#we were less than a month out and so many of their intended matches were just falling through due to injury and drama

[comediakaidanovsky]

jesus christ these audiences for roh/aew what the fuck. like i get that it's hard to sort structural things out when the company is in a tailspin but man do they need to do something drastic. however many monitors tk was hit with it was not enough

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.223 thoughts

[Well...That Could Mean Anything...]

(Contents: immediate reactions - cancelation scare/renewed hope; speculation - story progression)

Please Say "Sike"

...I guess I should've seen that coming

If they can skip the three months leading up to the Quests, why not skip the month of the Quests?

Granted, my assumption was that the Master Rules wanted to fight and defeat the Union, that they were willing to interfere with their training but not to actually cheat at the Quests themselves, which seems to have been an accurate assumption to make

The fact that even Soul objected, demanding an explanation and even going so far as to attack Luna in retaliation, explicitly tells us that nobody involved wanted this outcome

The question this begs, though, is if Tozuka wanted this outcome

The overwhelming response to this chapter was definitely an anxious one. Folks were already super nervous because UU's been in the back of the magazine for the last few weeks while also being notably absent from a recent list of profitable manga that Shueisha put out recently, so seeing this chapter explicitly skip a bunch of content that had been built up for the last year or so was troubling to say the least

However! It also didn't take long for the fanbase to reevaluate the purpose of this direction

Hold the Line!

As Luna notes, Andy held off all ten Master Rules for eons. Of course she lost faith in them! Hell, Andy bodied Sick in less than a minute, and what few members of the Union that Language took out came back - it's pretty easy to see how the remaining fights were going to go, both from Luna's perspective and ours

And that's boring

While we all wanted to see the cast fight their natural enemies and learn more about themselves, awakening their souls and developing new ways to use their Rules, the truth is that was going to become formulaic sooner or later. Language's ambush on Nico and Ichico was a great way to keep us on our toes, but unless all of the Master Rules dropped in on the Roundtable Room at once, there wasn't really a good way to keep things fresh without it feeling like they were on a conveyer belt

There's also the fact that Ragnarok needs to be triggered by failure, so much like with the Four Seasons, the Union was either inevitably going to fail at beating one of the Master Rules or beating them was going to trigger Ragnarok anyway - both of which are outcomes to Quests that we've already seen. The Quests getting autoskipped though? That's a fun twist on the established pass option while also raising the stakes and giving both the cast and audience a scare

If UU weren't having such a rough go in the real world, we'd all be seeing this scene as a super cool twist, and I think that's what Tozuka intended it to be, but because we have reason to fear for its future, we can't help but take it as a bad sign

While Sun basically eating the Master Rules and beginning his assault on the Union certainly looks like a sign of the end, though, I think that this is meant to be the Master Rules all storming the Union at once like I suggested

Two Cakes

Many of you likely noticed that the rings that surround Sun have orbs with Roman numerals engraved on them, corresponding to the ranks of the Master Rules. This implies that the Master Rules haven't been absorbed, but rather sealed

If the Master Rules are still alive, they can still be battled, and likely will need to be defeated to weaken Sun. Using what was learned from the battle against Seal, the Union will likely use their souls to enter the orbs, giving us all of the match-ups and character development that we wanted to see while also moving at the breakneck pace that Tozuka seems to be so fond of

I imagine that someone may need to stay outside to hold off Sun while everyone's souls are separated from their bodies (if that's even an issue), so that will likely be Andy and Fuuko's job since they're ostensibly at their peak already and don't need any further development aside from the finale to their stories, though I could also see this being Chikara's big moment, holding off Sun all by himself while everyone else fights

All that said, this doesn't necessarily mean that we'll have the year and a half run that I projected last week; if Tozuka really is being forced to speedrun the story, it's possible that each Master Rule fight will only be one chapter and serve as a capstone for a different character/set of characters' arcs, but even then, it's extremely likely that the intention is to at least last until the next round of new manga, which will coincide with UU's fifth anniversary

Skipping the off weeks for Christmas and New Years, this gives us, at a conservative estimate, 16 more chapters to work with

To-Do List

Considering the number of events that still need to happen, I think 16 chapters could feasibly work if it looks a little something like this:

Establishing the formula - Chikara's capstone

Sick - capstone for Rip/Latla

Time - capstone for Shen/Mui and likely Feng

Justice - awakening of Unjustice/capstone for Julia?

War - capstone for Billy/Tatiana

Luck - likely a moment for Fuuko, though not her capstone

Change - capstone for Gina(+Sean?)

Death - likely a moment for Andy, not his capstone

Soul - group effort?

Sun - group effort, Ruin returns

Sun pt. 2 - capstone for Ruin

Sun pt. 3 - capstone for the Union

Final boss - Luna

The Heart

Luna defeated - capstone for Andy and Fuuko

Epilogue

This definitely would be a bit rushed, and I'd much rather each fight get a lot more time to breathe, but the main point I'm trying to make here is that it isn't impossible to tell a complete and satisfying story with the time remaining so long as the focus is on completing the character arcs of the cast members that have been established to be the most salient this entire time rather than trying to give everyone a slice of the pie

Tozuka's already made it clear that not every cast member is created equal, which is an unfortunate necessity in an ensemble cast that's under the constant threat of axe-ecution by Jump's editorial staff, so if things need to be pared down, this seems like a reasonable way to do it in my opinion, though again this could easily be doubled or even tripled depending on how badly Shueisha wants the series to still be producing content to coincide with the Winter special episode or possible season 2

Don't take this list at face value, though - remember, I'm just a reader, and while I've been right every now and again, I've also been wrong much more often, so my projected timeline is almost certainly off-base. I just hope it's wrong in the right direction!

Hell, my entire premise of needing to fight the Master Rules in the first place might be wrong! Not in the sense that they won't be present in the story anymore, but more in the sense that they won't be antagonists anymore

The Enemy of My Enemy

If you'll recall, the way that Andy escaped from Seal wasn't by taking down all of the Rules that Seal captured - it was by convincing them to fight back. With Luna having betrayed her creations and manipulated her counterpart, it really doesn't take much stretching of the imagination to see how the Master Rules might have a bit of a bone to pick with her

Therefore, instead of having a dedicated battle against each Master Rule, it's equally likely that there'll be a dedicated battle with each of them. This would let each of them show off their powers and personalities while also letting us build up the tension against Sun without simply rehashing the previous Ragnarok

More importantly, though, this would solidify one of the most major themes of the story: union. Every human enemy save for Ruin has become an ally, and we've had plenty of situations where UMAs have gone against God's orders and allied themselves with humanity, so having the most human UMAs do the same would be the perfect way to wrap up that narrative throughline

However, that again is still pretty predictable, almost rote with how the story has progressed so far, so I still expect one more wrinkle to come out of left field, regardless of how many chapters we have left:

The Union will lose

Failstate

The biggest question mark hanging over this entire series, at least for me, is what Sun and Luna's goals are

What is the world supposed to look like after the game ends? If Luna loses the bet and humanity can't reach the Gods, what's meant to happen? Will humanity be wiped out, will the Rules become harsher on them, what?

To truly understand the weight of the threat, of what the Union is trying to prevent, we need to be shown at least a glimpse of it, so even if Time or Soul or the Heart or whoever will immediately undo the damage, the Union needs to see what they're fighting for

Bonus points if that's the moment that reforms Ruin - that he sees how much worse everything is with humanity's loss, how ruined the world will be, and he decides then and there that he needs to ensure it remains unruined

Again, though, Tozuka has always proven to be a few steps ahead of me, so even if I have the basic ideas, the final product surely won't look much of anything like what I'm suggesting, and will surely be better than anything I can imagine

Looking Forward

In a perfect world, Tozuka would be able to take as much time as he wants to flesh out every single character and backstory and battle to his heart's content, but that's just wishful thinking. The undeniable truth is that Tozuka is working in the most cutthroat company in an already cutthroat industry, so naturally not everything can or will go to plan

However, even under those conditions, Tozuka has managed to tell a consistently engaging and beautiful story that has served as an inspiration to many of us for the past nearly five years. As I've said a thousand times now, we need to have faith that Tozuka is going to continue to do his best to deliver a story that we'll love, even if we don't agree with every choice he makes for it

He certainly doesn't want us to read each chapter filled with fear and trepidation; he wants us to read them with joy and wonder, like we always have! Whether Tozuka decided that this was the best time to end it or Jump forced it on him, whether UU will last for four more months or four more years, the single most important thing that we can do is enjoy what Tozuka has to offer. That's all he's ever wanted from us, and it's what this series has taught me to do

So come on, you do it too:

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

[blurredout10]

This Is Not A Date

Upgraded Connor (RK900) | Nines/ Reader fanfic

Rating: Mature

Wordcount: 5560

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Intimacy, emotionally curious nines, groping, smut, p in v sex, rough, kinda soft kinda not lil boi

Link to AO3 here or continue below cut:

You envied him, really.

Holding down a forefinger, the imprint fogging your phone screen, the victim of your poking quite literally quivered under your fingertips; a damn bloody dating app. Its cornered ‘x’ be the only good idea it gave you since its offered romantic prospects surely weren’t.  

It shakes a violent plead of mercy, like the castle clown prancing joyously, a jingle bell on its neck collar shaking its head desperate no’s where you snapped two fingers for its forthcoming executions. Disappointing. As per usual.  

But punishing the joker meant nothing if its replacement came from the same circus. You downloaded another app, pinky peach hearts pictured on a mobile symbol, your expectations had sunk passed the depths of hell.  

You were no less given the attention, a text ping except for a joker's bell. Despite Detroit’s ever-growing gene pool with the doubling population of both humans and androids, your huddle of situationships barely satisfied you, lacking a spark you so craved. Matches appeased your eyes, descriptions void of icky pick-up lines, but with every other text you were sent, something scrunched up your face worse than the last.   

“Why are people so boring?” you vented to the brioche-scented air, very much aware that fine-tuned android ears had spaced out. You’d grown to suffer alone.  

He didn’t have to worry about bearing the weight of carried conversations, he was perfect. Bloody hell looked it too.  

Nines envied you equally, but for the opposite reasons.  

There hadn’t been a day's rest of his HUD, notifications running haywire like sugar-induced children running laps in a playground. But even little humans collapsed in exhaustion — you did a lot of that — and energy was spent, Nines’ string of leeching matches never tired. 

“How tall are you?”  

“Glad we matched! My place or yours?”  

“How big did they make you?”  

“Boring indeed,” silencing the utter mess of thirsty texts, he turned his attention back onto you, a croissant half-stuffed in a stun where you hadn’t expected an answer. Flakes stuck to your lip as you chewed, fluttering eyelashes moaning for you at the fill of French delectables. Your reactions amused him. People were boring, indeed.

You, however, were quite interesting.   

Many months of a developed friendship had the both of you puzzlingly closer. Intending to better work efficiency, Nines fed into your friendly advances, but he hadn’t expected to actually enjoy your company. You two had clicked like polar forces, self-fashioned laws of physics in your own little world together.   

Nines, surprisingly, was a pretty handsome wall to talk to. You enjoyed every little teenage-like whisper of gossip you shared, to which the android’s sharp ears picked up on the latest in the DPD. You’d grown accustomed to his partially stiff persona as he did to your free-spirited one. The moon to your sun, and he surely brightened in your gifted happiness. Kindred souls hand-in-hand, shoulder-to-shoulder, you were there for him, and he was there for you.  

Nines scoffed at deleting another chat thread with a persistent match mate.  

It started as a joke. ‘I can get more bitches than you,’ though you knew you were speaking out of your ass. You did not, dare you say could not get more bitches than a man who mastered being a man, despite being made plastic and steel.   

Eyes blue like arctic winds, soft but intimidatingly focused in burning through flesh, his face sculpted unfairly to turn heads his way. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist that looked good in anything, even you could admit that. You were no stranger to getting asked about his romantic status.   

The sheer size of him shifted uncomfortably in the little bakery’s equally little seats, shoulders swallowing the back of his chair as if his steel spine served a replacement. Discomfort, albeit making him stir again to lean forward with a frustrating twitch of brows, was still foreign to him; a bitterness that squirmed deep in his chassis. It had taken a while to identify and label the feeling.   

Experience was the tutor in the study of emotional understanding. Experience was his guide to an emotionally coloured world and discomfort was by far the dullest, sluggish and unattractive hue he’d come across.  

Nines heard an audible moan deep from your chest, satisfaction making you lick buttered fingers clean. Your palate cleansed except for pastry bits on your plate, following a trail to your lap, above your chest and still on your bottom lip. You, however, were that bit of colour that sagged his shoulders, the bit of colour that made him agree to silently accompany your weekly brunch ravishment.   

His chest shook in a chuckle at seeing you no less a mammal in its habitat, wild and careless, waving away thrown looks at your poor table etiquettes. Hair frenzied in a mess, your posture slouched as if you owned the ground around you, you had a flair of contentment with everything you did. Interesting human, indeed.   

“I wasn’t aware wearing your afternoon brunch was socially acceptable,” he quipped and your eyes widened, patting hands rubbing away crumbs that doubled his laughter. Croissant bits projectile in his direction, ultimately landing on the table and his lap. 

Your phone announced itself, a text ping waking up your screen with the surprising icon of a newly downloaded dating app. Flat on the table, Nines perked in out of curiosity. Your spread grin was better at drawing his attention.   

It could only mean one thing.  

“I’ve got a date on Friday.”  

