#he put all his favorite things into dean because dean was the only thing worth looking at

[yesimwriting]

been obsessed with coryo after watching tbosas 😭 please write more of bestfriend!coryo <3

so so adorable 💋 i love u tehe

me gasping like in that tiktok sound: oh my goodness i love this question!!!

in all seriousness i have so many more thoughts on this dynamic omg

----

thinking about bestfriend!coryo who knows your parents love him, and, more importantly, he knows how to use that to his advantage.

it's no accident, he's put in meticulous effort in making sure that they not only approve of the friendship, but that he's their favorite friend of yours. when it comes to a family as prominent and wealthy as yours, parental approval goes a long way, especially with how regularly your parents leave town for business.

your father's admiration isn't an easy thing to win, but coriolanus is no stranger to uphill battles, and you're worth it. with the way that you look at him, how could you not be?

so he puts in the work: being the perfect student in classes taught by known friends of your father, wearing his best clothing and practicing old capitol etiquette his grandma'am was more than happy to review with him before family dinners that you invited him to, and making sure to keep proper distance between the two of you whenever your parents are around, no matter how difficult it is for him to remember to not hold your hand.

the hardest part is the fact that most of your father's intimidation comes from the fact that he's the exact kind of man coryo wants to be. powerful, respected, and in a position to never worry about finances or status. but he keeps at it, taking more care than usual to make sure that the signs of poverty are never visible in front of your parents.

even if that means purposefully leaving leftovers of the best food he's eaten in years on his plate so that no one will think he's starving. even if you give him a look that only he can feel the strangeness of because even though you've never spoken of his financial status, you can tell that he's not as well off as everyone thinks. that's the only thing about you that digs beneath his skin--you can always tell.

he's unsure if his efforts are working because of your father's constantly stoic disposition even though you assure him that that's your father when he's relaxed.

but then one day, he's over on your father's last night at home before returning to the districts to oversee some business, and your father asks to speak with him in private. you're instantly snapping your head up from your textbook, wanting to make sure that your father won't say anything embarrassing or rude.

he's scared off other friends in the past and even though it hurts, you never fight back too much because your father isn't an easy man to talk back to. but this is where you draw the line. you're not going to lose your coryo.

coryo feels something in his stomach knot, especially at that bewildered look behind your eye, but he's not about to be openly intimidated, so he assures you that he's fine. when you push, asking what topic could possibly involve just coryo and him and be that private, your father says that it's just business from man to man.

coryo has to force down a smile because he knows he'll be hearing no end of it from you as soon as the two of you are alone together. then he starts to think that this might be it. maybe your father has found out about his true financial status or dean highbottom has finally gotten to him and he's about to be banned from seeing you.

he forces down his anxiety and follows your father into the hall. your father's quick to the point, letting him know that he's leaving for another long stretch of time and that your mother's social and professional engagements mean that you'll be alone often. he closes the statement by asking coriolanus to look after you until he returns.

the realization that coriolanus has made it hits him at the same time as the relief and for a second all he can do is stare. then his senses return to him and he's swearing to your father that he'll take such good care of you, your father will have nothing to worry about. then your father's clasping his shoulder and offering him a gruff but oddly genuine thank you, son before telling him to get back to your room before you get paranoid.

it's an odd way to end the moment, but coryo's so busy trying to convince himself to not mentally plan out your wedding (because let's be honest, that's a level of trust from someone like your father might as well be a pre-engagement) that he doesn't think of it.

when he gets back to your room, you ask as casually as you can manage what your father wanted. after telling you that your father just wants to make sure that you're looked after while he's away, coryo expects you to be happy. but instead of reacting positively, you just sort of nod and mumble something polite before attempting to go back to studying.

something in his chest hardens. he's your best friend, who you spend as much time as socially acceptable with, and you two are being given the perfect excuse to be around each other more and you're not happy.

he immediately pushes and you reluctantly tell him that this has to mean that he's in with your father. another thing that coryo thinks you should be thrilled about. the more your father approves, the closer the two of you can be. he's accusing you of being sick of him, of trying to get rid of him, of no longer wanting to be best friends with him.

that has you scrambling to defend yourself. there's little you consider more important than your friendship with him. it's the only bond you fully trust.

so you tell him that your real concern is that your father never gets along with your friends that way, and that the only similar reference point you have is the way he talks to people like him.

you then tell him that the people in your father's social circle aren't like coryo. at the very least, not your coryo, who's never harsh with you and would rather spend parties sitting with you than sharing cruel opinions to impress other men.

all coriolanus hears is that you don't see him the way you see the actually important men. the hurt behind his eyes has you moving to stand and reaching for him. he lets you take his hand but doesn't react, so you explain it as transparently as possible. people that your father likes are mean, and you don't want to lose him to that.

there's something about the way you say it, all round eyes and genuine worry. it reminds him too much of tigris, of the newfound hint of tension in their relationship that's become more prevalent. she's constantly reminding him of what his father's success turned him into.

coryo's pulling you into a hug, whispering promises that you could never lose him. you're hugging him back tightly, hand smoothing circles against his back.

he realizes he means what he's saying. he can achieve the prominence he wants without alienating you. there's a way to be stern with the world and just coryo to you. and even if his edges become a little sharper, he'll keep that away from you and you'll understand.

you may criticize some of your father's views and actions, but you do love him. coryo sees it in the way that you constantly strive for his approval, he sees it in the way your face lights up when he's home. if you can love your father through your disagreements, you can love him as well. he'll make sure of it.

feeling better, he starts semi-playfully chiding you for even thinking that anything could take you away from him. that you should know better than to not see this as yet another thing he's doing for you, for your friendship.

you don't want to admit it, but you're feeling a little bad for reacting like that. after all, coryo was so excited to tell you and you know your father's capable of scaring people out of your life. at least this means that nothing's going to get in between the two of you.

coryo recognizes your slight pout and the apologetic line between your eyebrows. the two of you so rarely argue that even a hint of conflict has you willing to do anything to make things feel normal again.

so he lets himself play into his hurt. you're quick to pick up on it, holding onto him a little tighter. the two of you stay like that for awhile until you break the silence, saying that you're happy that he has an excuse to be around more.

eventually the two of you end up sitting on your bed, both of you silently agreeing that you've done enough homework. instead you focus on reassuring him, holding his hand between both of yours, pressing the occasional chaste kiss against his knuckles and resting your head against his shoulder until he has to go home.

after your father leaves, coryo takes his promise to look after you seriously. he's already in the habit of walking you home after school every day, but he start staying over after every day. the lack of authority figures around makes it a little easier to accept the after school snacks your maid always prepares and sometimes he even lets you send some home with him.

his grandma'am's over the moon when he starts accepting invitations to school social events that he honestly considers painful because he's escorting you. she's convinced that the two of you are getting married and with your family's status and the snow name, there's no door the two of you won't be able to unlock. even though you're still just friends, he rarely reminds her. it's for her own sake, he tells himself, it makes her happy.

the promise to your father also makes him bolder. he feels more assured, more justified in his disapproval of those that show a little too much interest in you.

you still don't notice the way his jaw tightens when some unaware guy gets too close, or think anything of the way that it almost always leads to him grabbing your hand.

he also stays over more, sometimes leaving for a few hours in the late afternoons so your maid doesn't think anything's going on. your family's estate is so large it's easy enough to get him in and out through a secondary exit.

the two of you fall into such a good routine that when your parents do get back, they start trusting coryo even more. your father asks if he can take you to certain social events that normally you wouldn't be allowed to attend and your strict weekday curfew becomes more of a suggestion when he's around.

[jensensitive]

It's not always an easy thing to make breakfast in the morning when there's so many people around. Jostling for what exactly everyone's individual tastes are wanting that morning, or not wanting, or just how much coffee is left, or where the tea went, or who did the dishes last night and why there's stuff on your favorite mug. It's good though, he likes it. It feels right, having his family so close to bug him. He doesn't really like peace and quiet as much as he does the people he loves making themselves known in his life and routine. And the smell of coffee and feeling like it's a new day worth waking up for because everyone's there and alive. Right now it's just him and Sam in the kitchen, but your little brother being annoying is all just a part of it.

"You're like a middle aged divorced guy obsessed with his car, but without the excuse of ever actually having been married."

"Who wouldn't be obsessed with my Baby, she's hot as hell."

"She's never gonna love you back, Dean."

"Hey, that's not nice, I treat my girl right. Take her out on the town. Just last night, she and I went for a nice long drive, real romantic like."

Sam snorts.

Mary walks into the kitchen.

"Hey, mom, there's coffee if you want some. I'm doing pancakes, whether Sam wants 'em or not, you up for pancakes?"

"Always. I'm not gonna say no to pancakes."

"See, that's the right answer, Sam."

"Whatever, I just don't wanna throw up in the middle of my run."

"Seems like there's an easy solution to that where you still get pancakes," Dean quips.

Mary makes herself a cup of coffee at the kitched counter and grabs the milk beside Dean to put some in her mug.

Dean turns back from flipping the pancakes to look back at Sam. "Are you just bugging me about this because you've finally got a girlfriend so now you've got some kind of leg to stand on in how much of a loser I am?"

"Oh, I always had that leg to stand on."

"Sam." Mary chides.

"Sorry, Mom, I'm just messing around."

Dean smiles at Sam getting talked to. "He's just jealous of me and my girl and our long and loving commitment."

"Yeah, real jealous." Sam rolls his eyes. Dean is drinking his coffee, but he knows Sam is rolling his eyes.

"I took her out last night. " Dean offers a low whistle. "You should have seen her, man. Making heads turn left and right, she's still got it."

"Yes, she's so pretty, she's so hot, she's so stunningly blah blah blah, you understand how weird you sound, right?"

Mary smiles. "I think it's sweet. He really likes her. What did you guys do together last night."

Sam groans. "Not you too, come on."

"Took her out for a nice dive-in dinner, curly fires and a burger, with the tray that clips to the window of course, only the best for my girl."

"How romantic." Sam deadpans.

"Then we went for a nice long drive, just us and some Zeppelin, yknow. You gotta have some quality time."

Mary nods. "Your father and I used to do something very similar," Mary answers with a gleam in her eye.

"Yeah, see she gets it." Dean gestures from Sam to Mary.

"It's weird, you both are weird and I'm not participating in your perverse afflictions."

"Zeppelin never sounds better than on my Baby's tape deck."

"Yeah we know you really love a big deck." Sam snorts at himself.

"Yeah whatever." It's Dean's turn to roll his eyes.

Mary turns to him. "So what's her name, when am I gonna meet her?"

Sam starts coughing somewhere in the background.

Dean is just lost. "Huh? Who?"

"Your girlfriend. No pressure or anything, but I'd love to meet her, see who's stolen my son's heart."

Sam barks out a laugh. Dean just blinks. "Huh?"

"She thinks you were talking about an actual human woman, you weirdo." Sam spells out like he's a complete idiot. He might feel his ears turning bright red at the realisation.

"Oh," he chuckles awkwardly. "No, no woman."

"No, he doesn't date actual women anymore, only personified objects that he gives female pronouns."

"Dude, shut up, it's not that weird."

"He was talking about his car."

He should just say it. "Actually." Why shouldn't he just say what he's thinking. "Well, it wasn't just me and Baby, we might have drug Cas along, heh." He huffs at himself awkwardly. " I mean why would I need a girlfriend, I have Cas," he says it like he's joking, so he is. "And my Baby. What more could I want than that."

Sam just sighs deeply like he does when he doesn't think one of Dean's jokes is funny. Well, to be fair, it wasn't.

Mary just lays a hand on his on the counter. "You sound like you're happy." She smiles at him. "And I've already met Cas and Baby, so you don't even need to introduce me."

Sam is just shaking his head as if they're still joking, but Mary is looking at him, and actually seeing what he's saying. And he has to give her hug and try not to cry. "Thanks, mom."

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Right After All: Part Three

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: heartbreak, angst

Summary: Dean and Clarissa go on a small trip together doing something you know she won't like. When they come back earlier than planned, you panic when she says he's been injured.

Part One Part Two

Square Filled: local for @spnonewordbingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

After years of going to school and learning everything there is to know about being a nurse, you finally get to put your knowledge to the test. You still have a year left of school that your local hospital is helping pay for, but this internship will help you get experience for the job you want when this is all over.

Your parents are wealthy people who give you and your sister a good allowance to live off of, so you’re not worried about paying your bills while you go to school and do the internship. You don’t get paid for it, but it’ll be worth it in the end when you get to make your own money.

The other nurses were so friendly to you when you arrived that it made the fifteen-hour shift go by quickly. You still have five more hours to go when Sam walks onto your floor and over to the nurse’s station where you’re at.

“Sam!” you smile and hug the tall giant. “What are you doing here?”

“Just here to see you on your first day. I dropped Eileen off at her mother’s house and decided to stop by. Congratulations for making it here.”

“Yeah, it’s been a really crazy day but I’m glad I’m here. Just another year and I graduate,” you smile.

“It’s a good thing you work here because Dean and I might have to come here to get patched up after a hunt,” he jokes.

You look around the room to see if you can see the older Winchester, but it seems Sam is the only one here.

“Where is Dean?”

“Bunker. He and Clarissa are together.” Your heart sinks when you hear your sister’s name but you pretend like this doesn’t bother you. “When I saw them go into his bedroom after drinking, I knew I had to get out there if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I get it,” you sigh and grab some patient paperwork. 

“I don’t know why they’re together. They have nothing in common. I think he’s with the wrong twin.”

“Sam, don’t.”

“Why not? You two are better suited for each other.”

You have to get out of here. You can’t be hearing this shit because you know it’s true.

“Listen, I have to get back to work. Thanks for coming here.”

You quickly leave his side and continue with his work. The last five hours go by so slowly since all you’re thinking about is the possibility of you and Dean. When you get home, you drop your keys into the bowl by the front door and kick your shoes off. You change out of your scrubs into something more comfortable before walking into the kitchen. Clarissa is in there making herself something to eat.

“Hey, how was your shift?” Clarissa asks.

“Long and exhausting, but fun.”

“I don’t know how you do it. I could never,” she chuckles.

“How was your day?” you ask and grab a water bottle.

“Fun. Dean and I are going away for the weekend.”

“Doing what?”

“He’s surprising me. I hope it’s somewhere luxurious,” she grins. “I’m gonna go get ready.”

She leaves the kitchen with a flip of her hair, and you grab the open bottle of wine in the fridge. You take your extra-large glass and practically fill it to the top. You take this solo party to the couch where you put on your favorite TV show. Halfway through the show, someone knocks on the door. Clarissa still isn’t down so you assume this is Dean. Your heart races when you think about seeing him, especially knowing he’s kissed you twice.

You set your glass down so you can open the door and not look like an alcoholic. Dean is dressed in his usual clothing minus the three jackets he usually wears. He’s wearing a thin T-shirt that enhances his muscles. Damn, Clarissa really doesn’t know what she has.

“Hey,” you say. “Come in. Clarissa isn’t ready yet. She should be down shortly.”

Dean walks in and you close the door behind him. You two stand in the hallway awkwardly. You don’t know what to say to him after what happened a couple of weeks ago. He hasn’t kissed you again but you always feel his eyes on you.

“Sam told me he saw you at the hospital.”

“Yeah, he just came by to say hi.”

“I would have been there but I was with…”

“Yeah, I know. Sam told me.”

“So,” Dean clears his throat, “how did it go?”

“Really good. I’m going to help a lot of people.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he smiles.

You walk into the living room and sit on the couch with Dean following.

“So, where are you taking Clarissa?”

“Camping.” You tip your head back and let out a loud laugh. Maybe the wine is making you a bit loose, but the thought of your sister camping is hilarious. “What?”

“Camping? You must be out of your damn mind. She cries when her nails get ruined and you’re taking her where there is tons of dirt? All she wears are high heels.”

“I don’t know. This could be fun. She’s been interested in a lot of the things I’m into.”

“She’s not gonna like it.”

You’re not going to tell him that you love camping and to get off the grid. It’ll make things more awkward for you two.

