#vine covered patio

[frozendistrict]

Outdoor Kitchen - Mediterranean Patio Inspiration for a mid-sized mediterranean backyard concrete paver patio kitchen remodel

[owlwithafringe]

Stone in New York

Inspiration for a mid-sized victorian gray three-story stone house exterior remodel with a hip roof and a shingle roof

[fourteen-steps]

Pergola in Orange County

Inspiration for a mid-sized transitional backyard concrete paver patio remodel with a fire pit and a pergola

[trxangleboy]

Stone in New York Inspiration for a mid-sized victorian gray three-story stone house exterior remodel with a hip roof and a shingle roof

[kriosgat]

Brick Exterior Dallas

Inspiration for a mid-sized red two-story brick exterior home remodel with a hip roof

[wanderers-of-sornieth]

Houston Patio Concrete Pavers Small minimalist front yard concrete paver patio photo with no cover

[le-temps-plus-que-parfait]

San Francisco Concrete Pavers Front Yard An example of a large mediterranean partial sun front yard concrete paver landscaping in summer.

[shslsyoko]

Patio - Fountain

[woaza]

Could you do a Dino Classico x reader, human noble. They went to the study during a party to take a break and secretly to read a book they brought. Theodore snuck out because he wanted to be grown up and saw them in the room. They talk about the book and lent it to Theodore. Dino sees the book with the readers name in the cover after the twin girls tease Theo about his new crush much later in the week.

Dino Classico X (Fem)Human!reader

Contains : Long fic.

Word count : 2.7k words

Warnings : Dino being mean to his son, Dino Being a waving red flag and use of Y/N and L/N.

A/N : Hey I got a tone of requests which I’m super grateful for! I’m working on all of them and super appreciate your patience and i promise to get them done even if it takes a while! Plus some of them are a bit confusing so once I decipher them I’ll be getting to work lol. Also We got to get Theodore to a psychiatrist ASAP. Your toys talking to you is not normal. 🌜

It was the annual Classico Ball event, held at the Classico Estate. The ball room was magnificent with a large porch wrapping around the party room. Large stained glass windows and even bigger glass doors. The garden was well kept but vines grew up the glass and white pillars due to the grand age of the manor. Yet the natural but well kept garden was just charming and magnificent. Which was simply another way the Classico’s parade their power in such a subtle way. It was a humid summer evening, despite the sun setting it was hot. The ladies and lords doing their best to stay inside as to not sweat in their nice evening wear. Of course the head of the Classico house thought of this and kept drinks on display all night, free for the guests of the Ball. Especially as everyone danced it was gravely important for anyone to stay hydrated. It would be frowned upon if the host left his poor guests grow parched.

Yet as each lord and lady danced to the melody of the posh orchestra, all the human bodies in the room heated up the large space. Most people in attendance were simply enjoying the evening far too much to notice or if they did notice the growing heat they shrugged it off.

Thus far you had been brave in the battle against the heat. You grew hot as you stood with your house, doing your best to present your face and your family. The expensive party wear fitted to your body perfectly was doing little to cool you down. Your conversation was growing weak and you knew you needed to excuse yourself. Lucky for yourself you had predicted such an event and brought a book to accompany you on your escape. At least once you made your escape.

You looked to your family who seemed unbothered and in a pleasant conversation with some fellow Nobels. This was a perfect chance for you to politely slip way which you did with ease, your family almost never seemed to notice until much later whenever you did your own personal ‘journeys’. You couldn’t help but smile as you politely excused yourself to the outside patio, thinking of the last chapter in your book. It was finally time for the conclusion of what you would consider one of the best books you’ve ever read. It was a thrilling feeling as you sat on one of the benches illuminated by the lights from within the ballroom. Your fingers moving between the pages as you flip to the last chapter.

Word by word you digested the written art piece. You had read the last word when you felt someone’s eyes fall unpon you. You looked up from your book, not noticing anyone. You quickly turn your head around looking left and right until your eyes fall onto a little boy. He stood a couple feet away, standing by one of the shrubs in a glass pot.

You fixed your posture a bit and smiled at the young boy. “Hello.” Your tone was sweet and somewhat quiet as he shuffled away from his somewhat concealed hiding spot. He nodded respectfully and walked up to your. “My apologies my lady. I am Theodore Classico, Heir to the Classico family.”

He had definitely practiced his introduction, which was a bit surprising to hear such a formal introduction from a little boy. Your composed yourself quickly and looked over to him. “I am lady L/N, a pleasure to meet you.” He nodded before he glanced past you looking at the party that was happening within the ball room.

“Are you not enjoying your self?” He said his tone concerned, he knew the Classico annual party was an important part of his family’s reputation and wanted to uphold that quality. “No, no, I am.” You smiled a bit, what a strange thing for a child to be concerned with? “As a matter of fact, excuse my behavior but you don’t seem to be dressed for an event like this?” You said with your tone coming more as a question rather than a statement.

He frowned at the comment but sighed. “I am not allowed till I reach a certain age, my father forbids it.” As he returned an answer to your question you smiled wider. So that meant he snuck out to see the party. He noticed your smirk. “You won’t report this to my father will you?” Which you couldn’t help but snicker, and shake your head “Worry not young Theodore, I will not tell such things to Master Classico.”

He was grateful before he quickly glanced to the book you had on your lap. You followed his eyes with your own. “The fall of Arkmunster written by William Le Franc, are you familiar?” Theodore paused for a moment before shaking his head no. “I am unfamiliar with the title but have read pieces by the author.” Leaning closer to you to look at the cover. You held the book out to him prompting him to take it. Which he does after some hesitation.

“I’m surprised you have heard of William Le Franc but not the tittle it’s a classic in Philosophy. It’s wonderfully written and it is a challenging read.” You had throughly enjoyed this read and more than happy to discuss the book. Which he seemed to return the sentiment. “I’ll just have to take your word for it, I’m sure we don’t have it in the manors collection I’ve read all the William Le Franc books it has to offer. I’ll have to purchase a copy.” You nodded your head in agreement, before you thought for a brief moment. “Actually I’ve just finished, would you like to barrow the book?”

Theodore didn’t really have any adults who were kind to him, at least in that sense. His father would never have trusted him with a book no matter how hard he tried to prove himself responsible. He smiled a bit and pulled the book closer to himself. “If it wouldn’t be a burden I would be extremely grateful ma’am”

You smiled and watched the boy clutch onto the book. “Of course no matter at all, I’ll have to write in you in a month’s time or so once you’ve finished and we will talk of the contents. If you’d enjoy that of course?” In your head you felt silly, what child wanted to read a book written by William Le Franc? It had rather big ideas in the book. This particular book discusses death. How the human mind grapples it. Something a child surely wouldn’t understand. Yet he had read other pieces, what mature child indeed.

Time passed by and you and Theodore discussed some of the other works of William Le Franc. He was a bright boy and it was possibly the best conversation you had all night! Yet as the night grew later you and the young boy said your goodbyes. With the hopes to write to each other. Theodore the young boy was ecstatic! He had a companion who had looked pasted his age and gave him a respectful conversation. Let alone some proper attention! He was eager to read the book and started almost immediately after the conversation you two held.

Weeks later it was the usual routine, him and his father left so he could be under his supervision. ‘The nursery’ as it was named. Theodore tired to enjoy it but under his father’s supervision he couldn’t. Far too embarrassed to play with the other children, let alone with his father present. So as he usually did sat on the couch and read his books. Today only bringing one book; The fall of Arkmunster written by William Le Franc. It was hard to understand, most certainly the hardest book he’s ever read. The meanings and word play was intense but deeply meaningful. A hard but awarding book. He was stuck on a paragraph that didn’t make any sense when the twins walked up to him. Lucia and Elena walked up tried to get his attention. Elena snapped her fingers but they were always so loud and chaotic. Theodore paid them no mind.

Lucia rolled her eyes and quickly swiped the book out of his hands as Elena laughed. Snapping Theodore out of his focus. “Excuse me? Lucia return that to me!” Theodore said with a scowl, Lucia started to flip through the pages while Elena blocked his way. “What’s so fun about a book anyway? play with us!” Elena stated holding out her arms. Frustrating Theodore to no end.

After a moment Lucia reached the cover page and widened her eyes a bit. “Theodore who is lady Y/N L/N?” Which caught all three of the young children’s attention. Elena quickly came to an unreasonable conclusion that this must be Theodore’s love rather quickly. “Is that your betrothed Theodore!?” She said rather loudly causing everyone in the small room to look at the small commotion. Dino Classico stood up almost immediately and marched over to the commotion. Lucia held the book wide open with your signature on the cover while laughing loudly. Theodore was immediately red in the face. “Elena do not say such things!” He pleaded as he felt pure dread as his father walked to them. Lord Classico quickly grabbed the book and held to examine the pages. “Theodore. Let’s discuss in the hallway. Now.” Classico didn’t wait for a response nor for Theodore and went out into the hallway. Theodore glanced angrily at the girls before following Behind his father Into the hallway.

“Father I can explain.” Yet as his father always seems to do, quickly interrupted. “Theodore I do not know how you received this book but I am not amused by the disturbance it caused. I am annoyed and disappointed. Do not let such things happen again! Understand?” Theodore simply nodded and looked towards the floor. “You children are far to young to discus such things.” Classico said with a grumble before opening the book and examining the name. “Lady Y/N L/N? How did you get this?” A small pause before he looked and Theodore angrily. “Did you steal this? You soil the Classico name!? You owe lady L/N and immediate apology!” Dino seemed to be getting more angry by the second. Theodore tried to compose himself the best he could “father I did not steal the book it was lent to me.” Theodore could barely look his father in the eyes, stumbling his words dispute his best attempts.

Dino scoffed as he held the book, starting at your signature. How did his son ever come into contact with you? Especially after his many attempts to, he had specifically invited your family to all the Classico events and gatherings. Yet you seemed so allusive, he’d see you walk in but he’d never catch a conversation or a dance with you. Much to his annoyance but of course no one else knew of his intentions to speak with you. “Theodore don’t bother me with such nonsense ever again. Understand boy?” Theodore nodded moving his eyes to look at the book his father held far above his head “Yes father.” Was all he could say, and the only answer Dino would accept. “Now we will go back to the room and you will not Cause any more bother.”

Theodore spent the rest of the day sitting in the Conner, that had been the only book he had brought with him. He couldn’t help but stare at the book as it sat on the table next to where his father was. Just out of his grasp. Yes, potentially he could read one of the books that nursery had to offer but that was of no interest to him.

A couple more days passed and Dino found himself with a small break. The investigation meeting had ended a bit earlier than usual and he was left to his alone in his manner. Which was rare, he almost had time off. Your book still was on his desk, he couldn’t help but open the book and let his eyes linger on your signature. He could mail the book back to you with a letter of apology. Yet the Classicos and your house were plenty friendly with each other. What could be wrong with an impromptu visit? Your father being one of the few humans he did business with.

A little later he finally arrived at your family’s estate. The Servents are quick to greet him and lead him to the front parlor to wait. Your father and Classico spoke for a moment before you were called down. A maid knocked on the doors to your private chambers.