-.—.-  

It just happened.   

Somehow in some weirdly fated way, you and Nines had your dates aligned. When you’d dress up for a dinner evening, he’d be suited up for one couple of roads down. The forgotten competition falling into a routine of complimenting each other’s outfits, you pointlessly fixing his collar and escorting either into another’s hands.   

As expected, you’d gasp at the sight of his fitted dress shirt, threaded buttons pulled taunt to the rise and fall of his chest. Bigger biceps smoothed into the arms of his blazer, an icy pair of eyes that’d drop anyone to their knees; you watched appreciatively, blessing your eyes with what his dates would be so lucky to sit across.   

Dang, he looked good. Who needed dinner if desert sat inches away?  

And he’d eye you similarly, following the curves and dips of your dresses, a taunting hug of fabric an extension of your skin leaving little to the imagination, not that he had any. Loose silk that hung low, embraced your thighs just right, it was enough to have you smiling at your reflection. You liked to look like this, beautifully sexy, earning heart eyes from victims you’d never contact again.   

Nines was effortlessly attractive, but you sure believed you were too, and confidence was already half the charm. There was a reason your dating race lingered neck-and-neck, people wanted him and people wanted you.  

Still, you didn’t understand why serial dating was so damn hard.   

Nines excused his admiring as a friendly reciprocal to yours and then you interlinked arms, trotting in pretty shoes to leave some date awestruck.   

Struck, definitely, so much so they didn’t show.   

“Fucking flunked on me,” all of your hours getting ready wasted for nothing. A dangling table light held you in spotlight, the universe laughing at your misery. The waiter dared to make a brief visit, scurrying away when you shot daggers, Phone glued to your ear, you lined a fork with distracted fingers, “I went through all that effort, for what?”  

“He dodged a bullet,” Nines teased, a smirk leaking into your speakers. You groaned annoyingly, a tad bit hurt though you’d never mention it. Nines only chuckled, “are you not hungry?”  

“Of course, I am,” your volume had diners eavesdropping, you lowered it, “but I’m not gonna sit here and eat alone like some… loner .”  

An elderly woman leaned into your line of sight, doing little to mask her judgement.  

“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed, straightening up subconsciously. Nines remained silent, a little something nagged you, “tell me you have better luck than me.”   

He did. Unlike you, Nines was glad his date didn’t show.   

“Unfortunately, detective, I have been cancelled on too.”  

“No. Way.”  

So, obviously, the next step pretty much carved itself out. You were both in need of a nice dinner, dressed to impress, and without your respective dates. Nines took no longer than necessary to join you, filling in the void of an empty seat as you did for him.   

This happened again, from your silk dress to a casual getup, and again, from fancy dining to amusement parks. From black tie gallery visits to turtleneck picnic dates. You found it harder to believe Nines was getting cancelled on when he kept miraculously showing up.   

It wasn’t a date, even if it always looked like it and you’d get ready as such. Painted lips smiled at him rather than some other guy, and neither of you was complaining about it.   

Upon reaching the front of the queue to an ice cream cart, did someone first state the obvious.   

“Here’s one for you and a drink for your partner.”  

You stilled, “oh, we’re not- he’s not-"  

“Thank you,” Nines took your waffle cone, giving it a tasteful lick before handing it to you. He walked away before you could protest.   

“What was that?” You fell behind his longer strides struggling, Nines always found it amusing.   

“What was what?” Pale flickers of his eyes were a tell of his naivety, “are we not partners?”   

Work ones, sure. “Pretty sure she was calling you my date.”   

For his advanced prototype kinks, he hadn’t preconstructed that theory. It was his turn to freeze, the ice of his irises solidifying the rest of his body, the only tell that he hadn’t fallen stasis being an amber spin on his temple. His abrupt halt had you bumping into his back with a grunt.   

Though your complaints died into laughter at seeing him so… off guard.   

“It’s not so bad,” you nudged him, elbow meeting his midriff, its proximity to his thirium pump regulator pulled a heavy huff through his voice. You winked, “you’d be lucky to score with me.”  

Park attendees walked in their chatter, dogs let off their leashes, rolling in the glass with both furry flesh and synthetic plastic alike. Families shared inside jokes, children playfully screaming on the lake’s perimeter. Information coded everywhere in his scans, the broken grid of his deviancy reminding him of his freedom.

But he grew overwhelmed around you.

The past few mutual flunks hadn’t exactly been… mutual. The moment you’d text him your date was boring, or the guy left you hanging again, he’d be the one to disappear mid-mingling and scurry away to accompany you. Surely, that’s what it meant to be a good friend, right?  

He wasn’t looking to replace your flings. He just merely wanted to be there for you. Be a light of colour as you had been for him so many times before.   

Nines blinked erratically, warning ambers giving him away.   

“Jeez, I’m not that bad,” you joked but he caught wrinkled brows of concern, following another lighter playful nudge on his arm. The contact teetered on the edge of overwhelming his processors.  

Neither of you talked about it.  

On came another Friday evening, a ping reminding you of a ‘Tomas’ looking forward to seeing you. Your dressing table mirror applauded the artistry of makeup whilst you merrily shoed up, throwing a text back via that dating app 2.0.  

“I’m so sorry! Can we reschedule?”  

“No show again,” you sighed, lying out of your ass, “how’s that android with the green hair doing for you?” 

“I’m afraid she does not feel interested anymore,” also a lie, Nines had pretty much blocked the persistent woman.  

Getting comfortable in the back row of your local cinema, which was supposed to be Nines escapade for the day, he passed you a popcorn bag, one he’d already bought for you. Lights dimmed at the title screen, Nines sneaked a glance at you, silently admiring the palette of your makeup. Nines liked it when you played with pigments, orange and purples finely painted on eyelids, bringing out the colour of your eyes. It pleasantly stimulated him.  

“What?” Curving in a half-smile, you caught his ogling.   

“You look lovely, detective,” it was pretty much routine at this point, to compliment you. Though this time, the air hung heavier, the smile never making it to his lips, his thirium pump straining for a beat when your vitals jolted the slightest.

He said it so sincerely; why did he sound so different? Your retort wasn’t given voice, a prickle of shivers meeting your extremities in a blush, you were glad the darkness covered for you.  

You swallowed down. He cleared his throat. The movie went on. But the heat of your body, the subconscious leaning on his arm, close enough he could decode the product in your hair, the movie wasn’t plenty distraction.   

And as if rA9 evilly taunted him, a couple cornered in the cinema audibly moaned, latched onto each like horny teenagers. You bobbed your brows at him, ‘kids these days’, but your skin grew hotter, ultimately arising a glitch or two in his system.  

“The movie was great,” you gulped a smile when he walked you home, kicking lone rocks, eyes weighed to the pavement, “I guess, I’ll- I’ll see you.”  

“Yes-,” he spoke too quickly, nodding, “I wish you a good night, detective.”  

You blinked, “you too. Goodnight to you too.”  

“Thank you.” His feet shuffled, “I shall go now.”  

“Get home safe, alright? Goodnight, Nines.”  

“Take care, detective.”  

Awkward couldn’t even begin to describe it.  

-.—.-  

The competition was long gone, dating threads snipped weeks ago when you decided to delete the apps once and for all. Nines had pulled from the single scene even before you did, gulping down excuses as to why he decided to bail on all his prospects.   

“No, we’re friends,” you’d say. Friends that helped each other down a couple drinks. Friends that slow-danced at New Jericho’s fancy dress party, to which Connor had invited you both. Friends that publicly teased each other with a flutter of eyelashes and hot heavy breaths.  

“Since when were you two dating?”   

“This is not a date!”  

Said you at a party where Nines was your plus one, glued to your side like your extension.   

It was getting ridiculous.  

Eventually, neither of you spoke about seeing other people, just assuming the other would turn up. On paper, and even in person, you both looked pretty stupid in denial.   

But one night, clinking afters with your department crew, did the dusted line between friendship and something more sharpen, something that made sense in the entanglement of your not-dates with Nines.  

Officer Wesley was clear in the intention to woo you and have you in bed, playfully raking his gaze and hissing out a compliment. He leaned in closer, elbow atop the bar front with a daring smile. Admittedly, you missed the thrill of being a tease, slipping your tongue out to wrap around the straw but not enough to give him a show. Wesley caught on your game, and for the officer he was, he’d happily play cat and mouse.   

But this time, things felt different and flirting with the dirty-blonde man felt wrong. Flirting with anyone felt wrong. And you couldn’t understand why.  

You flickered in the RK900’s direction, only to find him already watching Wesley talk you up at the bar. A heartbeat thumped particularly loudly when he held your eye contact, leaning back in his booth whilst tonguing his straw similarly to how you had done it.   

Fucking hell.  

“So, how about that drink?” The officer reminded, thumbing at the display of bottles behind the counter.   

Holy shit. You didn’t want to be like every other victim to the reeling of those darkened blue eyes, you weren’t like that.   

With a double take, you caught that damn triumph smirk on his face, as if he could see exactly what that tongue did to you, being on the receiving end of it. Fuck him, you wouldn’t let him win.   

Nines’ smirk faded as soon as you gave the officer your undivided attention, edging your barstool. Your touch crawling up his arm, soft lips leaning closer to his ear and speaking just out of earshot. It had the android inexplicably grinding teeth.  

That was another thing about deviancy it had taken him a while to calibrate; urges. The urge to partake in conversation, or flee from it even, the urge to tease you to the point your cheeks were coloured tomatoes. It was this urge that had an added darkness looming over you, two icicles boring into the back of your head.   

Sixth sense tied a thick knot in your throat.  

Wesley cleared his throat too, sitting up straighter, “Nines, you ah - you good?”  

The android didn’t look it, stalking over your shoulder like he’d no less bite into your neck and suck you dry in one go. But if this officer be a conquest you wanted to take to home, Nines would personally help you put on a show.   

That’s what good friends did, right? Help each other?  

He slitted fingers between chunks of your hair, pulling your head aside abruptly, the contact freezing you in place. You gasped as he lowered his mouth, speaking to the shell of your ear but loud enough for Wesley to pick it up, “we know you want to fuck our little detective, officer.”  

Nines dragged his lips against heated skin, tongue peeking out to taste you. And just as he expected, his HUD blasted with paintballs of colour at the encoding, his pump fluttering when your lashes did so.   

His other hand dragged up your waist, curving at the shape of your breasts and ghosting over your nipples. Lips replaced his tongue, and a trail of android saliva burned into your skin in his venturing down your throat. You took a staggering breath, forcing your eyes open, not realising they had closed.

“Your advances could use some work,” Nines spoke to Wesley, the man’s larynx bobbing at the sight of you melting.   

Large palms curled inwards on your thighs, pushing them apart on display and kneading flesh through fabric. You held back a moan, biting down on the feeling of leaking arousal. God, when did Nines feel so good?  

Nines smiled against your skin, lipsing down the expanse of your neck whilst you pretty much leaned to give him more room. His tongue prodded and lined the length of your passing artery, tasting your fastening pulse, you shivered under him. Even if rendered speechless, your body did the talking.   

Wesley couldn’t decide where to look, Nines prompted further.  

“You just need a little push.”  

Fingers roughly pressing between your legs, one push of a massage that forced a moan deep from your chest, and Nines retreated, taking a large step back. Wesley looked half as shocked as you did, your jaw clenching in the realisation of what just happened.   

Nines leaned carelessly on the bar, unbothered in leaving you aroused. That was his intention, no? To give you and your prospect a push in getting things going? Which is why he blinked confusingly when you shoved him, a frustrated scowl leaving your lips before you stomped out. Wesley sat glued to his chair, still recovering. Nines ran out after you.  

Light patters of rain met his scalp upon catching up to you. You groaned when he called your name.   

“You can’t just- do that!” You yelled, frustration grating your throat, showers dampening your hair, “you can’t just-“  

The android remained still, attempting to understand you with a series of yellow circles.   

“You can’t just touch me like that, Nines!”  

But his touch had arisen positive responses, his brow furrowed in confusion, “why?”  

You stumbled, eyes widening, “why- why? What do you mean why? You can’t go around touching up random people! It’s- it’s wrong!”  

You weren’t random people. Nines processed for a moment, rain splatters snugging the fabric of his sweater against his skin. His scanners quickly caught your gulp, “did you not enjoy it, detective? I assumed he needed a little push.”  

You blinked again, dumbfounded. Who gave him the right to put on a show for Wesley? What on Earth goes on in that metal brain of his?   

“That’s not- I wasn’t going to go home with him,” water collected on your lashes, “I don’t want him.” 

A wave of understanding struck him. He had misunderstood you and his ‘help’ stood void of reason. And recalling the way he stalked over you, no reconstruction software helped in justifying what he did, because the urge didn’t do it for you, it did it for himself.  

The warmth of your chest invited him, kisses digging into the valley of your neck whilst he continually decoded the electrolyte contents of your sweat. It quite literally fuelled him.   

Deviancy was a strange thing, though the only explanation for why Nines wanted to taste you again; he wanted to hear you breathe out his name, shaking with need, begging for more.

You shivered under water pellets, the silence weighing down each of your breaths. And hidden in the muddle of conflicted feelings, you craved Nines to touch you again, give you a warmth in frozen winds. Neither of you moved, and the ghostly burn of his lips longed for his return.   

“I’m going home,” you muttered, straying away from his scanners.  