“I think she will.”

All you can do is shake your head. Clarissa comes down with a suitcase full of items she won’t be able to use. You bet all your money that she has things she needs to plug in like her hair straightener and a curling iron. Everything she won’t be able to use. Still, Dean takes her to the car in hopes she will like where he’s taking her.

You’re left alone in your house with your thoughts. Why are they still together? She loves luxury and is very high maintenance while Dean works on his own car and doesn’t mind taking showers at a truck stop. Dean loves beers and Clarissa loves cocktails. Dean has no problem sleeping in his car while Clarissa needs a hotel room. You look down and realize your wine glass is empty so you go to the kitchen for a refill.

You wake up the next day with a slight headache, but it’s nothing ibuprofen won’t fix. It’s Saturday which means you have a day off from the hospital. You started your internship late in the week, and since you’re a Monday through Friday intern, you won’t have to go back until then. You can take the peace and quiet to study for your classes.

First, you have to get out of bed and do some light cleaning to help yourself wake up. After making your bed and brushing your teeth, you walk downstairs and clean the kitchen. Your wine glass and pizza boxes are still out, evidence of your night. Once cleared, you take a Clorox wipe and clean the counters and the kitchen island.

The front door opens and closes, and you stick your head out to see who it is. Not many people have a key to your place. The only thing you see is blonde hair, and you step into the hallway with a confused look.

“Clarissa? What’s going on? Why are you here? I thought you weren't going to be home until Sunday.”

“Yeah, we had to come back early.”

“Where’s Dean?”

“Your hospital.”

“What?!” your eyes bug out of your head in concern. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“It wasn’t my fault! He’s the one who slipped.”

“Doing what?”

“Carrying me up the hill. There was no way I was going to ruin my shoes.”

“You’re un-fucking-believable,” you groan angrily. You grab your car keys and phone and slide your Crocs on. “You just left him there?”

“He told me he didn't need me.”

You roll your eyes and leave the house without thinking that you still have your pajamas on. You speed over to your hospital and walk in, ignoring the many stares you’re getting for your attire.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? You’re not scheduled to come in,” your boss asks when she sees you.

“I’m not here to work. A man named Dean Winchester came in. What room is he in?”

Your boss looks over the papers and tells you his room number. You quickly head to the elevator to get to the right floor. You knock once to be respectful but you barge in without hearing their permission. Dean is sitting on the bed with a surgical intern stitching his hand.

“What are you doing here?” Dean looks at your attire and smiles. “What are you wearing?”

“Clarissa said you were in the hospital so I came right away.” The intern finishes with his stitches and leaves the room to give you two some privacy. “I told you not to take her there.”

“It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine. Believe it or not, I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not the point, Dean,” you groan in frustration.

“Then what is the point?”

“You two are not right for each other!” you blurt out. If you’re going to do this, then you’re going to lay everything on the line. “She’s using you!”

“I happen to like her. A relationship is about compromise. You think she’s worse than she is.”

“Then why did you kiss me?” you shout. “Not once but twice. Answer me that.”

Dean gets off the bed and stalks over to you. You have to crane your neck back to see him but you’re not backing down now.

“That was a mistake. I was drunk the first time, and I thought you were Clarissa the second time.”

His words hurt you. Tears well in your eyes but you won’t let them fall.

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s the truth.”

You nod once and take four steps away from him.

“Fine. Tend to her every need while she bleeds you dry. See if I care.”

You grab the doorknob and open the door, but his words stop you.

“Why do you care?”

You look at him with those same tears in your eyes.

“I don’t.”

When you put enough distance between you two, you let your tears fall. Maybe you’re not right after all.

x

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[daylilys137]

Ok... So I have never written fanfic before, but I got this idea during Zutara month. Being a teacher, I thought it might be fun to put one of my favorite ships into a teaching situation. Maybe this is silly, but I would love some feedback just to see what I should change? Or is it worth pursuing? I'm not sure. Also, what do I call it?

Zuko was excited to be back. He might not be a student anymore, but the White Lotus School had been his home for many years, and it held many fond memories. Ursa had enrolled Zuko a year or so after their father had been arrested, with the help of their beloved Uncle. Azula was enrolled a year later. 

His Uncle Iroh had stepped up and helped both him and his sister after his abusive father was taken. His father had incited a riot and was trying to start a revolution to undo integration. The old ways had died nearly a century ago, but his father, grandfather, and great grandfather felt that firebenders and fireblooded families should not be integrated with what they considered “riffraff”. But after he had burned Zuko's face because he had made a new friend that Ozai deemed an “enemy” Ursa had left quickly, and Iroh had taken them in. A few weeks later, Ozai was in jail for inciting violence elsewhere. 

Zuko had been nervous about joining the most prodigious integrated bending school in the country. He was worried he would get judged for his scar and that others would find out about his father and assume terrible things about him. Only 12 years old and completely alone out on the coast of the old Earth Kingdom, he was thrilled when he made a friend with a young water nation boy. Sokka had been a breath of fresh air helping him feel at ease, making him laugh, eating practically nonstop, and even though he wasn't a bender, he desired to be a fierce warrior. 

This was one of the main reasons he was so excited to come back to teach. This school had really blazed the trail on integration. Not only was every student taught about the culture of their ancestors, but about each other's culture, which helped open more doors to friendship. Even non-benders could come and study many different things. Sokka and Zuko had quickly signed up for sword classes with Master Piandao, though they ended up leaning towards different styles eventually, and of course Sokka had practically fallen all over himself to join the multicultural cooking classes all 6 years at school. He had pressured Zuko into joining him the first few years at least. 

As Dean Bumi showed Zuko around to all the different classrooms in the school (though he didn't really need the tour), so many good memories were going through his head. As they passed the culinary room, he remembered all the times he snuck fire flakes or spices into Sokka's food and laughed at his watery eyed reactions. As they passed the training rooms, he remembered many a sparring session with Sokka, then later sparring with other benders of all kinds. The two that came to mind first were Toph, who, during her 3rd year, Zuko's 6th, had absolutely handed him his ass. The other was Katara, whom he had sparred with several times despite her being two years younger. They had been pretty evenly matched. The final tally when he had graduated was Katara 5- Zuko 4.  Toph became a good friend pretty quick, always greeting him with a punch to the shoulder. Katara was a friend from the moment she arrived at school, since she was Sokka's sister, though she tended to hang out with Yue most of the time. 

He hadn't seen Toph or Katara or any of their friend group since him and Sokka had graduated from military boot camp, about 6 months after graduating from White Lotus. It may have been 5 years ago, but he could still remember almost everything about that day. He and Sokka hadn't seen anybody else for three months during that time, and it had been nice to see them all there. Azula had been so proud of him and gave him a rare hug. Despite his father always pitting them against each other as kids, and even Zhao (his awful firebending teacher for his first two years and Azula's 1st) doing the same, they had a good relationship. They had probably been lucky that Dean Bumi had walked in unannounced to a class and heard Zhao's abusive language during Zuko's 2nd year. With short notice, Uncle Iroh was asked and graciously accepted the job. Iroh had only planned on teaching that year, but enjoyed it so much that he decided to stay until Azula graduated. Zuko’s bending grew quickly under his uncle's tutelage, and soon, his sister and him were also fairly evenly matched. 

Toph got to him and Sokka first and punched them both in the shoulder and commented on their military uniforms. Katara had looked so beautiful in her blue dress and boots, but he had quickly quashed that thought. She was his best friend's sister and was dating an earth bender named Haru at the time. Plus Aang, who was Toph’s best friend in her class,  was waiting anxiously for Katara and Haru to break up, much like it had been with Jet. He wasn't sure if it would go Aang's way, but he had come to really like the kid, and besides, who could completely deny the avatar. There was only one every generation, and Aang was funny, capable, talented, and often thoughtful, though immature. 

After the graduation, Aang had insisted that they go have some fun before him and Sokka would be shipped off to their first military posts. They had all met at the beach an hour later to celebrate. Aang and Toph had somehow snuck some old Fire Nation wine to the beach, which Katara and Yue greatly disapproved of, but still enjoyed. Katara and Yue had fun soaking unsuspecting beach bums with their bending, while Toph and Aang had quite the sand bending competition, trying to outdo each other's newest sand sculpture. Sokka and Zuko had both been irritated with Katara's and Yue's water antics, though Zuko had been a bit pleased with how Katara's eyes had scanned his soaked body. Later on in the evenin, Zuko and Azula lit up a massive bonfire and they all sat around and drank from the bottles of wine. When Haru arrived late, Zuko had shoved down the tiny bit of jealousy that reared its head as he watched his arm snake around Katara's waist. He glanced over at Aang and was relieved that he was better than Aang at covering his emotions. Beside, he was an adult now and Katar was still in school, who knew when he would see her again. When his cousin,  Lu Ten, arrived late, he broke up the party and made sure all these silly drunk children got home safely. As he had been driving, Yue had loudly whispered to Katara that his cousin was cute and Katara had agreed. He tried to remember to keep his jealousy in, but 10 seconds later Zuko's heart flipped when Katara agreed with Toph that Zuko and Lu Ten kinda looked alike. He argued with himself that she was just drunk and probably didn't really think that. When they dropped off Sokka and Katara at hom, she gave him a hearty, giggly hug and made him promise to watch out for Sokka while they were out saving the world. He had blushed greatly and stammered out the promise. He and Sokka left the next day. They had gotten lucky enough to stay in the same company for 8 months before Sokka was moved to a different group where he could focus more on his engineering ingenuity. 

Zuko was immediately brought out of his reverie as Dean Bumi walked him into the health office. The health clerk was Yue! She looked up to greet the new hire and did a double take, looking up from the paperwork she had been dutifully filling out. 

“Zuko!?” she said, beaming up at him. 

“Hi Yue! I didn't know you were working here now?” Zuko said, stunned. 

“I didn't know you had been discharged! But I guess it has been a bit over 4 years, huh? I thought if Sokka decided to stay in, you might as well.” 

“We haven't been together in the military for a bit now. He's been stationed in the Caldera, working in a company of engineers for the last several years. We've seen each other off and on, but it's been a little different with me outranking him after our first year or so. We still text every so often. He seems pretty happy.” 

“Well good, it's good to see you, and I'm glad to hear you are still friends,” Yue said with a wistful look in her eye. 

“What about Katara, are you still friends too? What's she up to nowadays?” Zuko tried to sound as conversational and casual as possible. Sokka hadn't kept Zuko up to date on his sister really, only mentioning her occasionally. 

“Of course we're still friends. You haven't seen her yet?” Yue asked with a small blush. 

Bumi interrupted before Zuko had a chance to reply, “No, we haven't yet visited Master Katara's classroom. We will after we visit the earth bending class.” 

Zuko was trying to process that she was a teacher now. That she was here! That he was going to see her shortly! The last time he had seen her and Yue, they had still both been kids, and now they were both here, all grown up and teaching/healing the next generation. He wondered how Sokka had never mentioned this or how he had never seen it on Katara's social media? But then again, Katara would post on social media rarely, and it was usually more about the progress that still needed to be made into the integration of all women, regardless of their ancestry. It had been a fight she had been making since coming to the school. 

Master Pakku was still somewhat set in the old ways and often pushed the female waterbending students more towards the healing arts than anything else. She had been surprisingly determined to change things for a little 12 year old girl. She worked hard enough to be one of the very rare female students Master Pakku allowed into his higher bending classes. Once she was in Katara immediately created a club where she taught every other female waterbender who had been pushed elsewhere all the skills she learned in his class. When Master Pakku had tried to get her in trouble for creating an unsanctioned club she had asked for a sparring match between all Master Pakku’s top male benders and her little club of girls. The girls did their best and took out a few of their male contenders, but it was ultimately Katara who took on the last 5. She took them all out with a fancy move she claimed she had learned from watching Zuko firebend. After that Bumi fully sanctioned her club and Master Pakku started integrating at least a few more girls into his upper bending classes. The misogyny of the whole situation was something he had heard many a rant about during their school lunch hour and he had always been relieved it hadn't been something Azula had to deal with. 

After Zuko and Bumi had left Yue's office all Zuko could think about was seeing Katara. Suddenly, instead of living in his memories as he walked through the nostalgic halls of their old school, he was wondering to himself what she looked like now. Was she still dating Haru or had Aang finally gotten a chance? Would he have a chance? Should he even think about taking a chance? She was still his best friend's sister and now his coworker, maybe there are too many lines to cross anyway. 

Zuko was so in his own head, barely listening to Bumi's tour comments, that he was surprised when his arm was punched. 

“Earth to Zuko!” Toph mocked him. “Are you there, Zuko?” 

Zuko just gawked at Toph and then slowly smiled and sarcastically asked, "Do you greet your students this way too?” 

“Of course not, Sparky! That greeting is only ever for my favorite people. You, Twinkletoes….” Toph looked off thoughtfully, “and Snoozles whenever I might see him next?” She looked at Zuko questioningly. 

“I'm not sure when Sokka will have his next leave.” Zuko said knowingly. Perhaps Sokka had been too focused on his crush on Yue during his last 2 school years to notice that Toph had a massive crush on him. Zuko had sometimes wondered if that was the only reason Toph had insisted on being his friend. 

“Well next time you talk to him, tell him his sister and his best friend deserve a visit.” Toph said.

As he and Bumi walked out, he smiled wondering if he, as Sokka's best friend, was who she was really concerned about. He was positive that Toph would still be flirty with Sokka if he ever came back for a visit. 

Being a firebender, Zuko hadn't really been in the earth, air, or water areas of the school a whole lot during his school days. However, as he walked into one of the waterbending classrooms he suddenly understood why the school had been built on the coast instead of in the neighboring city of Ba Sing Se. He had always appreciated being on the coast when his friends would drag him down to different parts of the beach during the weekends, but he had never realized just how close some of the school buildings were to the water. As they walked into the room he could see the French doors at the back of the class were propped fully open to a gorgeous view of the ocean. He couldn't quite see the beach below the small cliffs, but he could see the staircase that would lead students down to the water. Bumi led him out the doors and 30 yards down the stone path to the staircase. As he looked down to the beach, he could see her, working on her waterbending forms. The students who would arrive next week were surely lucky to be learning from such a capable teacher… a beautiful teacher. He swallowed hard as she turned around and caught sight of him and Bumi. Her face broke out into a smile and her blue eyes made all thoughts of what he might say disappear. 

“Hey Zuko! What are you doing back here?” Katara said as she walked towards him barefoot. 

“He's going to be teaching our next generation of sword masters and helping the firebending teacher on occasion,” Dean Bumi answered for him when he couldn't seem to form any words despite him opening his mouth. 

Finally, he stammered out, “Katara, it's good to see you again.” 

[sams-sass]

Hidden Desires

Hello! I decided to take a break from my series and write this fluffy one-shot full of mutual pining and idiots in love. I hope you enjoy!!

Summary: You and the boys are on a case where hidden desires *wink wink* become known in a very...personal way. 

Warnings: Language, kissing, light smut, implied sex, annoyed Dean, dreamy Sam

*I made up this monster and its lore because I’m cool like that

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

You stifled a yawn in the backseat of the Impala, your head rolling against the window. Sam still had his nose buried in the lore book, ignoring the world around him. Dean drummed softly on the steering wheel, his lips moving around the words of a familiar song. You slid forward on the seat and poked your head between them.

"Anyone else hungry?" You asked.

"You are literally always hungry," Dean answered, looking back at you over his shoulder.

"I know." You said dramatically. "I also just want to get out of this car! It's been like seven hours." You whined.

"I got you snacks," Sam said, looking up from his book for the first time.

"I ate them all." You said, looking down at your lap.

"You ate them all?" Sam said, turning in his seat to check for himself.

"Seven. Hours." You said loudly, clapping after each syllable.

"I am not judging here, but that was like 50 dollars worth of gas station snacks." He looked at you then, a slight smirk coming through his confusion.  

"Yeah, but Sammy. You got my favorite ones. You know I can not be held responsible around my favorite snacks." You said, a mocking tone in your voice.

