alors, tout naturellement je lui montre ce que je lis. Puis il me dit "Tu lis ça pour la fac ou pour les cours" EN FRANÇAIS ? Je lui réponds que c'est pour le plaisir, lui me dit que personne ne lit du Rousseau pour le plaisir, que ce n'est pas possible.

On commence désormais à faire connaissance, me demandant qu'est-ce que je fais dans un métro à Vienne et à cette heure-ci (il devait être 21h30). On discute pendant deux trois arrêts jusqu'à que le chauffeur annonce que le métro a un soucis et que nous sommes tous obligés de descendre à la prochaine station. On se dit que c'est le destin, qu'on doit continuer cette conversation. Alors, on marche, on parle de nos vies, de nos auteurs préférés, de nos lectures.

On tombe sur un bar, par chance il fermait dans 30 min mais on a pu quand même commander. Heureusement, cet inconnu parle français car sa mère est née en France, qu'il a été au lycée français à Vienne et qu'il avait fait deux ans de prépa à Paris. Mais ce qui voulait dire qu'il était bilingue allemand (merci la vie j'en pouvais plus de commander et de commander en anglais surtout). Dès qu'on s'assoit, il sort son carnet et écrit directement la date du jour, mon prénom, la ligne de métro où on s'est rencontrés et écrit "couleur de cheveux inconnu" (nous n'avions pas réussit à déterminer si j'étais rousse ou si j'avais les cheveux rouges).

Je passe les détails sinon ce post ferait 10000 lignes. On finit par partir du bar, on marchait et il me lance un "Mais en fait on est dans Before Sunrise, on vit un rêve Leyan, je suis sûr que demain quand on va se lever rien de tout ça n'aura exister". Je lui avoue que je n'ai jamais vu ce film, film qui raconte l'histoire de deux inconnus qui se rencontrent dans le train et l'américain demande à la française si elle veut rester avec lui à Vienne le temps d'une nuit. C'était totalement nous, sauf que nous, l'amour était platonique. Comme il m'a dit "C'est la rencontre de nos deux âmes, pas de nos deux corps". Et, je pense que c'est la chose la plus merveilleuse que nos corps ne se soit pas rencontrés. De toute façon, on ne c'est pas parler pour se draguer. C'était spéciale.

Finalement, on se décide d'aller regarder le film dans le hall de mon auberge. Trop de bruits. Il réserve une chambre privative juste pour qu'on regarde le film. On a parler durant tout le film, on coupait le film pour se dire que par moment c'était vraiment nous. Après l'avoir vu, on s'est demandés "Et qu'est-ce qu'on fait quand le soleil va se lever ?". On a beaucoup réfléchit, on s'est dit que le meilleur moyen de continuer ce rêve ce n'était pas de prendre nos contacts. Juste un rendez-vous après ses examens de médecine. Il m'a écrit un poème de Pablo Neruda en espagnol, pour me montrer que je n'ai pas rêver de cette rencontre juste spectaculaire. Personnellement, je lui ai laissé une petite lettre, le remerciant d'avoir une âme aussi pure et saine. On avait l'impression de se connaître depuis toujours et en même temps pas du tout c'était très étrange. Je l'ai laissé dormir, je suis partie au lever du soleil. J'espère qu'il a prit mon message, qu'il a prit cette lettre. J'espère qu'il va venir au rendez-vous. Si un de nous deux ne peut pas finalement, on s'est dit qu'on allait se recroiser un jour de façon anodine, c'était sûr et certain. J'ai quand même mit à la fin de ma lettre "Et si on ne se revoit pas, souviens toi que tu as un visage pour être aimé". Car, c'est totalement vrai. Cet inconnu à un visage pour être aimé (et puis aussi lui rappeler qu'il doit lire du Paul Eluard).

[raeuberprinzessin]

A Slice in the Life of the Boyfriend of the Daughter of the most eccentric Billionaire's Family of the northern Hemisphere (or The Day Felix arrived late, met his Girlfriend's Brothers and didn't get to drink his Tea)

Summary: Meeting your girlfriend's family is never exactly easy.

AO3 | Masterlist

Meeting your girlfriend's family is never exactly easy. But if your girlfriend is the long lost and only recently found daughter of the probably most eccentric billionaire in the northern hemisphere and has a gaggle of siblings who sounded absolutely crazy from the things she mentioned casually alone, meeting the family wasn’t just an awkward event. Felix felt like an emissary of an ancient kingdom being sent into enemy territory to propose an alliance which would ask the enemy kingdom to give up their most-beloved treasure.

But being a Graham de Vanily meant not to be intimidated by anyone. Not by his uncle in his disturbing villain costume, not by a crime-ridden city and it’s just as crazed rogues and vigilantes, not even by Marinette’s temper. She rarely lost it, but if she did, he really didn’t want to be in her way. She was just as creative with torture as she was with her designing and if he was really honest with himself, he was absolutely intimidated by her, even if he wouldn’t ever admit it. 