He wasn’t your date. You weren’t together. But hell, if the assumptions of such didn’t make your heart flutter, you didn’t know what will. Besides, Nines was the embodiment of allurement, poised and perfect, what would he do with the likes of you?  

Arms wrapped around to wade off the cold, teeth chattering, you blinked a few before turning away to walk to your car, the gusts of wind trying to push you back. Nines wouldn’t see you as anything more than a friend, you were sure of it, but your disappointment was cut short when a firm grip latched around your wrist.   

He twisted you, swallowing a squeak with a collided kiss. The colours returned, blinding him tenfold in pretty pinks and bubbly yellows, prompting him to press a hand firmly on the base of your skull and keep you there.   

The tension in your spine remained, but you quickly came out of shock and fervently returned the moulding of your lips with his, hand trailing the flex of his pecs, damp fabric squelching under fingertips.  

The hand on your wrist migrated to the small of your back, pulling you closer. His tongue poked into your mouth, making you gasp at the added anatomy whilst he curled around ravishingly, wet sounds amidst the ambient splashes of rain. Both of your minds dazed, Nines blinking ambers at devouring you and you suddenly patting his chest with a light push.   

He pulled back to let you breathe but returned mid-inhale, this time eagerly tilting his head to see what better fit. He made out the whisper of his name between kisses, responding with an approving groan.   

“Nines,” you tried again, water running streams down your back as it poured heavier. You wondered if hypothermia was worth it, “nines, wait-”  

He kissed you passionately, hoping to swallow the colour of lips and paint his innards as such. Though he eased, slowing to a stop and you panted onto his jaw. He took in the sight, mimicked tears streaking your blue eyeshadow and mascara under the rain, he fought the urge to prod his tongue in your mouth again.   

He awaited your rejection. As you loved to remind everyone, Nines wasn’t your date, always the friend accompanying you instead. He’d be lying if he said watching you with other people didn’t bother him.   

But you didn’t scold him, nor push him away in a fury. You smiled, a toothy grin that you failed to bite away and broke into a soft giggle, “we’re in the middle of a street,” you shook your head, leaning a fraction of an inch closer, “and I’m soaking wet.”  

Nines pulled into a smirk, “you’re welcome.”  

There, the cherry rouge of your cheeks, that was another part of you he wished to consume wholly, preferably with his tongue.  

Everyone else felt wrong, but Nines felt right.  

And upon passing the threshold of your home, Nines proved the feeling to be mutual by meeting your lips again, vocally praising you when your arms wrapped around his neck. Kicking the door shut, his biceps wrapped you tight, squeezing the air in your lungs and suctioning it straight into his chassis.   

He stepped you back, tongue dancing with yours, his fingers tucking away wet hair from your face. You gasped as you hit the wall behind you, his hip bucking into yours with a noticeable erection.  

Hands rummaged under clothing, your damp shirt peeling off your skin with a gust of cold, leaving your hairs on end. The foyer’s air, however, grew dense when Nines hungrily eyed your body. Calm blue of his LED blinked an amber and he suddenly threw you over his shoulder.   

“Nines!” You shrieked, your protests dying as he caressed the back of your thigh. He carried you to your bedroom, bouncing you onto the mattress with a look that kept you frozen. You gulped in anticipation as he undressed whilst you were only stripped of your shirt.  

“Your body temperature has dropped to lower ranges,” he knelt between your legs, clasping your wrists immobile and kissing you into the sheets. You arched into him, gasping at the skin-to-synthetic contact. His lips ghosted to tongue at your jaw, a wet pad of the plastic muscle running up just below your ear.  

“I must heat you.”  

“You’re as cold as they come,” he pulled back to meet your remark, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. Nines kissed your collar, the sound of compensatory breaths prompting him to lower to your bra, unclasp it and swirl a perked nipple with his tongue.   

The moon slitted through blinds, painting him a blue that matched his temple. A warm breath breezed over your lower abdomen, fingers gripping the hem of your pants and shimmying them off. Wet skin made you sensitive to his touch, a tingling working overtime where he wrapped around your thighs, his lips hovering over your remaining underwear.   

Of all your dating partners, specifically those you had slept with, only a handful of them had been androids, and it never made it passed foreplay. Whether that be inexperience or hesitance, flings would be done after a touch-up.  

Nines had his fair share of sexual partners, learning what got people going and what fed his desires. But your unfiltered storytelling exposed you of kinks and likes that a curious android like Nines couldn’t help fantasising about.   

What would you look like under him? How did you sound when forced a rolling orgasm to ripple through you?   

A devilish smile made his lips before he took your undergarments in his teeth, lust-blown eyes watching how you shivered at the sight of him dragging them off. Wrapping around you twice as tight, he gave you a flat lick from slit to bud, pushing down your hips to stop your squirming. He was glad to find you were, indeed, soaking wet.  

Having him right there, head of brown bobbing up and down, experimentally sliding his tongue in places you didn’t know existed, the sight of him had you biting your lower lip, trying to chew down an embarrassing whimper.   

His tongue made circles around your clit, flickering left and right at a gasping pace. Your hands found his scalp, splitting his hair into sizeable chunks, holding on like the handlebars of a rollercoaster; and the way he looked at you, pupils swallowing icy blue into a predatory black, a shiver ran down your back, clenching your thighs against his biceps.  

Wet muscle prodded into your slit, eliciting a moan. You almost squealed when his thumb continued to press patterns on your clit whilst tongue-fucking you into the sheets. You pulled at the root of soft, chestnut hair, and he only picked up the pace, having you pant in line with his pace.   

You tipped over unexpectedly, crying out your orgasm with an abrupt push against his mouth. Nines crawled above you again, making you taste yourself with a deep, sharp kiss.  

To see you like this, body quivering for his touch, an undertone of pink blushing your skin, his field of vision saturated in the colour of you. He wanted more. He wanted to see you come undone again, paint you an orgasm that would stain him for the rest of his android existence. Maybe he understood why Markus created art so often, maybe abstract understanding was closer than he realised. Nines wished for nothing more than to place you high on a pedestal or pin you against the wall for reasons other than framing you a painting. 

“Every date you were bailed on,” he whispered confessions on your skin, gently lipsing your shoulders, “I cancelled mine to join you.” You stiffened under him, muscles taunt under his lips, he clarified, “I’d much rather have you than anyone else, detective.”  

Of course. You were right. Nines wouldn’t get bailed on that often, it was impossible. You mustered up enough air to speak, “if we’re confessing, I deleted the apps weeks ago.”  

Like the robot he was, he halted mid-kiss, a shifting yellow giving him away as it did back at the ice cream cart. You were both lying to each other, simply to be in each other’s company.  

You added with a tease, “you don’t have to lie to score a date with me, Nines.”  

“I thought I was ‘not a date’,” blue-greys accused you.  

“Yeah, I guess we’re both pretty stupid then.”  

Your smile brightened the room, despite moonlight barely filtering through your windows, corners bordering darkness. Nines mirrored the grin, dipping down to kiss you with a newfound heaviness in his chest. He pulled off his briefs, lips never leaving yours, and lined himself between spread thighs.  

Your breath hitched at the stretch of muscle when he pushed in, barely giving you time to adjust and pushing in further until he bottomed out. Or at least you hoped he did, you weren’t sure if you could take any more of him.   

Breathing in each other's pants, he rocked slowly, fingers bruising your wrists, lips bruising your neck. Nines grew desperate to see you in the colour of his lips, turning purples in broken blood vessels. His pelvis smacked again your clitoris, grinding an added stimulation, your head rolling back, moaning his name right into his ear.  

Setting a brutal pace abruptly, swallowing squeals in messy lip-locking, Nines stretched you to the teetering line of pain and pleasure, the head of his cock driving into a sensitive spot that jolted your nerves in bliss. He rutted like an animal, resting his forehead on yours, fucking you with a harsh snap of hips, your legs could only hold on for dear life. He loved to see the dip between your brows, raccoon-faced from messy makeup. It made him twitch inside of you.

“You feel so good. You look perfect,” he praised, bringing two fingers under your jaw to prompt eye contact. You met his darkened expression, his rouge curl tickling your forehead. Thumb shaping your lips, he pushed in knuckle-deep, pressing down on your tongue. You gave an instinctive suck as he growled, “you’re mine.”  

Every thrust brought about a new sound from your throat, and with your mouth forced half-open, there was little you could do to stop them. Your eyes rolled back, toes curling at a rolling orgasm, the sounds of sex driving you to buck into him as he did you.   

You were desperate, needy, and what was left of Nines’ restraint was snapped. He fucked hard, muttering profanities as he edged closer, seeing you at the mercy of everything he gave you flipping him inside out.   

He wanted to see you like this, again and again. His thumb subconsciously retracted his simulated skin, a ripple in your mouth that diverted your attention, and a glowing blue lit up from below the whites of his hand. An interface, the both of you realised. You moaned at his display of intimacy. 

Nines staggered into you, losing his rhythm. 

You looked good in blue.   

“Come for me.”  

And with sharp thrusts, you arched into a mind-blowing orgasm, limbs shaking as he continually dragged in and out to chase his own. He spilled with a throb, panting at the chance of painting you inwards as you did to him, and watched the slowed pumping of where the both of you connected.   

Though upon spotting a trail of blueish white leaking out of you, his hips bucked involuntarily, eager for another round.   

You moaned in euphoria, and that was enough for him to keep going.

It was no surprise Nines adored the sight of you decorated in his markings, growling in every painted colour you presented. So, the next steps carved themselves, and you had a great idea for your next date.   

Painting.

[gryfferin-gaybies]

Prompt - Please stay

When Harry walked into the pub, of course he noticed that platinum blond head of hair immediately. Of course his eyes were naturally drawn to the tall, lean, pale figure sitting at the bar.

And of course it hurt to see him again. It had been less than two months since they ended their year-old relationship. They'd fought frequently as a couple but that last fight was different. They'd yelled and screamed so much Harry lost his voice. They'd hurled insults at each other that hit hard and cut deep. Draco stormed out during arguments all the time, but he always came back. Harry waited over a week and Draco never came back, never reached out, never responded to Harry's owls, texts, calls, or Floos.

Harry's breath caught in his throat at the sight of Draco sitting at the bar with another man—who was leaning in way too close in Harry's opinion. His gait faltered but he quickly recovered, tearing his eyes away from the painful scene and refocusing on his coworkers.

They'd had an absolutely grueling day in the field so when one of the Aurors on Harry's team said drinks were on him, no one turned down the offer. A couple of hours after they arrived, they practically took up the entire back end of the pub, spread across multiple tables. A group of four played a game of darts while two others drunkenly argued over a game of chess. Some had formed a crowd around the telly to shout about the Quidditch match. No one seemed to mind; in fact, aside from them not many people were there at all.

"Harry. . . Harry. . . Auror Potter. . . Harry Potter!" Auror Kane snapped his fingers in Harry's face. "Do you want another," he asked when he finally had Harry's attention.

"Huh?" Harry hadn't even finished his first glass while most of his coworkers were working on their third or fourth. "Oh, no, I'm alright." Harry was sitting at a table with five other Aurors but he wasn't paying attention to them at all. He didn't have the energy to try to engage in conversation with them. He didn't pretend to try like he normally did when he was around people. He was too busy recovering from the shit show of a day he'd had. . . And staring at Draco and the guy he was with.

Draco was clearly inebriated, swaying slightly on his barstool and getting more handsy with the other man as the night went on. It concerned Harry because Draco didn't like being drunk in public. He didn't like being anything but clearheaded when he wasn't in the comfort of his own home or a close friend's.

It made something uneasy settle in Harry's gut and he had a feeling he might want to stay sober so he approached the bar to order himself a water. He made sure to stay a few feet away and on the side behind Draco, hoping to avoid being seen. He wasn't far enough to avoid hearing their conversation.

"What will it take to get you to come home with me?" Harry didn't mean to eavesdrop. Those words from whoever that stranger was just caught his attention.

"Like, three more drinks," Draco slurred. That was the last thing he needed, in Harry's opinion.

"We can make that happen, but why don't we continue drinking at my place where we can get more comfortable, hmm?" He trailed his finger along the inside of Draco's exposed wrist, up his arm, and stopping at his elbow to continue from his chest to his throat.

Draco nodded. "As long as I'm too pissed to remember this tomorrow." He giggled and swayed on his stool, taking another long gulp of whatever he was drinking.

The man laughed at that and it set Harry off. This man was very clearly sober enough to realize he was taking advantage of Draco, but Harry wasn't going to allow that.

He walked over to the two men, fueled by his own anger, and left his water behind on the bar. "I think it's time for you to go," he warned the other man, stepping in the small space between them with his back to Draco.

The prick just smiled at Harry. "Thats exactly what we were intending to do. Isn't that right, Draco?"

Harry spared a glance at Draco to find that he suddenly seemed very tired. Up close Harry could see the bags under his eyes and the worry in his eyes, things someone who didn't know him so well would've missed entirely. "Potter, what're you doing?" Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

Things seemed to connect in asshole's brain and realization showed in his wide-eyed expression. "Potter? Harry Potter? You're . . . Oh ."

Harry ignored him, instead answering Draco's question, still glaring at the now-nervous stranger. "Keeping this prick from taking advantage of you."

"I didn't ask for your help! You weren't even supposed to be here. Would you just leave? I can handle myself." His words were so slurred Harry knew he wasn't in any state to make decisions.