"Fine!" Dean roared, clearly annoyed. "Can we please just get to where we are going? We are only an hour away." He pleaded.

"If I don't wither away by that point." You shot back. A low audible groan from Dean was the only answer you received.

An hour later, you pulled into the motel. You wrinkled your nose at the neon sign that read "vacancy." Yeah, no shit.

The room was a disgusting puke green with yellow floral wallpaper. You placed your duffel on your bed and looked at the sheets for any stains that were an absolute no. They looked surprisingly clean, and you settled down a little bit. You grabbed your key and made your way next door to knock on the boy's door. Sam opened it. He had stripped out of his flannel and jacket, showing off a loose-fitting black tee underneath. Whenever he lost some layers, it reminded you how large he was. Everything about him was just...bigger. You cleared your throat and walked into their room.

"You think these flowers were always this lovely shade of urine, or do you think that happened over time?" You asked sarcastically, running your finger over a tear in the wallpaper.

"I'm going to tell myself it was designed that way," Dean said, putting a six-pack of beer into the fridge.

After putting your stuff away and allowing your muscles to stretch, you climbed back into the Impala and were off into town. The air was darkening, the moon poking out from its slumber. You rested your chin in your hand, looking out the window and daydreaming of a life that could be. A life long forgotten and left behind.

The bar was like every other bar. Slightly dirty. Slightly smelly. But comfortingly predictable. The three of you found a table and sat together, looking over the menu. Dean got up and ordered you drinks to start, knowing you would order him a cheeseburger. You and Sam sat together. A spark of electricity sat low within your abdomen, being this close to him. You cleared your throat and looked over at Sam.

"Tell me about the case, Sammy." You instructed, leaning your elbows on the table.

"Uh, right. All the vics were found with their hearts ripped out, which would make me think werewolf, but the lunar cycle doesn't match. All I can find is that the vics were all single; no one had any significant other. It's the only thing connecting them at this point." Sam explained, his voice growing with confidence as he spoke.

"Huh. Interesting." You said, nodding your head. "We should talk to friends and family. See if we can find anything more about them being single." You suggested. You smiled at Dean as he handed you your drink.

"That's what I was thinking too." Sam nodded, sipping his beer. The tip of his pink tongue came out to lick away the residue of foam left on his lips.

"Great minds." You said softly, watching him smile.

You ordered your food and ate and talked together. There was a lightness to the boys tonight—a fresh case with questions still hanging in the air always made for a long evening. However, all traces of the case were forgotten when Sam said Christian Bale was the best batman. Dean could not stop the argument that came out of him. You listened briefly, but then your mind wandered as it often did. You ran the pad of your middle finger over the rim of your glass and rested your head in your hand. You thought of a home- a place far from monsters and pain and sorrow. A world where you felt safe and happy. And when you picture this world. You pictured Sam. His brown hair fell into his eyes as he leaned over a book he read for pleasure, not knowing how to kill a monster. His smile shines bright on any day, his soul feeling happy and whole instead of worn and used. You dreamed of a world where you could pull him to you. To finally feel his skin glide over yours. To let yourself fall into your most aching desires.

Dean's beer glass came down hard onto the table, interrupting your thoughts. You jumped slightly and then relaxed when you saw it was only him.

"Sam. You take that shit back right now." Dean said, pointing at Sam with his forefinger.

"What? Absolutely not. Twizzlers are amazing movie candy." Sam stood his ground.

"You are out of your fucking mind," Dean said, and even though neither one would admit it, they loved their banter together.

"It's not my fault you think skittles are the height of luxury." Sam challenged, taking another bite of his salad.

"I-no. Ya know what? I don't have to listen to this nonsense. I am getting another beer." Dean said, standing up and throwing his napkin on his plate. "And no. I will not be getting you one." Dean said before turning on his heel and walking away. Even though he was already leaving, you and Sam still heard the "fucking twizzlers," he mumbled to himself angrily.

"Hey, where were you just now?" Sam asked you, his hands pushing away his plate so he could turn to face you fully.

"Oh ya know...just getting lost in my imagination." You said with a smile. Sam smiled back at you.

"Anything good?" He asked.

"Sometimes I just like to picture a world where monsters don't exist and I can just...live. You know?" You said, twisting a cocktail straw in your fingers.

"Oh yeah...I get that." Sam agreed, his eyes looking down at the table. "And uh...well. What do you picture in this world?" Sam asked, his body leaning towards you. He was so close you could smell the beer on his breath. You looked down at his mouth for the briefest of seconds. You swallowed thickly and licked your lips. A small trickle of apprehension fell down your spine. How much could you really open up?

"Well, I picture easy mornings and long nights. Mornings when I wake to my own bed, in my own room full of things that make me happy. Nights where I relax into a comfortable couch that holds me in all the right places, and I never worry about what's lurking in the shadows. I imagine my own space that I get to claim and call mine. I picture all the comforts of normalcy. All the things that are out of our grasp." You said, your eyes unfocused as you trailed into a simpler world. Sam brought you back by taking your hand in his. You felt all the scars and callouses on his skin, reminding you of your harsh reality.  

"I think of all those things, too, Y/N." He said with a sad smile. Sam looked deeply into your eyes, his thumb making absentminded circles on your hand. He found himself getting lost in you again. He felt the physical ache in his chest from being so close to you. He wanted to hold you close and reassure you that this was his favorite version of you. Real and raw, with a touch of poetry mixed in. Sam desperately wanted to tell you he thought of all those things, but with you. He let those unspoken words hang in the air between you. He could hold on for a little longer.

Sam was looking at you so intensely that it made your heart drop. His hand still held yours, his thumb leaving a pattern. You swallowed and tried to steady your breathing. You couldn't tell him he was there with you in this fantasy world. You let that thought drift freely into the box you created for all things Sam and locked it away. You could hold on for a little longer.

Sam seemed to realize he was still holding your hand and quickly let go. He cleared his throat and broke eye contact. You pulled your hand back to yourself and moved your fingers, still feeling the fleeting touch of his skin on yours. --------------------- Dean knocked on the door three times, you and Sam standing behind him. You pulled on your shirt's collar, hating how your suit fit. The door opened, and a man in his mid-thirties stood before you. He was of average height and build, with wavy blond hair and blue eyes.

"Jake Turner?" Dean asked, his left hand flashing his fake badge.

"Yeah?" He answered, his eyes moving between the three of you.

"We have some questions about your friend. William Gardner." Dean said in his authoritative gravely voice.

"Oh, um, sure...come in," Jake answered, opening the door wider for you three to enter.

"How can I help, agents?" Jake asked, placing his hands into his back pockets. You almost felt bad for the guy. He was clearly nervous and thought you were actually F.B.I.

"Can you tell us anything about Will's behavior in the days leading up to his death? Was he agitated? Angry? Distant?" Sam asked, his head tilting to the side.

"No, he was normal. I saw him on Tuesday at the bar; he was talking about work and planning a trip up north once the seasons changed. I didn't notice anything different about him." He said, looking away and shaking his head. "Well, there is one thing I forgot about it until now." He started, looking back over to the three of you. "He mentioned he thought he saw Lucy," Jake said, his brow furrowing.

"Who's Lucy?" Dean asked.

"College girlfriend. She's the one who got away if you know what I mean. He never recovered from that." Jake said, pressing his lips together in a line.

"Thank you for your time." You said with a smile. ----------------------- You fell into the chair and rolled your neck, pressing your fingers into your sore shoulders. The day had been long. You were talking to friends and family of the victims, hearing their desperate plea for answers. You still needed to get to go to the coroner. You stretched your legs and let out a long sigh.

"Well, that didn't answer any questions," Dean said as he placed the takeout boxes on the table before you.

"No, it did not." You said, sitting up taller to look inside for your food. The case was confusing. The victims spread out among gender, race, age, background, career, sexual orientation...everything. Your overactive mind raced with possibilities and clues to try and make the puzzle pieces fit together. But nothing came.

"Here, Y/N." The sound of your name pulled you from your thoughts. Sam stood in front of you with a drink in his extended hand. As you took it from him, your fingers grazed his, and it sent you drifting back to last night when you couldn't stop the feelings that bubbled inside you.

"Thank you." You said, sending a smile Sam's way.

"Yeah." He answered, looking down at the floor. You watched as he sat in the chair next to you, the smell of him invading your nose. His long fingers undid the buttons of his shirt cuffs. Your body melted as you watched him roll the fabric up to his elbow, his muscular forearms showing.

You shook your head and looked down at your untouched food. Suddenly you were hungry for something else. Clearing your throat and shoveling food into your mouth, you let that thought be locked away among the others. ------------------- Your motel room was dark except for the small lamp on your nightstand. You had tried to sleep, but being unable to solve this case bothered you. A low rumble of thunder perked your ears, a small smile growing on your face. You yanked on a pair of sweatpants and opened the door. The air was thick and heavy with the ascending storm. You could taste humidity in the back of your throat as you sat on the concrete under the roof. The rain started quickly then. One, two, and three drops hit the parking lot's asphalt. Then an uncountable amount of rain rapidly fell from the sky, darkening the pavement and making it look slick. Mist from the water sprayed your skin, leaving goosebumps over you.

A door opened behind you, and you felt him before you saw him.

"Hey, Y/N." Sam's calm voice greeted you.

"Hi, Sam." You answered over your shoulder.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, coming to sit next to you.

"I like thunderstorms." You said.

"Me too." Sam agreed. He watched as you turned your face closer to the mist and steam that bounced off the pavement. Your eyes closed, and the right side of your mouth turned up in a smile. Sam couldn't help but stare. His lips parted, and his breathing became slow and deep. Lightning flashed across the sky, and he watched as the light flickered across your face briefly. His fingers twitched in his lap, his skin begging to touch yours. The rain left tiny droplets across your exposed neck and arms. His tongue ran across his bottom lip, aching for the moisture covering your body.

You opened your eyes and looked over at Sam. He was staring at you, his face difficult to read. The yellow light above the door cast a glow around Sam, making the contours of his face seem deeper and giving his jaw and cheekbones even greater definition than average. You swallowed thickly and felt the slow burn through your core. Water droplets coated his forearms and neck, pooling in the notch in his throat. The front pieces of his hair were damp, dipping into his eyes from the weight.

"What else do you like, Sam?" You asked, leaning back on one arm. He paused, looking away for a moment.

"Books." He said finally.

"Well, we all know that." You said with a smile. He smiled, too, tilting his head down.

"I like honey in my tea." He said after some thought.

"Me too." You practically whispered.

"What else do you like, Y/N?" His voice was thick, and you felt the pull in your chest from how his tongue rolled your name around his mouth.

"I like the way I feel when I am with you." You said in honesty. You watched as Sam's face fell, his eyes going wide.

Suddenly a loud slap of thunder echoed across the sky, making you and Sam both jump. A soft chuckle left your lips, and you nervously tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Sam pushed himself into a crouching position and held out his hand for you. He helped you up, and you found yourselves face to face once more.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He whispered into the space between your bodies.

"Sweet dreams, Sam." You whispered back, letting yourself have one last look at him before retiring to your motel room. --------------------- Loud banging woke you up, your face rolling into the pillow.

"Y/N!" You heard Dean's deep voice call. You stumbled out of bed, not caring you were just in short shorts and a tank top and ripped the door open.

"What?" You mumbled.

"Get dressed. We got a new vic." Dean said, shoving a cup of coffee into your hand.

"Mmm." You hummed in agreement and closed the door with your foot.

Sam had to ball his hands into fists to stop himself from staring at your body. Your shorts and tank top didn't leave much to the imagination, and Sam suddenly felt restricted in his clothes. He bit his lip to keep himself from smirking at your disheveled state. Hair a mess, eyes half open, and lips puffy from sleep. He so badly wanted to grab your face to his and finally let his desires take control. But he wouldn't. He once again pushed past his feelings and let logic have its way. -------------------- You pulled up to the local college and double-checked the map, ensuring you were at the right house—sorority girls. You could hear the cheering from Dean's inner monologue. The house was huge and old. Massive white pillars and brick complimented the outside. Windows were abundant. Flowers sat nicely on the porch. You knocked this time, thinking the girls might be more apt to speak to you.

The door opened, and a girl stood in front of you. She was what most people thought when they heard "Sorority." She was beautiful. Long blond hair fell to her waist. Her eyes were a clear sky blue lined perfectly with eyeliner and mascara. She wore pink athletic wear, matching leggings, and a crop top that showed her slim waist and toned muscles.

"Good morning." You smiled. You saw her look at all three of you, her eyes lingering on the boys for a little longer than you would like.

"Can I help you?" She asked, her brow furrowed in question.

"We have some questions about Allison Lutz." You said gently, showing the girl your fake badge.

"Oh, yeah. Ally. Of course. Most of us are still here." She said, and you made your way inside. The girls were all together in the main living space. They all looked upset, some more than others.

"We just want to know a little more about Ally. Anything that might help. Was she acting differently? Was she scared, anxious, or distant? Anything." You asked, looking around the room at each girl. One girl stood up; she was also beautiful and looked similar to the girl who opened the door.

"I was her roommate. I could probably answer the most questions." She said, walking over to you.  

"Ok, what's your name?" You asked, taking out your notebook.

"Molly." She answered, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

"Hi, Molly. Let's talk." You said and pulled her to the side for more privacy. Molly told you about Allison's schedule and her friends outside the sorority. She told you that Allison was scared she was failing chem but that she was an excellent student and worked hard.

"Ok, great, thank you." You nodded as you wrote down some of what she said. You decided to throw a hail mary pass. Something was bothering you about this case.

"Molly, did Allison say anything about a past relationship or seeing someone from her past again?" You asked her, hoping she could finally give some answer. Molly looked away, thinking for a moment.

"No, all she talked about was Ben," Molly said after a beat.

"Ben?" You asked.

"Yeah, Ally is...was...totally in love with him. Anytime she wasn't talking about him, she was daydreaming about him." Molly said, and you wrote it down in your notebook.

"Ok, thank you, Molly. Could I get your number in case something comes up?" You asked, and she nodded, reciting her cell to you.

You walked back over to the boys, who were talking to some of the girls. You could tell they were getting about as far as you had gotten. Sam and Dean exchanged a look before glancing back at you. You knew that look, the "we aren't going to find anything here look." Thanking the girls for their time and information, you returned to the Impala.

------------------- She sat huddled with the rest of them. Her rouse fooled even the infamous Winchesters. She watched as you talked to Molly, and a smirk settled over her lips. There was nothing Molly could tell you, and she knew it. She expected hunters would pick up on her trail. What she didn't expect to see...was how he looked at you. Sam Winchester. The once-longed-for Boy King, who had his fair share of demons in his past, looked at you with such longing even she felt it in her blood. She watched as he bit his lip when you started speaking, eyes lingering on your frame. He licked his lips when you brushed past him, chest filling with a heavy breath. An idea formed in her head quickly. She would rid herself of at least two hunters tonight. --------------------- You sat on your bed, your legs crossed under you. Papers and folders full of crime scene photos and lab reports covered your bed. Half-open lore books were spread around as you angrily flipped through the pages. What was it? Why were these people being targeted? You grabbed the last book, flipping back to the section about shapeshifters. An exaggerated sigh left your mouth, but then, you saw it.

Epithymitós, also known as Erastis. Literal Translation: Desire Eater Origin: Greece A subspecies of the Shapeshifter. They stalk the lovesick—those who long for another, whether the feeling is reciprocated or not. They take the form of their victim's love interest, making them feel like they can finally be together. Then, when the victim is at their most vulnerable and their desire is at its highest, they strike. They rip out and consume the hearts of the lovesick. Feasting on the high their victims felt just as they died.

"Oh, my god." You said as you bolted out of your motel room. You banged your fist loudly against the boy's door, Dean answered.

"I figured it out." You said, pushing past him to walk into the motel room.

"The case?" He asked, standing beside you and looking at the book over your shoulder.

"It's an Epithymitós. Literal translation-" You started, pointing to the text.