“Lady L/N, your presence in the front parlor is requested by your farther immediately.” The fimillar voice at the door snapped you out of the new set novel you were indulging in. You quickly opened the door. “My father? Why, what business could he have to request me?” You weren’t trying to be snarky but more so curious. “The head of Classico is present, other than that I am no more informed than you are my lady.” The maid said as she walked a couple steps behind you. Classico? Your first thought was of Theodore, maybe he had come to discuss the book. But some things didn’t make sense. It had only been a little more than a week, surely not enough time to read a book of the difficulty and size.

You made your way to the front parlor, your father and Dino Classico sat across from each other drinking tea. You walked in confusion to see Dino Classico holding the book you had lent his son.

“Father, Lord Classico.” You did a small curtsy and looked at them both. Formally announcing yourself. “My daughter, Lord Classico came to return your book. You should thank the man.” You nodded with a confused smile as you walked over to Dino Classico as he held the book out for you. “Thank you my lord, but if I may be so bold I lent this to the young Theodore. Has he already finished the novel?” Your father raised a brow and looked at Dino. Making sure you didn’t offend the man.

“I had assumed he had stolen it?” Which made your eyes widen. “Oh my goodness no! He was such a well mannered boy I happily lent it to him.”

“Really now? When did you and my son get the chance to talk?” He said leaning a bit forward in his seat, that he was much too tall for. You immediately thought of how Theodore wasn’t supposed to have snuck out. In an attempt to not throw Theodore into anymore trouble you quickly thought of a reasonable explanation. “At the annual ball I excused myself for the ladies room and had the good fortune to have had bumped into the young boy who recognized the author.” That seemed reasonable enough and Dino seemed to seem fine with that answer while your father sat in silence.

The room grew quiet for a brief moment before Dino set up in his seat. “I see that this has been a misunderstanding now. Unfortunately I have some more duties to attend to. Lord and lady L/N I appreciate your patience with my unannounced visit.” He stood up walking over to you, gently placing a kiss on the back of your hand. His butler quickly got the message and fetched his hat. Within a moment Dino bided you and father a goodbye.

Once Dino had left he immediately wanted to talk to you more. For once he was grateful for one of what he would consider Theodore’s ‘childish outbursts’. Within in own thoughts he planed to speak with Theodore about you. Maybe he would but Theodore a copy of the book. You were such a strange woman, he couldn’t help but be intrigued. He’d have to pursue another conversation with you.

Dino would never tell any one of how he was attracted to you. From your mannerisms to your polite nature. Yet you were so educated. He could simply tell by the way you carried yourself. No longer would be subtly hope to run into at an event, or visit your family. He needed a more direct way to speak to you, and with Theodore maybe he had one.

Another A/N: I kinda escaped the prompt and for that I am sorry. Also I assumed the read was Fem but if they weren’t supposed to be lmk!

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is an amazing Zen estate. The architectural features are superb. Built in 2002 in Santa Fe, NM, the 6bd, 8ba estate is priced at $2.595M.

Isn't the entrance hall amazing? It's like entering a Buddhist temple.

Intricately carved wood, niches, and a tile fireplace with built-in sofas to match.

The sculptural architecture is magnificent.

Step down into a large living room. The entrance has carved molding and the ceiling beams fan out like an umbrella.

You'll notice lots of skylights in the ceilings. I would think that the white candle tables are sculpted up from the floor.

Enter this very serene space.

I like these umbrella ceilings. This is a lovely dining room with a corner Pueblo style fireplace.

I like how the ceiling crisscrosses. The rooms are so sculptural throughout the home.

Another scalloped and beamed ceiling, carved wood columns and a carved fireplace.

Beautiful dining area for the kitchen has high open ceilings.

The kitchen is lovely. Almost every room has a rounded wall or two, and the kitchen is no exception. I like the brick wall, light Shaker cabinets and hammered copper farm sink.

There are so many tables and chairs. I love the turquoise tile, and at first I thought it was a water feature, but I'm not sure what it is.

The primary bd. is spacious, has a raised platform bed, and a fabulous built-in canopy. A door opens to a patio and a lighted art niche is in wall next to the desk.

This bath has double blue glass sinks and a stone floor that comes up to surround the tub.

The stairs are beautiful with the carved rail, niches, and interesting light fixtures.

This bedroom is lovely. It has so many built-ins the scalloped ceiling and doors to a patio. It's like a 2-room suite.

Go down the stairs to a sitting area that looks like a play area for toddlers, with the safety gates. But, notice the ceiling fan- isn't that cool?

The baths are all very Zen. This one has a stone tub surround.

Here's a nice corner home office with spiral stairs to a loft.

The grounds are absolutely stunning. Here's a fountain and a vine growing over a wood structure, plus a garden of sculptural rocks.

There's a covered patio and larger patio under a pergola.

And, off to the side there's a koi pond.

A path to stroll passes by a beautiful water feature.

This is a custom-built 2bd, 3ba guest house.

The desert estate is 13.74 acres.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/14-Destierro-Trl-Santa-Fe-NM-87506/6843993_zpid/

[theragethatisdesire]

"ti penso ogni giorno" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

first fic! kind of threw this together while traveling and had no beta readers, so please be nice to me. i've been spending some time in the italian countryside and got a little inspired.

pairing: reader x eren jaeger

wc: 7.5k (jesus christ)

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut (duh), consensual hook-up, unprotected sex, rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, princess), slight breeding kink (if you squint) crying, multiple orgasm, creampie, aftercare

**title means "i think about you every day" in italian :')

Standing on top of this mountain looking over unfamiliar fields, you don’t remember a time in the recent past you’ve felt so at peace, the quiet fluttering of the sparrows easing the ever-present ache in your heart.

It was a tasteful ceremony. A small church in the middle of the Chianti region, in a little town with a name you couldn’t pronounce, decorated with so many candles that the room was sweltering, even with the breeze wafting in from the hills. Mikasa and Jean’s little girl, Clara, had played the role of flower girl perfectly; you hadn’t seen her since she was a newborn, and there she was, toddling down the aisle on fat little three-year-old legs. Historia and Ymir were beautiful brides, practically unchanged over the years, still as consumed with each other as they had been in college.

Even now, you distinctly remember a drunken night when Ymir promised Historia that she would take her to Europe one day, and here she was, marrying her beloved blonde in the heart of Italy. Another memory surfaces, parallel to that one, of someone looping an arm around your waist as you watched college-Ymir make her declaration, a whisper in your ear of the same promise. You pack that up and tuck it away as soon as it surfaces, scratching at your elbow.

“What are you doing out here?” Mikasa’s voice is behind you, drawing closer. You smile down at Clara, holding her mother’s hand and wobbling out into the grass.

“Just thinking,” you sigh, swishing your wine around in its glass, “I should come back in and join the party.”

“They just finished the champagne toast, but you haven’t missed the first dance,” Mikasa agrees.

You take Clara’s other hand and reluctantly allow yourself to be led back into the thick of things, the two of you swinging the little girl between you. Her shrieks of joy make you smile in spite of yourself, calming the nerves fluttering around in your stomach. Years had passed and things had changed, you and everyone else around you included.

It was a gorgeous reception, even more beautiful than the ceremony. They’d chosen a huge stone patio outside of the massive villa they’d rented, covered by columns of stone arching up to form a roof and dripping with flowered vines. It was exactly what you would’ve chosen, so beautiful it didn’t need decoration. Simple, natural, Tuscan.

“He didn’t bring a date,” Mikasa murmurs to you as you enter the terrace, scanning the room for Jean. She didn’t need to specify who “he” was; you had seen him at the ceremony, longer hair than you remembered, two rows ahead of you. Even if you hadn’t, the sad truth was there was really only one “he” for you, and Mikasa knew that.

“What do you want me to do with that?” You respond, trying and failing to mask your discomfiture with irritation.

“Whatever you want,” Mikasa shrugs, vague as always, scooping Clara up onto her hip and striding across the tented reception to Jean. You watch her go, watch Jean take Clara and kiss Mikasa, envy and self-pity clawing at your heart.

Ymir and Historia chose a slower song than you expected; it must be Historia’s doing that they were doing a first dance at all. Ymir had made it exceptionally clear during the bachelorette trip that all of the frills were to make Historia happy, and she was mostly looking forward to the honeymoon. The memory makes you snort into your empty wine glass, until you catch a glimpse of green eyes across the room.

Eren’s suit is more expensive than anything you knew he owned, sharp at the corners and resembling something your boss’ boss would wear. Mikasa had mentioned months ago that Eren and Zeke’s business was really taking off, but you find yourself wondering if these were the clothes he wore now, or if it was a splurge. He’s staring at you, no surprise there. Breakup aside, Eren’s the most possessive person you’ve ever known, and anything that was his is always his, at least from his point of view. That was part of the problem, you reflect, tracing your red fingernail around the rim of your wine glass.

The first dance concludes and amidst the applause, waiters begin circling the room with hors d'oeuvres, little bits of smoked salmon and crudite platters. After the travel and ceremony, you’re ravenous, and you begin weaving your way through the crowd to track down a tray with carbohydrates on it.

You’re halfway through stuffing a croquette into your mouth when Armin interrupts you, chuckling. “Hungry?”

“I only flew over this morning,” you excuse yourself, dabbing at your mouth with a cocktail napkin. Armin doesn’t care, you know that, but after the last few years of cocktail hours with the most influential magazine and website owners in the world, manners are second-nature.

“At least it was a short flight. You came from…Belgium?”

“Moscow,” you shrug, “four hour flight into Milan, two hour train, hour long car service.”

“Car service?” Armin cocks an eyebrow. “Haven’t you gotten fancy over the years?”

You blush, embarrassed. “Did you fly from the states?”

“Shanghai, actually.” Armin’s face shows it, still puffy from the flight. “I don’t even know how many hours, just that it was long.”

“I’ve made that flight,” you say, empathizing, “not a fun one.”

“I was able to throw some miles from my company card into it and get first class, though, it was the nicest-”

“Can I join you two?” Your heart drops. You knew he was watching you, he’s always watching you, but to be so bold as to interrupt a conversation, speak to you here? Now?

“Sure, Eren,” Armin steps to the side to make room for Eren at the high-top table you’ve found yourselves gathering around, “we were just catching up on our flights over.”

Eren nods, masterfully collected as he smiles politely at you. “I actually had business over here, so I left New York maybe…a week ago, now? It wasn’t bad at all, our company card covers first-class flights.”

Some strange mix of annoyance and being impressed swells in your throat. You take a swig of wine to swallow it, not trusting yourself to resist throwing out a snarky comment or alternatively inquiring about where this first-class-covering business card came from. You don’t owe him the satisfaction. Armin nods politely, but you can see the tension in his smile. The history between Eren and you could stretch for miles of scorched earth, and it’s no secret. You imagine that earth, black and smoking, half-finished houses with white picket fences smoldering down to their foundations.

“So,” Eren breaks the silence, turning to you, “where did you come in from?”

“Moscow.” One-word answers, minimal detail, you assure yourself in your head. He won’t get his claws in you this time if you don’t let him.

“Moscow is beautiful,” Eren sips the bourbon that you had considered throwing in his face when he approached, “but a little cold this time of year, isn’t it?”