Harry finally turned around. "I'm not going to let you do something you'll regret tomorrow, if you even remember it." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"The goal is not to," he mumbled to himself. "I'm an adult. If I want to go home with him I can, and I do so I will." He tilted his glass back and finished its contents. "Now if you'll excuse me." He pushed past Harry to drag the other man away by the arm, stumbling as he did so. The asshole allowed himself to be pulled away with a sly smirk.

Harry followed them, catching up with a couple quick strides. "Draco, no." He grabbed Draco's arm just above the elbow and pulled him back.

He whirled around to face Harry and paled, looking as if he was about to be sick, but he didn't pause. "What is your problem?" Draco yelled, drawing attention to the three men. Luckily, it was getting late and the bar was nearly empty. Harry noticed then that his coworkers had all left at some point.

"What is your problem?" Harry shot back. "You're getting drunk in public, going home with a stranger. Why are you being so reckless?"

Draco scoffed. "Don't act like you care, Pot—" Draco cut off suddenly and Accio'd a trash bin, puking as soon as it got to him.

"I'm going to go. Draco, you have my number. Call me if you'd like to meet up again, yes?" The other man began to retreat.

"No, don't go," Draco protested, but it was useless because he threw up again as soon as he said it. "See what you did? You ruined my night!" He said once the prick left.

"Yes, because that was all me. I'm sure it had nothing to do with your getting sick." Harry rolled his eyes, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Deciding he wasn't going to be sick anymore, Draco walked to the pub's exit. "Just go home, Potter. You've done enough for one night."

Harry placed extra galleons on the bar as an apology, then followed Draco. "Oh, no. I'm not going anywhere until I get you home safe. You're in no state to be Apparating yourself." Harry pulled his wand and stepped close to Draco.

"I can Apparate myself home. I'm not that pissed." That was a lie.

Instead of arguing, Harry just wrapped an arm around Draco's waist and Apparated them back to Draco's flat. The moment they arrived, Draco scurried to the bathroom to puke again.

Harry followed him. He opened the cabinet behind the mirror where he knew Draco kept most of his potions. He pulled out some Sober-Up and then wet a towel with warm water. "Here, drink this." He handed Draco—who was seated on the floor in front of the toilet— the Sober-Up.

"Thanks," the blond mumbled, downing the potion in one gulp. He made a sour face at the taste and Harry offered him a cup of water he'd summoned from the kitchen. He sipped at it and then placed it on the counter.

Harry handed him the damp towel to wipe his face, then sat in the floor with Draco with his eyes closed, saying nothing. He wasn't sure how long they sat like that before he broke their heavy silence. "Do you want to tell me what that was about?" He looked at Draco then.

Draco cast his gaze downward and shrugged one shoulder. "I dunno," he murmured.

There was another pause before Harry sighed. "Do you want me to just leave?" Draco had been the one to walk out on him after all. He probably didn't want to see Harry.

"No!" Draco blurted, too loud for the small space. He took a breath and tried again. "I mean, no, I —" Harry noticed tears start to form in Draco's eyes so he moved closer, concerned. Draco allowed Harry to pull him into a hug. "I just can't believe she's gone," he whispered.

"What? Who's gone?" Harry's blood ran cold. He hadn't heard about any deaths recently, but that could be why his friends had prevented him from reading the papers.

Draco sniffled and pulled away from Harry, wiping at the tears that had escaped. "You really don't know?"

Harry shook his head, confused and concerned.

"My mother, she . . ." Draco broke off, unable to say it.

"Oh Merlin, Draco, I had no clue." He knew Narcissa hadn't been well, but he hadn't heard this terrible news. There was no way he'd have been willing to give Draco space if he knew he was suffering. Then it made sense why his friends wouldn't want him to know. He pulled Draco back into his chest. "I'm so sorry."

"I just . . . didn't want to be alone, didn't want to be stuck with my thoughts. I needed a distraction."

Harry could feel Draco's tears wetting his shirt, but he didn't mind. "Hey, it's alright," Harry tried to soothe him. "You're not alone. I'm right here."

Draco sobbed, his whole body shaking as he let himself fall apart in Harry's arms. He adjusted their position so he was sitting between Harry's legs, crying into his chest, his arms wrapped around Harry's neck.

Harry didn't know what to do so he just held him there, rubbing his back gently. "I've got you. It's ok." Minutes went by like this, with Harry just holding Draco and reassuring him that he wasn't alone.

Draco finally calmed down— seeming to be out of tears for the time being—but they stayed in that position on the floor. "Harry?" He said eventually. His voice was small and it broke on the name.

Harry's heart did a flip in his chest—that he pretended not to feel—at hearing Draco call him by his first name. His own heartbreak was not as important as Draco right now. "Yes, love?" The term of endearment was a habit and Harry cursed himself for using it then.

But Draco either didn't notice or didn't mind. "Please, stay with me?" Harry could hear the hope and need in his voice. There was no way he could say no. There was no way he'd ever want to say no to this man.

Harry nodded and squeezed him tighter. "Of course. As long as you need me."

Can also be read here on Ao3

[belmottetower]

ur post about jamie’s loan has me thinking soooo many thoughts but the main thing im confused about is this: how was jamie able to get on the starting line-up so quickly after returning from his loan to richmond? city obviously hadn’t originally intended to recall jamie for a while as of 106 — jamie’s loan being pulled and him actually being sent back is presented like a surprising piece of information for everyone in the team, and i just can’t interpret that as “his contract was expiring soon, he just went back a week earlier than normal”. it felt like ted (at the very least) was setting up jamie to stay for a while after that, both strategically and socially. so, if he had spent much less time in richmond than intended (and thus probably developed a lot less than intended), how did he manage to start in richmond’s relegation match? it could have been city trying to give him more minutes against a lower ranked team, but then why would they start him AND let him play the whole game even after it was tied 1-1 if he’s not a consistent part of the starting line up? im a silly little american who knows nothing about european football, but it just doesn’t make sense how jamie could go from “we’re going to give you so few minutes that we basically have to loan u out or else you’re just wasting time” to “you’re going to be on the starting line up/close to it” so quickly once returning to city? was it just him learning to be a team player or is the show just getting fuzzy w the details? (also that was so long im sorry this is just a Very Specific Question and im trying to get it across properly)

This is referring to things from my earlier loan ask, so linking that here.

First of all, I am sure that Jamie's loan was meant to go until the end of the season. However, a loan can be terminated at any point during the season if both parties agree to it. So in this case, City saw he wasn't playing every possible minute with Richmond and they said to Richmond, "if you aren't going to play him, we want him back. We'd rather be the ones training and not using him if YOU'RE not going to use him." They were the ones that instigated the recall of Jamie, Rebecca just simply had to agree to it on behalf of Richmond and Jamie goes home. (Let's not worry about the fact that his agent would have been involved in this process because 2 seconds of digging in that direction makes the plot fall apart.)

But Jamie had been playing for Richmond for almost a full season at this point, from the summer of 2019 to what has to be around the February of 2020. He was there for over nine months of the season, and he went back to City when they only had a couple of months left.

In 1.08, when he visits Keeley, it's late March and he tells her that City were in town playing West Ham. He says "I had ten touches, I had two completed dribbles, and in the 89th minute they let me take a free kick." This implies to me that he was being brought on as a substitute at that point. Because ten touches, for a forward, is not very many during a full 90 minutes. And then the "They let me" in terms of taking a free kick sounds to me like he's still very much not a major power player, more like he's been given a chance, like "give the kid a turn, see how he handles it."

But it still feels to me like City valued Jamie as a player, and when they got him back after around nine months of a loan, they decided to give him a few more chances and see what he could do. And if he's succeeding for them in games as a sub, it's more likely that he will start the next match.

And the thing about the Richmond relegation match is that it's implied City had already secured the Premier League title, weeks before. They are not awarded the trophy at the end of the match. They're not celebrating having won the League. There's no commentary from Arlo and Chris about how City need this to secure the title, unlike they way they explain it in 3.11 and 3.12. So Ted's dressing room speech about giving the champs 90 minutes of hell implies to me that City were ALREADY the league champions, that they'd won it a little earlier in the season. Hopefully it's clear to everyone by now that with a league table, this is pretty common, if someone gets enough points that it is mathematically impossible for other teams to catch up. 

In real life, this year City won the league with three matches left to play. And in this circumstance, once the thing is already won, Pep will shake up the starting line ups quite dramatically and give different players the chance to play. For example, Cole Palmer, who I mentioned in the other post? He started for City in their matches against Chelsea and Brentford at the end of the season, AFTER City had already secured the title, when there were no consequences to City winning or losing. They won against Chelsea and Palmer got an assist on the winning goal, and they actually lost to Brentford in the final match of the season but it didn't matter. Pep uses a high rotation anyway - City does not have a fixed starting eleven, it changes all the time, Palmer has started a handful of other matches in various competitions - but this is very likely what happened to Jamie in terms of the Richmond match. It's the only match we know for an absolute fact that he started in for City, and it's probably because it was a game where the line-up could be changed around and experimented with to give different players opportunities, because they weren't "playing for anything."

Basically, in summary - Jamie played for Richmond for 9-10 months (depending on how early he came in preseason.) By the end of that stay he had played a lot more minutes by then than he ever had before even if he didn't get to stay the whole length of the season. City knew he'd improved and recalled him, deciding that if Richmond weren't going to utilise him, they'd prefer he be with them in Manchester to use when they want. They start using him as a sub in the last couple of months of the season, and he proves himself to be a valuable player for them. So he gets to play more minutes, maybe gets subbed on earlier each game, and eventually he gets to start a few matches, especially ones after City has already won the title and Jamie gets to play the match just for the experience.

In terms of being a team player, I fairly strongly believe that at City, this would have been a given for Jamie no matter what. Jamie got full of himself playing as a 1-up-front striker at Richmond, maybe in a 4-2-3-1 formation, but that's not how he would have ever played at City. Pep's favourite formation during that era of City is 4-3-3 and that's what Jamie was playing in for the Richmond match, he was part of a line of three (the formations are on the Arlo White cheat sheet) against Richmond's 4-4-2. City in this shape favours high possession and passing, so Jamie would have to have been succeeding within the style Pep wanted, i.e., being a team player and passing a lot and not acting as an individual star taking control of the match.

Jamie at Richmond was a selfish player largely because he didn't see the other players as good enough. He saw himself as a cut above them and their only value was to facilitate him in taking control of the match. He's not actually wrong about the skill level objectively, and even Roy admits it in 1.04 - that he knows he should be passing to Jamie but he can't stand Jamie's attitude about it. Because shaping the team to facilitate a star striker like that is not inherently bad football, not if the player isn't a cunt about it - it's a bit like what we saw with Zava, which looked ridiculous to us as viewers but was not actually a situation that anyone other than Jamie resented because Zava made the others feel valued, even if it felt fake to us. But look. Footballers do understand that some players are just better than others, and if your star striker is a nice person who makes everyone feel valued and treats people as proper teammates, there's nothing wrong with the tactic being "get the ball to that person and let them take charge." 

Richmond was Jamie's first taste of being that heroic superstar, where he was the one with all the glory, and because he didn't see the rest of them as on his level, he became a bad "team player" due to not recognising the part the rest of the team played in his success, or helping them improve (playing with people better than you should make you better, generally!) or believing that any of the others could achieve anything. He felt he was doing it all by himself. And George Cartrick clearly also had no interest in training the team in any other way. Very much "just get the ball to Tartt, he's the only one who's any good, and try not to fuck up in the process" as opposed to using Jamie's prowess to elevate EVERYONE. 

At City, where Jamie probably wasn't the best player on the team, where the standards were more equally at his level or better, this factor is not an issue. That's not how Pep trains them, it's not how Pep thinks. Jamie knows that he's not the solo star there. He knows that all the other great players will be contributing to making things happen, that everyone is smart and talented and aren't going to fuck up. Whether he liked it or not, he would have had trust in the way that playing style works, knowing that it's what's being asked of him from Pep and what the situation calls for. But Jamie didn't trust the Richmond players to be good enough to contribute. We see this Sam a lot - his attacks on Sam are often because Sam has failed to put a pass where Jamie wanted it, or missed a shot in training, or whatever. This is not an excuse for his behaviour but it is clear evidence that Jamie is frustrated because the rest of the team isn't at his level. And unlike season 3, he has no interest in working with them on improving, or showing them how best to play with him. Being a good team player isn't always about sharing the ball equally or whatever, it's about working as a team to feed each other's strengths - that's how season 3 Jamie can be both a team player and a total star player at the same time.

Honestly, to me, Jamie making that extra pass in 1.10 wasn't anything to do with Ted, aside from narratively for us as viewers. That's just how City plays football. That's Pep's influence, not Ted's. Ted sees it happen and thinks he's done something to change Jamie's attitude but in my opinion, Jamie is just playing the way Pep wants him to, because he actually values Pep's opinion about tactics in a way he didn't value Ted's. 

There is no way in hell Jamie went from age 13, or whenever he was scouted, to age 23, being a consistently selfish ball hog style player at Man City. Lots of players want to be stars, but I believe that the level we see in season 1 is just how he thought he needed to play at Richmond, because he felt like he was the only one who knew what he was doing and making anything happen on the pitch, and then of course he liked how it felt to have all that attention on him. But the way Jamie was playing at Richmond is simply not how City play football, and season 3 makes that canon to the Ted version of City too, not just an unfounded real life football comparison. City in the show are coached by Real Pep and play Pep's version of total football. That's what Jamie was doing when he made the extra pass,  and it's his experience with Pep's total football that allows Jamie to help Richmond so much in season 3.