He felt this shouldn’t count. She was Ladybug! Freaking everyone was intimidated by Ladybug! At least everyone who saw that one video in which she verbally took apart the Justice League for getting involved without coordinating with the heroes of Paris and almost costing them everything. They were lucky Red Robin and his team warned them and helped them with a plan to counter the adult heroes. He would never forget the way Nightwing looked like a plucked chicken after she was done with them.

At least something good came out of this: With the Titans they gained allies with a serious disregard for boundaries and they were able to learn that his uncle was the weirdo whose hobby it was to possess teenagers and meddle in their petty teenage dramas. Well, he was glad. Had he chosen competent people the heroes would have had a harder time defeating him. Felix wished he could say he was as surprised by his uncle’s hobby as his cousin was, but the truth was that it made too much sense. Honestly, he felt slightly offended to be related to that man, even if it was through the marriage of his aunt.

At least today he would only meet the family’s butler, four of her five brothers and her father. Her foster brother Duke and her sister Cassandra were unavailable.

His chauffeur finally arrived at the gate to the Wayne property. On the way there from the high-class penthouse he and his mother rented for their stay - they were debating finding a more permanent residence, since Marinette would spent a lot more time here and his mother fell in love with the architecture and wanted to make at least one movie here - he had felt like every single traffic light had turned red just as they got there which meant he wasn’t a bit early or perfectly on time. No. He was late. His father had taught him the importance of punctuality. “Being on time is being late,” Gustav Graham de Vanily always said, “but at least you’re technically on time so you might be forgiven if you apologize. But it’s always better to be a few minutes early. But don’t be too early, that’s just as impolite as being too late. Always plan with some spare time, you can always wait outside until it would be acceptable for you to ring the bell. And if you still can’t make it, at least call!”

Well, his father probably didn’t expect that an angry Poison Ivy would rip up almost all streets between his penthouse and Bristol just as he got into the car. Neither would he expect the traffic lights to conspire against him. At least he did call ahead and talked to the Butler, Mr. Pennyworth, who seemed understanding, but also sounded very reserved. Obviously a fellow englishman.

When the car stopped in front of the imposing manor Felix took a moment to take a deep breath and make sure he looked presentable and that his kwami Krrah was still carefully hidden inside his waistcoat. The crow wanted to come along, so they could hang out with the other kwamis in Marinette’s room.

Then he took the flower bouquet he brought as a hospitality gift. Marinette had told him how much pride Mr. Pennyworth took in his cooking and baking and he knew from her parents in Paris that in this case bringing any food would be inappropriate.

Mr. Pennyworth, at least Felix assumed it was him, had already opened the door and watched as he walked up the steps to the entrance.

“Mister Graham de Vanily, I suppose?”

Felix gave him a polite smile and offered a handshake which the butler took after a moment. “Indeed that’s me, Felix Graham de Vanily. Am I correct in assuming that you are Mr. Alfred Pennyworth?”

“You are. May I take your coat? The flowers would be for Miss Marinette?”

“Oh no, they are for the family. Marinette let me know that it would be quite the faux pas to bring anything edible as a hospitality gift,” Felix answered. He has always been quite observant, so he noticed the tiny twitch in the older man’s face. A faint almost smile. He decided to see this as success.

“Very well, then I shall find a suitable vase in just a moment. Please follow me and take a seat in the sitting room, I will inform the family of your arrival.”

The butler took his coat, put it away and offered him a pair of house slippers. After that he led him to a tastefully decorated room to wait for his hosts. He asked him if he could offer him anything to drink and Felix gratefully accepted a cup of Earl Grey tea.

“Psst, Felix!”

Felix looked around before he looked down his waistcoat into the beady black eyes of his kwami.

“I’ll go and find the other kwamis and tell your girlfriend that you’re here,” Krrah declared in a croaky voice. Felix gave them a tiny nod and then acted as if he was checking his appearance again.

When he looked back up a steaming cup of tea stood in front of him. When did that appear? Hopefully after Krrah got away. He very deliberately did not check on his tie pin to make sure it was still there. If someone actually had seen everything, that would give too much away. Instead, he adjusted his cuffs and checked his cufflinks. After that he decided to reach for the tea.

Only for it to be snatched out of his hand. He blinked in surprise and turned in the direction the hand had come from. There stood a dark haired teen roughly his age with icy blue eyes and an exhausted smile. In one hand he held the cup of tea, the other held up a struggling kid by the scruff of his neck like a misbehaving kitten. The image was surprisingly fitting especially when the kid started to hiss insults at the teen, calling him “Drake”.

“I’m so sorry for him,” Drake apologized. “Damian likes to play pranks and this time he seemed to think putting some sleeping pills in your tea would be funny.” At that the boy hissed again and resumed his struggles.

“It is my duty as her only true blood brother to defend Marinette,” Damian declared.