“It was very nice, actually,” you can’t help disagreeing for the sake of it, “I was only in town for a few days covering a story, anyway.” Shit. You’ve betrayed yourself already and revealed a detail. Eren’s smile curls up over his cheeks like a cat that’s found a trapped mouse. You kick yourself inwardly.

“Hear that, Armin? Our little bookworm is still writing.”

You roll your eyes at the old nickname from college, earned by your constant pleas to stay in for a comfy night instead of a frat party. You had read over 350 books in college, breaking your four-year goal by at least fifty. Eren used to beg you to tell him the stories you read before bed like a child, because he couldn’t be bothered to read the actual book and it sounds so much more interesting when you read it, baby. And up until the last three years, you had obliged him. Now, the only person you read to sleep is yourself.

“I made a career out of it,” you snip, “so yes, still writing.”

“Clara’s getting into the wedding cake- I don’t see Mikasa, shit, one sec-” Armin’s sentence is cut short by the speed with which he darts away from the pair of you, running off towards a table on the other side of the room. You don’t necessarily blame him, but you seethe anyway, vowing to repay him for abandoning you.

“Career, hm?” Eren hums pleasantly. “Work’s going well, then?”

You snatch a second glass of wine off of a passing tray, wanting more than anything to walk away from him, but you both know your feet won’t move. Getting a nice buzz going is your only option, at this point. You take a healthy swig, shrugging. “I enjoy it, and it pays.” 

“That’s a beautiful dress,” Eren murmurs, quiet and thoughtful. You blush and frown all at once.

“Says the one wearing a $6,000 suit.”

“Is it?” Eren fingers his lapel. He looks amused, and you want to smack the faux-bashfulness right off of his face. “I honestly didn’t know.”

“Your work must be going exceedingly well, then,” you glare, seeing right through him. The facade falters for just a moment, a critical moment: Eren almost looks sad.

“The business took off about a year ago,” he’s not looking at you, focusing on something in the distance, “so I’m traveling almost constantly now. I hardly see Zeke, my only company is usually just my assistant or a flight attendant. I love visiting a new city every week, but it’s…”

“Lonely?” You finish for him before you can stop yourself. He nods, looking surprised.

“Your work keeps you on the go now, too?”

“I switched over to a rolling travel schedule two years ago, when Rolling Stone started their global music column. It ended up being super popular and I’m the lead journalist, so I’m basically running all over the world listening to the weirdest music you can imagine. They had me head over to Berlin one time to cover the ‘rising alien punk scene’; it was…really something.” You pull a funny face at the memory, Eren laughs, a deep, real laugh from the belly. You can hear yourself rambling, revealing, but you can’t stop. It’s so natural that the realization of falling back into yourself, the self that loved Eren, is making your skin crawl. You should walk away, look for an out-

“Have you explored the grounds at all?”

Eren’s question snaps you out of your moment of clarity, back into his magnetic field. “The grounds?”

“This house,” Eren gestures to the villa that Ymir and Historia have rented for their closest friends, “sits on over a thousand acres of vineyard. The best wine in the world.”

“I can tell,” you examine the legs on your glass of red, provided by the vineyard itself, “it’s not my usual French, but it’s incredible.”

“Snob,” Eren grins at you. You have always been a picky wine drinker, Eren used to joke that you could pass a sommelier test without even taking the course. “So, the grounds?”

He offers you an elbow. You look at it, weighing but not really weighing your options, and slip your arm through his, feeling the rapid thudding of your pulse. You’re fairly sure if anyone looked closely at your neck, they’d see the frantic heartbeat insistently pushing right under your skin. You tell yourself it will only be a short walk, just a few minutes, because you do want to see the grounds, even if it’s with the last person you should be spending any time with. You hope that you’ll be able to sneak out without catching Mikasa’s eye.

Eren tugs you along, prattling on about the history of the vineyard, entirely unaware that you’re not listening. This Eren is so different from the Eren you left in New York, but still similar, still feels like home. His nose and jaw have only grown stronger with age, but his eyes still have a youthful glimmer, even if they seem sharper and more intense than you’ve ever seen them. It’s unlikely that he’s physically grown even taller between 23 and 26, but his presence makes him seem like the tallest man in the room. He’s self assured, confident, and in charge, in a manlier, more mature way that you’ve never seen before. A heat simmers in your stomach as you admire the curve of his strong neck, and you want to swat your own hand, tell yourself to settle down. It’s just a walk.

“I think I could die happy here,” Eren says, looking over the view you’ve approached, about a half mile from the rest of the party now. You chuckle.

“A beautiful view and some good wine is all it takes?”

“That’s most of it, these days,” Eren shrugs, “but I do need cable. And-”

“A television, a gym, at least one case of shitty domestic beer in the house at all times,” you count off on your fingers.

“For starters,” Eren concedes with a shy grin. “And a wife.”

Those last two words cause your heart to stop altogether. You look around, realizing just how far you are from the villa, how alone you are with him. The sun is setting reluctantly around you both, sinking slowly, holding onto the landscape with an iron grip.

“That would be nice,” you stammer, “f-for you, definitely.”

“Want to explore this building over here?” As if nothing out of the ordinary happened, Eren points out a smaller home down the hill from you both. “It’s really cool inside.”

You trudge along beside him, having kicked off your heels and left them at the reception long ago, and a fresh wave of anger kicks up in your chest. It was just so quintessentially Eren; drop a bomb, and then act like nothing happened. It reminds you that there are aspects of Eren you can’t stand, and that reminder instills you with the confidence to seclude yourself with him in the charming little stone house.

It is really cool. No window panes in the entire bottom floor, just the fresh vineyard air rolling in. There’s a little kitchenette, some various odds and ends of sofas and chairs sprawling across the clay-bricked floors. A huge table, clearly made for workers’ lunch breaks over the centuries, squats in the middle of the bottom floor, and racks of wine cover the walls. You break away from him to pick up a bottle or two, examine the label, brush off some dust.

Eren grants you a few moments to yourself before you sense him behind you, closer than you want to consider.

“Anything good?” He says, peering right over your shoulder from the sound of it.

You turn around before you can regret it, chest to chest with him. He’s hunching his head to make the best eye contact with you he can, the way he’s always done. You focus on breathing normally, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how his proximity still affects you after all these years. “A ‘92 vintage Chianti. They actually talked about this wine in my sommelier course; I didn’t even realize this was the same vineyard.”

“You took the course?” Eren smiles crookedly, an endearing grin that you’ve always loved. You smile despite yourself.

“Yeah,” you admit quietly, “I took the course.”

Eren grins wider, and thankfully leaves you there, striding across the room to shuffle through the kitchen drawers. When he returns, he’s holding a wine key and two glasses. You cock your head, confused.

“It’s supposed to be the best, huh? Crack it open.”

“Eren…” you trail off, holding the bottle gingerly, “this bottle has to be over a thousand dollars. We can’t do it.”

“Did I forget to mention this is my bunk for the trip?” He smiles again, his prominent canines glinting in the sunset light streaming in, gesturing around the room grandly; your knees nearly buckle at the sight. “Bedroom’s upstairs. Ymir and Historia said any of the wine’s up for grabs. It’s the owners’ fault if they left the good stuff out for us to get into, and it’s on my tab anyway.”

You’re nearly speechless, not only that Eren got an entire house to himself (he’s always been the spoiled brat of the friend group), but that he tricked you into coming here, with him. When you fail to respond, he takes it simply as more reluctance to open the bottle, and he grabs the bottle from you and starts to dig the corkscrew in through the top.

You let a few beats pass, considering your options as he pours the wine. When he finally hands you the glass, you give voice to your thoughts, testing the waters. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because you love wine and the house is cool,” Eren shrugs innocently, taking a sip, “damn, that’s good. Try it.”

You hold your glass stock-still in your hands. “We’re done with…what we used to do, you know. That’s not what’s going on here.”

The air sparkles with dust; Eren’s demeanor stutters, a small frown working its way onto his face. “Just try the wine, babe.”

Your heart flutters, your stomach sinks, your memories with Eren shriek from the back of your mind. The pet name is too familiar, too easy, and it brings a cold chill over you. As you’re prone to do, your panic comes shooting out coated in snark.“Babe? Yeah, no, I’m done-”

“Sorry, sorry– it was a mistake, force of habit,” Eren’s already apologizing as you’re talking; you hate how he can still anticipate your reaction before you can give it. He grabs your wrist as you turn to leave, rolling his eyes, “a mistake. Try your wine, you don’t know when you’re going to stumble across that again.”

You let him hold your wrist, enjoying the pressure of his strong hands into the delicate flesh of your arm despite yourself. You look between him, the wine, the room several times, as if you’re weighing your decision. You know what you’re going to choose, but maybe you can pretend that he doesn’t know, too. Eren’s willing to play along, eyes wide and pleading.

Without breaking your gaze, you carefully taste the wine. Damn him, it is good. It has a complexity of flavor and a depth to it that’s incredibly rare, even in the French countryside wines you tend to favor. Even though you fight it, you smile at him and offer your glass for him to pour more.

The bottle passes quickly, both of you settling yourselves in chairs at the kitchen table, discussing old friends, new friends, reminiscing on the college years when you were both a little happier and a little less sane. You hardly notice the sun setting further, the smallest bits of twilight leaking into the corners of the sky.

“Your teeth are so red,” you giggle, head spinning. The wine was delicious, delicious enough for Eren to pop open a second bottle, but God, was it strong. You aren’t sure how you’ll manage the walk back up to the reception- is the reception even still going on?

“So are yours,” Eren pinches your cheek, giggling drunkenly along with you.

“God, you’re right.” You place a finger onto your teeth, rubbing frantically at the wine stains to no avail. Eren reaches a wobbling hand out to pull your fingers out of your mouth, shaking his head. He frowns and shakes his head, childlike.

“Don’t take them off.”

“The wine stains?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? They make teeth look dirty,” you laugh again, trying to shove your finger back into your mouth where Eren’s holding it.

“I…okay, maybe it’s weird, but I always thought it was kind of sexy when your teeth were all red from wine,” Eren blushes, and it’s so childishly endearing that you can feel your heart swell.

“Really?”

“I never told you that?” Eren looks astonished, chuckling under his breath. “It drove me crazy back when we were together. You’d go to Historia’s, or Sasha’s, or whoever’s and down a bottle or two of red and come stumbling back into that crappy apartment in Harlem-”

“-the one with the mean bodega lady outside!”

“Yes!” Eren snaps his fingers, pointing at you excitedly. “Anyway, you’d come waddling back in, hair a mess and wine all over your teeth, your lips would be bright purple, and you’d always be so horny-”

“Eren!”

“It’s true! You’d ride me for an hour before you knocked out.” Eren sipped his wine, smiling in a private way that you felt was just for you.

“An hour seems like a bit of a stretch,” you murmur, looking down into your glass. You’ve almost finished your wine and you shouldn’t have any more, the reception is waiting for you and you’ve been gone with Eren long enough that you’ve been missed at this point. When you pull your head up, Eren looks different. It’s a familiar face on a new man: his eyes have a mischievous glimmer in them, the sunset winking at you through his green irises.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips; your mind wanders to that tongue, those lips. Mentally, you dance over what you know those lips and tongue can do, how they feel on your mouth, your neck, between your legs. Your wine-addled mind tries to shake the persistent thought. Eren reaches a hand over to your mouth, absentmindedly rubbing a thumb over the corner of your lips.