[fics-by-em]

Amorous Facades - Chapter Twelve

A wild night out leaves the lives of Jamie Tartt and Ophelia Adams more intertwined than they ever would have imagined.

Will their decision to try and use the situation to their advantage work out in their favour or will they realize that they should have cut their losses when they had the chance?

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previous chapter

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Note:  I am SO sorry this chapter took so long!

I really didn't intend for it to take me a month and a half to write it, but life has been real busy. Things are settling down now though so I'm hopeful that I can get back to posting chapters regularly. I love this story so much and am absolutely not abandoning it so I hope you guys will stick around too!

With that said, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and it makes up for the long wait 😉

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The first thing Lia noticed when she woke up was the fact that she was naked. The second thing that she noticed was the fact that she already had a smile on her face.

As the sleep slipped from her mind and her brain grew less foggy, the memories of why that was came back to her. Memories of the tense match and the happy ending that followed. Memories of celebrating and the pride she’d felt at having Jamie’s number on her back. Memories of exchanging alluring glances and provocative touches until the tension between them finally reached its boiling point when they got home.

She bit her lip to stop the grin from stretching completely from ear to ear, but it was hard to control herself when she could still feel the ghost of Jamie’s hand between her legs.

“Good morning.” His raspy, sleepy voice told Lia that he hadn’t been awake much longer than her and as his words snapped her out of her thoughts and she turned her head to look at him, his heavy eyelids confirmed her suspicions. “How’re you feeling?”

The question alone was enough to spark a flutter of contentment in her stomach, but Lia tried to play it cool. Things were still new and she was still hoping to take it slow. Her bold approach the night before had her almost hyper aware of the danger of accidentally leading him on, but her excitement about their future was hard to suppress.

“Good,” she informed him, biting back a grin. “And happy. Very satisfied and incredibly proud to be the wife of the best footballer in all of England.”

She felt Jamie’s chest shake as he chuckled at her claim and stretched down to press his lips against hers.

“Glad to hear that,” he murmured. “D’you wanna talk about what happened?”

“Talk about it? Why?” Lia furrowed her brow, suddenly worried that she’d come on a little too strong. “How’re you feeling about it?”

“Good, yeah,” he rushed to assure her. “Just wasn’t expecting it is all, thought maybe we should talk about it.”

A wave of embarrassment hit her, slightly dampening her spirits as she thought back to how out of character her actions had been. She hadn’t expected too many follow up questions after the fact  - assuming that he’d just be so grateful it happened that he wouldn’t bring it up - and she felt her cheeks go red as she let out a nervous giggle.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” she insisted. “It’s not a football match, Jamie. We don’t need to debrief after and talk about what went well or what we could do differently.”

She’d meant it as a joke and was surprised when Jamie simply shrugged in response.

“Don’t have to, but we should,” he countered. “I wanna know what you’re into and what you like and I’ve got some questions.”

It was a surprisingly mature response and had Lia feeling sheepish and silly as she knew that he was right. Her lack of experience made her far less comfortable talking about sex than Jamie probably was, but she didn’t want Jamie to think she was childish and naïve.

“Oh,” she murmured, nervously biting the inside of her lip. “We can talk about it if you want to. What questions do you have?”

She’d tried to sound nonchalant, but she watched him anxiously even as he lazily traced his hand up and down her back and flashed her a smirk.

“Well, first of all, I didn’t expect you to be so completely bare.”

Lia felt her face heat up so much that she was surprised her cheek wasn’t burning his skin where it rested against his chest.

“That’s not a question.”

“Do you always shave?”

His correction did little to ease Lia’s embarrassment as she found herself wondering which answer he wanted to hear, but then she realized that that was exactly the point of the conversation. Instead of spending months trying to guess Jamie’s preferences, he was trying to create a space where they could openly talk about it and he’d given her no reason to assume he would be judgmental in any way.

“Not always,” she admitted. “Sometimes I do and I always keep it tidy, but I thought you’d probably prefer it that way.”

“What? Why?” At first, the mild hint of disgust in his voice had Lia thinking she’d made the wrong assumption, but when he continued without even waiting for her to answer she felt herself relax. “I don’t care what you do, just want you to be comfortable.”

“I just thought it’s what you’d be used to,” Lia explained. “Since you mostly date models and all those types of fit women.”

“So? You’re fit too, whether you have hair or not.”

His words had a smile sliding onto Lia’s face, but as she pressed a kiss against his bare chest, she was reminded of a comment he’d made one day that suddenly seemed relevant.

“You wax your chest, don’t you?” She asked, waiting for him to nod before she continued. “Well, you don’t have to do that if it’s for my benefit, I don’t care if you’re hairy either.”

“Nah, it’s more for football,” he informed her. “Makes me more aerodynamic.”

“Does it?” Lia raised an eyebrow. “But you’re always wearing a shirt when you play and the only part of your body that’s usually exposed are your unwaxed legs.”

“Can’t explain it, but it’s science.” Jamie’s words were said with a shrug and while Lia wasn't entirely convinced, she simply rolled her eyes with a smile as a silence settled between them until Jamie spoke again. “I’ve got another question for you too.”

“What?”

“Do you always like to take charge like that?”

Lia’s embarrassment came flooding back as the memory of the way she’d boldly barged in on his shower came back to her. The way she’d dropped her bathrobe and stood there completely naked. The way she’d started kissing him, touching him. It was all so out of character for her that it made her cringe as her cheeks burned once again.

“No,” she murmured before stating more confidently, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Jamie chuckled. “If you’re a bit of a dominatrix then I could be into that, there’s no shame.”

“I’m not.” The words came out more forcefully than Lia had intended and she turned her chin to look up at him as she found the courage to explain. “It’s usually the opposite actually. I prefer being a little more out of control…”

A noise like a growl rattle through Jamie’s chest until suddenly - almost before Lia even realized it was happening - she was laying flat on her back with Jamie hovering above her, a cheeky glint in his eye.

“You like being told what to do?”

“No, that’s not what I…” The protest fell from Lia’s lips almost on instinct, but she trailed off as she realized what an obvious lie it was. She couldn’t deny how her body was responding to him - her legs naturally parting for his hips to rest between, the slight uptick in her heart rate, the tingle down her spine that left a pool of heat low in her stomach - she knew there was no point in trying to deny it and he did seem to be asking out of genuine curiosity and not a desire to mock her so she let out a shaky breath before she quietly admitted, “Yes, I do. I like it when the man I’m with takes charge.”

“Hmm,” Jamie smirked, dipping his lips to hover just above hers. “That’s very good to know.”

Without giving her the time to answer, Jamie captured her lips in a kiss. It was just as passionate as it had been the night before and another flush of heat washed over her as her body remembered just how satisfying that passion could be, but no matter how tempting Jamie’s talented lips were, Lia kept firm in her desire to take things slow.

And she appreciated that despite her conflicting desire for him to take charge and tell her what to do, Jamie was perfectly respectful, letting things naturally cool off before she even reached a point where she felt she had to say no.

——

Despite Jamie’s uncharacteristic restraint, Lia’s bold seduction had clearly pushed their connection to a different level and the tension between them had elevated from simmering to boiling hot. 

Jamie’s need for physical affection had grown even more intense and Lia felt like her will-power was almost constantly being tested - especially when Jamie’s break from football gave him ample time to show his skill as a doting boyfriend. He made an effort to join her at the bookstore almost every day for lunch and would swing by just before closing to help her tidy up and drive her home. He’d had dinner waiting for her most evenings and even started learning how to cook when she assured him that the gesture was sweet, but she didn’t want to eat take out every single day. And he showered her with genuine, heartfelt compliments that made her feel more cared for and appreciated than she had in as long as she could remember.

If the world could see the Jamie that she was getting to know then there would have been no need for any kind of PR relationship in the first place.

In the weeks after the match - the first few of Jamie’s summer break from the football season - they fell into a nice routine that had Lia’s heart feeling very full. However, as usual, as they headed into July the weather had Lia also feeling very overheated.

Lia loved winter. She loved sweater weather, cozy blankets, reading nooks full of soft pillows, thick socks and warm tea. Even though most people in England complained about the constant grey and the endless rain, Lia loved it all. And in contrast to that, she found even the mildest temperatures of the muggy British summer to be too hot. Warm temperatures were best saved for holidays in her opinion so to say that she was cranky when the yearly heatwave struck London at the start of July would be an understatement.

She was incredibly grateful for the fact that Jamie had the sense to buy a house with air conditioning - a rarity in London - and was loath to leave it. The moment she stepped into the stifling bookstore, she began cursing whoever decided it was smart to design buildings to trap heat and all the ruthless, money hungry companies that were destroying the environment and escalating climate change. The high temperatures kept most customers away anyway as most people weren’t venturing very far or were sticking to air conditioned shopping centres so after a few long hours of Lia’s constant whining, her dad gave her a reprieve and sent her home. She was mostly working on admin tasks that day anyway - sending off a few orders for customers and following up on ones that had been delayed - so it was nothing that she couldn’t do from a laptop in the comfort of her reasonably temperatured home and she immediately accepted his offer of a shorter day before he could change his mind.

Almost as soon as she walked through the door, she began stripping off her clothes. Jamie was out at the gym with Isaac, but even if he’d been home she doubted that she would have cared. The sticky, filthy layer of sweat that seemed impossible to escape from was driving her mad and even with the immediate relief of the cold air in the house, Lia was desperate to be wearing as little as she needed to. She slipped off her shorts and pulled her damp t-shirt over her head before unhooking her bra and sighing with relief at the sensation of being free from the tight garment that had felt like it was just trapping in the heat even more.

After slipping one of Jamie’s shirts over her head, she settled on the couch wearing almost nothing else with her laptop on her lap as she dove into her work. In her refreshed and relaxed state, she found herself feeling much more productive and almost an hour later she was still completely engrossed in her work. So engrossed that she didn’t hear the door open when Jamie got home or hear him walking into the room when she got up to grab something from her bag. However, she did hear the growl he let out when he was greeted with the sight of her bent at the waist wearing one of his shirts that did very little to hide the thin underwear peeking out from under the hem.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned. “What a sight, babe.”

Immediately, Lia snapped back up to standing as she instinctively pulled the shirt down to cover herself up. Her cheeks burned and she found herself stumbling over her words until she eventually managed to blurt out a coherent sentence.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in…”

“Don’t be sorry, love,” he smirked, moving across the room towards her. “I should be thanking you.”

Lia rolled her eyes at his teasing, but she didn’t resist as he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her body against his. He was sweaty and warm from walking home in the sun, but suddenly Lia didn’t find that so repulsive.

“It wasn’t deliberate,” she informed him, letting her arms drape over his shoulders. “I was working, I wasn’t trying to be seductive.”

“Oh, really? Well you could’ve fooled me with the way you’re lounging around the house wearing nothing but one of my shirts and looking incredibly fuckin’ sexy.”

“I didn’t think this outfit was sexy, this shirt is longer on me than some dresses I own.”

“Yeah, but it’s mine and that makes it sexy. That, and the fact that you have barely anything underneath it.” 

A quick glance down told Lia exactly how he knew that as her nipples were clearly straining against the fabric. Another flush filled her cheeks at the sight, but before she could blame the cool air of the air conditioning or the contrast of the warmth of his hands on her waist, Jamie distracted her by dipping his head and pressing his lips against the pulse point of her neck. The sensation had shivers trickling down her spine and all thoughts of protest were pushed from her mind as one of her hands slid up to his hair, the feeling of his soft locks between her fingers only making her knees feel even weaker.

“Jamie…”

His name fell from her lips as barely more than a whimper after a few moments of enjoying the feel of his mouth against her neck. She felt him pause - almost hesitate - as she caught his attention before he dragged his teeth gently across her skin, nipping her gently.

“Yeah, babe?” He asked as he rested his head on her shoulder, close enough that she could feel his warm breath as he spoke. “D’you want me to stop?”

His voice was sincere and his question was fairly nonchalant, but something about it had a new feeling fluttering through Lia’s stomach. With his constant respect for her, his willingness to follow her boundaries, and his incredible patience as she stuck to her desire to take things slow, he’d proven to her time and time again that he wasn’t just looking for a fun fling before tossing her aside and the wave of affection that washed over her helped to push all her worries and insecurities aside as she realized that she was ready for more.

“No,” she said firmly, despite the shake in her voice. “I don’t want you to stop at all, ever.”

It wasn’t the most poetic way to get her point across, but the way Jamie’s head snapped up told her that he’d understood what she was trying to imply.

“You serious?” His wide eyes searched hers as if he was waiting for her to crack and burst out laughing, but when she bit her lip and nodded slowly, a smirk slid onto his face. “Well, I’m not sure even I have the stamina to go forever, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

His assurance had Lia letting out a giggle, but she was quickly silenced by Jamie capturing her lips with his own. There was a franticness to his movements - a desperation that had Lia wondering if he thought she might change her mind at any moment - but the ever present passion never failed to have her melting against him. There wasn’t much in life that Jamie Tartt would half-ass and Lia had quickly learned that kissing was certainly not one of those things. The thought had her mind wandering to how that would extend to other romantic endeavours and she let out a whimper of anticipation that only seemed to encourage Jamie even more. With surprising ease, he let his hands slide down to the tops of her thighs and lifted her until she was settled with her legs wrapped tightly around her waist. She found herself momentarily distracted by his show of strength, but pulled her lips away from his when he started walking across the room.