"Desire eater." Dean finished for you, his face turning quickly to look at you. You stepped away so you could look him in the eye, a smile growing on your face. Suddenly it dawned on you. Your eyebrows stitched together as you looked around the room.

"Where is Sam?" You asked, turning back to Dean.

"I thought he was with you?" Dean said, his voice growing with confusion.

"No..." You trailed off, shaking your head.

"Oh no." Dean's face fell as realization hit him.

You cleared all the takeout boxes and beer bottles off the table in one swipe of your arm. Dean placed a large map of the surrounding area on the table, leaning forward onto his hands. You stood beside him, looking at any site where Sam could be.

"My guess is the monster is trying to get all of us." You assessed.

"I agree," Dean answered, his finger sliding over the map.

"Ok, according to the lore, if needed, they will take the victim to an isolated location." You read directly from the book.

"Ok, and we already said it probably wants us too...so it would pick somewhere we could figure out..." Dean trailed off, leaning closer to the map.

"There!" You pointed to a scattering of factories on the outskirts of town.

"I saw those when we drove in. Not many are in use anymore."

"Let's go." You said, already charging for the door.

Dean pulled out of the parking lot quickly. You and Dean argued about the fastest way to get there the entire drive until Dean practically slid into the gravel. The two of you collected what you needed from the trunk and looked for any clue as to where Sam was being held. The space was massive. About 30, maybe more, abandoned buildings sat before you. You split up, Dean taking one side of the buildings and you taking the other.

Your mind raced as you looked for him—Sam's hidden desire. That's what had gotten you all into this mess, to begin with. Who could it be? You tried to shove down the anger and pain that prickled your heart. Maybe it was Jess. He honestly didn't get over her. How could he? What had happened was awful. You licked your lips and pressed on, putting all feelings of jealousy and confusion into the box for Sam.

After about a half hour of searching, you heard the low sounds of grunts coming from the back of one of the buildings. You quietly paced toward the sound, your gun sturdy in your hands. Rounding a corner, you almost let out a gasp.

Sam sat tied to a chair, his hair falling into his face as he desperately pulled against the ropes. His muscles bulged against the thin fabric of his t-shirt, sweat dripping off his pointed nose. Suddenly, as if someone slapped you, you remembered you needed to help him.

"Oh my god, Sam!" You whisper yelled, running over to him. His head shot up, eyes looking at you with confusion.

"Y/N?" His voice was perplexed.

"Yes, Sam. I'm here." You assured him, placing your gun in the waist of your jeans so you could undo the ropes.

"No, get away from me," Sam said, his shoulders backing away from you.

"What?" You asked, almost hurt. "Sam. It's me." He opened his mouth, but you cut him off. "What were you thinking? Are you out of your fucking mind? We are on a case where we don't know what we are dealing with, and you are just gonna go fuck off with some rando?" You asked, your hands twisting the knots.

"No, it's not like that," Sam said, still unsure.

"Oh, I would love to hear this bullshit explanation!" You started, you couldn't get the ropes, and it was really starting to piss you off.

"Y/N-" Sam tried to interrupt you.

"But lucky for you, I figured it out, and as soon as I get a silver slug in this bitch-we out. I mean, really, Sam. What could possibly-" You stopped dead in your tracks. Your eyes glued to...yourself. You walked through a doorway. You watched as your hips swung and your hands played with your hair. You were wearing nothing but a tank top and underwear.

Your breath stopped, and you glanced back at Sam, who looked like he was about to explode from embarrassment.

"Oh." It was all you could get out.

"Y/N...I..." Sam babbled, his eyes moving quickly between you and...other you. Fake you sauntered over and stopped right in front of you. A devilish grin sat on her lips.

"Don't tell me you didn't know..." She said—her voice like yours but breathy and low.

"I..." You started, your voice was shakey and nervous sounding.

"I..." Fake you said in a mocking tone. Her laughter filled the dark room.

"I'm you, ya know?" She began. She ran her fingers over Sam's shoulders. You watched Sam pull away from her touch, his nose wrinkling in disgust.  

"I know what you think, what you feel. I can see your memories. They are all here for the taking. I know how desperately you want him. I hear your pathetic sobs in the shower. I feel the longing ache in your chest. I can give it to him. I can give him everything you are too scared to take." You felt the embarrassment and anger growing inside you. An unstoppable cocktail of emotion swirling inside you.

"Shut up." You said through gritted teeth. You couldn't look at Sam. You couldn't let yourself see his face. All you could do was wait for Dean and try and reach for your gun. Your hands slowly made their way up to your jeans, your eyes never leaving the monster.

"What are you going to do about-hey!" Fake you snapped. She quickly reached around you and yanked your gun out of your waistband. A small laugh left her mouth. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and shook her head in a tisk tisk tisk motion.

"Oh man, that would have sucked for me!" She threw the gun across the room. It landed with a metallic clang that made both you and Sam flinch.

"Now...let's have some fun, shall we!" She said, biting her bottom lip.

"I like being you...but...since we already saw his desire..." She trailed off, closing her eyes. Suddenly, Sam stood before you. He wore his suit, the black one that made your knees weak. The buttons on his shirt were undone down to his sternum, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He wore no undershirt giving you just a glimpse at his expansive chest. You heard a sharp pull of Sam's (the real one) breath into his lungs. Fake Sam took a step towards you, his fingertips tracing your arm.

"Don't you touch her!" Real Sam growled. His body yanked against the ropes so harshly that the chair scratched the floor.

"Do you know how bad he wants this?" Fake Sam asked you, his eyes scanning yours.

"He wishes for you in the night. He craves your touch. For just one moment of pure impulsivity, not thinking or caring about the consequences." Fake Sam's voice was low and heavy in his chest. You recoiled from his touch, closing your eyes and breathing. You could see why so many people had fallen for this. It would be so easy to give in. You didn't know what was real anymore. You wanted to believe so badly. Was this just a trick? Your mind was swimming with unanswered questions and confusion. You still couldn't make yourself look at the real Sam. You didn't know what you would do if this all were a lie. Did Sam really want you as badly as you wanted him?

A shot rang through the room. Your body curled into itself from the surprise. Fake Sam dropped to the ground before you, a hole in his chest right where his heart would be. You whipped your head around to see Dean, his gun still raised.

"Thank fuck, that's over. Am I right?" Dean said, taking out his pocket knife to cut Sam free from the ropes. Neither you nor Sam made a sound. Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulders, looking him over for injuries. Sam assured him he was fine. Dean then turned to you, his hands taking your face between them.

"You good, kid?" He asked. You could feel the silver ring on his finger against your skin, and you knew his touch had two purposes.

"Yeah, I'm good, Dean." You smiled at him.

"Good!" Dean said. He looked over at "Sam" on the ground. "Well, this should be an awkward drive back." Dean assessed, pressing his lips into a line.

He wasn't lying. Although the drive was only about five minutes, it felt like days. The clock never seemed to move, and you swore everyone could hear your pounding heart. You twisted your fingers in your lap, your eyes staring at the back of Sam's head. You needed to know. Your overactive mind couldn't handle leaving everything that happened in the past. You knew that you desired him—more than anything. Could he feel the same? Could it really be that simple?

Dean put the car in park, and you basically bolted from the car. You closed your door and lay against the wood. You took large breaths into your lungs. Licking your lips, you ran your fingers through your hair and began to pace.

A knock on your door made your world stop. You slowly opened the door, your eyes finding his hazel ones.

"I can't just leave this." He said quickly as if he didn't know what else to say.

"I can't either. Come in." You said, taking a step back.

"Sam...I-"

"Everything was true." Sam blurted out. "Well, at least from my end. Everything said was true. I can't stop thinking about you. You are the only thing I ever want. I wake up every day wondering how I can make you smile. I go to sleep every night counting the ways you stopped my heart. I am constantly fighting against myself, telling myself that it's too risky to care for you the way I do. It's too risky to give into my desires because if anything ever happened to you-." Sam stopped for a moment. His hands raked through his hair. He looked flushed. He grabbed your shoulders then, looking you directly in the eye. "Everything in me wants everything in you. The good. The bad. The bliss. The heartache. I can't keep pushing these feelings down. You are the light for me, Y/N. All I could ever need rests in you." Sam gently tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

You just stared at him, your mouth slightly agape. Your breathing became ragged, and you didn't know how your heart wasn't beating through your shirt; it was racing so fast. His hands slid up your shoulders to hold your face in his hands. His thumb stroked your cheek lovingly.

"Now would be a great time for you to say something." He whispered, a small smile on his perfect lips. You let out a breath and smiled, licking your lips.

"Sam, there are no words to describe how you make me feel. Everything said was true for me too. I do ache for you. I long for you. I cry for you almost every night. You invade every thought that I have. Waking or dreaming, it is only you that I see. I want everything with you, too, Sam. I can't deny it any longer. You're the one for me." You said, your hands wrapping around his waist to hold him close.

"We can have everything," Sam said. His face was coming closer to yours. "Except you don't have to cry for me." He whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

"Yes, I do." You said before Sam gently brushed his lips against yours, his mouth hesitant initially. You pushed up onto your tippy toes to deepen the kiss. His hands trailed down your body, caressing the skin under your shirt. You twisted your hands into his hair, feeling the strands between your fingers. It didn't take long for the kiss to become hungry and raw. Your mouth opened to his exploring tongue. Your breath mingled, the pool of desire in your core leaking throughout your body.

"Why did we wait so long?" Sam mumbled before lifting you off the ground easily, his body pinning yours against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt, pulling and yanking until he took it off. Fingers traced the contours of his body. You committed every dip to memory. Every ridge. Every scar. Another letter in your story. His lips left yours, only to attach to your neck and chest. His nose moved the fabric of your flannel out of the way, so his mouth could taste more of you.

"I want you so bad." You whispered into his ear.

"Fuck, Y/N," Sam said before ripping your top from your body. He fell to his knees before you, placing you back onto your feet. His mouth was kissing and sucking your waist above your jeans. You pulled on his hair, letting him know you wanted more. His long fingers quickly undid the button on your pants, and before you knew what was happening, his tongue was closing around your covered core. You moaned at the heat from his mouth. You felt the pulse grow between your legs.

Sam gathered you into him again, his strong arms carrying you to the bed. He placed you under him, caging you in with his forearms. His hands lovingly pushed the hair away from your forehead.

"Promise me we will handle things together from now on." He said, his voice soft.

"I promise. It's you and me." You assured him, looking deeply into his hypnotizing eyes.  

"You and me." He nodded in agreement.

You smiled before pulling his perfect mouth back onto yours. ----------------------- To the untrained eye, things looked the same-Dean driving. Sam hunched over a book in the passenger seat. And you, surrounded by snacks and books in the backseat. However, things could not be more different. You and Sam were an unstoppable force. Your love for one another changed your lives. You were his. Completely. He was yours. Totally. When he looked at you, you never felt more in control and vulnerable at the same time. He was there to catch you when your mind took you into the highest of unknowns. His strong yet gentle hands pulled you up from the pits of your darkest days. You showed him a forgiveness and understanding that he had never known. He was your always. You were his forever.

You leaned forward, placing your chin on the seat between the boys.

"Hey, Dean..." You started.

"Y/N...I swear to god..." Dean warned, his finger coming up and eyes closing in premature annoyance.

"I'm hungry." You said flatly.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Dean screamed. The car filled with the three of you yelling over one another. 

The waning sunlight fell over the Impala as Dean pulled into a diner.

Tagging: @thinkinghardhardlythinking @watermelonlipstick @lacilou  @kingofthetwats @bellabean5591 @coldgothapricotalmond @briskywalker @gia-25 @reconsidering-my-life-choices @paryl @cutesymrsinuyashagamer @katrynec @arctusluna @samfreakingwinchester @idreamofplaid @zeppette @katherine-ann1 @maliburenee @nancymcl @babymxxse​

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Hello! i love your writing style sm, my favorite is the Maybe one were they are sharing a bed 🤍 can you please write about Sammy's pov or a second night were Dean tries again? I keep rereading that one, definitely my favorite

My dude...

MY DUDE... you have come to the right place because this is WHAT I DO!! Thank you so much for this ask, I'm so glad you like my style...hope you enjoy this one!

Same hotel, different night...turns out they both do want it...

Sam's Side (of the bed)

Sam lays beside his brother in the still of the dark night. It’s 3 am and Dean is asleep. They’re sharing a bed again, and it’s driving Sam crazy. They’re facing each other, their hands barely touching between them, and Sam wants more. But he doesn’t touch. He can’t.

Damn it…

His brother is so fucking close to him, all he has to do is - but he knows he wouldn’t want to stop. He’s always wanted to touch, but he knows he absolutely cannot. 

Don’t do it…

He allows his fingers to brush against Dean’s softly. He slowly - oh so painstakingly slowly - reaches up to caress Dean’s cheek. His hair isn’t nearly as long as his own, but there’s just enough of it for Sam to tuck a bit behind Dean’s ear. He touches his cheek so softly and gently, the touch is almost non-existent. He’s so afraid of being caught that he puts his other hand over his mouth. He touches until Dean twitches in his sleep and Sam startles. He has to roll over to stop, to break the contact. It’s too much.

Fuck…

“Why do you have to be so irresistible,” he whispers quietly into the cold room, as he pulls the blanket up tighter around him.

I knew it…I shouldn’t have…

Dean suddenly mirrors Sam’s roll and throws his arm around him, his bare chest pressing up against Sam’s bare back, their sleep pants the only thing keeping them from full contact as Dean nestles into Sam’s shape. He pulls his younger brother close, placing a gentle, but simple kiss on his ear.

This can’t be real… 

Sam absolutely freezes. He stops breathing. Beside them in the other bed, John snores loudly. 

“Shut up Sam,” whispers Dean groggily, but he’s not angry. He finds Sam’s hand and intertwines their fingers, giving them a barely-there squeeze. “We’ll be okay,” he whispers. “I promise you.”

We’ll be okay?

Sam’s scared, but says nothing and lets himself sink into his brother’s embrace.

“Besides, you’re the one that’s irresis….” Dean slurs the last word as his voice fades into silence, his breaths slowing as he slips back into his slumber.

Did that just happen?

Sam's fear melts into nothingness. Yeah, It’ll be worth the wait.

[bengiyo]

Thai QL Favorites Tag Game

Tagged by @telomeke who has been a delight for years.

Credit also: this game was created by @thatgirl4815 as Thai BL Favorites Tag Game.

Thai BL only adds some interesting wrinkles for me.

Favorite Thai QL: I think it is and always will be I Told Sunset About You. I've been in queer cinema for a long time, and I really appreciate how ITSAY reaches beyond the confines of BL itself and becomes a huge marker for queer cinema. Also, this show healed the hole that Love of Siam (2007) left behind. I spent over ten years holding in that angst, assuring myself and others that our pain would be worth it. Even after six years of BL, starting with Love Sick the series, I didn't feel like I could put that down until the final moments of ITSAY.

Favorite Pairing: In Thailand? I think it's Khaotung and First because of how special their friendship feels and the work that they've done recently together. Long-term, it's probably OffGun because of how stable they are. They established a blueprint for how to be a professional pair and keep the fans at an effective distance.

Most underrated actor: Honestly? It's Boy Nattapon. We give all the GMMTV boys their due, and obviously Billkin and PP get their flowers. Still, Boy holds the entirety of Ghost Host, Ghost House together. I don't think Todd Techit could have done that without Boy's presence.

Favorite Character: How dare you narrow this down to one character? For now I'm going with Uncle Man in 21 Days Theory. He is visibly queer man who spends the show trying to support his nephew, and reads that boy for filth when he comes at him sideways. He also helps his sister take care of her son, and then focuses on his own relationship with their dad. It's hard to be a gay uncle sometimes, and I think he captures that perfectly in an incredibly sweet show.