“Still think it looks sexy,” he mumbles, half-drunk and half expecting a stern reprimand from you. His eyes search your face, curious of your reaction. It’s the moment you’ve been running around the world from for the last three years, finally coming to fruition here in this little house. 

You embarrass and surprise yourself simultaneously: tears well in your eyes. You want him; you’re drunk and beautiful and desperate for him in the beautiful countryside of Italy, but he’s so bad for you. They’re tears that have been waiting behind your eyes, tears of frustration and desire.

“Why are you crying?” Eren asks, furrowing his brow. You know he knows, he understands you and your emotions better than anyone. You’re angry with him, angry that he knows the source of your tears before you open your mouth.

“We’re done, Eren,” you fail miserably to steel your voice, “we can’t do this anymore, remember? It’s not good for us.”

“It’s been three years, baby,” Eren responds, still rubbing his thumb over your lips, “three years of growing. We’re different now– I’m different.”

“No,” you sniffle, feeling like a child. Whether he’s changed or not is still up for debate, but your sore heart can only take so much. He’s so beautiful, soaked in sun and wine and temptation, simpering at you. Your resolve is weakening by the second.

“Yes,” Eren insists, “it’s me. You belong to me, you know you do.”

“Eren–”

“You always do this, always try to run from me, but I’ll always find you,” he murmurs, “I’ll go to every corner of the earth if I need to. I’ll always find you because you’re mine.”

You’d love to say that he leaned in, he grabbed your face and pulled you to him, but you’d be lying. It’s you who leans forward ever so slightly, catching your chapped lips in his and kissing him tentatively. You wouldn’t be lying if you told anyone that he sighed into your mouth, ready to feel your body under his hands again. You wouldn’t be lying in the slightest.

Eren allows you a few tentative kisses, a few pecks against his lips, familiar and new all the same. Once you’ve had your fill of shyness, your obligatory ruse of unassuredness, he reaches for you, scooping you into his lap. You straddle him, whimpering at the friction of his already-growing bulge against your clothed cunt. He has to push your dress up to allow you room to spread your legs over him; you’re wearing a slinky little silk number, a gorgeous deep brown against your tanned skin, but not cooperative for lap-sitting.

Eren’s tongue is practically down your throat, teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you have to pull away for air, hands roaming your now-bare thighs.

“This dress,” he pants between kisses, “is so fucking perfect on you. Look so good for me.”

You sigh into his mouth, running your hands through his hair. Off to the side of your mind, you realize you may have knocked his hair out of its bun, but the dark locks feel so soft in your fingers, you can’t bring yourself to apologize for it. He’s wrapping his hands around your ass; Eren always loved your full hips, and it seems that that fact hasn’t changed.

Your hands find their way to his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He’s grown stronger over the years, definitive muscles rippling under your fingers, but the broadness he’s always possessed is still there. He’s large compared to you, twice as wide and at least a head taller, and you loathe to admit it, but it turns you on. You love the way he manhandles you, the way he pushes and pulls you exactly how he wants you, the way he grabs your hips hard enough to bruise, rocking them against his own.

A particularly well-placed thrust of his hips against yours elicits a wanton groan from you, spilling into his mouth. Eren moans back, moving away from your lips to mouth his way down your throat.

“Gonna sit you up now, okay?”

He stands, knocking the chairs aside on his way up, to set you on the table, the perfect height for him to grope at you, pull your dress this way and that.

“Wanna get this thing off, will you let me?”

You hesitate, or try to, at least. His hands are dizzying, flying all over your body and squeezing at just the right spots as he nibbles on your earlobe. “But, the reception–”

“Sh, sh, sh. We’re so far away, baby, they’ll never even know, yeah?” Eren goads you and you’re putty in his hands, the rapidly-shrinking rational part of your brain growing quieter with each kiss, each pet. He manages to wrench your dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but a stringy pair of panties. Eren steps back to look over you; you resist the urge to cover yourself. You know his routine.

“Fuck,” Eren breathes, palming your tits, “you’re perfect, do you know that? So beautiful just for me, aren’t you?”

You flush pink from your chest to your forehead. Even after years of love and war and running, his bedroom talk still gets to you. Eren loves to tell you what he thinks of you, and you’ve never managed to grow accustomed to hearing it.

“Say it.”

“Hm?” You hum, preoccupied with his mouth pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses around your breasts, even pausing to suck a bruise into the side of your left.

“Say you’re beautiful, tell me how pretty you are for me.”

This part is new; Eren has always loved to talk to you in bed, but your participation in the dirty talk has been minimal until now. Your blush grows even deeper. “I’m beautiful, beautiful just for you.”

“Good girl,” Eren purrs, allowing you to pull his head closer to your chest. His tongue swirls around one nipple. He closes his lips around it, sucking hard, and you moan openly, pulling him closer. Eren grins, letting his teeth pinch down on it. “You still like when I play with your tits, hm?”

“Yes,” you hiss, too caught up in pleasure to address his smugness.

“Know you baby, know you inside and out. These tits are mine,” a hand wanders down to your cunt, swiping across your panties and feeling the wetness that soaks them, “and this pussy’s mine too. You might not love me anymore, but your body– oh, she loves me.”

You have no way to respond to that, no way to address what those words do to your brain. Chagrin as you might be to admit it, he’s right. Eren was your first and only adult relationship, fucking your body into submission for years and training it, training your cunt to respond to him and the way he liked to touch you. He’s pushed and prodded you into his perfect little fuckdoll, and you let him and you loved it. You loved every second of it, and god does it feel good rushing back to you now, finally under his hands again after years without.

Eren nudges your panties to the side, rubbing quick circles over your clit, just the way you like it. A long, heady whine leaks from your lips, your hips urgently roll towards him.

“Missed me? Is that it?” Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smug grin on his lips. Eren loves when you’re needy for him.

“Mhm,” you indulge him in the hopes you’ll get what you want, and you’re right. A long finger sinks into you, instantly curling to press into the spongy spot within your walls that has you swooning, clutching desperately onto his shoulders.

“That’s it, feels good doesn’t it?”

You pull at his suit jacket, fumbling with the buttons on his collared shirt. “Want it off, want to see you.”

Eren relents, pulling his hand from you to step back and strip his shirt and jacket. He is as muscular as he feels; you drag your eyes over his strong chest, his defined abs, and the deep V leading down below his belt. You briefly remember all of your post-college friends, girls that had never known Eren, teasing you that he was your hottest ex. You had blushed, but you understand. He’s like a Greek statue, glistening with sweat from the evening heat, every crevice of him on display just for you. It sends a fresh wave of heat pulsing through your body, and you pull him back to you, relishing in the feel of his hands on you.

“Want me to make you cum, is that it?” Eren’s amused, sinking two fingers into your heat. You croon, nodding desperately. He chuckles, moving his fingers against the spot inside of you. “I’ve got you, don’t worry baby. Gonna make you feel good.”

You nod again into his shoulder, attached to him wherever you can find the space, grasping his body and pulling it to yours. You wish you had the capacity to be ashamed of your need, laid bare for him to see, but you don’t. All you can think about is his fingers moving in you, gaining speed and bringing you closer to an embarrassingly fast orgasm.

He slides a third in, just to be safe, and you’re so wet that your pussy accepts it willingly. The stretch makes you pout, push at his chest. “Too much, Eren–”

“Gotta get you ready for me,” he huffs, his arousal getting the better of him, “get you ready to get fucked. Cunt’s tight after all these years, isn’t it? Gotta work it open.”

That does a lot to your hazy brain; you bite deep into his shoulder, moans coming faster and louder as he works his fingers in you. The bubble is building in the pit of your stomach, your hips are canting towards him.

“Eren, Eren I–”

“I know, I know,” he coos, fingers curling inside you even faster, “my girl needs to cum, doesn’t she? You want to cum all over my fingers, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you cry into his skin, biting and moaning alternatively. Your head’s spinning; you can’t remember the last time you felt this good. You’re no nun, not by any means, but Eren knows your body, crafted it to respond to him, to his hands and mouth and cock, and your body is rejoicing at the feel of him on and in you again. You can’t hold it, you know you can’t, you’re moments away now. “Eren, I’m going to cum, I’m gonna–”

“Do it, baby,” he growls into your ear, his fingers working even faster, thumb moving up to swipe at your clit, “give it to me, want to hear you cum.”

Your body convulses and you’re cumming hard, with Eren the first one of the night always goes that way. Eren knows it, pulls you close against him and works his fingers in you, helping you ride it out. He’s practically purring into your ear, telling you what a good girl you are, cumming all over his fingers like that, and you eat it up. You cry into his flesh where it’s secured between your teeth, rocking your hips into his hand desperately.

Your orgasm begins to fade, and you find the presence of mind to shove at his fingers, begging for a reprieve. “Give me your cock, want it in my mouth.”

“Is that what you need?” Eren’s already helping you onto your knees, gentle, but needy. “Need my cock in your mouth?”

“Please,” you say eagerly, adjusting your knees to a comfortable position on the dirt floor, easily unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down his legs. He steps out of his shoes, kicking his pants off, strong thighs twitching under your nails as you softly scratch down them. A groan rumbles in Eren’s chest at your enthusiasm, he places a hand on your head, running through your curls.

“Can’t be for too long, ‘kay?” Eren pants, hissing when you press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock. “Still gotta fuck you, feel you cum on me.”

You hum your approval, popping him fully into your mouth with a satisfied moan. You’ve always loved taking him in your mouth, the comforting weight of him on your tongue. You’re getting impossibly wetter, feeling the heat gather between your legs as you bob your head up and down on him, listening to his satisfied little grunts and groans above you.

Eren rubs a hand over your cheek, mutters his approval, thrusts his hips forwards unwittingly a few times. You gag when he does, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’ve taken him like this so many times, even with his impressive size, you love the feel of him pressing back into your throat until you choke.

“Fuck, fuck, baby it’s– it’s too much,” Eren indulges in a few more thrusts into your throat before grabbing your hair and urging you off of him, “need your pussy, okay?”

You’re not going to argue with that, letting him pull you to your feet, an anticipatory smile cracking across your face. You’re drunk on the wine and sex and him, babbling nonsensically. “Wanna feel you, Eren, need you.”

“I’ve got you, gonna make you feel so good, princess.” Impressively, Eren scoops you off of the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist. He walks you both over to the wall, pressing you up against it. “Gonna make you mine all over again, yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

It’s a loaded question, but you’re so captivated by him, all you can do is murmur your agreement, tell him you want to be his because at least for now, you do. Eren’s magnetic, the man you run from so you don’t get lost in him, but tonight, you’re willing to drown. You’re begging for it.

The stone wall is rough against your bare back, but the head of Eren’s cock rubbing through your folds distracts you, a promise of what’s to come.

“Please, please put it in, Eren, I need–”

“My girl needs to be full, doesn’t she?” Eren’s smirking at you, slipping the tip of his cock in. Even the stretch of that alone is enough to make you moan, digging your nails into his back. “There you go, gonna fill you up, make you all better.”