“Where are we going?”

Her words came out breathless and panting, but Jamie’s curt reply of “upstairs” told her that he was feeling the strain as well.

“I can walk,” she insisted, despite the way her body craved the closeness they currently had. “You’re too valuable to risk breaking your knee when you fall down the stairs trying to carry me.”

“Not gonna fall,” Jamie smirked as the movement of him stepping up the stairs jostled her against him and earned a gasp from her lips. “You’re tiny, hardly weigh anything at all.”

The claim had Lia letting out a scoff, but she kept any self-deprecating arguments to herself and let herself enjoy the feel of Jamie’s tensed and bulging biceps as he took her up to his bedroom. Once they were safely away from the staircase and Lia’s worries of causing a catastrophic injury had eased, she indulged in the position they were in as her lips found his neck the way his had been on hers only moments earlier. She felt his chest rumble as he growled at the sensation, but Lia barely had time to savour the upper hand that she’d taken before she was practically wrenched away from Jamie as he dropped her onto the bed.

Her heart sank immediately as her body reacted to the lack of contact between them and she heard Jamie chuckle as he pulled his shirt over his head and looked down at her.

“Don’t pout, love,” he teased, making her pull back her bottom lip that she hadn’t even realized had popped out. “I’ll be right there.”

True to his word, Jamie knelt on the edge of the bed as soon as his shirt was discarded and Lia reached for him as he crawled up the bed towards her, embarrassed by the whine of impatience that left her lips. The need she had for him was almost overwhelming, as if now that she’d decided what she wanted, she couldn’t wait another moment to have it. Luckily, Jamie’s enthusiasm seemed to match her own which she could see from the way that the baggy shorts he was wearing did little to hide the bulge growing beneath them. 

However, she found herself feeling disappointed when Jamie stopped about halfway up her body. His hands traced a trail of goosebumps on her skin as they slid under her shirt, lifting it out of his way and the kisses he placed on the newly exposed skin of her stomach had shivers racing up her spine, but she wanted him higher. She wanted to feel the weight of his body, she wanted to feel his skin against hers and his lips on her lips again. She wanted to feel him sliding inside her as they finally shared that deep connection, but Jamie resisted when she tried to grab his hands and pull him up higher.

“Just wait, gotta get you warmed up first…”

It was another idea that had her arousal growing, but as Jamie’s fingers dipped into the top of her underwear to pull them down, the excitement shifted into panic as she realized what he was planning to do.

“Jamie, no,” she gasped, pressing her hips into the mattress to stop him. “I was sweating all morning and I haven’t showered.”

“So?”

The look on Jamie’s face was one of complete confusion and Lia cringed as she was forced to elaborate.

“So, I’m sweaty and gross,” she explained, her cheeks burning as she added, “You probably don’t want to put your face down there right now.”

“Uh, yeah, I do,” he insisted, looking at her like she was completely insane. “I’ve been wanting to put my face down there since you barged in on my shower. It’s gonna take more than a little sweat to stop me now.”

“Are you sure?”

Jamie slid down, pushing her legs apart and settling between them to press a kiss against her thigh before he answered.

“Absolutely.”

Biting her lip and nodding her head, Lia tried to push her insecurities out of her mind and it didn’t take long for any doubts to disappear entirely. As soon as Jamie had her underwear out his way and his mouth was pressed against her, Lia’s thoughts were filled with nothing but pleasure. She knew Jamie was quite experienced and she’d seen his talents first hand the evening they’d spent together in the shower, but his skills with his tongue surpassed even that experience.

It took him a moment or two to figure out what she needed, but as he spread her open to increase his access, he followed the cues of her reactions until he’d found the perfect combination of pressure and friction with his tongue against her sensitive bundle of nerves to have her writhing underneath him. Her hands darted back down to his hair, gripping tightly enough to have him moaning against her and the vibration had her hips twitching up towards him encouragingly, but Lia let out a gasp of frustration when he pulled away and shifted so his hand could move to pin down her hips.

“Gotta be patient, babe,” he instructed. “You’re gonna pull my hair right out if you keep tugging on it like that.”

Feeling a flash of confidence, Lia flashed him a smirk of her own.

“You love it.”

Her observation earned a chuckle from Jamie, but the feeling of his breath against her earned a twitch and a gasp from Lia.

“I do and I like getting a reaction out of you.” He followed up his statement by blowing out another breath against her, making her squirm and gasp again. “You’re so sensitive.”

“Y-yeah, because you’ve got me so wound up.”

Her voice shook from the strain and while she was about to offer to start begging for Jamie to return his attention to what he was previously doing, he didn’t make her wait any longer. The relief had her head falling back against the pillow as pleasure washed over her. She bit her lip in an attempt to control the sounds that she was desperately fighting back, but a pinch to her hip from Jamie caught her attention again.

“Let it out,” he demanded. “Wanna hear you.”

His tongue dipped back between her wet folds and she fulfilled his request as the sounds he managed to pull from her echoed around the room. He lapped at her with such expert precision and perfect pressure that it took just a few short minutes for her to feel the warm heat begin to build in the pit of her stomach as she raced towards her peak. Clearly sensing her mounting release, Jamie kept his pace steady with a focused determination that Lia had only seen him display on the pitch until he had her hovering on the edge of completely falling apart. Her chest heaved and her heart raced as she let out a cry of pleasure and gripped the sheets so tightly that she worried for moment that she might have actually ripped them before she felt herself fall into ecstasy and suddenly she couldn’t think of anything, but the feeling of Jamie’s mouth and the way she was quivering under his touch as he coaxed her through her release. 

As she slowly came down from her high and started to regain her senses, she felt Jamie slip away, but in her dizzy state, she couldn’t muster the energy to do anything but bat her eyes open and enjoy the sight of him ridding himself of the shorts he’d been wearing. He was gifted in more ways than one and the sight of him - hard and ready for her - had another wave of want flooding through her already satisfied body.

“You’re so fit…” The words fell from Lia’s mouth before she could stop them as if he had her drunk on desire. “Sorry, I don’t think I meant to say that out loud.”

“It’s fine,” Jamie assured as he strutted back towards the bed, looking a little prouder after her compliment. He crawled back up the bed and to Lia’s relief, he didn’t stop until his body covered hers and his hips were resting between her thighs. “You’re pretty fuckin’ fit too, could watch you come undone like that for hours and never get tired of seeing it.”

It was an idea that had a shiver of anticipation running down Lia’s spine. Spending countless hours wrapped up in bed with him, at his mercy as he brought her wave after wave of pleasure was entirely too tempting, but as the fog of her orgasm began to clear, she was eager to return the favour.

“Think you can make it happen again?” She tried to spur him on as she pressed her hips up against his. “I want you so bad, Jamie.”

She heard him swear under his breath as he closed his eyes tightly like he was trying to hold himself together and she revelled in the knowledge that he was as desperate as she was. She let her hands slide up over his back, exploring every inch of his body that she could reach as he gently rocked against her and gathered his thoughts before he glanced back down towards her.

“You sure about this?”

“Yes,” her answer was quick and firm and she hoped it would ease any doubts, but just to be safe she added a rather needy, “ Please .”

Her pleading had a smile sliding onto Jamie’s face before he dipped his head to capture her mouth in another kiss. The faint taste of herself on his lips only added to Lia’s arousal and she hooked her leg over his hip as she tried to urge him closer and get what she needed, but she was disappointed again when Jamie moved away.

“What are you doing?”

She could hear her whiny tone, but she was constantly amazed with Jamie’s restraint especially when she could feel him pressed against her, hard and throbbing.

“Getting a condom.” She heard him open the drawer of his bedside table and felt silly for letting the element of protection completely slip her mind so she waited patiently, biting back any more demands for urgency. When Jamie was ready, she felt him pressing against her again before he paused. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Lia nodded, feeling a flicker of nerves. “Just go slow, okay? It’s been a while for me and you’re so big.”

The boost to his ego had him twitching against her as a smirk slid onto his face, but he listened to her words as he moved his hips forward and pressed into her inch by inch. The burn of the initial stretch had her sucking in a sharp breath, but his efforts to get her warmed up had been very successful and by the time he was fully inside her, the sting had subsided and she felt nothing but pleasure.

“You good?” He questioned with a quiver to his voice that told Lia just how much self-control he was currently using even before he added a strained, “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

“Because you’re so big,” she gasped. “It feels so good, Jamie. Please, fuck me.”

Jamie didn’t need to be told twice as he slowly withdrew before pressing his hips forward again. He started off cautiously and the care he was taking had Lia’s heart fluttering in her chest, but the need for more quickly took over. Rocking her hips up to meet his thrusts, she silently encouraged him to increase the pace until they settled into a steady rhythm that almost took Lia’s breath away. The way he stretched her so perfectly, the way it felt like he was hitting every nerve exactly where she needed him, the friction of his skin against her every time he pressed all the way inside of her. It all had Lia’s already sensitive body quickly rising to another peak. 

And when he buried his head against her neck to nip and suck on her skin as he murmured soft words of encouragement into her ear, the intimacy of the moment only heightened the sensations she was feeling. Her senses felt entirely overwhelmed, as if nothing other than Jamie and the way he was touching her so deeply even existed in that moment and she clung to him to pull him even tighter against her chest.

His name fell from her lips in a whimpered plea as she felt the tension coiling in her stomach once again and he groaned in response before shifting his hips and picking up the pace. The slight change in angle had him hitting places that Lia wasn’t even sure she knew existed, opening her up to a whole new world of satisfaction as his breath puffing against her skin with every thrust sent shivers down her spine. She tried to warn him of her impending release, but it seemed to be rising too fast for her brain to keep up and as Jamie let out a soft moan of his own, she felt herself falling over the edge.

With a cry of pleasure, her body tensed and her nails dug into his back as she felt herself clench and quiver around him. His movements stuttered slightly as he cursed and panted into her neck, but he quickly recovered and worked her through her high. However, his thrusts grew sloppy and frantic as he chased a release of his own and it took barely a few extra thrusts for him to fall apart as well.

They stayed connected for a moment as they both fought to catch their breath until Jamie found the strength to roll over and lay beside her. Despite the air conditioning, there was a fine layer of sweat covering his chest, but once the condom was discarded in the rubbish bin beside the bed, Lia eagerly cuddled into his side. As the desperation of her desire was sated for the time being, she felt a need of a different kind creeping up her spine. There was a vulnerability to what they’d just shared and while Lia had no regrets about finally opening up to Jamie in that way, it had her insecurities rearing their ugly head. She tried to force them down and enjoy the quiet aftermath of what they’d just experienced, but Jamie was more astute than she gave him credit for.

“You alright?” He asked, peering down at her as hand rested on her lower back, pulling her closer against him. “I can feel your heart beating through your chest.”

“I’m fine…” The words were mumbled as she debated whether or not her honesty would ruin the moment, but she quickly decided to give him the chance to ease her worries. “Just feels like a big line we just crossed, guess I’m just hoping it doesn’t change anything.”

“Doesn’t change anything for me,” he assured her, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “Other than making me feel very fuckin’ grateful that my girlfriend is smart, gorgeous and amazing in bed.”

His words had a giggle falling from Lia’s lips, but her heart swelled at the sincerity in his voice.

“I’m feeling pretty lucky too,” she agreed. “And not that your ego needs any extra encouragement, but I’m starting to see why you’re so cocky. It seems like you do have quite a wide range of talents.”

“Thanks, babe,” Jamie chuckled. “But next time I’d like to be a little more thorough. Didn’t even get your shirt off this time and that is a real shame.”

“Patience isn’t my strong suit…”

“I noticed,” Jamie teased her. “But if you give me a few minutes to recover then we can spend the rest of the afternoon working on that.”

His hand dipped lower to squeeze her bum, but as tempting as his offer was, Lia was forced to politely decline.

“I can’t,” she reluctantly informed him. “I have to get back to work. I came home to take advantage of our wonderful air conditioning, but I’m technically still on the clock.”

“I wondered why you were home so early, but you work too hard anyway. I think you’ve earned an afternoon off.”

Jamie’s wandering hands were making it hard to resist, but Lia quickly dragged herself off the bed and away from his touch despite the whine of protest that followed.

“You’re probably right, but unfortunately my dad would disagree and I don’t think he’d be particularly understanding of me calling in sick to spend the afternoon in orgasmic bliss with you.”

The thought had Jamie cringing and she giggled at the look on his face as she leaned down to steal one more kiss before she hurried off to the bathroom, enjoying the way the soreness growing between her thighs would be a constant reminder of the moment they’d just shared.

[lingshanhermit]

Lingshan Hermit: Step Out of the Walls that Cause You Suffering

About twenty years ago when I was still in elementary school, I had to walk between home and school every day. At that time, I was very particular about how I dressed. I was recognized as the cleanest student in my class. This honor intensified my obsession. (For example, if someone tells you “you look sexy,” wouldn’t you continue to dress up in order to get more compliments?) Before going out, if I found any dirt on my clothes (like toothpaste accidentally dripping on my chest when I was brushing my teeth), I would insist on changing that piece of clothing. Even if I couldn’t change, I had to wipe it completely clean before going out. I couldn’t imagine how others would see me if I went to school wearing clothes like that. At that time, I took this matter very seriously.

At that time, I had many other similar habits. For example, I couldn’t tolerate my messy hair at school. I always combed them neatly.