“May I ask what the meaning of this is?” a cool voice came from the door. There stood Mr. Pennyworth with another steaming cup of tea. His right eyebrow rose as he observed the picture that presented itself to him. “Master Timothy, would you please let Master Damian down?”

Timothy sighed and set the child down. Damian gave him a calculating look and then a small knife stuck in the upholstery next to him and Timothy restrained the boy once more.

“Alfred, I would love to let go of Damian, but he doesn’t seem to know how to behave in front of a guest,” Timothy told the butler. “I’ll bring him to Bruce. I’m sorry about the upholstery.”

With that he left and Mr. Pennyworth placed the cup of tea in front of him with a sigh.

“Please excuse the young master. Regrettably he hasn’t had the most healthy upbringing.”

“It’s not my place to voice any judgment,” Felix replied. It didn’t stop him from thinking such judgment, of course. But instead of saying anything else he pulled the knife out and gave it the butler. “Would you please return this to its owner?”

The man nodded and left again. Felix turned back to the tea when the cup was, again, snatched away. This time he couldn’t suppress a twitch at his eyes and turned again to the person who took the beverage this time.

How this tank of a man was able to come in without making any noise Felix had no idea. The man had unruly, curly black hair. The white streak at the front brought to mind the image of a skunk.

“Hm, Earl Grey. To be honest, I prefer any green tea, but it’s good to have another tea drinker here. There are already too many bean worshippers in this house,” the man declared and gave him a roguish grin. “The name’s Jason Todd and you’re obviously pixie pop’s arm candy?”

“Arm candy, that’s a new one. Especially since those I know agree that everyone pales next to Marinette. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Jason. I am Felix Graham de Vanily.” He offered the man his hand for a handshake and suppressed a wince when that handshake turned out to be a bit more forceful than expected.

“Ah, Felix was it? I have a very serious question for you Felix,” another voice came from the door. Once more a young man with black hair stepped into the room. He grinned good-naturedly, but there was a dangerous glint in his dark blue eyes that had Felix immediately on edge.

“Tell me … what’s your favorite cereal?”

Taken aback Felix only blinked at the man. Jason next to him burst into peals of laughter.

“Cereal?”

“Yes, cereal.”

Felix didn’t know if he was serious or not. “Actually, I don’t eat cereal.” The man gasped as if he had just insulted all his ancestors.

“Then what do you eat for breakfast or as a late night snack?”

“Well, for breakfast I usually eat a boiled egg and toast with jam, marmalade or honey. And I rarely eat a late night snack, but if I get hungry between meals I prefer a greek yogurt with honey, nuts and fruit or simply an apple if I don’t want to put as much work into it,” he explained confusedly. It seemed Marinette’s family was even weirder than she had told him.

“Oh, Felix boy, sounds like you are much too healthy and sane for this family,” Jason cackled.

“I tried to warn him,” he heard Marinette say from behind the cereal-obsessed man. “In or out Dick, but don’t stand around in the doorway.”

The man going by the unfortunate name of “Dick” sighed and stepped inside. Behind him Marinette came in and gave him one of her beautiful smiles. That’s all he needed to remember why he was doing this.

“Hello Marinette,” he greeted as he stood up to come over to her. Marinette grinned, pulled him in and pressed their lips together. After the kiss swallowed his surprised (and plainly undignified) squawk he returned the kiss gently. The two men in the room made noises of discomfort but he realized this was part of why Marinette did it when she grinned into the kiss.

When they pulled back his wonderful, beautiful, brilliant girlfriend smirked at her brothers.

“Remember, I am French, I have absolutely no problem kissing my boyfriend in front of you or dad whenever any of you step out of line. And I can’t imagine Felix disliking my idea of punishing you, do you?”

He shook his head and gave her a conspiratorial grin.

“My lips are at your service, my queen.”

[lisbeth-kk]

May 15 prompt: green (thanks for the tag @calaisreno @raina-at

Cherished moments

The winter’s been horrible for both of them. For Sherlock it started in January. He finally managed to get covid now that the pandemic’s almost over.

Once he’d recovered, it was John’s turn. Working his arse off at the hospital for the last two years without catching the virus, was nothing but a miracle. John’s the world’s worst patient, but luckily it didn’t last as long as Sherlock’s illness. Small blessings.

Not being able to travel or do anything remotely interesting for what feels like decades, Sherlock’s decided to whisk John away for their fifth wedding anniversary. They haven’t celebrated much over the years, just a nice dinner followed by a classical concert. Sherlock always decides where to dine, while John picks the concert. It’s a win-win situation.

***

Sherlock’s sits at the desk when John comes home.

“Ah, John! Just the one,” Sherlock exclaims.

“Hello, gorgeous,” John smiles and kisses the top of Sherlock’s head.

Sherlock makes room for John to climb onto his lap for a proper snog.

“What are you up to?” John asks, a bit breathless.

“A surprise. Can you take some days off the week after next? Say Monday until Thursday,” Sherlock inquires.