You nod into his shoulder, the weight of your actions catching up to you as he presses himself into you, fills you entirely. Eren’s your kryptonite, he’s a drug, he’s an overwhelming presence, you can’t think straight around him. Before coming to this wedding, you told yourself you’d stay away, but you can’t help it. Everything about him is like he’s sculpted just for you, your body yields to him so easily you think you might be made just for him too. His skin, salty and sweaty from the summer air, is delicious under your tongue.

He’s moving now, fucking up into you desperately, like he loves you and like he wants to break you. You jolt in his arms, helpless to do anything but take and take and take everything he has to give you.

He smiles against your open mouth, placing a sloppy kiss over it. “Does that feel good?”

“Feels so fucking good,” you whimper, letting him manhandle you. Eren’s always rough with you, always riding the line of too much, and you love taking it. You love letting him push you to your limits.

“Missed my cock in you, didn’t you? This cunt was made for me,” Eren huffs, “made just for me. Mine, isn’t it?”

You don’t indulge him with an answer, loathe to admit that your cunt is made for him, but you feel yourself clench down around him, more of your wetness soaking his lower stomach. Eren chokes out some mix of a moan and a breathless laugh, fucking up into you harder. “What a perfect answer, baby. You love it, I know you do.”

“I love it,” you agree, simpering against him as your willpower fizzles out to nothing. You’re reluctant to believe it, but there’s another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. Your body responds to him in a way it responds to no one else, clinging to him and growing wet for him and tightening around him.

Eren’s digging his hands into your hips, moving you up and down on his cock more so than actually thrusting. He’s panting against your ear, hot and heavy and in tune with your own gasps. He nudges his mouth down to plant sloppy kisses around your shoulder, just at the crook of your neck in the sensitive spot that he knows you love, remembers even after all these years. 

“Been too fucking long, baby,” Eren says, “gonna cum soon.”

You nod into his neck, cunt tightening around him at the prospect of his cum inside you. Just the thought of it sends your mind into orbit; a little fantasy forms in your hazy head of him fucking you like this every night, like he used to, a child with your curls and deep, green eyes-

“Gonna let me cum in this perfect cunt, aren’t you?”

As usual, Eren’s right in line with you– the synchronicity makes you moan again. “Please, please–”

“Gotta cum with me, alright? You can do that for me, can’t you?” You can, you will, but you’re so close to the edge when you try to respond your words are jumbled together. Even so close to his own release, Eren snickers at you. “My sweet girl’s all fucked out, can’t even talk.”

“Need your cum,” you manage, “please, Eren, m’close.”

Years ago, through strenuous games of overstimulation and denial, Eren trained your body to wait for him, you can’t cum unless he does and you know it. Your only option is to beg, hot shame warming your face. Eren remembers, just like you do, it makes him grin, feral and dangerous in the early evening light.

“Need my cum, baby? Needy, so needy, so beautiful,” he’s starting to slur, you know he’ll finish soon, “gonna cum in this perfect cunt of yours, never let you keep it from me again. Maybe I’ll knock you up, hm? Can’t run from me with my baby in you.”

Your watery eyes fly open at that, the logical part of your brain long-quieted, and you moan loud for him again, just the way he likes. Eren’s thrusts have grown sloppy, he’s grabbing you so hard now you know you’ll be left with Eren-shaped bruises on your hips.

Eren finally cums in you with your name on his lips, long and deep, keeping his cock fully seated inside you. It triggers your orgasm, a toe-curling wave of pleasure coursing through your body, straining your sore muscles. Eren’s mouth is pressed against yours and all you can manage is a whimper, feeling his cum warm your pussy, leak out around from where you’re both still joined together.

All the energy’s been pulled from your body now; you slump against his shoulder and whine when he slides out of you. Eren places you gently on the floor, presses a soft kiss to the top of your head before leading you upstairs on shaking legs. It smells like Eren up here, the pricey cologne he favors and the scent of well-loved sweatshirts intoxicating you. There are no words between the two of you as he leads you to the bathroom, helping you sit on the toilet seat as Eren rummages around for a washcloth to clean you.

“We need to go back to the reception,” you say weakly, wincing as Eren rubs the cloth over your cunt.

“What do you think?”

You frown, confused. “About?”

“Us, again,” he’s avoiding your eyes, focusing on his work between your legs. You’re not surprised he waited until you were disarmed to ask, brain still muddled and dizzy.

“Eren–”

“I am different now,” he finally meets your eyes, gaze alight with the burning, too-hot-to-touch love you know so well, the only love Eren knows how to offer, “got a therapist like you were always asking me to. I meditate every day. I’ll be so good to you, you know how good I am.”

He is good to you, you remember it well, your own tendency to flee was what broke you up in the first place. You’d left his heart shattered on the sidewalk of your apartment back in New York City, overwhelmed with commitment and unwilling to give his flaws the same grace he gave yours. You’re opposites: he’s hot where you’re cool, angry where you’re distant, argumentative where you’re cold. You sigh, head feeling heavy on your shoulders.

“Do you know what you’re asking of me? What about the lives we have now?”

“We’d make it work, line our schedules up together” the corner of his mouth curls, you want to kiss him again, “we’re always able to figure something out.”

You hate yourself for it, you want to run from him, get a car to the airport right now. You also want to pull him into your arms, feel his heartbeat against yours, kiss that hesitant smile on his face and never stop. “I…can I sleep on it?”

Eren’s face lights up, a kid on Christmas morning. He’s always been so expressive in these quiet moments; unreadable in a crowded room, but when it’s just you and him, his heart’s always been on his sleeve. He can’t help it. “Yeah, just sleep on it.”

You get yourself as put-together as you can, wipe the mascara from under your eyes, slip the dress back over your shoulders and concede one more kiss to Eren. It’s slow, long and languid, tongues slipping over one another, the desperation now cooled into a sense of homecoming. 

You hold hands as you climb the hill back to the reception. Your knees wobble, and it makes Eren laugh, makes you blush. He’s still going on about the villa’s history, and you’re half-listening, admiring the stars above you both. The reception is still going on, albeit a bit more subdued than earlier. Some guests have trickled out, finding their beds, but your friends are still seated around a table, drunk and laughing.

Connie’s the worst, of course, leaning on Jean and regaling everyone with a tale about their Midwestern childhood together; Mikasa’s buried under Clara, who’s sleeping soundly in her lap; Ymir and Historia are alternating between listening and kissing one another; Sasha’s struggling with a corkscrew and a tricky wine bottle, Armin attempting to help her.

Your face warms as all eyes turn to you, rumpled and suspicious and late. Mikasa raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her face.

“Where have you two been? You missed the garter toss,” Ymir nudges Historia conspiratorially.

“Just touring the grounds,” Eren answers coolly, pulling the empty chair beside Mikasa and offering it to you. You sit, grateful to be off of your shaking legs.

“It’s so beautiful here, thanks for putting us all up…” you accept the glass of wine Armin is offering over your shoulder, tipping it in the happy couples’ direction. Historia murmurs a quiet ‘you’re welcome’, the entire table exchanging knowing glances. You scowl, being left out of a joke is one of your pet peeves. “What?”

Jean grins lewdly. “Nothing, just…I don’t think Eren’s room is as far from the main house as you two think it is.”

[lumilasi]

Spooktober day 10: Haunted House (+ Ava & Roman's apartment)

Finally, after 3 days I'm finished with this one. I decided to still keep this as a spooktober prompt as well, but the bottom one is the "canonical" look/vibe for this place. (I know the perspectives are all out of wack, never tried to make this look realistic lol)

Below, I've listed more info for the actual home of my main gal and her BF:

Living room & hallway:

They have a special house-phone at the end of the entrance hallway which is common in their world. This one is something you can use to also make calls in into the human realm, when compared to Ether-style cellphones. These are typically powered by special spacial crystals. (Ether's energy source is these crystals, rather than electricity, you won't see electricity sockets anywhere as a result)

The glowing wall decor is an actual vine plant, not LED lights. They are common decorative item among fae folk like Ava, a special plant that once harvested can survive up to 5-10 years by absorbing magic particles from the air. The glow is a side effect of this process and the color changes depending on the seasons. (Winter = white, Spring = light green, Summer = warm orange red, Fall = Yellow)

They typically dine at the window seat table. Ava used to eat at the small half-circle one in her kitchen when she lived alone, but they decided to get a bigger table when Roman moved in, and placed it in the living room as it was more spacious.

Bedroom

The wardobe facing the bed is a common enchanted one, where it is bigger on the inside and functions more like a closet. These are common ways to solve storage problems in Ether.

the window seat is one of Ava's favorite places to drink her coffee or tea during early mornings.

The Dr. Who policebox wardrobe has a mirror on the door, (Couldn't make it visible from this angle) which sometimes spooks Roman when he's waking up very dazed and groggy.

Bathroom

Ava and Roman have a very typical Washing-drum for their clothes. It is not earth-like washing machine, but a wooden rectangular drum (can also be circular) with special water and heat producing crystals at the bottom. This magic device both washes and dries clothes. The crystal turns from red to green once its done.

The small red and yellow mat in front of the sink was Roman's contribution, Ava asked him to pick one (she doesn't mind it clashes with the rest of the bathroom colors, Ava finds it charming)

Kitchen

The entire kitchen was redesigned by Roman, after Ava gave him permission to decide on it since she was planning on changing it up anyway. (She did this as their first anniversary gift, wanting to have him feel more at home in her place by contributing something more major to how it looks)

The place was designed to somewhat mimic Roman's childhood kitchen, as one of his fondest early memories was watching his late mama cook there.

Like the washer, dishwasher is also Ether-styled, another magic barrel embedded into the cabinets, this one has a circular rack to pull up and place the dirty dishes on.

Library/Study

This room hasn't changed much from the time this apartment was occupied by Ava's uncle, Alois. The only thing she added was the pillow pile/fluffy blanket for Roman to snooze on when he is in his hound form.

The study table spot also has a mirror that can be covered with doors; Ava often does her make up here to leave the bathroom free for Roman to use.

More fun facts

The apartment is at the corner of an U-shaped building, and the way to access the apartments in this building is an outdoor balcony pathway instead of an indoor corridor.

There is a front yard park of sorts in the middle of the U-shape, that also includes a special patio area for hanging out. Ava sometimes uses it for a small gathering or a party with her friends during summer, as the area can be sound proofed with magic, to not bother other neighbors.

The back windows of the apartments face a large park; Ava's workplace - Night City tattoo parlor - is almost right across from it, so she often shortcuts through the park to get to work. The side windows face the next similar building and a street. Front windows naturally face the inner yard.

Yoruga, Roman's coworker, lives in the same apartment building, just at the opposite side, and at the end of the U arm. (His apartment is also smaller, a two-room instead of three rooms)

[justfacilitatinglife]

Small Container Veggies for Table Decor

Hello and welcome back to Just Facilitating Life! Today, I’m excited to share a creative and practical idea that blends my passion for gardening with my professional life as a restaurant manager.

Transforming Our Patio Space

Like many businesses, our restaurant had to adapt during the COVID-19 pandemic. One of our most significant changes was setting up a spacious and inviting outdoor patio. It looks fantastic, but I wanted to add a touch of decor that would align with our brand’s emphasis on fresh, healthy, and local food.