Favorite Side Character: It's Saleng from Moonlight Chicken. Mark is always doing incredible work in supporting roles at GMMTV, and the loyalty and care he inspires in Jim and Li Ming really holds that show together. Saleng is that cousin who is kind of a fuck up that you're just so relieved finally gets it together. I am always captivated by the way Saleng moves and how many folks rely on him as a way to say when they need to say. Since people sometimes say MLC isn't QL, I'll also say... Cheep and Dej from My Ride. It's always gay uncles fo rme.

Favorite scene in a QL: The opening scene in Moonlight Chicken is really good. However, I think it is the breakfast scene with the uncles in episode 8 of My Ride. Focusing on the way long-term love requires a relationship to shift and that it requires maintenance was really special for me at the time and I regularly think about that scene.

Favorite line in a QL: "You never understand me. I'm hurt." -Oh-aew, I Told Sunset About You

Most Anticipated QL (& why): Only Friends. I just think Jojo deserves it, and I think it'll be fun for all of us.

Healthiest relationship in a QL: I think it's still Dean and Pharm from Until We Meet Again. They're very good at each other, and all of their drama was external.

Most toxic relationship in a QL: VegasPete is the obvious answer, but I think I want to highlight Farm and Bright from Together With Me.

Guilty pleasure series: Love in the Air. Not a fan of MAME, but this one snuck past and got me.

Most underrated series: You're My Sky. I feel like the kind of muted response this show got signaled something about the way tastes for prestige BL wasn't a thing, and maybe contributed to the death of Nadao Bangkok. I think this show is really excellent, and it bugs me that it has such a low rating from so many of us.

I think most folks have done this, so I won't tag. However, feel free to tag back if you want to do it!

[somewhere-south-of-neutral]

So, I'll admit that I'm not the biggest fan of Community (I like it, but I don't love it), nor have I watched very much of it (some random full episodes and clip compilations they put on YouTube), and of the core cast Britta might be my least favorite specifically because I really dislike the "straw feminist/liberal rebel without a cause" character archetype, but I have to admit that she might be one of the best written and least offensive versions of that archetype because the writers clearly understand why the kind of person she is parodying is annoying.

See, the tropes Britta embodies are almost always used to belittle or minimize real activism and feminism. Characters who fit them almost always either make actual real good points that are implied by the narrative to be foolish, naive, or harmful, or they are making actual strawman arguments but are painted as accurately representing the entire movement thy parody.

Britta, however, is neither of these. What she is instead is a somewhat heightened but generally true to form depiction of a White Feminist™ who has never once examined her own biases or heard the word "intersectionality". When she is the butt of the joke, the point is almost always not the idea of activism, but the fact that she herself is so obviously bad at it.

A great example of this is this classic scene:

The butt of the joke here is not the concept of opposing animal cruelty, but that Britta finds it more offensive than racism.

Her approach to Abed's neurodivergence, and disability in general, is similar. Community has often been lauded for it's autistic representation, and I think it's worth noting that one of the ways that the representation is good is the way other characters, especially Britta, have a tendency to infantilize and patronize Abed and are almost always shown to be in the wrong and/or working under false premises. Again, in cases like these, the butt of the joke isn't disability activism, but the fact that Britta's conception of disability activism doesn't include disabled people.

Her approach to queerness is also like this, with the clearest example being her depiction of the Dean in her imagined season 7 in the finale. Her decision to make him a trans woman and the speech about "not [being] a joke anymore" the clarification that this is a "real thing" and the claim of "representing the trans community" is both a specific betrayal of every aspect of the Dean's complex relationship with gender, sexuality, and the highlighting of such (he has repeatedly refused to explicitly label his gender and sexuality because he doesn't like to be put in a box and there is at least one episode entirely about him not wanting to be the token sanitized queer) and a general demonstration of her inability to respect or admit the reality and validity of any queer identity other than binary trans person, gay person, and maybe bisexual. And, again, the implication of the scene is not "trans funny" or "nonconforming genders funny" but "lets all point and laugh at the idiot who is so small minded and dedicated to the idea of using the 'right' language while just remaking the gender binary that despite claiming to be an ally her attempt to demonstrate her allyship only leads to her explicitly misgendering and fundamentally demonstrating a disrespect for someone she has known for years because she refuses to acknowledge the infinite complexity of human gender and sexuality".

And the thing about Britta is that, unlike most straw feminist characters, there are actual people like her, and many of them are on tumblr right now sending anon hate to gay people for using what they refer to as "the q-slur".

And yes, that's right, I did just write a multi-paragraph character analysis for a character I don't really care about from a show I don't really watch purely as a preamble to probably the coldest take anyone has ever had on this website.

[buttertheflame]

A List of Things To Come

*a long post*

I was on hiatus for about 5 years, but I think it's worth the risk of coming back. These are some thoughts and hot takes I've had since then up to now. My professional life is busy, but when I have the time, I'll share. Anyone interested?

Here's a preview, categorized by fandom:

A Song of Ice and Fire:

For asoiaf canon, I’ll speculate on what Jon and Val could have been, and what they could have had together, if he had not kicked the bucket. I’ll also contrast it with Jon's dreams of a life with her, and why he put the torch to it. :( Because of the root of her dislike of Mel and Shireen, I figure she will not be pleased with un-Jon.

Game of Thrones:

In GoT canon, Jon did not love Dany as much as the script suggested he would. In fact, they both failed to take responsibility for the other person. I haven't seen anyone make a statement like this before. (The PTSD is real.) But fic writers did pick up on this and tried to fix it in canon compliant stories, with a lot of success.

Supernatural:

In Supernatural s12-s14, Mary should have found her sons to be way more weird, specifically with each other. But given what we see of her in s6, her characterization is consistent. She would have, and did, ignore the red flags for an idea of family.

I’ll share approving thoughts on Sam and Dean's relationship in the final seasons, disapproving thoughts on the final season of Supernatural, and how I speculated it would either go Gencest or Destiel. We know what happened. No one walked away happy and I think the fandom was all the better for it.

Destiel is not canon. It only became a one-sided love confession. (I know there's a lot of speculation on what happened b/w the studio, the writer's room and the post-production team. Idc. Not gonna touch it.) Thoughts on how I think SPN could have made Destiel go 100% canon involve tweaking the execution and balancing out the themes of Sam and Eileen's love story, the big bad plot, and Dean and Cas's 'love' story.

Outlander:

Outlander (show-only) thoughts, foremost on Roger Mackenzie. He has vexed me from the first time he appeared on screen. I love him dearly, but he vexes me, for how he consistently affects the plot and how that defines his role among the main cast. Later on, I'll run through my favorite moments, episodes and narrative arcs.

Miscellaneous:

I'll share a list of favorite ship-centric fics I've collected over many, many, many years. (Gotta be over 10 years' worth). Along with blurbs that explain my recommendation in a non-spoilery way. Fandoms include: Harry Potter, LOTR, Supernatural, The Walking Dead, ASOIAF, Game of Thrones, Star Wars (Sequel Trilogy), The Flash, Shadowhunters [look away book fans <3], Hannibal (show-only).

I'll also post drafts of fics I never got right and never finished. Mostly GoT-canon divergent Jon/Dany fics.

Most importantly, some very dear friends have encouraged me to vent and hype up my Jonerys fic series "We Could Live Together" as I write it. It's GoT-canon divergent, but I alter some of what occurred before 6x09. Then the story re-enters book territory and moves toward ADOS conclusions. I'd also love to break down and discuss songs from the playlists when it strikes me.

This is the summary of Part 1, "A Long Way Home" (published):

After the Battle for Winterfell, Jon was captured by Bolton men then later found by Daenerys not far from Dragonstone. Their meeting blossoms into the most honest love--until Jon suddenly leaves for Winterfell, only to return to Dragonstone months later with more terrifying tales of dead men and Winter storms. When Daenerys chooses to send her armies north to fight the dead, all is certain but the matter of their bond. After the pain they'd endured, can they come together again? Or will separation be too powerful to overcome? *or* A romantic tale of choice and second chances.

This is the summary of Part 2, "Awake For Ever In Sweet Unrest" (in-progress and unpublished):

Winter has come and further fractured the realm. Yet Jon and Daenerys's betrothal and alliance is well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms. The secret that threatened to break them has made their love stronger, casting a fragrance of hope that draws to the last Targaryens all who seek refuge from political turmoil. Cersei Lannister has fled King's Landing in favor of establishing a bank in Lannisport, to guard against her deposition by the Iron Bank. Euron Greyjoy has set up a naval blockade at Oldtown, yet manages to beguile the Hightowers. And Walder Frey's sundown years threaten to pull his House into a civil war. From the Wall, Jon and Daenerys begin to wage war on the Others. Yet the age of wonder and terror, of gods and heroes, leads them and their enemies in the least expected ways. It begs the question: does all happen the way it must? *or* A romantic telling of the new War for the Dawn.

This is what I've been doing the past few years: working, (dating lol), re-reading the books and joining theory discussions on other sites. What touched my heart was readers asking for me to continue the fic series. Even as I considered it, I was conflicted. Since the show and book canon are so enmeshed, I think we were really vulnerable to being whipped and scored by D&D. But we all found ways to lick our wounds. I'm grateful we were able to become closer and stronger. I'm glad to be a part of it.

So that's my preview. If you've read this far, thank you. <3

There's more to come.

[kurtcobainsgreencardigan]

pauuuuuuuuu i’ve got a question. i understand that you enjoy supernatural, so could you explain to me the whole destial thing? i’m like, fairly close to caving and committing myself to 15 fucking seasons of them and dean from gilmore girls (who i fucking hate(the character not the actor)) so like, i wanna know what i’m getting myself into, cause the only stuff i know is the meme that’s always going around, and that everyone and their mother is obsessed with dean winchester

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD @weeping-in-the-willows WE'VE DONE IT!!!

okay andi here we go its gonna be LONG (thats what she said?)

Destiel is a ship between two main characters, Dean Winchester, who is a monster hunter, and Castiel, who is an angel of the lord. Although Cas does not appear until season 4(?), when he does it's clear there's something going on between the two men (boys?), and, whether or not it's intentional, there's a LOT of gay subtext. I think they suffer a lot but it's worth it for the very few moments they get to enjoy, and you value them so much more which makes it so enjoyable.

As for Sam Winchester (Dean Forester), he's a young man with daddy issues who never met his mom and decided that instead of having that horrible monster hunter life he wanted to go to Stanford and study law and have a great academically successful life (Sam and Rory Gilmore would be best friends). He's a sweet, kind, smart, driven, ambitious (and hot) 22(!) year-old who would never voluntarily hurt a fly. Obviously life had other plans for him but what happens to him is up to you. Now, I will say that I'm not the biggest mid-series seasons Sam fan, but I think early Sam was one of my first fictional crushes and I still think of him fondly. His favorite singer is secretly Celine Dion.

Dean Winchester also has daddy issues but as in yes-dad-I'll-do-everything-you-say-so-that-you-love me-while-his-dad-still-loves-sam-more daddy issues (which I know all too well not not the time nor place), whereas Sam was more like "No dad, this is YOUR dream". Dean is like that jackass who thinks he's this huge deal and he think he's really hot and smart and always right, which is infuriating because it's true. But really imagine a giant teddy bear with a flannel. that's Dean Winchester. It's a bit funny but for him the most important thing ever is his family and he will fight with all his might to save it, blood or found, he will die for them over and over again with no regrets, except that one where his daug we don't talk about that. He's also incredibly funny, he likes Frozen and dad rock and pie.

Cas is an angel who very often forgets that. Funny thing about this guy is that they first portray him as like this scary creature, he's the most powerful thing they've ever faced and he's so intimidating but once they get to know him he's really just like if an alien saw a hot guy and went "that one". He talks to cats sometimes.

About the show itself, the firsts seasons they think they're like this moody, serious show, but as it goes on it quickly turns into a comedy. They meet Scooby-Doo once. There's a musical. Doctor Sexy wears cowboy boots. Dracula. Ghostfacers!

Now, I wouldn't go as far as "recommending" it to someone, but if i could start clean and had the choice to watch it again for the first time, I'd tell them put me back in it, and I would cry and curse and suffer, but I'd go through it again.

And that is all, unless Willow wants to add something?

Also I would avoid the last episode, I would not watch it if I were you, I wish I never saw it and I pretend it doesn't exist, it is not canon if I say it is not and I refuse to recognize it as such. Thank you.

[sweet-lost-husbands]

Caged - Chapter 1 - Medical whump - Whumper turned Caretaker - Omegaverse - Supernatural

Alright, we made it! So this is already posted on ao3 and its still continuing, I'm just writing each chap as I go so any ideas would be greatly appreciated!

{ Synopsis: Dean is sick and not like any omega the world has ever come across but Cas is willing to try and save his life. Only one problem: Dean is feisty and refuses to be helped, each treatment is torture. He fights and runs every chance he gets, hurting himself in the process. (:

Basically, Dean being sick and injured and Cas caring for him. Not consensually tho. Essentially just 'Forced Care'.} 

warnings: See masterlist for each chap warnings

Chap specific warnings: Forceful kidnapping, Non-consensual administration of drugs. Restraints. Needles.

Everything hurt.

Agony was all he knew.

It had been for a while now.

It felt as though his very insides were trying to twist their way through his flesh. Violent ripping sensations that spread to his entire body.

Often, he wondered if plunging a knife in there would dappen it somehow… If anything in this world could make it ease just for a moment.

He had long since got used to covering it up, even now, Dean faked a smile and continued to sip his coffee. It was one of his all-time favorite brands, a little more expensive than he could afford but worth it, nonetheless.

“I’m not lonely,” he said quietly, sitting at their dining table. Usually, he wouldn’t worry about Sam catching onto his pain, but today something was different.

“Yeah, I know.” Sam placed a plate of bacon in front of Dean and then took a seat himself. “It’s just that we haven’t seen Dad in weeks because of business, and I have late shifts in the hospital. None of us are ever really home except you. It’s not like you have a mate or… an alpha, despite your intense heats. The last one almost killed you.”

“No, it didn’t.” Dean shot back.

Sam gave him one of his many bitch faces. “Yes! It did. I was out working, and you told nobody how bad it was. I found you on the floor, writhing like you needed to get out of your skin yet nearly unconscious from the pain, with a fever that way surpassed the normal temp. Your lucky my friend Cas who is a head doctor at an omega stabilization facility had come home with me for drinks that night or you would have been toast.”

Dean brought a piece up to his mouth, ignoring what Sam had just said and savoring the smell before taking a bite. A stray drizzle of grease rushed down from the corner of his mouth. He quickly swallowed the bacon with another mouthful of coffee.

He turned his gaze back to his brother. Something wasn’t right.

“Sam? I thought you told me that you have morning shifts all week?”

“Uh, I do.”

Dean completely abandoned his food, narrowing his eyes on him. He swore he could see tears brimming in Sam’s eyes. Why was he sad?

The silence nudged Sam to continue.

“I took a day off. I need to be here for this.” The last part was barely a whisper. He waved it off. “Just eat your food Dean.”

Dean wasn’t one to let a plate of bacon get cold, so he started back at it. Each piece warmed his insides and made him feel cozy. God, he could live like this forever… he had everything he ever wanted. Sam, Baby, bacon, an actually decent apartment instead of a crappy hotel and hella good coffee—the essentials.

Across from him, Sam kept picking at his rabbit food, playing with it more than eating. It wasn’t like him, but it wasn’t unusual either. The thing that was unexpected though, were the sad smiles that kept flicking on his face every time he looked at Dean.

What the hell was going on? Did he accidentally scratch baby or something?

They finished up and Sam began to put away the plates. “I found something the other day. You know, I think you’d want to see this, Dean.”

“Sure.”

Sam returned, fiddling with his pocket before fishing out a picture and tossing it in Dean’s direction. He made sure he captured the smile that crossed Dean’s face.

He picked it up so carefully in his hands, running his eyes over every pixel with a sad fondness. “Me, you and Mum, at the beach... Your just a baby here.”

“Yeah..." Sam chuckled. "I was pretty small. I don't remember that day but Mom looks so happy in that one.”