“A surprise, eh? Well, I’ve worked up some goodwill I think, so that should be fine,” John says, massaging Sherlock’s scalp.

Sherlock closes his eyes and purrs with delight.

“Sounds like a jaguar again,” John murmurs and sucks at Sherlock’s bottom lip, which elicits another purr.

John sits back a little, stroking Sherlock’s shoulders and down his arms.

“So, my beautiful husband. Does this surprise has anything to do with our wedding anniversary?”

“My clever husband,” Sherlock smirks.

“Can I decide anything, or is it only you this year?” John inquires.

“Only me. For now,” Sherlock states lazily, reaches out for John and pulls him in for a deep kiss.

***

Despite the tediousness of the last week, it’s all worth it when John realises they’re going on a private plane. Working for Mycroft on occasion has its benefits, Sherlock admits. 

“Gosh, this really is a lovely way to travel,” John sighs contended and reaches out for Sherlock’s hand.

“Indeed,” Sherlock agrees. 

“Are you going to tell me where your taking me, then?” John asks, lacing his fingers with Sherlock’s.

“It has many names. The city of clichés. The city of love. The most romantic city in the world, cover most of it, I think.”

“Are you serious? We’re going to Paris?”

John beams at Sherlock and Sherlock can’t resist the urge to lean in and kiss John softly.

“We are,” he whispers in John’s ear. “I’ve…um…borrowed Mycroft’s card when I made the hotel reservation. Hôtel de l´Abbaye in Saint-Germain-Des-Prés. It’s a suite, obviously, two floors with a balcony overseeing the famous green garden. Looks quite promising on the web site.”

“You are amazing,” John breathes and cups Sherlock’s face, tracing both thumbs over his cheekbones.

Sherlock leans into John’s touch when John moves his hands to pull Sherlock’s hair just the way he loves it. He moans and closes his eyes.

“My marvellous John,” he murmurs.

***

A black car waits on the tarmac. As they descend the stairs from the plane, a chauffeur emerges in full uniform.

“Bonsoir, messieurs,” the man greets them.

John knows Sherlock’s fluent in French, and John knows a few phrases himself, but he’s never got the pronunciation quite right. He’ll lean on Sherlock for that. Besides, he loves hearing Sherlock speaking foreign languages, French in particular.

They sit like besotted teenagers in the back seat of the car, fingers interlaced, thighs pressing against the other, alternately looking out the windows and exchanging soft kisses.

Once they arrive at the hotel, John’s a bit dazed. It’s almost like he’s participating in a romantic film. Sherlock behaves like a proper Frenchman, with gesturing hands, flawless language, bespoke suit and  grace like a dancer. John just stares at him with awe. It’s similar to his behaviour at crime scenes, but also completely different. There’s no one who calls him names or glares at him with contempt.

The photos from the web site didn’t lie. Their suite’s exquisite and luxurious. John walks around to survey the spacious room.

“I’ve ordered room service,” Sherlock calls from downstairs.

“Perfect,” John retorts and opens the door to the balcony.

The temperature is still quite comfortable, and the air smells of lavender. John sighs happily and startles a bit when familiar arms caress him.

“I didn’t mean to spook you, John,” Sherlock says quietly and kisses his temple.

“It’s fine, love. I was just a bit lost in thought. This is…er…I…”

John turns in Sherlock’s arms and looks at him with shiny eyes. Sherlock cocks an eyebrow at him, silently asking if everything’s all right.

“Got a bit overwhelmed,” John says sheepishly. “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris, you know. You making my dream come through just hit me, and this beautiful place is perfect. Being here with you is perfect. Thank you.”

Their lips meet and John whimpers desperate, grabbing Sherlock’s plush arse while sucking at his bottom lip, then moving his lips to the long neck. 

“How much time do we have before the food arrives,” John asks hoarsely.

“Enough,” Sherlock pants and pulls John tighter.

***

They have breakfast on the balcony. The morning is warm, and it’s partly clouded. A perfect day for exploring the city.

To John’s surprise Sherlock concurs to take a trip with a double decker bus. John wants to see all the famous sites but doesn’t want to spend all day walking long distances or taking the metro. They sit in the back at the top of the bus, which is only half full. Between sites, Sherlock deduces the other passengers to John’s amusement.

A few metres from the bus stop, a familiar car waits for them. John sends Sherlock a quizzical look.

“Patience,” Sherlock mutters, grabs John’s hand and steers him toward the car.

The chauffeur, Antoine, clearly knows where they’re headed. John’s too happy to bother pestering Sherlock about their destination. Instead he leans his head against Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock puts an arm around him, and they sit in companionable silence until the car stops.

Sherlock leaps out of the car and heads for the boot. He hands a large blanket to John and takes a picnic basket from Antoine. 

“Merci beaucoup,” Sherlock says and gestures for John to walk into the park.