The Initial Idea: Flowers

My first thought was to adorn the tables with flowers. They’re beautiful and add a pleasant ambiance, but maintaining fresh flowers can be quite a task. Cut flowers would need replacing every few days, which seemed impractical.

The Epiphany: Edible Decor

Then it hit me—why not grow vegetables as table decor? It would perfectly complement our farm-to-table concept. But the challenge was to do it in small, aesthetically pleasing containers.

Experimenting with Mason Jars

Initially, I considered using mason jars for a hydroponic setup. However, mason jars require a covering to prevent algae growth in the nutrient solution, which didn’t fit the rustic look I envisioned.

The Perfect Solution: Rustic Metal Milk Containers

A stroke of luck came when I visited a 99 cent store that was closing down. I found charming rustic metal milk containers labeled "Flower and Garden." They were perfect for our decor theme, and they were on sale! I bought every single one.

Overcoming the Leaky Containers

Excitedly, I brought them home, only to find that they leaked. Not ready to give up, I inserted food saver bags inside the containers, securing them with mason jar lid rings. This improvised solution worked perfectly, making the containers watertight.

Planting the Seedlings

With my containers ready, I planted a mix of lettuce seedlings. The result was adorable table decor that grows right before your eyes. I also planted a cucumber and placed it on a shelf in our patio area. The cucumber thrived, even producing fruit! I left one on the vine a bit too long, and it started to turn yellow, but that just added to the charm.

The Kratky Method: Low Maintenance

For these setups, I used the Kratky method, a simple form of hydroponics that doesn’t require pumps or electricity. Once set up, I didn’t have to refill the nutrient solution for the entire six-week lifecycle of the lettuce. It was incredibly low maintenance.

Rotating the Crops

Today, I’m refreshing our decor by replacing the lettuce with bok choy, dwarf tomatoes, and ornamental Thai chili pepper seedlings. These new plants will not only enhance our patio’s aesthetic but also spark conversation among our guests about our commitment to fresh, local produce.

Final Thoughts

Creating these small container veggie displays has been a rewarding experience. It marries my passion for gardening with our restaurant’s ethos, providing a unique and sustainable touch to our outdoor dining space. I hope this inspires you to think creatively about how you can incorporate plants into your decor, whether at home or in your business.

Stay tuned for more gardening tips and stories from my journey. Until next time, happy growing!

[heartbeatan]

The Art of Revenge (Chapter 11)

Return to Chapter 10.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Jungkook Fanfictions.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to One Nights Series.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 11

The birthday party was held at a restaurant that overlooked a wide, open lawn which backed onto the reservoir of the town’s waterfall dam. It had a huge patio covered by pergola-esque beams, which were strung enchantingly with Edison bulb lights and creeping vines of lush ivy. You thought the party would be relatively small, but as it turned out, the whole place had been booked out just to celebrate Hyejin, and the restaurant and patio were packed full of friends and family. Turns out, Jungkook wasn’t going to get his wish of paying for dinner, since everything was already paid for. The food was catered by the restaurant, mostly focused around the barbeques grilling burgers of all types, a long table full of buffet style sides and fixings, and several scattered counters covered in trays of appetizers. There was an area set up outside on the patio where three women and two men - who Jungkook told you were all family - played live music for the night.

It was a lot for just a birthday party - you were lucky some years to even get a cake. You assumed Hyejin was hitting some sort of milestone birth year, and so Abe decided to go all out.

You were a touch tipsy already from the bottle of wine you demolished in the bathtub, but kept a safe high throughout the first part of the evening as the copious amounts of food, socializing, and dancing, kept your body nourished and moving.

It was the perfect atmosphere to be in. You and Jungkook weren’t the center of anyone’s attention - which was something you worried about, expecting a small group of friends would lead to inquiries about “who the hell the new girl was and why was she with Jungkook out of the blue?” You weren’t completely safe, however, when someone Jungkook introduced as his friend Mira, became curious enough to bluntly ask.

“So, what’s the deal with you two?” Mira said as she glanced at Jungkook at the bar, who was grabbing another round of beer. “I’ve literally never heard of you before, no offense. How do you even know each other?”

Mira, you suspected, might’ve been christened in the Church of Town Gossips. She had already given you the dirty details on several people at the party - which essentially was harmless since you had no idea who the hell they were, nonetheless, who they were related to. But Mira was clever. She buttered you up with the friendly, girlfriend banter you had been missing, made you feel safe in her presence, then when the last beer kicked in, she dug for your secrets which you were all too ready to tell. The girl was good.

“Ughh!” you let out a sigh that could be heard over the loud noises of the bar. “We knew each other from a long time ago. But until about…” you looked up to the ceiling as you tried to count how long it had been since the kitchen, “five days ago?... I was engaged to this other guy. He was having an affair with my best friend. So, I ran away and came here,” you confessed, sober enough to know which details of that decision you needed to hide.

“No!” Mira’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open as she gawked at you. “You’re kidding?”

“I wish I was.”

“I’m so sorry, that’s awful. What did you do when you found out?”

“I just left. I did get my lawyer to send an eviction notice, and everything I could get refunds for from the wedding, I kept myself, so… the bastard’s broke and homeless.”

“Good girl,” Mira stuck up her hand and demanded a high-five. “Where were you when my ex was fucking around on me?”

“Oh, damn, I’m sorry,” it was your turn to be empathetic.

“Yeah, we were married for one month,” she punctuated by pointing up her index finger, “then I found out. He missed his sidepiece while we were away on our honeymoon, apparently.”

“What is up with these guys?” you began to fume. “Like, I never held a gun to this man’s head and forced him to propose to me.”

“Seriously,” she shook her head. “We had been together forever, and I wanted to move forward or move on. I told him, we either take the next step, or we break-up. He proposed. He should have chosen the break-up. But nooo… he didn’t wanna be the bad guy who didn't wanna get married, so he became the real bad guy who cheated constantly.”

“People suck,” you narrowed your eyes as you took another drag of your beer.

“They do,” Mira agreed. “Men suck.”

“Hear-hear,” you stuck up your bottle and the two of you clinked the necks together, then sucked back another gulp.

“What are we celebrating?” Jungkook stepped up to the bar table you two had been slouched over, but instead of being greeted with two set of eyes happy to see him, he saw two predators ready to tear him apart for simply existing as a man, nonetheless, interrupting their girl time.

“We’re bonding over how much men suck, Jungkook,” Mira pointed a finger at him, and the way she slurred her words made you realize she too was a little drunk. “And you’re interrupting.”

Jungkook suppressed a grin, put his hands up in surrender and took a step back. “My bad, Mira.”

“You can have her back in a while,” Mira continued. “I like her.”

“I like her too,” he handed you a fresh bottle, along with a peck on the cheek. “Don’t send her back too angry, Mira, we got plans later,” he winked, you blushed, and she rolled her eyes.

“I make no promises,” she gestured with her hand to shew him off. “Now go away.”

Jungkook backed off, then you both watched him as he strode across the floor and made his way towards some friends. You weren’t quite sure where Mira’s eyes were focused - nor did you much care - but you were definitely eating up all of Jungkook.

“Well,” Mira sighed, “I gotta say you have high standards for your rebounds, Y/N. I’m jealous, Jungkook is so much hotter than mine was.”

“You mean after your divorce or whatever?”

“Yeah. But my rebound was really fucking good at going downtown. Best head of my life, I swear. Better than my current husband,” she then leaned in close and whisper-yelled, “but don’t tell him I said that.”

You laughed loud and long. You were really liking the dynamic with Mira, the girl time, the camaraderie, and the funny and lewd banter. You could easily see yourselves becoming good friends if given the opportunity. But something she said was sticking with you. Rebound.

She wasn’t necessarily wrong. You didn’t really see Jungkook as a rebound relationship… and honestly, you didn’t really believe that relationships could be so easily boxed in and labeled with such terms. But still… the concept wasn’t exactly the stuff of myths. You had jumped quickly into something relationship-adjacent as a result of a failed relationship. You had done so before you were truly over what happened - in fact, you had done so because you weren’t over what happened.

“Mira,” you sighed, “Am I crazy if I kinda started to fall for my rebound?”

“No,” Mira shook her head supportively. “I don’t believe in hard and fast rules like that. But - I will say - surviving infidelity doesn’t just happen in a day.”

“Yeah,” you lamented. “I think I’m figuring that out.”

“Hey, ladies!” you heard the familiar voice of Hyejin as she stepped up to join you at your table. “You look like you’re bonding!”

“We are!” Mira said.

“Hey, Hyejin,” you called her attention. “I wanted to talk to you about something - but I don’t want to overstep.”

“What about?” she looked a touch confused.

“Well… see I’m an accountant, and I used to work with a lot of smaller clients. I work for one stupid conglomerate now, but… one of my clients used to be an art gallery. I thought, if you were interested…” you began to feel awkward now, and wished you were a touch more sober when you decided to approach her. “In short, if you’re looking to try again, I would love to help you. There’s tons of grants and tax breaks out there that people just don’t even know about.”

“Really?” Hyejin’s eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah. I really liked working with that other gallery. It was… exciting for an accountant, ha-ha!”

“How much?”

“Oh, no, I’ll do it for free. I can’t legally help others out anyway. It’ll be our secret.”

“I would love that,” she crossed her hands over her heart. “That place was my dream.”

Your heart felt light and warm as you watched tears threaten to well behind her eyes. Moments like that were why you loved your job.

“If I don’t see you before I go home, I’ll leave my contact with Jungkook to give to you.”

“Oh, when are you going home?” Hyejin tilted her head curiously and looked a bit hurt.

You shrugged and shook your head, “I don’t know yet.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to convince you to stay, let me know. You and Jungkook seem so cute together.”

“It’s annoying, right?” Mira elbowed Hyejin. “They’re so fucking happy.”

“I don’t know, guys,” you laughed. “It’s only been a few days, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Oh,” Hyejin tsked, “Who cares? I have an eye for these things - I just know it’ll work out.”

You caught Mira shaking her head at you, letting you know that - at least in her opinion - Hyejin didn’t have the “eye” she was bragging about.

“Hyejin,” Jungkook called when he returned to the table with Abe and another man - whom by the way he stepped up behind Mira - you assumed was her husband. “You stood in our grocery store and promised me you wouldn’t pester her,” he teased as he stepped up beside you.

“Did I say that?” she quirked her head and pretended to not recall the exchange.

“There were witnesses,” he retorted.

“Well,” she shrugged. “File a complaint with my lawyer, I guess. But before then, we need you and everyone outside. We’ve got a surprise.”

Everyone looked at each other, searching for a face among the table that knew what was going on - aside from Abe and Hyejin. But, if anyone knew something, no one slipped up.

“Sure,” Mira’s husband nodded, then took his wife's hand, and began to lead the group out onto the patio.

When everyone was gathered outside, Abe and Hyejin stood excitedly in front of the microphone which the band had been using when performing. They had huge smiles plastered to their faces and held hands so tight, like they were afraid to lose each other in a violent storm.

“Hey, everyone!” Abe was the one who spoke. “Thank you all for coming. As you know, we brought you here under the guise that we were celebrating Hyejin’s birthday. Some of you know, however, that today is not actually her birthday – it's on Tuesday. The reason why this is important, is because years ago, when we started dating, she told me – I think halfway through our appetizers on the first date – that she wanted to be married before she turned 35.”