However, more than ten years later today, things have changed. I may go out to buy things without washing my face or looking in the mirror. I may wander wearing slippers. I may wear the same piece of clothing for months. I don’t care at all about others’ perception of me. In my room, you can hardly find a comb.

Compared to myself more than ten years ago, I seem to be two different people now. The me from more than ten years ago would be horrified by the present me.

In fact, even if you smear toothpaste on your face, not many may actually pay attention to you, let alone just a speck of toothpaste dripped on your chest. But you were worried about it.

This illustrates a few things. At least it proves that one can change so much as to become unrecognizable to oneself. It also shows that I have been freed from certain notions. You can also say that I have successfully escaped. Unfortunately, not everyone is like this. Every time my mother sees me wearing slippers while carrying a briefcase, she becomes hysterical. She thinks I should not appear in public wearing slippers and carrying a briefcase. It is very inconsistent and damages my image. She still insists to this day, which shows she is still imprisoned.

It is not just my mother. Many others are also trapped and surrounded by their own notions and thoughts, unable to break free. So when I don't intend to do as my mother says, she gets angry.

Buddhism believes everyone is imprisoned by ignorance. We cling to many things. We would think that wearing slippers with a tie is inelegant. We would also think wearing a red top with blue pants is a terrible match. Of course, you can't say pants or slippers cause you pain. It is your clinging to the notion that a red top can't match blue pants that causes you pain. Things don't always appear the way you imagine. You expect a rabbit to appear but what appears may be a crocodile instead.

I believe you must also have similar clinging now. For example, you can't tolerate someone humming songs at work. You also can't tolerate behaviors that violate your moral standards. You may even be intolerant of clumsy people operating machines you are familiar with. You would also cling to what time your husband should come home. If he doesn't come home when he should, you would feel anxious and suffer. I know many women who have to lock themselves in the room to dress up before appearing in public every day. But if you practice Buddhism for a while, these things may become less important. Of course I'm not advocating you be as sloppy as me.

What was important in the past has become less important now, or even completely unimportant. What you once believed absolutely right, you no longer insist on now. This shows you have successfully escaped. However, we need to break through many barriers. You may no longer cling to one thing but you could cling to another. Some people can't even tolerate footprints on the floor of their homes. For those who cling as such, sometimes you can pour a bucket of manure on her floor to lessen her clinging.

You should know many people, like our mothers, cling to all sorts of illusory things and fret over them, thus trapped in cages. You have the responsibility to guide them to escape. You should tell them these things are not as serious as they imagine. Even if you go out with food stains on your chest or wearing underwear while carrying a briefcase, no one would behead you in public. So there is no need to worry about it. A red top can match blue pants after all. All human suffering stems from clinging. People often fight and kill to prove their clinging is the only right one to others.

When you cling to a clean floor, if I spit on the floor of your home, you would get angry and suffer. In fact, the issue is not that serious. Just mop it and it would be fine. But sometimes you react as if it's the end of the world.

We all need to learn to escape, which means to step out of the walls that cause you suffering.

Original blog post on May 1, 2007 at http://blog.sina.com.cn/lingshanjushi

Copyright Notice：All copyrights of Ling Shan Hermit's articles in Simplified and Traditional Chinese, English, and other languages belong to the natural person who owns "Ling Shan Hermit". Please respect copyright. Publishers, media, or individuals (including but not limited to internet media, websites, personal spaces, Weibo, WeChat public accounts, print media) must obtain authorization from Ling Shan Hermit before use. No modifications to the articles are allowed (including: author's name, title, main text content, and punctuation marks). We reserve all legal rights.

灵山居士：从那些造成你痛苦的围墙中走出来 

在大约二十年前，我还在上小学，每一天我都要在学校和家之间走来走去。那时候的我是个非常讲究衣着的人，我被公认为是全班最干净的学生，这项殊荣加深了我的执著（假如一个人对你说：你真性感。你是不是会继续打扮以便获取更多的赞誉？），在我出门之前假如发现我的衣服上有一点脏东西的话（比如刷牙时不小心滴在胸口的牙膏），我就会坚持换掉那件衣服，即使不能换掉我也要把它彻底擦干净才会走出去。我不能想像穿着那样的衣服去上学别人会如何看待我。那时候我把这件事看的很严重。

那时候的我还有很多其他类似的习惯，比如我不能容忍自己头发乱糟糟的出现在学校里。我总是把它们梳的整整齐齐。

不过在十几年后的今天，情况有所改观，我可能不洗脸不照镜子就跑出去买东西，也可能穿着一双拖鞋行走江湖，可能把一件衣服穿上几个月。对周围人的观感毫不在乎。在我的屋子里，你几乎无法找到一把梳子。

相对于十几年前的那个人，这似乎是两个人。十几年前的我会对现在的我感到触目惊心。

事实上，即使你把牙膏涂在脸上也未必会有人真的去注意你，更不用说仅仅是滴在胸口的牙膏。而你却在为这个烦恼担心。

这件事可以说明一些东西，这至少可以证明一个人可以变的连自己都认不出来。还说明我从某种观念里解脱了出来，也可以说，我越狱成功。很遗憾，不是所有的人都是这样，我的母亲每次看到我穿着一双拖鞋提着公文包就会变得歇斯底里，她认为我不应该穿着拖鞋提着公文包出现在大庭广众之下，这非常不和谐，会有损我的形象。她至今仍旧坚持己见，这说明她仍旧还在狱中。

不止是我的母亲，还有很多其他的人。他们也都身陷狱中，他们被自己的观念想法包围着无法突围。所以当我不打算照我母亲说的做的时候，她就会生气。

佛教认为我们每个人都被无明囚禁，我们执著很多东西，我们会认为穿着拖鞋打领带是不雅的。我们还会认为红色的上衣配蓝色的裤子是非常不搭调的。当然，你不能说时裤子或者拖鞋造成你的痛苦，只是你对红色上衣不能配蓝色裤子这一观念的执著造成你的痛苦。事物并不总是照你想像的方式出现。你期待出现一只兔子，但是出现的可能是条鳄鱼。

我相信你目前也一定有着类似的各种执著，比如你不能容忍某人上班的时候哼歌，也不能容忍那些超越你的道德观的行为。你甚至不能容忍那些在你看来笨手笨脚的人操作你熟悉的机器。你还会执著于你老公回家的时间，假如他在该回来的时候不回来，你就会焦虑，痛苦。我知道很多女人每天出现在众人之前都要把自己关在屋子里一段时间打扮自己，不过如果你修佛一段时间可能这些就变得不太重要了。当然我并不鼓励你象我一样邋遢。

过去重要的，现在已经变的不那么重要，甚至根本不重要。过去你认为绝对正确的，现在你也不再坚持。这说明你越狱成功。不过我们需要突破很多关口，也许你不再执著这个，不过你可能会执著那个。有些人甚至不能容忍自己家的地板上出现脚印，对待这样的执著者，你有时候可以在她的屋子里倒上一桶大粪，这会减少她的执著。

你应该知道，有很多人，如我们的母亲一样，他们执著种种虚幻的东西，并为此而患得患失。他们因此而身陷牢笼。你有责任引导他们越狱。你要告诉他们，这些事并不是象他们想像的那么严重，即使你胸口沾着饭粒跑出去，即使你穿着内裤拎着公文包，也不会有人把你当街斩首，所以你大可不必为此而忧心。红色的上衣并非不可以配蓝色的裤子。人类的痛苦都来自执著，他们经常为了向别人证明自己的执著是唯一正确的而打打杀杀。

当你执著于干净的地板的时候，假如我往你们家地板上吐口痰。你就会生气，痛苦。事实上，问题不是那么严重，只要拿拖把拖一下就好了，但是有时候你却表现的好像世界末日来了。

我们每个人都要学会越狱，所谓的越狱就是从那些造成你痛苦的围墙中走出来。

2007-5-1

首发于灵山居士博客http://blog.sina.com.cn/lingshanjushi

[ruewrites]

Returning Lovesickness Chapter 2

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 2823

Warnings: None

A/N: I'M ALIVE

Grad scool had HANDS this semester. I swear-

Thank you all for being patient with meeeee. I very much appreciate it <3

This is an au that @leviathanswingman and I made and we hope you enjoy it as much as we do <3

Previous

It had been at least a week since his conversation with Barbatos. Asmo had been staring up at the canopy over their bed as the clock ticked away, hands folded over his abdomen. Nerves made his stomach churn, a little mantra of 'I should tell him' played over and over again in his mind.  It had been all day, even as he watched Solomon work away at his desk and his tiny requests for the man to come to bed began. 

Asmo's eyes flipped to the clock.

3 AM.

He should tell him. 

Now.

Before he lost what little nerve he had. Slowly, he turned onto his side, taking a moment to adore the silver tufts of hair tossed over the pillow. 

“Solomon?” he asked,reaching out to touch Solomon’s arm. 

The man shifted, but didn’t make any other move. 

“Solomon,” he tried again, gently jostling the man’s arm, “I need to tell you something.”

In true Asmo fashion, to make sure he had Solomon’s attention, and that the man couldn’t ignore him, he hooked a leg up and over so he was straddling Solomon’s midsection.

Solomon let out a groan, “Asmodeus, do you realize what time it is?”

“It’s happening again.”

The words came out faster than he intended to, the anxiety in his stomach forcing the words out of his mouth. He watched as Solomon’s eyes flew open. He sat up as much as he could under Asmo, propping himself up on his elbows. He blinked a few times and squinted as if he couldn't quite believe or process what Asmo was telling him.

"What?"

"Again," Asmo could feel the sweat on the palms of his hands, the knots in his stomach tightened, "Solomon, it's happening again."

Asmo saw the click happen in Solomon's eyes as they widened. His hands moved to Asmo's hips. "Again? It is happening again?"

His voice was so soft yet brimming with energy. Asmo gave another nod in response to his question. Solomon's hands started shaking from where they rested upon his hips. And then a wide grin spread across his face. Arms wrapped around Asmo's middle, pulling him into a tight embrace and drawing a squeal out of his lips. Solomon held him tight, laughter bubbling out of his throat with each passing second, and that laughter was contagious. 

Asmo could feel the tears pricking at his eyes as giggles escaped them. Oh he had been silly to be so anxious. But what really did him in, was the look on Solomon's face. There was something so boyish about it, he was elated, and his eyes were sparkling. 

Solomon let one of his hands snake up to rest on Asmo's cheek. The cold metal of his wedding band chilled Asmo's delicate skin, "How long?"

"Hm?"

"How long have you known dear one?" 

Dear one.

Asmo had heard it thousands of times before, but it still made his heart flutter. Asmo brought a hand up to match Solomon's.

"Not long."

"How long is not long?"

"A few weeks? Maybe a little less than a month?" Asmo guessed, "I didn't really know know, more like I had a suspicion."

"A few weeks," Solomon repeated, he softened from his high, "You're amazing." 

And then Solomon kissed him.

Solomon kissed him. 

Of course they had many kisses, and they would never exhaust kisses, but this was Asmo's first kiss with Solomon after days riddled with anxiety. Days debating with himself over what was happening only to continue worrying over what he would say to Solomon. But in the end, it didn't seem to matter. 

Solomon's fingers brushed against the skin of his back, making Asmo shudder and gasp and allowing for Solomon to deepen their kiss.

Solomon was taking this well.

Another brush against his spine made Asmo shudder once more.

Very well.

***

"You should get sleep darling, you have a class to teach in the morning."

"How could I possibly sleep with such exciting news on my mind?" 

Asmo had turned to face him, his fingers lazily tangling themselves in Solomon's hair. Solomon pulled him closer, face buried in Asmo’s chest. The smile on his lips  imprinted themselves on Asmo’s skin. 

“You’re wonderful.” 

Solomon’s mother tongue poured out of his lips like honey. He pressed a kiss against Asmo’s collar bone and continued, “Ashmedai, you give me so much, more than I deserve. All of your love, your strength, one beautiful child, and now a second.”

Solomon kissed higher up his neck.

“What have I done to deserve you?”

Asmo shuddered and gently tipped Solomon’s head up with the tips of his fingers, making their eyes meet before responding in the same tongue. 

“Everything.”

Solomon softened even more and then buried himself under Asmo’s chin. He was truly adorable, the cutest man he knew. Well, aside from him that is. But oh, when his husband looked so soft, looking at him with such adoring eyes, how could Asmo not simply coo and admire him? He was an adoring father too. He’d been so wonderful with Lilith (and still was), and he’d be no different for this one. 

The pampering didn't stop there. Asmo woke up to more kisses and affection. It nearly had him bursting at the seams, and to add on it came coupled with Solomon's seemingly nonstop praises and words of affirmation. It was almost too much, but he wasn't complaining. Asmo would soak up every microscopic amount of affection Solomon gave him and then more. They fed into each other, amplifying everything the other had to give. 

"Can I bring you anything Ashmedai? Anything you want, name it." 

Asmo cracked his eyes open as Solomon pulled back from peppering his face with kisses. His body stretched out, little bouts of tension from sleep slowly slipping away. The entire time Solomon's eyes were on him, adoring and faithful. A soft trill left his lips as Solomon carded gentle fingers through his hair before pressing another kiss to his lips. 

"Can I have a latte with cute foam art and my favorite wicked cupcakes?"

"Of course, I'll make sure they come with extra sprinkles and the best frosting they have."