Square de Batignolles is a peaceful oasis. They find a secluded space in the shadows. John spreads out the blanket on the lawn and Sherlock opens the basket, which is filled to the brim with delicacies. Different cheeses, cured meat, baguettes, marmalade, croissants, fruit, a bottle of red wine, glasses and two pieces of cake. 

They lie down when they’ve devoured the food, and John props himself up on an elbow, looking down at Sherlock.

“You’re eyes are so green today,” John says. 

“Just mirroring the leaves above us, John,” Sherlock explains.

“Nope. They’ve been like that all day,” John retorts stubbornly.

“Well, I’ll have to take you to “Le Train Bleu” tonight just to prove you wrong then,” Sherlock teases.

He reaches for John’s hand and kisses the palm tenderly.

“Happy Anniversary, John.”

“Happy Anniversary, my love,” John says, lifts Sherlock’s hand to his mouth and mirrors Sherlock’s act.  

On this date 24 years ago I got married, so it had to be a wedding anniversary for the boys as well.

@notjustamumj @totallysilvergirl @missdeliadili @topsyturvy-turtely @meetinginsamarra

[wellourgerdes]

Eiffel Tower

Eiffel Tower Eiffel Tower is located on the Champ de Mars in Paris, France. The tower is the tallest building in Paris standing at 330 metres (1,083 feet), or roughly the height of an 81-story skyscraper. With a side length of 125 metres (410 feet), its foundation is square in shape.   The Eiffel Tower is a lattice tower made of wrought iron. It bears the name Gustave Eiffel in honour of the…

[that-one-random-writer]

City Of Love Part 1 [complete]

Kind of an AU drabble multi part words: 1,037

Summary: You are a famous fashion designer, Jake is an actor. You style Jake for a photoshoot for his cover on Vogue magazine. It set you up for a night in Paris.

Warnings: 18+ for language and NSFW content, smoking a cigarette.

A/N: I am feeling writers block in my current story, Caution to the Wayward Son. I wanted to write something that might trigger some brain activity.

My Masterlist. Part 2

Your skin had the ultimate comfort of the white, down duvet. The crisp pillows held your head in a perfect mold. You lifted your head, and your feet fell flat against the smooth hardwood floor as you turned. You stood up and slipped your arms in your robe. Your body is embellished with black lacy lingerie with a mesh robe lined with fur.

You glide through the airy room. You stop in front of the glass doors to your balcony. Your assistant, Naviair, opened the door for you, and you stepped onto the balcony. Naviair handed you your morning coffee. You sat with a cigarette in your hand and lit the end, puffing smoke into open air above the streets of Paris.

Your assistant joined you on the balcony once your cigarette was out. He sat at the table beside you. He pulled out your schedule book. "Navi dear, why must our lives be so busy? Can't we just take a day?" You tossed your head back, wishing away your busy schedule.

"Darling, you know you run important roles in this industry. You are an elite designer. You can't just run willy nilly across the city." You pulled your knees up, watching the busy streets. Your mind frolicking in the city.

"Commençons" 'let's begin' he spoke in his native tongue. You nodded, and he began your schedule. "Hair and make up will be here in an hour. You have to get ready for a shoot for Vogue. You will be preparing the designs you created for the cover." His hands were thrown into the air dramatically. "Jake's Rise To The Top"

You lean back into the chair. "The one with the hot actor?" You gasp, Naviair looking you up and down. "Yes, and if you show up like that, I think he might be a little too excited to fit the pants. Now let's go, you have an outfit to style for yourself." He offered his hand to help you stand. You lifted with grace from your seat.

Naviair led you into the closet. "What shall I go for today? Maybe Versace? Louis Vuitton?"

You choose a white top with gold embroidery. It has a strong angled shoulder line that cuts into the skin on your shoulder, and your back is bare as a statement. The bottom is high waisted pants with black and gold. Your waist is cinched with a black wide belt. White and gold red bottom heels with a black pair of sunglasses.

"Good choice. So chic. Hair and make-up are here." Naviair takes your hand.

You lean into the stylist chair. The cold leather tensing your skin. Two stylists begin working.

"So we are thinking some dark, with a little gold and a bright red lip." The makeup artist prepped your skin. "Yes, please use the new color that Navi picked up a few days ago."

"For Hair, I'm thinking curls for femininity to peak through. Contrasting with the masculinity in the pants." You nodded, agreeing. "I couldn't agree more." You allow them time to work.

You emerge from the chair once they are complete with their art. Your feet clacking against the wooden floors. You grab your folder for the styles for today's shoot. Thanking the pair while leaving the room.

The car rides past the busy city and stops at the studio. Your chauffeur opens the door. Flashes blare through your dark tinted lenses. Naviair held your hand, helping you up the stairs avoiding the paparazzi.

"Bonjour, right this way." The attendant led you to the back. The attendant knocked in a pattern, the doors slid open. You move to the center of the room elegantly. "Oh, tres belle" 'very beautiful' "Please come, we have the sets you ordered right here." Your head of correspondence called to you. You lifted your glasses from your view, pulling out the articles of clothing.