The crowd laughed nervously, and you smiled. But you also developed a sinking feeling in your stomach, as you pulled together the pieces of what was happening. Jungkook, who had his hand rested over your shoulder while his thumb caressed the back of your neck, squeezed you lightly – seemingly catching on to what was happening as well.

“She told me this at this very restaurant – and, well, since she’s turning 35 on Tuesday… we actually gathered you all here to... umm,” he looked adoringly down at Hyejin before he mustered the courage to speak the punchline. “To witness our marriage vows.”

“We’re getting married!” Hyejin squealed into the mic, and the crowd erupted with awes and applause. “Right now! This is our wedding! Sorry about the seating, most of you will have to stand but, we promise it’s going to be quick!”

The crowd laughed, then the space became scattered and chaotic as people tried to move tables out of the way, and place chairs in some sort of fashionable order.

You and Jungkook ended up standing to the side, next to the large flower boxes that contained the patio from the lawn. He leaned precariously over the edge of the box and strung his arms around your waist as you leaned against him. It was the nicest spot, in your opinion. You could see the stage perfectly, but were far enough away that you could also catch the cool breeze coming up from the water.

“Are you okay with this?” Jungkook asked his question low, so not to alert anyone standing near you.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s fine.” You weren’t sure if it was fine – but you didn’t want to somehow offend a special moment like two people celebrating their love by needing to duck out and go cry in the bathroom.

Despite how casual and rustic the wedding was… it was so incredibly beautiful. It was personal and intimate, and even though you didn’t know Hyejin and Abe all that well, you knew that somehow this atmosphere suited them perfectly. You felt foolish watching it all, because all you could think about was yourself. You had a huge, beautiful, lace ballgown wedding dress, while she had a cute white-silk two-piece pant and halter crop outfit. Chris was going to wear a tux, Abe had on a teal Hawiian shirt covered in Flamingos. You were supposed to get married in a grand hall, surrounded by roses and lilies. They were getting married surrounded by geraniums and beer bottles.

Your wedding was supposed to be the most lavish display of love and commitment - and yet, here, in the middle of nowhere, on the patio of a restaurant bar… you were witnessing true commitment. That much was evident by their self-written vows which no flower or expensive architecture could capture in terms of beauty. You were brought easily to tears - both happy for them, and sad for yourself. You and Chris were never ones for speeches.

That - what Hyejin and Abe had - was what you wanted. You couldn’t help but wonder if you had been trying to fabricate all that with Chris. Had you really loved him as much as you once thought you did? Or did you only love the thought of him?

You put on a brave and smiling face for everyone. Today wasn’t about you - even though your inner turmoil didn’t know that. Fake smiling eventually convinced you to really smile. You ended up having a lot of fun, and with time, you became better at squashing the returning desire to burst into tears.

But it didn't last...

After all the food was gone, the Edison’s hanging from the pergola were turned off, and replaced with tiny, blue fairy lights that had been discreetly strung through the beams and ivy. Hyejin and Abe had their first dance, then everyone who was paired up was invited to join. You were slow dancing with Jungkook under the new ambience, surrounded by love and good vibes - but, internally you were cursing yourself for not being as present in the moment as you wanted to be. Everything was so fucking romantic, from the lighting to the music, to the way you moved together, and looked at each other. But you felt the dam inside you beginning to crack.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” Jungkook asked, when he noticed your throat bob away a potential sob.

You sucked on your lower lip, and blinked rapidly as you nodded your head. "Just for a minute. I need a break."

“Okay,” he whispered, then he took you by the hand, grabbed the two nearly full beer you had opened before you took to the dance floor, and guided you across the lawn, towards the water, and away from the crowd.

You picked a space on the grass that angled downward towards the water and - as best as you could deduce in the moonlight - wasn’t containing any animal shit. You laid along the grass, resting yourself up over your elbows, and Jungkook laid propped up on his side next to you. You both looked out over the river, letting the peaceful scene relax you as you sipped on your drinks.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, if I had known I would have said something.”

“No, it’s fine. The world doesn't stop turning just because mine did. It was just… fresh, you know?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I wish I could help.”

“You have,” you looked hard towards him, trying to emphasize the depth and genuinity behind what you were saying. “In a lot of ways. You’ve been so… great. Even just seeing how you live up here, it’s given me a lot to think about.” You sighed, then looked out over the water as you thought about where you thought your life should go, and what you now believed you wanted. “It’s making me reconsider what I think I want out of my future.”

“What did you want?”

“I don’t know… success. A big house. A family.”

“And you don’t want that anymore?”

“No, I do want all that. I just think that maybe… there’s a lot of things I thought I needed to achieve in order to have all that. A lot of things that I guess I’m realizing don’t matter. I don’t need the perfect house or the perfect job. I just need… good people around me.”

“Do you like it here?” Jungkook asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s quiet, and feels friendly. Safe. It would be a great place to raise a family I think. How lucky would a kid be to have all this wide open space and freedom.”

“I think that’s why I decided to stay up here.”

“Yeah? You wanna get married and have kids and all that?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “One day for sure.”

“What were you doing before?”

“Well… right after school I was living in the city. I had a good time and all. I had an okay job doing web design. I liked it but it was a means to an end. Mostly paid for nights out at the clubs," he laughed to himself, "I wasn’t really great at planning for the future.”

“Well, you and I aren’t similar in that regard. I’m always planning. I think that might be what Chris meant - he was more go-with-the-flow.”

“Ah, fuck him. He’s an idiot. Having an ambitious girlfriend isn’t a burden.”

“So what changed?”

“Luck,” he laughed. “I inherited my house. I wasn’t really sure what I was gonna do with it at first. I thought maybe about selling it and buying a condo, but I had good memories up here. So I decided to hold onto it for a bit – keep it a getaway cabin. Then, one day, I got away and didn’t go back. I quit my job, broke my lease,” he shrugged, “now I’m here.”

“You started over.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t leaving much behind though.”

“Maybe I should do that,” you took a few good chugs of your beer.

“It’s never too late.”

People said that all the time, like it was some sage wisdom - but you always balked at the idea. Starting over was hard and risky, and seemed like something reserved for Hallmark movies. Yet, you were sitting in the presence of someone who had actually done it - so, you supposed it wasn’t such a myth afterall. Granted, he had a real estate advantage - but still.

A soft breeze wafted over the river, and rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. You closed your eyes and embraced the way it cooled your skin which had been damp in the summer night’s humidity.

“I think you should start over,” Jungkook broke you from your trance.

“I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Move here. For real, open up your own firm. I know people would come to you.”

“I don’t know. It’ll be a lot of money to just start up. I need rental space and software and licenses and insurance and so much more. I need to figure out what I can afford after I sell my house. I don’t even know what homes cost up here. Maybe… I could stick it out at my job for a little bit and save up.”

“Orrr… you could just stay with me.”

You loved that idea, and were terrified of it as well.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You can use one of the spare rooms as your office. You don’t need any formal storefront around here to make it. The only lawyers in town run their business out of their backyard sheds.”

“And where would I sleep,” you looked down at him with a suggestive curve to your mouth.

“Well,” he rolled forward, and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder. “I think I’d be willing to let you sleep in my bed. I promise you the rent is reasonable.”

“Mmm,” you hummed. “I don’t like to get into quid pro quo arrangements, but I can’t say I’m not tempted.”

Jungkook leaned in a little closer, and pressed his lips soft and long to your neck. “I can sweeten the offer if you need more convincing.”

His nose traced the skin of your neck, and you bit your lip as your body tried to slouch away from the way it tickled you and threatened to puddle you into a fit of laughter.

“You’re going on tour soon,” you managed to finally push him off. “You really wanna leave me alone in your house?”

“Actually, I was thinking you should just come on tour with me.”

“What? No. I can’t do that. I need to work.”

“Do you?” he raised an eyebrow. “Why can’t you take some time off? You’ll have money from your house. You won’t have any rent to pay. You can come on the road with me, and when we get back in October, you can set up shop then.”

“I don’t know,” you bobbed your head side to side as you agonized over the idea. It sounded fun and all, but you weren’t sure if you had the guts to do it. “What if we get sick of each other and you kick me off the bus halfway across the country. Then I’ll be the one who is homeless and broke.”

“I don’t think that’s something we need to worry about, Y/N. You and I get along pretty great.”

“Trust me, I want to say yes. I’m just… trying to be smart here. The only way I was successful in ending things with Chris so quickly was because I held all the cards. This is all so risky - I’d be putting my life in your hands.”

“It would be a risk,” he nodded. “You’d have to trust me. I know that’s a hard ask after everything. But I promise I won’t just kick you to the curb. And even if we started hating each other's guts… you’d be fine. I'm not sure of a lot of things, but I’m sure of that.”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. “I need to think about it.”

“And you should. You’ve got a month at least, right? And after that - hell, even if you aren’t ready to move up here for good, like, come on the road with me anyway. You can store your stuff in the barn. You’ll be living for free - everything is already paid for by the label. You can think about what you wanna do for another three months.”

You nodded slowly at the moon’s reflection in the water as you considered it. He was right. You were free now that you no longer had Chris. Jungkook was offering you a chance to capitalize on that freedom.

“I’d have to sell my house before then. I have some money saved, but I can’t afford the mortgage payments for too long without a steady paycheque.”

“We can figure it all out.”

“Okay,” you nodded more firmly now. In your heart, it was an easy choice. But your head wasn’t completely sold on the idea quite yet. But you were committed to at least really considering it. “I'll think about it. Seriously,” you looked at him. “If you’re up for it, I’ll think about it.”

“I am serious.” He then sat up, and you followed by pushing yourself off your elbows to sit with him. He shuffled close, propping his arm over his bent knee resting behind your back - somewhat caging you into him so you could look closely at each other as you spoke.

“I don’t know when the right time is to say anything,” he began slowly. “But… I figure how I feel is pretty obvious at this point. I like you… I wanna see where this goes.”

You felt the return of your butterflies, and you felt sheepish underneath the watchful eyes of the stars and his unguarded and pleading gaze. You supposed you should be thankful for his honesty. You hadn’t had a lot of honesty in your life, apparently. But - amidst the butterflies and the thrilling fantasy of a future together - you couldn’t help but notice something sour and repulsive wrenching inside your gut. You chalked it up to the long and taxing day: from the stress of your legal matters; the confrontation with your ex fiance and your ex best friend; and, the impromptu wedding that only sharpened the blow. You hoped the feeling wouldn’t last. Not when you had someone wonderful like this, touching you so tenderly, looking at you so vulnerably. Not when he made your broken heart feel like it could be whole once again.

“I like you too,” you confessed. It was the truth - even though it felt like it came with a caveat you didn’t quite yet understand. “I kinda think…” you wanted to say more, but you paused as apprehension stiffened your vocal cords. “It’s stupid fast and all, but…,” you winced, “I think I might be falling for you.”

A beautiful smile, that made your heart sing, widened across his face and lit up his eyes.

“Good,” he said with a nod as he tried to wrangle his facial expression. “Because I already have.”