Dean nodded in agreement, staring at the image for a while longer. He needed pictures like these… He remembered her vividly but sometimes he couldn’t figure out how certain features looked, her nose, her eyes, her smile, they got distorted in his head from time to time. It was a sweet image really, Mary holding little Sammy in her arms while Dean played in the waves just behind her. She held a smile that was so impossibly bright, it made Dean crumble as he looked. In fact, he was so focused on the image that he almost missed Sam checking his phone and his brother's face saddening further.

“Talk to me.” He comforted.

Before anything managed to leave Sam’s lips, he stood up from his seat and wandered over to Dean, pulling him in for a tight embrace.

They didn’t usually hug.

Sam’s voice was patchy as he spoke. “I’m so sorry, I hope that someday you’ll thank us.”

Dean shoved him off and levelled with him. His tone dropping lower and harsher than intended. “Cut the crap Sam, what’s going on?”

Just at that moment, the doorbell rang, and Sam jumped away, hiding his face from Dean. The room fell sickly silent, and yet it was so loud that it seemed to echo and bounce off the walls, only interrupted by the fleet of footsteps making their way in.

The first thing Dean noticed were the two bulky men dressed in white scrubs and how their faces resembled empathy but also a unique sternness. The next thing that drew his attention was a guy in a suit and trench coat, rather than the usual hospital attire. His eyebrows were creased at just the right angle to scream nothing but unyielding concern.

A foreign part of Dean found his presence slightly comforting but the rest cowered.

He knew what this meant. Where they came from.

He stood, his fists clenched at his sides and a burning feeling of rage bubbled up. He tried to hide it as best he could, but clearly not enough as the orderlies exchanged a glance.

The guy in the trench coat extended his hand. “My name is Dr Castiel Novak but you can call me Cas, it’s nice to formally meet you Dean.”

No, no no no nonono.

“Yeah, well forgive me if I don’t feel the same way.”

He could already see this playing out in his head, and he was NOT going to go. He wouldn’t allow himself to become some vegetable rotting in the Omega stabilization facility for all eternity.

This was exactly what Dad was trying to protect him from. Why he wasn’t allowed to be an omega in the first place.

He knew what happened to omegas in these facilities, how their autonomy was stolen away like a thief in the night, followed by gradual dehumanising treatments designed to get you to yield or break… but perhaps by the time you’d yield, you were already broken. Some part of you forever gone and unrecoverable. That was not the type of life he wanted.

He took a step back.

The bitch had the audacity to take a step closer, cocking his head to the side, acknowledging Dean’s distress, making it almost irresistible not to find a sense of trust in him, even if just from his eyes alone.

His voice was gravely but gentle, “I understand that you've been struggling lately, and we are worried about your well-being and physical health. The higher ups in Omega Care have reviewed your case and there is a warrant out for your stabilization. For your own safety, it has been declared that it would be best for you to receive care in a special omega trained facility.”

Dean took a few more steps backwards until his back pressed up against the wall. Fuck<.i>. He was cornered. His body betrayed him as it began to shake.

He could do it; he couldn’t go there.

His life would be ruined.

Before he had a chance to control his mouth, words shot out. “No! you can’t do that!”

“I’m afraid we can.” He neared again; it was suffocating. Suddenly the whole world was closing in on him. His hands waved around his chest in the universal language of not getting enough air.

Castiel took another step, but Dean screamed to stay away, flinging his arms about trying to control his breathing on his own. He was growing more desperate by the moment as everything sunk in.

“Sam?” He looked to his brother for help but was met with nothing. He was standing on the other side of the room, useless, tears flowing out of his eyes.

“I’m sorry Dean, but you need help.” He said in between wiping the water away. “I’ve seen how you refuse to be submissive even though it’s in your nature, how you refuse to get help during your heats, how dad forced you onto high dose suppressants at an early age and so now your body is all out of whack form being wrongly treated, this way you live, its unsustainable. It will kill you.”

“That- I can explain that, please don’t do this.” He could hear the blood pumping in his ears, he would have hit Sam had there not been orderlies in the room who would use it as another thing to lock him away for—to fix.

Dr. Novak held his hands out in front of him, the palms of his hands facing up, an open gesture to show that he had no ulterior motive. “I know this feels unfair, Dean, but we genuinely believe this is the best course of action for you. With proper care and treatment, you can find the stability you deserve.”

“How dare you.” He hissed towards Sam. He wanted to smash something—to just get away.

“Calm down.” One of the orderlies spoke with authority laced in his voice, trying to maintain a safe environment.

Dr. Novak held eye contact with him, his posture calm and collected like he wasn’t repelled by his anguish. “It’s understandable that you’re feeling betrayal at this time. but we’re here to help you, not punish you. Deep breaths okay, just like me.” He started to imitate the breaths as an example, hoping Dean would follow.

“Go fuck yourself.” Dean cried, pressing his back into the wall, wishing he would just sink into it.

But the Doctor continued, “We get that this is hard to accept but we have your best interests at heart. The facility can provide the specialized care and support you need.”

He had to get out of here. Now.

Dean's eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape route. His heart thundered in his chest, and a sense of urgency welled up inside him. He couldn’t go there, he needed freedom. He’d do anything for freedom.

The two orderlies, strong and composed, stood nearby, their eyes trained on Dean, prepared for any sudden movements.

Dr. Novak’s expression softened, but his resolve remained firm.

“Dean, just come with us, okay? Let us help you.”

“I will never let you help me!”

His head spun, nothing seemed reasonable anymore except for escape. It was his only option.

When their dad got sloppy drunk and left them for weeks on end to fend for themselves after their mother’s death, Dean had stayed because he had to. Sam still needed him. But now, nothing was keeping him here.

He lunged forward, but the orderlies reacted swiftly, grabbing hold of his arms to prevent him. He used every ounce of energy he had to struggle against their grip, his eyes wild with desperation.

“Easy, easy.” One of them grunted.

“Let me go! Pleaseee.”

The orderlies overpowered him, restraining him with gentle but firm strength and eventually his resistance wavered.

He wasn’t strong enough…. Well, that’s what they thought.

“We don’t want to hurt you, Dean, but we can’t allow you to endanger yourself. It’s for your own safety.

“You don't understand... nobody does. I just want to continue living my life.”

Sam spoke up from the back. “Don’t fight them Dean, it makes this harder on all of us.”

How dare he! How fucking dare he!

Dean knew what he was going to do when the time presented itself. So, he took one last glance at their house —at baby —at Sam, focused on the taste of bacon and coffee that still lingered on his tongue, so no matter how long he would be there for, he would remember all the things he loved.

Dr. Novak approached him with empathy, his voice filled with understanding. He took one of his hands and squeezed it, letting him know that he was not alone.

“It's not forever, just a step towards finding the freedom you're searching for.”

There was his opportunity. In a heartbeat, he shifted his weight and flung his elbow straight at Dr. Novak’s face. A small cry escaped the doctor's lips as he staggered backward. Dean turned, dodging the orderlies quick attempt to control him. They were trained —but he was trained better. He’d been taught to fight since the day he was born. His father had made sure of that.

He quickly gained leverage and punched one in the face then kicked the other in the stomach to release his arm. He didn’t need to think before he pelted for the door. Strong forceful hands found their way around his waist and jolted him away. Sam was holding him and goddamnit that kid refused to let go.

“Sam!” Dean screamed breathlessly. “If you don’t fricken let go, I’m gonna —”

His pants and struggles outweighed his words. He was freakishly aware of the orderlies gathering themselves and approaching. He had to do something now, but Sam wouldn’t give.

“Please!” A breath, nothing was happening, “Sam, if you let them take me, I can never forgive this.”

The sting of something sharp being stabbed into his shoulder made him hiss and throw his weight in a last attempt to get away.

He was too late.

“Sammy, please.” He cried, aware of how his body started to unwillingly weaken. “Don’t—” He felt himself go limp in his brothers’ arms; a stray tear rolled down his cheek. “Don’t let them take me.”

Dr. Novak's remorseful face despite the blood that flowed down from his nose, was the last thing Deean saw before his eyes forced themselves shut.

~

When he edged on consciousness once more, he started to hear voices around him and feel the sensations around his body. Something was pressing against his waist then the length of his legs, a second later it was pulled away. A persistent beeping faded in and then some voices.

“Good.”

Oh god, he recognised that voice—Castiel. That son of a bitch. He wanted to wrap his hands around that doctor and squeeze. Hard.

Dean tuned into the conversation. Perhaps it could offer some information he could use as leverage.

“Run the measurements up to the manufacturing sector, tell them I don’t care about costs, I just need the equipment mentioned in my previous email. Tell them that it must be the perfect quality and I needed it yesterday!”

“Yes, of course, Cas. I have also put the rest of Mr Winchesters team on standby, they will come within moments notice if you press the button.”

“Thanks Gabe.”

Dean could hear a set of footsteps fade then stop. The screeching of a heavy door as it was opened and then shut once more, not failing to miss the dreadful sound of it locking. His body betrayed him, he could feel as panic set in. He was completely trapped and without escape.

He hated that the beeping from the machine beside him immediately increased, which drew Castiel’s attention.

“Dean?” He could tell by the way Castiel had said it, that it was filled with worry and a hint of dread. That only made Dean so much more furious. He didn’t want to be pitied, he didn’t want to be looked down upon, he just wanted to go home.

A what-was-supposed-to-be comforting hand came to rest on his shoulder. White hot anger boiled up in Dean so fast that he shot his eyes opened and lunged. Firm restraints restricted his actions and to his dismay, no matter how much he struggled they didn’t give.

No no no no!

Cas took a step back, calm as he fucking aways was, that prick. “Dean! Dean, stop!”

Some weird feeling hinted on the surface, something about his commanding voice made the words linger on the tip of his head. But it was only slight, barely even noticeable and Dean was able to power through it and keep struggling.

Needed freedom…At any cost… … can’t be here… not a weak omega made to be bred.

Cas was quick to fasten all the restraints so now he could barely move and then throw himself on top, trying to halt Dean’s desperate movements with his weight.

Again, the strange feeling pulsed, too small to truly understand it but enough for him to recognise that something was different. Perhaps Cas’s body was kind of warm against his.

“Dean.” Castiel said firmly.

His head shifted back. No no no no no.

He struggled.

He wouldn’t give in; his father would be furious. He was a solider, he wasn’t allowed to be weak—to submit.

Cas spoke with urgency, boarding on the edge of begging. “You must stop. We are trying to lean away from giving you any drugs, but we will if we have to. You understand we cannot let you hurt yourself.”

Dean could barely make out the words behind the thick layer of hatred he had for him—this place.

He almost wanted to cry at the sound of a small crowd rushing in. From the little that he could see whilst struggling, they all looked like headless chickens. Some—most, found their way over and began to help hold him down. He hated it.

Must get away must get away mustgetaway

“Cas!” One man yelled in a heavy English accent. “What do you need?”

“Stop Dean, please.” But the man underneath him, never wavered his defence. “Goddamnit. Alright Ketch give him the sedative.”

There was uncertainty in the other man’s voice. “But Sir…”

Cas cut in, “I fucking know, but we are out of options here.” He paused as Ketch began to administer the sedative. “And you.” He pointed to a red-haired woman currently holding Dean's forearm down. “Tell Gabe to hurry the fuck up, I don’t think he'll survive another dose.”

Was that worry in his voice? Did he generally care? Fuck him!

They all eased off as Dean became limp once more.

Originally Omega Care wanted them to stay at a facility but once it was seen that Dean was much worse than previously thought, they allowed Cas to treat him at his own house as long as it was properly accommodated to Dean’s needs.

The house itself was spacious, the walls were an off-cream colour except one which was a faded green. Most of the floor was empty bar a couple of medical cabinets, draws, chairs and the bed Dean was in currently. The rest was going to be filled up with new medical machines which were tailor made to Dean’s measurements.

There was a widow overlooking the estate with a nice garden and pool, that maybe one day Dean could have the luxury of going in and a meeting room off to the side.

There was a one big door on one wall which was the exit and a stream of smaller doors on another. The first and last were bathrooms while every other was a bedroom for Dean’s new team of professionals. Cas’s room was in the middle and the biggest since he owned the place. It would be a nice place to stabilize the omega boy. Nicer than some facility.

A taller member of the team which held a badge with the name ‘Benny’ on it, spoke up from the crowd. “Poor mate doesn’t realise how badly he’s hurt and that by struggling he’s just making it worse.”

The all seemed to mumble in agreement.

Cas moved away and then turned to address all of them. “Before you all came here, you got the briefing on the patient.” Their eyes wondered over to Dean unconscious, looking far to pale and vulnerable and then back to him.

“But now I shall give you the more accurate and updated status of the patient.” They all seemed to know what that meant, that he was worse than previously thought.

Regardless, Cas continued: “Dean Winchester, aged 32, male, submissive omega. His father John Winchester was arrested earlier today for neglecting and abusing Dean in his early childhood and then throughout his life. It is estimated that he gave Dean a heavy dose of suppressants from an early age, which completely wrecked his system. Then possibly a ton of other meds in order to hide the damage that he had caused. There's also suspected brainwash, where Dean doesn’t think of himself as an omega and is severely sacred and hating towards alphas. A lot of stuff remains unknown about his case and history, so there could be many complications.”

Their faces had all saddened.

“It was the hospital who reported him to Omega Care after an almost fatal heat. The overall damage that has occurred throughout his life makes him not able to: react to Alpha commands, drop, be submissive—and in most instances, it even causes him distress and fear… Either way, as a result of this, the internal and irreversible damage to his body along with the fact that he hasn’t received any neutralizing alpha pheromones to counteract his overactive omega ones, his hormone levels are declining rapidly. It suspected that with a dialogises like this, he won’t last for more than two weeks and it’s our job to change that.”

Cas took a breath, hardly believing what he was going to say next.

“Usually the omega hormone 'Omedicstrone,' sits between 72-100 in a normal omega, anything below 50 his considered dangerous, well Dean’s is at 15. Its by far the worse case ever recorded. If we can’t get Dean to fall into submission and soon, his body will start failing him. Omegas are designed to be submissive—some more than others and by not, it can cause extensive harm.”

“Poor sod.” One guy muttered.

“Now this won’t be easy—hell he doesn’t even respond to anything that usual omegas respond to, but we are here to try to help him. Every single one of you is an Alpha so that’s a start, we’re hoping that will begin to revert his mind back to his natural state and give us hopefully a small chance for his defences to weaken. Now what we are going to have to do to him, is not going to be pretty and there’s a high chance he’ll even hate us for it, so if anyone wants to leave then the door is behind you.”

Nobody left.

And so, it was sorted, these were the people who were going to try to save Dean Winchester.

[scottishcat1988]

Knight in shining armor - Dean Winchester x Reader

Part 19

You let a small content sigh as you sat on the bench on the garden, watching the sun slowly fall down. It was a little chilly but you just felt so warm inside you that it didn’t bother you. Be it happiness, be it motherhood – or pregnancy anyway, you just did not think about things like that. Watching the sunset was one of your favorite things, the warm color of the sun casting over the greens and and all of the colors of the flowers just brought back so many memories that you could not help but smile.

A small giggle left your lips as you felt a small kick inside your swollen belly. You instinctively put a hand on top of it, rubbing softly as if to sooth it down. You still refered to the baby as it when you were alone but in front of Dean you always used a ’he’. Of course the gender of the baby was left to be found in a few months from now but you just loved teasing Dean about it. From the very first moments of your pregnancy he had started referring to the kid as a ’she’. It was true that you would love a daughter that would have his eyes and your hair and certainly his smile but just to get to him you said it would be a boy. And Dean being Dean just kept insisting that it was going to be a girl.

And your father wanted just what you did. He of course wished for a grandson not only so that he knew that the kingdom would have a king after Dean but just because he would love a second version of Dean running around the castle again. Yes, as much as hard that was to believe – considering what Dean had done to him while he was a kid – it made you smile at him fondly because it was true.