You followed into the room where Jake was taking practice shots. "Jake, is it?"

Jake's eyes left the camera lens and met with a beautiful woman. "Yes, ma'am."

Jake's voice was rough in all the right way. "I'm ready for you now." Jake stepped down. Following behind you. You both step into the dressing room. You hand him the clothing. "Oh, um, thank you..." He trailed. He expected you to leave the room, but he was in france. Once you turned to the mirror glancing over your makeup, he decided you weren't leaving, kicking off his shoes, and he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. His strong shoulder peeked through the top. He slid the top off his arms, tossing the shirt over the chair. His pants unbuttoned and slipped down his toned legs. He paired the shirt and pants together over the chair. He grabbed the new outfit and turned around the pants gliding over his legs. You turned admiring his muscled back. "What are you thinking?" His gaze caught yours in the mirror in front of him.

"Nothing safe for work, I assure you." Your cheeks threatened color under your makeup. "I won't tell anyone..." His rough tone teased. He turned facing you. "Maybe another time?" His arms slid through the shirt. You stepped closer to him and slowly buttoned the shirt. Your hands wrapped into his collar, positioning the corners and creases.

His calloused hands gripped your soft touch. "Dinner tonight?" His confidence lured your eyes to his.

"I have to check my schedule, but I would love to." Your face just inches from his. He handed you a card. "My personal number is on the back. Call me when you decide." He slipped on his shoes and made it back to the shoot.

"Naviair..." You called out for your assistant. "Yes, amour?" Love. He spoke out from the hallway. "What is my schedule for tonight?" He opened the schedule book. "You have a meeting with Pierre." You spun on your heels and walked out from the dressing room. "Can you reschedule?"

He smirked. "And what should I tell him?"

You looked him up and down mimicking his smirk. "Something has come up. He will understand. Now come Navi. I have something to get ready for. My work here is done." You look back at the photoshoot, Jake is pushing his hair back with his hands holding his jacket over his shoulder.

Naviair commented, "Chef's kiss, he looks incredible. You've done it again." You both made your way out the door. "Was there ever any doubt?" Your looks of showed pride.

I do not give permission for my stories to be posted anywhere. Stealing stories makes you a c u next tuesday.

[the-empress-7]

I feel like the entire world is getting punked. I can't keep up with all the new leaks. Each weirder than the next. Why does a man who complains about intrusion talk about his ding dong in his book? He is so juvenile. We don't need to know details about his and his brother's private anatomy. And if that isn't bullying of William, I don't know what is.

Every single thing that has come out has been more absurd than the last. From war crimes to illegal human burial.

And I haven't even talked about how he made his chauffeur drive through the Paris tunnel at the same speed as Diana's car crash. Never mind how fucked up it is that he could have gotten killed, but what gave him the right to put the chauffeur's life as risk???

[mrepstein]

The Sunday Mail (Glasgow) - December 20, 1964

WHEN A BEATLE KIDDED THE ‘NEMPEROR’

RAY JONES, former member of The Dakotas, continues ‘My Wild Life With The Pop Groups’

On his way up, somebody christened Brian Epstein the ‘Nemperor,’ after his music firm, NEMS Enterprises. It stuck.

And with his kingly success came kingly trappings - a chauffeured Rolls, a Maserati, a big Belgravia apartment, a listing as one of the ‘Ten Best Dressed Men,’ etc.

Nobody on the inside now calls Epstein’s business NEMS. It’s ‘The Organisation’ - a thing bigger than all of us.

Brian sits at the centre of it all - rich and powerful.

And though his success becomes greater he is still much the same young man whom we first knew in Liverpool, and labelled ‘Mister Elegance.’

Brian hates reprimanding people - and as far as his top earners, the Beatles, go I think he gave up trying long ago!

Organisation

Even when, last July 20, he had me in his office near the London Palladium and told me I had to go I could see he was actually embarrassed by the whole bit.

I almost felt sorry for him - though, as a young married man being sacked from a £120 a week job, I suppose I should have felt sorry for myself.

The Beatles were the only people in the organisation who dared call him ‘Eppie,’ probably because he didn’t like it.

He was Brian or Mr. Epstein to everybody else.

I KNOW THEY WERE FOND OF HIM, AND RESPECTED HIM, BUT THEY OFTEN PULLED HIS LEG.

John Lennon, whom I think of as the most original personality in the Beatles, would say to him: ‘You’re only our agent’ - in that deadpan way of his.

He could always depend on this riling Brian. ‘I am not your agent,’ he would say emphatically, ‘I am your personal representative’ - which he really was.

‘Oh, ah!’ John would say.

John is a real character - with no flies on him. I always had the feeling that he was a good friend to have, but not a man to cross.

He can be scathing to people, but when he takes the mickey its usually good-humoured.

And shrewd! This year, trying to get rid of his old car, John got Brian to contact their New York agent, to see if they’d get more money for the car there - as a car ridden by a Beatle!