Your lips pulled into a smile, and you wanted to burst into a million particles. But at the same time, your stomach began to twist with guilt - like it didn’t believe you deserved this perfect moment.

“Are you trying to one-up me?” you accused, once again, retaliating against the way he made you feel. You were doing a lot of that too today.

“Nope,” he playfully shook his head. “I would never.”

His hand came down to rest over your knee, his thumb once again making soft passes over your skin. You loved and hated the simple ways that he touched you.

You both looked back up the hill towards the patio, as a deep and thumping bass began to pulse from inside the restaurant - signaling the beginning of the real party.

“Do you wanna go back?” you asked him.

“Do you? We can just go home if you want.”

“Hmm,” you thought about it, then thought about his hand on you and how you maybe wanted it to start creeping a little higher. “I think we should get back up there, have a piece of cake, do a couple shots, and makeout like horny college kids on the dance floor.”

“We can do that,” he agreed with a mischievous grin. “And then we can go home and have sweet, sloppy drunk sex?”

“Yes,” you cheered.

He stood up, brushed himself off, then offered his hand to help you off the grass. “Let’s do this.”

⁂

Morning poured itself through the windows. First with an indigo blue, then in a pale gray, then in pink streaks of sunlight, until finally the room was bathed in the soft yellow of another beautiful, clear sky. You saw all the colors of a new day cast itself over the ceilings of Jungkook’s bedroom, since you had been awake to witness it all.

You had awoken only an hour or two into your sleep, and fought for and hour or two more to fall back without success. You were so restless, yet too tired to move or do anything about it. So, you laid on your back, with Jungkook’s heavy arm loosely strung over your waist, while he snored softly at your side for hours, and you - finally truly alone with yourself for the first time in forever - mauled over everything you had been hiding deep within you.

Last night - instead of stumbling home, knocking into furniture, and collapsing on the bed in a rushed and clumsy attempt to get naked, only to barely fuck for five minutes before the whiskey dick kicked in - you didn’t have the sloppy drunk sex you had been looking forward to. Instead… you made love. It was sweet, tender, and attentive. Instead of pounding into you hard, like your body was made of concrete stone, Jungkook rocked himself into you slowly and methodically, like you were made of glass. Instead of marking his skin with your nails and your teeth, you delicately inspected the ways his muscles moved beneath your soft hands, and tasted his flesh with gentle presses of your lips. Instead of a string of expletives falling from his lips, he told you how beautiful he thought you were, along with a hundred other whispered praises that made you want to melt into the earth.

It was a perfect night… but something felt wrong.

You thought about it all as you looked up to the daylit ceiling, and regretted every way it which your fucked up feelings were sullying the memory of it. You closed your eyes as a tear escaped and rolled down your temple. After the long night, you knew why the droplet had fallen, and you were pretty sure what you needed to do.

You stretched for your phone resting on the nightstand beside you, and noticed a text message which had arrived from Chris.

Chris: I’m out of the house. [3:14 AM]

You weren't sure whether or not you should have been impressed or depressed at how quickly he had untangled himself from your life. Clearly, after he left you, he made the 14 hour trek home and didn’t stop until he was out of the house. You wondered if he had even grieved the loss. A second message had come through, however, and it seemed to answer your question.

Chris: I’m staying at Steph’s apartment. [3:28 AM]

“That fucking prick,” you whispered as you pinched the bridge of your nose, like you were feeling the onset of a migraine. You were sure he had only said that to get back at you, and you hated how much it hurt. Even worse, you felt like you deserved the hurt, despite knowing that you didn’t.

“Surviving infidelity doesn’t happen overnight,” was what Mira had warned you. She was right. You had perhaps staved off the inevitable because of a few blissful days with Jungkook, but today, everything was catching up.

You felt Jungkook begin to stir beside you. You tossed the phone aside and quickly wiped at your cheek, hiding any evidence that even that single tear had fallen.

“Hey,” Jungkook said groggily, as he raised his head to reveal droopy, sleep-filled eyes and a mop of disheveled hair.

“Morning,” you tried your best to sound cheerful.

“You been up for long?” he asked.

You nodded slowly, then confessed, “Yeah, I have.”

Even in his foggy state, he sensed at once that something was off.

“Everything okay?” he asked, concern clear in his throat.

You thought quietly about how to answer his question, but chose not to answer it at all.

“Do you think you could cover my tattoo today?”

He looked at you long and hard, like he was trying to crack the code of a complicated cipher. But the truth was, what you hadn’t said wasn’t all that well hidden.

He swallowed, before he asked the question he dreaded asking. “Are you going home today?”

You nodded, then an intense silence fell between you as you both marinated in the declaration, until you felt you needed to break it. “Chris moved out last night. I need to go pack.”

He nodded tepidly, as he hoped for the best outcome of his next question. “Are you going to come back?”

You looked at him for a long moment while you thought about your answer. Then, mustering all the courage you wish you didn't have, you said, “I don’t know…”

Go to Chapter 12.

[blueiscoool]

3,000-Year-Old Mummy Found in Peru

Archeologists have found a pre-Hispanic mummy surrounded by coca leaves on top of a hill in Peru’s capital next to the practice field of a professional soccer club.

Archeologists have found a pre-Hispanic mummy surrounded by coca leaves on top of a hill in Peru’s capital next to the practice field of a professional soccer club.

A team on Thursday viewed the skeleton with long black hair lying face up with its lower extremities tied with a rope braided from vines of vegetable origin. Stones surrounded the mummy buried one meter (three feet) down.

Miguel Aguilar, a professor of archeology at Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, said the mummy was buried in a ritual that included coca leaves and seashells.

The burial was on top of a destroyed U-shaped clay temple, a characteristic of some pre-Hispanic buildings. The mummy has not yet been subjected to radiocarbon dating to determine its age, Aguilar said.

He said old fly eggs were found next to the male skeleton, leading them to believe the body was exposed for at least several days before being covered with dirt.

It was found in Rímac, a district separated by a river of the same name from the oldest part of Lima. Aguilar also heads the Historical and Cultural Center of the Municipality of Rímac.

Pieter Van Dalen, a professor at Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos who is an expert on archeology of the Peruvian coast but was not involved in the project, said the rope binding the lower extremities of the mummy is an example of the pattern seen in ceremonies. He cited another mummy found in a different area of Lima whose body was also tied with vegetable ropes.

The team of excavators worked the first months of this year collecting up to eight tons of garbage that covered the top of the hill, which is next to the training field and headquarters for the Sporting Cristal soccer club. Police also removed homeless people and drug addicts who camp out around the hill.

The hill, which has remains of ancient mud walls, was a “huaca," a Quechua word meaning oracle or sacred place. There are more than 400 huacas in Lima, according to the Ministry of Culture.

Mummies and other pre-Hispanic remains have been found in unusual places in the city. Workers installing natural gas lines or water mains have found mummies, sometimes children, inside large clay vessels.

There are even cases of discoveries by residents, such as Hipólito Tica, who found three pre-Hispanic mummies in a hole in the patio of his house. He kept quiet about them for a quarter century, until in 2022 they were removed by archaeologists with permission from Peru's Ministry of Culture.

[spunknbite]

South Downs, revisited

The garden faces south.

Wisteria and lavender. Borders of delphinium. Brilliant violet asters, peonies and shock-white hydrangeas. Hostas that could use splitting come spring. Hollyhocks thriving, standing ten feet easy. Lady’s Mantle, climbing roses, snap dragons. Yarrow, a lot of yarrow.

Grow you a garden. Start from seed, from the beginning, the inception. Dirt under fingernails, cracked terracotta pots, noon sun high. Watch stalks rise and flowers bloom, creation, something new and whole and yours.

There’s lattice-work arches too. A little neglected, water-warped wood imprinted with decades of climbing tendrils tattooing the grain. The clematis has fallen back, overstretched and thinning at the apex, but still the stains of its vines remain on the wood, revealing past summers. The patio stones that dot the perimeter are smoothed almost slippery from years of use and rain. Initials are carved in the trunk of the overgrown birch that shadows the back gate. SM + RB dug deep in testament, a fine layer of moss creeping at the edges.

Loved, this garden was loved by its former caretakers. Could be loved again, certainly.

There’s room enough to spread out. Add some colour — daylilies, cosmos, bellflowers. Coax some ivy up the brick. Mint as ground cover, along with flowering thyme, lily of the valley, phlox. 

He could build an awning off the back wall, offer some more cover. Move the hostas – they’d be happier under the protection. Plant some astilbes, coral bells, some begonias in the summer. Add a few lounges, a place for an angel to read while it storms. 

Maybe an apple tree, if he’s feeling bold.

-----

“I quite miss the country,” Aziraphale says one afternoon. A sip of tea, the familiar clink of cup on saucer. “It’s been centuries.”

“Tadfield?”

“Centuries since I’ve holidayed properly. The occasional day trip hardly counts.”

“You can’t leave this shop.”

“Not permanently, maybe just to get some air. See the sky again.” Saucer meets desk. A smile his way, blue eyes alight,

“And I will make thee beds of Roses  And a thousand fragrant posies,  A cap of flowers, and a kirtle  Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle”

“For Satan’s sake, you’re invoking Marlowe of all people?”

“And why shouldn’t I? Just because he’s been a smidge overshadowed by —”

“You know he was an atheist, angel?”

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“And that broken clock can write poetry too?”

“Quite.”

The bell above the shop door rings, and Aziraphale is off. 

-----

The third bedroom is just a nook really; it peaks out of a dormer window overlooking the back garden. It has built-in shelves along one wall, inset and bordered with the sort of colonial crown moulding that Crowley imagines only Aziraphale would truly appreciate. Grandmotherly; shelves seemingly meant to house sun-faded doilies and ceramic cats.

But it could be a library. Granted, a small one, but there was space enough for a collection of the essentials with room to spare under the window for a desk. An angel must keep up with his correspondence, after all. 

Dear angel, he’d written once, centuries ago. Then scribbled it out.

Dear angel, he’d written again, not long after. Then burned it.

Dear angel, he’d written again and again and again. Wasted paper made pulp made paper again, never sent.

-----

He buys the damned cottage. 

Dumb idea. Impulsive, really. Like a lot of what he did, what he still does — gets a notion in his demonic skull and just charges on, unencumbered by reflection. As if he trusts some higher power is looking out for him, has his back – the absurdity of it. Once upon a time before the beginning of the world, he’d sauntered vaguely downward without really considering all the consequences, the ramifications of it all; hadn’t weighed and measured, worked out the celestial maths. No, he made a choice and paid for it without knowing the price.

(he would have kept sauntering on anyway, knowing where it would ultimately lead — earth and humans and their wonderful cars and Aziraphale and and and — but he hadn’t known then, couldn’t have known, just what shape his damnation would take, and that was rather the point; he was a careless idiot)

Here too, on earth. We can run away together — Alpha Centauri. Get an idea, a cocked up, stupid thought and go all in on it. 

The Bentley, raging down London streets. A sharp, nearly blind corner. Is there oncoming traffic? Could he stop if he wanted to? Who’s even in control, has he ever been? Has he gone from one master to another to another?

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

So he buys the damned cottage, because what else can he do?

-----

Aziraphale gets in the elevator and Crowley gets in the Bentley. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but it’s not South Downs.

Also on ao3 for anyone interested.