Pregnancy had lots of perks. The most important of them being that you did not have to wear a corset. All of your dresses were loose fitting and most of them belonged to your mother. The ones she’d wear when she was pregnant in you. Another one was that if they treated you like a princess before (no pun intended) you now were a queen – the time would come for that soon as well for real. They would do anything you wanted, Dean above all. Sometimes he didn’t even let the maids take care of you. He took it all upon himself. And it was just one of the most adorable sights- other than when you told him you were pregnant.

He did pass out, yes, but that was certainly the cutest thing ever. Other than when you’d both stay up till late as he rubbed his hand over your swollen belly or you would wake up to him talking to your baby. Sometimes you’d catch him telling stories but most of the time it was your story. How you met and how you came to be here. Tears welled up in your eyes just like with Dean’s. You occasionally noticed his glistening with tears as he recounted the part where you were willing to sacrifice yourself for him.

‘She told him that if he wanted to kill me then she should as well kill her.’ a chuckle had left his lips as he rubbed his hand over your belly. He spoke in a hushed voice tone, thinking that you were still sleeping.

'I swear’ he swallowed the lump in his throat 'That moment I fell in love with her all over again’ he had said.

You had felt your heart swell inside your chest at the love in his voice. Not only for you but for your baby as well. That’s how it was every time.

'We will love you baby. Don’t you ever doubt about it. We will protect you and even if I can’t I know she will. I know that she has it in her. I may be the knight but she’s hella of a fighter herself as well’ he had added with a proud chuckle.

At those moments you knew he was going to be an amazing father. And every day of your life he proved you he was just as an amazing husband. You would have never asked for anyone else and it all made you realize how worth all that fighting was for.

'My knight in shining armor’ you’d often think. An amazing father and husband.

It actually made you feel over the moon to be pregnant with his child. It felt as if you had both a piece of heaven and Dean within you. Even when he had to go to some battle you would stay till late at night, looking at the stars on the balcony and rubbing over your swollen belly. You’d think about him, almost feeling as if he was there with you. And even if he wasn’t, you knew he was thinking about you.

'He’s away fighting to keep you and me safe. Because he loves us. And he will beat all the bad men- all the monsters that want to harm you. Because he loves us’ you had whispered to your baby.

And every time you were most happy to see him com back in one piece. His sword fell on his feet as he walked inside your shared bedroom. Tears welled up in both of yours eyes as you finally saw each other after so long. He had a scruff and he looked slightly dirty as well as tired as hell. But he always had the hugest smile on his lips that could lighten up an entire room.

'You’ve gotten bigger’ he’d said with a chuckle as he took you in.

'And you look awful’ you’d said back with a chuckle.

Silence would follow and none of you said anything more as you both almost ran to each other and he enveloped you in his arms. Hugging like there was no tomorrow. After those first few battles and when your birth date approached your father refused to even let Dean talk about battles. He wanted him to be close to you at any cost.

But aside from that, and aside from the worries of whether Dean was safe or not, being pregnant with his child felt amazing. If you excluded the morning sickness, the weight of your ever growing baby inside your belly, the pain on your feet and back and of course your hormones that sometimes made you want to shout at Dean and others jump on himand- yeah.

“Easy there little guy” you giggled as you felt another kick. You stroked your belly over your thin dress.

“You mean little girl” another voice was heard behind you and you had to keep yourself from rolling your eyes. You did smile though.

“I mean just what I said. Little guy” you said smugly at him as he shook his head with a chuckle, coming to sit next to you.

“Are we gonna start again with that?”

“Yes, yes we are. Until you get into that freaking stubborn head of yours that it’s going to be a boy” you poked his chest and he laughed at you.

“Don’t laugh at me!” you shrieked.

“I’m sorry it’s just-” he chuckled shaking his head “I know one thing for sure what that kid is going to be”

“What?”

“Stubborn” he said and you rolled your eyes “Stubbor as hell!” he exclaimed and you hit his shoulder.

“Whatever you say” you shook your head.

Dean moved closer to you wrapping an arm around your waist as you rested your head on his shoulder, taking hold of his other hand.

“Well…” you whispered “I know for a fact that it is going to be loved”

A smile broke on Dean’s lips as he looked down at you “Very much” he whispered, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

“Can I ask you one thing though?” a hint of playfulness was in his voice “Why do you want so much a boy? Other than to get on my nerves”

You let a chuckle as he did “Well-” you started “-truth?”

“Yes” he whispered.

“It’s silly though” you mumbled, looking down at your hands.

“Come on!” he chuckled at you “Don’t be all shy with me now. Need I remind you you are pregnant and I am the father of the child?”

You frowned looking at him “What does that have to do with me being shy with you?”

“Well we both know what the process to getting you pregnant was” he grinned cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows.

Your mouth fell agape “Dean!” you exclaimed, hitting his chest and hiding your red face at the crook of his neck.

He chuckled deeply as he wrapped both his arms around you, hugging you close to him and kissing the top of your head.

“Will you tell me though?” he raised an eyebrow, smiling softly.

“I just…” you trailed off, fidgeting with your hands on top big belly.

“You just?” he urged softly.

You let a small sigh “I just get scared that you won’t love just as much as before. That’s all” you said in a barely audible voice, so low that he could barely make what you said and you actually hoped he didn’t understand anything.

But he did.

“What?” he breathed out. He seemed as if he was ready to laugh but when he saw how serious you were he didn’t.

He lifted your chin with his fingers so that you would be looking him in the eyes “Oh sweetheart” he whispered, cupping your face and pressing his lips hard to yours. You felt your breath got knocked out of your lungs and you felt a tingling sensation as you craved more of him. It’s been over seven months since you’d had the chance to do something and the hormones were only making the situation worse.

Dean however pulled away from you before the situation would get too heated at least for him to be unable to control. He only wanted to show you how much you mattered to him and as soon as the baby was born he certainly intended on proving it every night, all night.

“You know that no matter what you will always be the only woman in my life, right?” he asked softly, rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

“Yes I will love her if she’s really a girl but the love I have for you, princess-” a small smirk spread on his lips when he saw your smile “-cannot be compared to anything else. Don’t doubt it” he rested his forehead against yours.

“You know this is actually a chick-flick moment right?” a smirk spread on your lips.

He groaned, rolling his eyes “Who’s ruining the moment now?”

“You know, last time you said this we ended up somewhere else” you giggled.

He chuckled “Oh trust me I clearly remember.” his hand moved over your swollen belly as he rubbed it softly.

You giggles died off as you let a small sigh, resting your head on the crook of his neck.

“And I would never forget” he added in a whisper.

“Neither would I” you added as well.

“…And neither would your father” he added after a while and you both burst into a feat of laughter.

“Oh that I am sure about!” you nodded your head, clearly remembering the first morning after when your father caught you.

“Hey, how about we go inside now?” he asked in a low voice.

“Winchester do I need to remind you I am still pregnant?” you raised an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes “You have such a dirty mind”

“I blame it on you” you retorted sassily and he shook his head.

“I am a terrible influence”

“Yep. But I will take care of our son so you won’t ruin him too”

“You mean our daughter?” he retorted.

You groaned “You are not going to give up, are you?”

“Nope!” came oh so happily from him.

“Stubborn ass” you grumbled and he looked at you with wide eyes.

“Hey! Don’t talk like that in front of the kid!” he exclaimed.

“What kid?” you frowned.

He placed a hand on top of your belly leaning down to whisper “Don’t listen to your mommy sweetheart, those are not nice words to say”

“Really?” you raised an eyebrow “She- I mean he- He is not even born yet! As if it can even understand you Dean!” you groaned loudly.

“Don’t talk about my daughter like that!” he pouted, fake-glaring up at you.

You rolled your eyes “Here we go again. I really don’t want to imagine how you will react when he’s born”

“You mean she” he corrected.

An idea came to your mind “Hey, but you know if it is actually a girl that one day when she grows up she will bring a guy over” it certainly got his attention as his back straightened and he looked at you fully in the eyes.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why?” you repeated snickering “You really are asking why?” you laughed “You’re seriosuly joking me.”

“No” he said actually serious.

“Dean I hate it to break it to you but she won’t forever be your girl- if it is a girl!” you raised a finger.

“Why?” he asked like a stubborn child.

“Why? Well Dean sorry to tell you but that is the way life goes. There will be one day she will leave you, she won’t beforever your baby girl. She will find a guy she loves, the one she’ll probably spent the rest of her life with, away from you, not needing you anymore, and the man she will give herself to-” you didn’t have time to continue as he immediately cut you off.

Panic was in his eyes “No! Let me stop you right there! Stop! Not another word! She is my baby girl! My little girl!” he said stubbornly almost pouting.

You could hardly keep your laughter “Oh Dean, now I really long for it to be a girl!”

“No! Stop! Don’t say it again!” he said ever so stubbornly

“… What if it is a boy?” he added.

~Two months later~

“Try to hold on sweetheart, please. The maids are on their way” Dean’s voice whispered as soothingly as possible as he held your hand tightly in his.

“I’m trying. I’m trying” you could not say more as a screamed ripped through your throat.

You panted as you squeezed Dean’s hand tightly. He was by your side the second your water broke and Dean’s leave you even as he shouted at the guards to go inform the maids and your parents. You had been expecting the day coming any time now so almost everybody was on edge along with you. Certainly the entire castle.

A whimper left your lips as the pain stopped for a mere second “D-Dean” you whispered, holding a scream inside your throat as it turned into just a groan.

“I’m scared” you whispered, looking him in the eyes.

Your were filled with tears and you could see his watering up as well. He leaned in and kissed your sweaty forehead “I know princess. I know.” he whispered, voice hoarse and laced with unshed tears.

“But you can do this” he said more firmly, giving your hand a squeeze as he looked at you fully in the eyes “I know you can. You are a fighter. You saved me remember? And you’ve put up with me for all this time without losing it. I know you can do this. You will give birth and everything is going to be fine, I know it.” he rubbed his thumb over your hand.

A whimper left your lips as you looked at him, your tears rolling down “I love you Dean, you know that right?”

He smiled nodding his head “I know sweetheart. I love you too” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

Silence had fallen for a little while between you but it did not last long as an acute pain shot though you and a scream left your lips. It all started all over again and you literally felt out of breath at the pain. You tried to keep your breathing labored as your mother had told you but it was hard with a groan of pain ripping through every second.

Soon the maids had come, bringing with them all the necessary equipment, bowls with hot and cold water, towels, clothes and other things you could not see in your pain.

“My lord you must come out” one of them said to Dean as she tried to push him away from you.

His eyes widened “Hells no! I am staying!” he growled as you gave his hand a squeeze.

“My lord I am sorry but you must leave we cannot have you here while she-”

“I said no!” he barked “I am not leaving her!”

“Dean” you said breathlessly in a low whisper, looking at him with tears in your eyes. His own heartache was visible on his face as he looked at you.

“My lord” the maid insisted as some of them came rushing to wards you and others joined her in trying to get Dean out of the room.

“No, no!” he insisted.

“Dean” it was your fathers voice that made Dean look at him “Come on. Please” he put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean looked at him with a pleading look but your father shook his head “Dean” he did not say anything more but you felt a little later lips being pressed on your cheek and Dean let go of your hand.

He walked away slowly with your father, clearly not wanting to leave your side, as your mother came by you whispering soft words of comfort.

Dean turned one last time to look at you. You looked at him as well but he smiled, trying to stay strong, and nodded his head at you. You smiled weakly at him.

'I love you’ he mouthed and you did the same. Within second he was out of your eye-sight as the door closed behind them.

And just as the door closed a piercing scream left your throat “Dean!” you screamed.

Dean closed his eyes in pain and clenched his fists, a tear rolling down his cheeks.

Your father placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him “It will be fine. She’s a fighter. I know she can do this. Don’t worry”

Dean nodded his head, mostly trying to make himself believe it.

For a long while the only thing that could be heard was your screams and groans. The maids rushing and trying to reassure you and help you could be heard sometimes but it was your cries that boke Dean entirely. That and the fact thathe did not know what was going on. He wanted more than anything to be there inside and by your side. He literally felt like breaking something or mostly tearing his hair- he probably already had from how much he was pulling at them.

But then-

Then silence followed and Dean’s eyes widened. Not your screams, not your mother’s words, not the maids talking to you or each other, no rushing or moving. Only…

…a piercing cry of a baby.

A shaky breath left Dean’s lips as his eyes widened. He instantly turned to look at your father that had a wide smile on his lips, a small laugh leaving his lips.

The second realization downed on his, he found himself pushing the doors and barging in as he strode to your side. He stopped in the middle of the way as he saw a wide smile on your lips as one of the maids handed you the baby.

“My lord not yet-” one of the maids started but was stopped as your father shook his head at her and she let Dean walk closer to you.

He took tentative steps towards you and the baby wrapped in a white towel along with silk sheets that had the royal sign on them. The second you heard the footstep you looked up at him, the widest smile on your lips as you saw him. You looked and were tired as hell, your hair sticking to your face, but you still had the biggest and brightest smile Dean had ever seen on you.

Dean smiled as well as he came closer and closer by the second, tears had welled up in his eyes. It felt like forever but he finally came by your side. He dared look over at the baby in your hands and the tears finally rolled down.

“Seems like you lost the bet Winchester” you whispered in a hoarse voice.

He placed a hand over the baby’s head and looked at you in the eyes “… It’s a boy?”

You grinned, nodding at him.

~Eight years later~

Loud laughter could be heard even through the hallways as you walked downed them, making your way just to the area that under no circumstances would you expect to hear laughter coming from. Childlike laughter.

“Got ya!” a voice exclaimed in victory.

You chuckled as you walked close to the training area that was empty, save for the two of them.

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against a pillar. You chuckled to yourself as you watched them… fight. If you could ever call it that.

You watched as Dean chuckled, effectively dodging a blow from your son’s wooden sword. But you mostly saw how proud he was when little Sam managed to dodge a move Dean made. Wood clashed with wood and panting could be heard along with some groans and laughter of course.

“Nice go, Sammy” he said with a big grin.

“It’s Sam, dad” your son retorted grumpily and both you and Dean laughed.

“Just like your uncle.” Dean panted a little with a sake of his head.

A groan soon left his lips as Sam’s sword hit his leg which made Sam grin smugly.

Dean groaned more but a smile was on his face “Well good to know that at least you have a better blow than him.” you could hear the pride in his voice and you could not keep our smile.

“I took after my father” Sam shrugged which made the grin on Dean’s face get bigger.

“Sure you did fella” Dean chuckled, unexpectedly made a move towards Sam who was caught off guard for a second but managed to still himself before falling “But still takes some practice buddy” Dean chuckled as he back away, Sam advancing as their wooden swords clashed.

A hiss left Sam’s lips as he got hit but it was not that that made him hurt. You realized how he already had a small wound on his knee, some blood staining his clothes, and you immediately felt alerted. Your back straightened and you stiffened, worry edging inside you. They both stopped for a second as Sam looked down at the wound. The smile immediately fell from Dean’s lips as he dropped the sword and took the steps closer to your son.

“Hey Sammy you ok-” he was soon cut off as within a second as Sam jumped on his and pointed his sword on Dean’s face.

A wide grin was on his face, all the hurt he previously showed was gone “What happened to rule number one dad? Never drop your sword”

“You little-” Dean did not complete his sentence but only shook his head laughing out loudly.

“You got me there for a second. Fine, this round’s on you” Dean huffed and the grin on Sam’s face got as wide as possible.

“Yes!” he exclaimed and as soon as his eyes landed on you he waved excited.

“Look mom! I took over dad!” he exclaimed, jumping off Dean and running to your side, hugging you by your waist.

You chuckled, looking down at him and raffling his hair “You sure did, huh?” you asked and he nodded his head happily.

“Yeah after he tricked me into thinking he was hurt” Dean said with a groan as he approached you.

You shrugged “Called tactic” you defended Sam and Dean rolled his eyes at you.

“But I did well, right?” Sam asked Dean hopefully and he chuckled, raffling his hair.

“Yes kiddo you did.”

“Can we practice more later? I really want to get better” Sam asked him again and Dean nodded his head.

“Well with this rate in a while you will be one of the best knights out there” Dean said proudly and Sam smiled widely.