JOHN’S ALWAYS COMING UP WITH THE GIMMICKS.

Conscious

Having a drink with him one day I noticed his cuff-link had the name ‘Ron’ on it in big letters.

‘Who’s Ron?’ I asked.

‘Cousin of Jim,’ said John smartly - and flashed the other cuff-link, which did indeed bear the name ‘Jim.’

It was John who came up with the original idea for the Beatles’ Jacket, which swept the country. He had seen something similar in Paris some time before, and liked the idea.

But Epstein and Paul McCartney are the really clothes-conscious members of the outfit.

I always found Paul a nice guy - and the girls’ favourite, of course!

AND OF THE FOUR, THE ONE MOST CONSCIOUS OF THE GROUP’S POPULARITY AND THE NEED TO PROTECT IT.

I was in their dressing-room one day when an argument flared up between John and Paul.

Contrast

They are the driving force of the group and it’s not unnatural - as I well know! for tensions to build up in a group, even the Beatles.

John was picking up steam when he suddenly stopped, and I noticed that Paul was jabbing a finger in my direction and looking at John significantly.

The row ended right there.

Even though I was a fellow NEMS artist, they were taking no chances - following to the letter a Brian Epstein instruction that his groups should never be seen arguing publicly.

I don’t think George Harrison and Ringo Starr ever get much involved in the temperamental clashes of John and Paul.

By show business standards George is a reserved sort of fellow - though in ordinary life I guess he’d be rated a wild-oh!

Somebody once accused George of being ‘anonymous,’ and he retorted: ‘So long as I’m giving my best and getting an equal share of the take I couldn’t care less.’

That’s his attitude, and there’s a lot to be said for it.

Ringo, by contrast, is too busy enjoying the life he lives to have time for rows!

Where his energy comes from, nobody knows - but he loves dancing and being out till all hours. I think he enjoys being a Beatle more than the other three put together!

I suppose when I first heard the Beatles I was about as wrong in my judgement of them as Brian Epstein was right.

Imitation

The Dakotas, at that time, had a polished sound along the same lines as the Shadows, whom we greatly admired.

We thought ourselves the most professional group around in the North country and scoffed when people told us: ‘Wait till you hear the Beatles…’

The Beatles were in Hamburg when we heard that, but the week they came home we had the chance of working with them in the Cavern in Liverpool.

Capacity of that famous cellar was around five hundred, but we quickly found there must have been twice that number when the Beatles were appearing.

THEY MADE THAT STAGE IMMORTAL, IN FACT, IT WAS SOON TO BE CHOPPED UP AND SOLD AT FIVE-BOB-A-CHUNK AS SOUVENIRS!

I don’t know what I expected from them - just another imitation of Cliff Richard and the Shadows, I suppose, because they were all the rage at the time.

When I heard them, I thought there were out of this world - maybe too much out of this world.

No group, not even the Shadows made the same initial impression on me.

I remember thinking: ‘Here’s something completely new and fresh, it’ll be great if they can get it off the ground.’

But I didn’t think their sound was really commercial! I thought they were more of a musicians’ group FOR musicians.

Mind you, they had a rougher, original style then - like all the original Liverpool groups.

They played as they wanted, and sang a much wider range of material - including numbers which Manfred Mann and Freddie and the Dreamers later made big hits.

Resistance

Soon after, the Beatles played Manchester’s ‘Oasis’ beat club, and my judgment seemed to be right.

THEY WERE LAUGHED AT. ACCORDING TO A FRIEND OF MINE WHO RAN THE PLACE, THE EVENING WAS A NEAR-DISASTER.

People forget that the Beatles had to overcome a lot of sales-resistance before they were a success.

Their first big national disc hit, ‘Love Me Do,’ only really made it because of the fantastic support given by their Liverpool fans.

In a few months, they were to come back to that same ‘Oasis,’ and take the place by storm.

[theretirementstory]

My goodness, how has the last day of March come round so quickly? It is Easter Sunday too, the traditional day for giving Easter eggs, all those children running around “hyper” from too much chocolate!

I was hospitalised on Monday, had a catheter fitted in my femoral artery and had an early night as I was to wake up at 4am, washed breakfasted and be ready for the taxi to pick me up at 5am to take me to the hospital in Paris. Once again I was having cells collected, not stem cells this time but cells which will be engineered to fight the cancer cells in my body. Oh well will find out more as the procedure rolls along.

It was a grey day for the journey, which was a shame as the chauffeur drove me alongside the Seine, there were some gorgeous houses.

We went through the commune of Vincennes, where I spotted the Hippodrome de Vincennes (the Racecourse) recognised by the white railings as seen at Redcar, The Knavesmire etc. We then passed the Château de Vincennes, it was difficult to photograph through a rain spattered window. Then in the distance I saw the Barriere du trône we drove right past them too. I love these trips into Paris where the chauffeur always wants to highlight some of the lesser known sights.