“Even as good as you?” he asked hopefully and grinning widely Dean nodded his head.

“Hells yeah! You will be the best knight ever known!”

“And that way I will be able to protect you and mom?” he asked and a warm smile spread on your lips.

“Of course sweetheart” you whispered and he turned to look up at you “Just as long as you are fighting for the ones you love”

He grinned widely nodding his head and hugging you once again “Maybe I should go to grandpa and tell him I beat dad?”

“Of course! He will be thrilled! Go go!” you encouraged him and with a nod you saw him ran down the hallway.

“…Not a word” Dean told you with a serious face and you let a giggle.

“I wasn’t going to” you said innocently.

“Yeah sure” he rolled his eyes.

You snickered “But he really got you there for a second huh? Moments like this it feels as if I am looking at your younger version” you chuckled.

“Maybe” he shrugged “But other than that he will be an amazing knight and I know it. He wants to do it to protect and not because he likes it”

“He already is a knight” you whispered as Dean wrapped his arms around you and you rested your forehead on his shoulder “A young knight in shining armor”

end

[soullessjack]

ALSO i would also like to call some attention to this specific answer just bc I love it a lot (and anon if u don’t want it posted I can delete!) :

“The thing that bothers me more than baby!Jack is that fandom treats him as an argument in its debates. He's like a child of divorce between deangirls, casgirls and samgirls. Fandom discusses how Dean, Sam and Cas are influenced by Jack, but seem to have no intrest in discussing his problems, intrests and feelings. People don't write meta about Jack for the sake of analysing him, they write it to push their propaganda of their favorite character (for example, deangirls write Jack analysis to prove that Dean wasn't so awful to Jack as fandom thinks he was, casgirls write it to prove how Dean and sometimes Sam didn't deserve to be Jack's parent after what they've done to him, samgirls write it to prove that Sam was one true parent to Jack because of all parallel between their characters). He's viewed as the prize in The-Best-Parent-of-TFW Olympics and, honestly, I'm insulted on his behalf, because he's an interesting character on his own.”

like it is soooo incredibly juicy and wonderful and shockingly it is Not a perspective I had considered beforehand (also, as a child of divorce it’s very funny on a personal level) but I am absolutely delighted to have gotten it 🫶

in a way I feel like this another example of the fandom’s tendency to use jack as a prop for developing the other characters or making them look better (cough cough dean) (cough hack can yall stop parentifying the man who has canon trauma from being forced into a parental role lmao) . the fandom’s widespread disregard for the actual trauma jack is going through and his perspective very often gets brushed aside for s13’s “widower arc” and s14’s “divorce arc” and Michael!Dean and Leader!Sam, etc etc. that’s not to say those concepts aren’t real or valuable or worth discussing on their own, but the way they are discussed means there’s little room for any other topics (ie jack) (granted the show itself is really hit-or-miss when comes to centering jack, but it’s been HOM with plenty of other things that ppl have still made better/more interesting than it was(.

like, while deans having his widower arc, jack is an entirely new person trying to figure himself out and process the traumatic circumstances he was born into; grappling with the loss and grief of his mother and chosen father and of the conflicting nature of his own existence. he’s weird and angsty and sarcastic and dry-humored and downright belligerent before deciding to put on a customer service voice and present as an acceptable polite fellow , because he’s painfully aware that he’s registered as a Threat and makes every effort possible to not seem like one bc he fundamentally doesn’t want to be one!

Or while dean and cas are in their divorce arc jack is soulless, just killed the woman he sees as a mother figure and friend, just did the One Thing he had spent his entire life fearing and trying to avoid, and is deeply psychotic and hallucinating his dead evil father who calls him the Winchesters’ “pet monster.” Etc etc you get the idea I’m derailing I think. Kinda rambling at this point but it’s ok.

Also I’m not trying to shame sam/dean/casgirls or ppl who stick to the niches of their favorite character, LOOK AT MY BLOG LMAO, but I’m saying that if you only acknowledge a character to make your favorite look a better way and just discard everything else, it’s just kind of an irritating thing for people who actually like that character on their own — especially in the sense that you guys are the “mainstream” of the fandom and so the way you portray jack/insert-character then becomes more popular and thus takes up the majority of the content revolving around jack / insert character, which circles back to the irritability in general .

In layman’s terms this could also be interpreted as “Keep my wife’s name out your fucking mouth” or “Get a job stay away from her,” but I think that’s too rude to convey the whole message so just. Take it as a frame of reference for how frustrated we are lol

And anon, again, this is a wonderful WONDERFUL take however I will be more than happy to delete this if you don’t want it to be posted anywhere outside the survey ^_^

reading the new responses and I would just like to say that I am personally kissing every one of u who brought up jack being a prop 🫵😙

.

and on the flip side I am begging every “mentally a baby/ baby on the inside” response to please actually watch the show with a smidgeon of critical brain power

[schmerzerling]

A saccharine, pointless fix-it fic, set post-15x19. Because you deserve it.

Dean doesn’t even make it down the stairs into the bunker before he’s already praying.

Dear Jack, who art in heaven, hope you’re eating your vegetables and wearing deodorant—being a noncorporeal celestial entity is no excuse not to—and, oh, could you please bring your dad back from black goo mega hell?

It seems a little selfish at this point to pray to Jack—kid just brought back the entire human race, so he could probably use a bit of a breather, but it can’t hurt to add just a little tick to his to-do list. Besides, maybe Dean’s earned being a little selfish. Maybe it’s finally Dean’s opportunity to cash in his “whoops, I killed your mom” favor with his wayward antichrist slash omniscient deity slash son.

He gets to the bottom of the stairs, tosses his bag down on the war room table, starts down the hallway toward his bedroom, and.

Oh. There’s Cas.

“It was the first thing he did,” Cas says, like he heard Dean’s prayer. He’s in the kitchen, looking consideringly between a frying pan and a recipe on his phone. From the smell of it, he could be making French toast, maybe, if French toast were black and hard and dense as a brick. “Well, after resurrecting all life on earth, I suppose.” Then Cas says, wistfully, like a proud father who’s just seen his son off to kindergarten, “I hope he’s having a good first day.”

His nose gets that—wrinkle it gets. Dean’s memorized that wrinkle. He knows that wrinkle, and yeah. That’s definitely his Cas filling his kitchen with toxic French toast smog.

“I got back early,” Cas continues, casual like he didn’t do anything more than dodge out of work at four to miss rush hour, “and I figured you and Sam would be hungry when you got home.”

Dean gapes like a fish, mouth open to gulp in toast fumes. Behind him, he hears Sam clang down the spiral stairs in the war room. When he hits the bottom step and clunks onto the concrete floor, he says, “Hey, what do you bet Chuck’s already knee deep in Naked and Afraid territory—”

He rounds the corner, sees Cas in the kitchen, and smiles like it’s his birthday. Then he looks at Dean briefly, uses two fingers under Dean’s chin to close his hanging jaw with an audible click-pop teeth-jowl combo, and flashes Dean a double thumbs up before he retreats quietly down the hallway.

Because he’s an asshole.

Cas looks up from the mess he’s making of Dean’s favorite pan and the nose wrinkle is still there, right above a sweet, wistful smile. He’s really fucking—cute. But he’s an asshole too. The absolute king of the assholes. Because the last time he saw Cas, saw Cas’s eyes, they were spilling over with tears that Dean put there, that loving Dean put there. They were wide and clear and almost reflective, so that Dean could see himself crying back, and so that Dean could see his own devastated face when he realized that Cas was saying goodbye a-fucking-gain. And the worst thing, the absolute worst thing about all that is that he’s smiling now like he was smiling then, like giving up his life for Dean makes him happy in the same way cooking Dean shitty French toast does.

Cas’s smile fades the longer Dean looks at him and doesn’t say anything, and Dean sees when the skittish uncertainty starts taking him over.

“Dean. We can—I know…” He licks his perpetually chapped lips and huffs a quick, fortifying breath. “I didn’t mean to ‘make it weird.’”

He curls his fingers around air quotes when he says it, and a feeling of nostalgic fondness swells up inside Dean so fast it hurts his chest, bursts up against his throat to produce a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. He’s the same fucking Cas he’s always been, Dean realizes. He hasn’t changed, just like Dean asked him not to all that time ago. So the only explanation for the paralyzing feeling of earnest affection bubbling up his throat like top-shelf sangria vomit is—

That Dean has. That Cas hasn’t changed, but he has cast a new light on everything he’s ever done, and now Dean can plainly see that their whole history is painted over in colorful shades of I love you. Dean knew it before, he thinks. That Castiel loved him. But there’s knowing, abstractly, and then there’s seeing and hearing. There’s believing. There’s recognizing that Cas has a secret smile, just for Dean. There’s internalizing his I love you until it buoys him, until it keeps his head above water long enough to see that maybe that secret smile means exactly what he always hoped it did, because maybe he’s been worth that secret smile all along.

Dean lurches clumsily forward, promptly forgetting the two steps that lead down into the kitchen. He trips over his own feet, straight into the kitchen island, with a disastrous clatter. Every spoon and spatula and pot and pan hanging over the top of the island clatters. He can almost sense Sam listening from his bedroom, can almost hear him laughing about how Dean just went toe to toe with God, but one awkward blink of Cas’s baby blues turns him into an bumbling, lovestruck idiot.

Dean skitters around the island, straight into Cas’s space like Cas is always up in his. He says, “No, no,” desperately like that means anything, like he’s afraid Cas is going to disappear before he can make it clear. He breathes right into Cas’s mouth, sharing air like he can’t stand not to. Cas exhales softly as those fucking eyes flit worriedly over Dean’s face. He says, “Oh, Dean, you’re hurt—”

And Dean plants his lips right on Castiel’s.

It’s not much of a kiss. It’s chaste and subdued against the subtle background chime of settling pots and pans. But Cas brings up both hands to cup Dean’s cheeks, just gently, like he’s afraid of exacerbating wounds but can’t stand to let Dean pull away, either. And when Cas finally does pull back to look into Dean’s unfocussed eyes, the sense of beaming contentment that Castiel positively glows with pours directly into Dean through a long, lingering look.

It settles something tumultuous inside Dean. A quiet leaches down into his bones, nestles up against his heart like a purring kitten. And in the sudden silence of his scattered head, he can actually hear himself when he says, “I—I mean. You too. I do too. Love. You, I mean.” He almost ruins it by giving Cas his patented no-homo back pat, but he restrains himself at the last second. He finger-combs Cas’s fringe back from his wrinkled forehead instead.

He wasn’t expecting to say it, because he doesn’t say it, not even in the pathetic, fragmented way he just managed. And Cas clearly wasn’t expecting it either, because his eyes go wide like they were then and he says, “Oh,” on a gentle exhale. “Oh.”

Dean sees his own lovestruck astonishment, reflected again in Cas’s eyes.

Cas drops his hands from Dean’s face and says, all business, “Well. Good.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Dean clears his throat and steps back. Then he nods down at Castiel’s disaster toast and says, “Can I help you not burn the bunker down?” And Cas nods, slowly and fondly, and laughs because there’s no one to tell him not to. They bump shoulders while they cook and sit on the same side of the dining table while Dean eats and that’s that.

That’s all there is.

[myaimistrue]

Dean sets his fishing rod down at the bottom of the boat. There’s not really anything biting today, and it’s about lunchtime, anyway. He opens up the small cooler they brought along and pulls out the two sandwiches he made early this morning, along with a couple cans of Coke. Cas doesn’t seem to notice—he’s completely off in his own world, his head tilted up toward the clouds with a small smile tugging at his lips. Dean’s whole chest goes warm.

“Lunchtime.” Dean nudges Cas’s knee with the can to get his attention, and smiles at the way he blinks in surprise. “What are you thinking about?”

“Babylon,” Cas says casually, like that’s something everyone thinks about in their daily lives. He takes his Coke and the sandwich—Dean made sure not to put tomato on it because of Cas’s whole thing with textures—and adds, “The Hanging Gardens, specifically.”

“Yeah?” Dean instinctively wants to freak out whenever Cas shares something like this, something that reminds them both that he’s almost incomprehensibly old and infinitely powerful; but he also knows that it makes Cas happy to share his past with Dean, and the desire to see Cas smile wins out over any kind of stupid, human inferiority complex. “Was it pretty?”

“Well, I only visited once, but it was lovely. Beautiful beyond description.” Cas frowns. “I wish you could see it.”

“What made you think about it?” Dean takes a big bite of his sandwich and fights the urge to pat himself on the back—he’s really outdone himself this time.

Cas opens his Coke up and takes a sip. The lake glitters all around them, and not for the first time, Dean marvels at how good his life has gotten. How perfect.

“I don’t know. It’s peaceful, here. Quiet.” Cas smiles. “The Gardens were like that, too.”

Dean smiles back at him. “Hope the company is better here.”

“Undoubtedly,” Cas says like it really does go without saying, like Dean obviously offers more than a Wonder of the Ancient World ever could. And then he takes the first bite of his sandwich, and his eyes light up. “This is delicious, Dean.”

“Thanks.” He tries not to seem too smug, but really, these sandwiches are some of his best work. “I used the bread we got at the farmer’s market. Which reminds me, when we go this weekend, will you remind me to buy a loaf of the pumpernickel? I know it’s not your favorite, but I found a recipe for some paninis that call for it and I think you’ll like them.”

Dean realizes, then, that Cas is looking at him with one of his very best expressions: all sweet and gorgeous and absolutely adoring, a kind of unadulterated love there in his face that still makes Dean feel like his chest is a bottle of champagne with the cork about to pop.

“What?” He half-smiles. “Something on my face?”

“No,” Cas says simply. “No, I just love you.”

And hey, it’s been a long time since that was something Dean only dreamed of hearing Cas say, but a year and some change later, the novelty still hasn’t worn off. Inside Dean’s chest, the cork pops, and champagne spills over, sweet and bubbly.

Dean leans precariously over toward Cas, the boat rocking all the way, but the kiss he plants on his husband makes it well worth the risk of overturning them both into the lake. When he pulls back, Cas’s eyes are a more beautiful color than the water could ever hope to be.

“Love you too,” Dean says, a little breathlessly. “And I’m glad you’re here and not in ancient Babylon.”

Cas runs his thumb across Dean’s cheek, and Dean has to wonder if this is how he looked at those gardens, awe and affection in equal measure, like just seeing them was a miracle. “I am too.”

[alluringjae]

au cours de l’été - jjh

⤑ translation: over the summer

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

⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

⤑ masterlist

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

3 juin 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jaehyun! What brings you here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Une nouvelle venue?” (A newcomer?)

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

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

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

“Jaehyun?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shucks, he was pretty cute.”

12 juin 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Correct.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

début de juillet 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s infatuated by you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Bonsoir, (Y/N).” [Goodnight, (Y/N).]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“En voyant notre mine ravie,”

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

“Les passants dans la rue, nous envient,”

Your hand perched on your cheek, admiring his talent.

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

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

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

“Un espoir merveilleux, qui donne le frisson…”

À la mi-juillet de 1957

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Get dressed and some sleep, (Y/N).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Call me that again, please.”

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

“Tu peux m'avoir.” (You can have me.)

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

This time, it’s different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fin de juillet 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep them on when you ride me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Je t’aime aussi, Jaehyun.”

16 octobre 1957

Autumn made its way to the countryside.

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

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

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

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

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

“Still breathtaking.”

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

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

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

“Write to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, what was he up to?

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

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

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

You giggled at his silliness, throwing out flying kisses.

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

21 octobre 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get to the point please!” You screeched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could the next summer come any faster?

14 février 1958

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I beg your pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your fairytale.

“Jaehyun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He spoke about me to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he your favorite muse?”

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

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

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

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

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

“So tell me about your new book.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What really went down in Provence?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

6 ans plus tard (1964)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remember when you said how his mansion felt too big?

It no longer did after getting married.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouvre-le.” (Open it.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

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

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

Excluding being drenched from the rain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

copyright © 2021 by alluringjae.