When I arrived, on foot, at the hospital the nurse tutted! I should have been on a trolley (I knew this from before) but was pleased that my taxi company had sent a car. However, as he was unsure where I wanted to be, we parked up, walked to one place then had a longer walk to where I needed to be. She asked if I had had breakfast, said yes at 4am, so she brought me another breakfast which I thoroughly enjoyed.

My blood was collected, the nurse kept asking if I wanted the tv on, don’t know why as I slept almost all day. I was concerned about the chauffeur, how was he filling his day? How tired would he be for the journey back? I needn’t have worried, they cater for this at the hospital, he too had slept and was refreshed for the journey back. There were more sights to see on the way back through Paris, no good trying to get photos, but I did see “Eglise du Saint-Esprit de Paris” and the “Fontaines aux Lions” which is very impressive albeit being used as a roundabout. Our homeward journey was in torrential rain, you couldn’t see tail lights until you were almost on the vehicle! However he kept the speedo on 141 k/hr in the 130 zone and we made good progress 😂😂.

The chemo they had given at the end of February had done what was asked of it, so the Doctor in Paris said another session of chemo would be given. This was done over three days and I gave up pestering to be allowed home as I realise that by keeping me here any transfusions or injections that need to be given can be administered promptly and they are just safeguarding me. Although I had an injection to boost white blood cells yesterday, I was surprised when the doctor said this morning that it had risen from 2,000/? to 20,000 in one day. I told her I had had pain in my bones, shoulders, back etc and she said that was as a result of the white cells, not that I am a doctor, but it may have something to do with bone marrow. She said I should have asked for pain relief, I said it wasn’t that bad, I managed to sleep, but I know in future. The nurses are always checking with me for pain but I think I am on enough flipping meds so will only request it if it becomes too severe.

The catheter came out about three days after it was put in, certainly comes out easier than going in! I have had to have a test on my brain functions, it was ok, painless and listening to music at one point I was trying to think of the English words to a song and almost missed the commands to open and close my eyes. I have the date for an MRI scan and another PET scan, all of which are needed by Paris before the reintroduction of the cells.

I feel a little like Lyndsay Wagner in “The Bionic Woman” or maybe I will do when they put these engineered cells back into me!

I have had platelet and red cell transfusions this week and all I can say is “thank you” to the people who donate these.

Friday the food was abysmal, I hardly ate anything! Monique messaged, she would buy foodstuff and bring it to the hospital. I asked for cheese and ham baguette and a tuna salad sandwich, unfortunately she couldn’t get the tuna sandwich so brought three quiche, tuna and tomato, goats cheese and spinach and a leek one. I ate thé goats cheese one, ate half of the tuna and tomato and have the leek one to have at lunchtime if I fancy it. She also brought me a gorgeous cake, sponge with patisserie cream and fresh raspberries it was delicious! Plus, apples, pears, bananas, oranges and mandarins I certainly have plenty of fruit to keep me going!

The music choices this week start with Elton John, my personal favourite is “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word” but as a family we loved to sing along to a track first released in 1979 then made Number 1 in 2003, it is “Are You Ready For Love”.

I really hope that I haven’t had this Fleetwood Mac track before as it was a toss up between “Big Love” and this track “Go Your Own Way”, which is from the “Rumours” album of 1977.

So the long Easter holiday break in the UK usually sees people spending their time sorting out the garden, doing DIY etc and for “The Trainee Solicitor” and “The Reconnect Navigator” they have really taken this on board. One of the hedges has been successfully trimmed back, there has been a massive clear out, floors washed and everywhere given a big spring clean. It could be the turn of the partially blocked drain today (weather permitting) I am also wondering if the hydrangeas from last year are putting out leafy buds? There was a friends birthday to celebrate yesterday, so hope there are no sore heads this morning.

“The Photographer” and “The Jetsetter” snapped a photo of one of my old homes. Memories flooded back and I was surprised I could remember so many names of school friends and other friends from the mid to late sixties. Some of these friends I even remembered their addresses! Just goes to show I don’t have a lot to tax my brain at the moment 😂😂.

The weather here is grey, damp and cold, it looks as if the North East of England has had blue skies and some sunshine even if it has been cool too. I have had messages from the US, one from my friend who has had treatment for breast cancer, she is thrilled that her PET scan is clear, I am thrilled for her too! Hopefully, she will return soon to her beautiful home in Bar-sur-Aube. The other friend had been to see Billy Joel in New York, his special guest was Gordon Sumner better known as Sting! This was a lovely surprise as my friend is from North East England so a “local lad” on stage was a bonus.

I am going to finish reading my second book today (only brought two with me) then no doubt I will just read social media and news on-line although that just seems to be full of doom and gloom. I can also listen to some music although don’t think I will be jigging about as I am getting plenty of exercise visiting the bathroom regularly!

So I wish you all a Happy Easter Day, don’t eat too many chocolate eggs, have a good day tomorrow too before the start of another four day week.

Until next week!