Asmo grabbed for his wrist as he went to pull away and pulled it close to his lips. "I would also like my husband home quickly, and hope his work goes by fast today."

Missing his husband was always a part of Asmo's day, but now it would be even moreso. All he wanted was Solomon this and Solomon that. It didn't even matter if he was being pampered by his husband or if he was the one doing the pampering. He only needed Solomon close.

With another soft smile, Solomon kissed his forehead, "I shall try my absolute hardest."

***

Shopping, no matter the circumstance, was one of Asmodeus's favorite pastimes. He knew he should be careful about what he ordered on Akuzon if he didn't want people getting suspicious, but that didn't mean he couldn't look. Little clothes, little shoes, the cutest little teddy bears, little bottles, it all flooded his feed and made him absolutely giddy. The hardest part would be deciding on colors and only picking a few. Cute babies deserved cute things.

He was more than content. Unfortunately, his husband would seem to not be in such a state.

"A few weeks?" 

Those were the first words Solomon said to him upon arriving home, looking to be in quite a state. 

"No kisses?" Asmo teased before letting himself flip back on the couch, "And yes, a few weeks. Why?"

Solomon had placed his hands on the back of the couch. Concern gripped his gaze as he mustered his partner, "We were on at least one mission in that timeframe.  Are you sure you have it down right?"

"Of course I do," Asmo reached up and gently caressed Solomon's cheek. His poor, poor human. So stressed and for what? Everything was fine and now that he was home they could cuddle and watch trashy reality TV with facemasks and snacks.  He'd been dying to see the new episode of Too Hot for Hell for a week. They could watch it together and Asmo could show Solomon all of the cute baby items he found. "What's got you in a tizzy Daddy?" 

"Asmodeus," Solomon ran a hand over his own face, eyebrows scrunched together as a sigh hissed out of his lips, "You ripped a wyvern to shreds and were covered in its blood. It was brutal. It almost sunk its teeth into you!"

"And you thought it was hot," Asmo teased, trailing his fingers up his chest.

"Asmo, you're with child, that was dangerous," Solomon grabbed his other hand, gaze turning towards pleading, "You know how other demons acted around you with Lilith, and it's already seemed to happen once now with this one."

"Barbatos seemed fine, he asked me about it."

"Barbatos knew?"

Oops. Oh well. Asmo would apologize for ratting out on their friend later.

Solomon covered his face with both hands and let out a groan. He was stressed, but he wouldn't be so stressed if he would just sit down with him and watch Too Hot for Hell like Asmo wanted.

"Nope. Okay. I'll talk to him later. But right now we should start packing."

This caught Asmo's attention. 

He sat up quickly, nearly knocking their heads together as he did so. Disbelief written all over his face. Before he could even speak Solomon continued, "I want you both safe. I want to do things a little more right than I did the first time."

There it was. Asmo melted a little. They had both been unprepared, uncertain, unknowing of all the dangers and stumbling and tripping to make sure their first got the chance to grow up. Yet Solomon carried so much guilt over so many things. Things that he had no control over Asmo cupped Solomon's face and leaned in so their foreheads were touching. 

"Darling, you were wonderful the first time,  and you're going to be wonderful again. Please, be kind to yourself."

Solomon closed his eyes, seemingly allowing himself to enjoy the embrace before taking and pressing Asmo's hands against his lips, paying special attention to the wedding ring. When he still didn't move, Asmo decided to continue. 

"Besides, I'm a strong demon, I open all of the jars in this house and another baby isn't going to change that."

Solomon snorted and finally met Asmo's gaze once more, "I know, but I will always worry. I love you."

“And I love you,” Asmo leaned forward and pecked Solomon's lips, "I guess I could start packing if getting back up to the human world will alleviate some of that worry. I don’t like seeing you fret darling."

Solomon nuzzled their noses  together, making Asmo squeal as he leaned over the back of the couch to get to Asmo's neck. His breath was hot against his skin, "Well, one episode of Too Hot for Hell couldn't hurt. You've been wanting to watch it."

“Oooooh yes yes yes! The last one ended on such a terrible cliff hanger! Oh but you remember that too! We were screaming about it until the next morning! Can you believe that two timer? And going behind everyone’s backs-!”

In one swift motion, Solomon tossed himself over the back of the couch  and into Asmo's squealing waiting arms. Oh how lucky was he to have such a darling man? 

***

"Do you and Daddy need help with any unpacking?"

"I think we've got it, it's just some little things left. You sit down baby, relax!" Asmo chirped, leading Lilith over to a chair and kissed her cheek, "It feels so good to have my baby home! How's school? Your Daddy and I wanna hear all about it!"

Solomon kissed her forehead upon entry, "Any favorite classes?"

"Any cute girls? Boys?" 

"Asmodeus."

"What? There's no harm in me wanting to ask!"

Solomon gave him a look. Alright, so Asmo had gotten carried away with this topic in the past. But could anyone really blame him?

Lilith laughed and leaned forward on the table. Oh how Asmo missed having her around the house. She was his first baby, his darling little bunny, his little girl, the most adorable little princess. And she was growing up so fast. The thought gripped at his chest. He couldn't tear up in front of her though, not now.

"Well, I have been taking some hellish deep sea classes. We're going out to the marina next Tuesday to try to catch a glimpse of some deep sea devil fish, and if we’re lucky a fin reaper!"

Solomon shuddered slightly, but he kept a smile on his face. As much as he hated the ocean, he was supportive of his daughter and her interest in sea life. Ever since she was little she had adored fish and anything with fins, she still had Mr. Fishy to this day.

"Treasure, Ollie, and I are also thinking about starting our own dorm next year, we're still thinking what our theme would be and what we would call it, but we're getting there!"  Lilith chirped. She had always been quick with her words. She had a similar cadence to Asmo's when she was excited, spitting out words in rapid succession. "Speaking of living arrangements, what had you guys moving back up to the human world? Nostalgia?"

Diving straight into the point.

Solomon and Asmo made eye contact. Asmo could feel himself shifting in anticipation. He just couldn't hold it in anymore! Reaching over the table he grabbed a hold of Lilith's hands, squeezing them tightly in his own. 

"Well when you were born my Little Bunny, we moved up here to keep you safe and so that we could let you enjoy being little for as long as you were little," he brushed a strand of hair back her ear. While he had been homesick for a while, he had made so many wonderful memories with his little family, and now he was going to make more. 

"And now your Daddy and I get to do that all over again," his voice was soft, but vibrating with excitement.

Lilith cocked her head, and then her eyes widened as the realization hit her.

"Wait, are you guys serious? Uncle Lucifer was asking me like if- and I mean- I didn't know like if- and all the family was there- and like are you guys serious? Like really?" with each changing thought Lilith's voice raised in pitch, "You're seriously having a baby? Like a real actual baby?" 

Solomon chuckled and threw his arm around Asmo's shoulders, "Hope you're ready to be a big sister Little Arsonist." 

Lilith didn't respond with words, she let out a squeal and leapt over the table in an attempt to wrap her parents in an embrace. With the help of some awkward stumbling, the trio made their way to their feet. Asmo cooed and trilled as he nuzzled against Lilith. He missed having his family close like this. And while his daughter was much too big to be lifted by him and Solomon now (thanks to his husband's genes for making her tall, which he still hadn't entirely forgiven him for), they could still hold her like this in their arms. 

"We're keeping it on the down low for now, alright?" Solomon winked and kissed her forehead again.

"I won't run my mouth as long as I can post tons of pictures on my devilgram when my new little sibling is heeeere." 

It was nice to have laughter like this in their house again. Asmo stared at the picture Lilith posted of the three of them, wishing he could like it and comment over and over and over again.

LilyOfTheValley: Love getting to spend time with my parents over the weekend! Ready to get spoiled rotten 💕

AsmoBaby: I absolutely plan on doing this! Anything you want is yours this weekend my sweet baby bunny 🐇

monSOLO: I have packed up the carpets so that you can have free reign this weekend 🔥

She'd be staying for the weekend, and Asmo couldn't feel happier. Even hearing both Treasure and Ollie’s voices ringing out over Lilith’s phone brought back memories for him. He was absolutely going to burst. He was wiping his blurry eyes when Solomon placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

"You're going to need sleep if we want our new bun to cook."

"Mmm, carry me?" 

"You're spoiled my Queen."

"It's because I'm your Queen that I'm spoiled."

Solomon responded with a kiss before taking Asmo in his arms. One arm supporting his back as the other hooked under his legs. Asmo wrapped his arms around and buried his face in Solomon's neck  as he carried him off. 

They really had made a perfectly beautiful family together hadn't they? Now, it was going to become just a little more perfect.

[the-firebird69]

Further today is a huge day for us on Neptune we are taking a lot of calls more people and they're liars mostly about things that have something to do with Neptune but not directly. It's an overwhelming large crowd of nincompoops and screaming Maniacs here and they need to be disciplined and they are not we're going through the numbers and we cannot believe how many complete the object morons there are we're going to have to do something fairly soon. I do have information is regarding this situation here and housing and income and more

-the number of campers being bought is less than published it's a lot less but they do comprise about that number of people and that's the match more loss and they are nuisance Factor the people leaving are mostly trumpsters at this time the next wave will be bja right now they are the ones who evacuating

+there's an issue with the housing and is an apartment and no it's not an issue with our son it's an issue with John remillard and Dan. They were told not to do what they're doing and they continue to and they are told that they will have a limited time there and told that for a while but they're being told in different terms and whenever you look over there the guys are doing something strange so this week or next week they plan to approach them and ask them when they're moving out and that's what they're up to

-yeah several things that they plan to do to have them evicted if they refuse to one of them is to have family friends go ahead and found with the courthouse that she did not agree to have her in there and she has agreement she's complaining to the landlord several times who can't do anything about it and you'll ask him and they'll say just not have an agreement and he refuses to move out and it's true and Court will have to ask and they will evict him that's what's going on shortly we think this coming week

-other than that there are a couple other things happening but damn is also going to be asked and if he says no Sherry will begin the eviction procedure and they'll both be pressured to mess with our son after and he and she will be pushed out the screams in at night and yells at the people says try to stuff like that and they will be ultimately kicked out

-and further news this income might be changing soon there is an adjustment coming to SSDI it is an Indian mountain road $450 and that's because they did not include when calculating his social security along with the cola increase which would be more they left jeans and HMC out and they do on purpose to say that they don't count until you make him more poor and they are actually in trouble with the federal government and he says from right in front of her it's not very nice of you and what you're doing now it's not legal either and the intend on doing stuff. It is a considerable amount of money and those years are from the 2007 to 2009 it's about two and a half years and the income was a decent amount it was 20% of his total income that's just in a suffered they suffered because we've been in their bastards and some losing things to do. They also have a very cheesy plan and probably won't do anything.. the amount of the increase would affect the income from the gap between the employment and he did go to the hospital and that was almost a year social security and it will be about 2300 a month go around 22,500 and also it's coming up today and they did detect it and it was there and it is illegal to do to our son it's not legal behavior and that they're doing anything yes I hear being screws and sat here being idiots and screws have and also there's the period after James which was 2009 until president and that was noticed today that is a long period of time reference for them to have this error but it's not a ton of money a year it's about $300 a month so it's only about 3600 a year and times about 13 and a half and it's about $45,000 so far there's a lot and then you had in a cola which is different it's another $2,000 no it's not 4,000 and that's wrong too it's about $1,500 a year so it's another 15,000 20,000 so it's really going to be almost 90,000 found today and they'll open further investigations and it's going to be pushed ahead my pseudo empire and empire both and it is for a jazzminic effect.

-other things you notice is there a nitpicky and precise about eating like things today messed up at first and that's terrible terrible terrible people and horrible people to hang out with me it's nasty so having a brat a 4 year old kid there just hunting you..

-in other news other people are filing for missed money and a lot of them have died and they're absorbing those accounts and taking the money and the director of social security is not getting any and she wasn't doing it and it was told not to but that's been doing it was going to get arrested that's Terry cheesman and they're actually horrible it's going on now and it's getting bigger

And we're going to publish it's getting pretty big

Uriel and Goddess wife

That's amazing stuff it really is

God and goddess of China eternal parents of the Chan and jet li people we are in charge of our areas yes

Time to print

Olympus

[alluringjae]

au cours de l’été - jjh

⤑ translation: over the summer

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

⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

⤑ masterlist

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

3 juin 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jaehyun! What brings you here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Une nouvelle venue?” (A newcomer?)

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

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

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

“Jaehyun?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shucks, he was pretty cute.”

12 juin 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Correct.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

début de juillet 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s infatuated by you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Bonsoir, (Y/N).” [Goodnight, (Y/N).]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“En voyant notre mine ravie,”

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

“Les passants dans la rue, nous envient,”

Your hand perched on your cheek, admiring his talent.

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

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

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

“Un espoir merveilleux, qui donne le frisson…”

À la mi-juillet de 1957

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Get dressed and some sleep, (Y/N).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Call me that again, please.”

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

“Tu peux m'avoir.” (You can have me.)

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

This time, it’s different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fin de juillet 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep them on when you ride me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Je t’aime aussi, Jaehyun.”

16 octobre 1957

Autumn made its way to the countryside.

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

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

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

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

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

“Still breathtaking.”

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

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

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

“Write to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, what was he up to?

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

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

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

You giggled at his silliness, throwing out flying kisses.

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

21 octobre 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get to the point please!” You screeched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could the next summer come any faster?

14 février 1958

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I beg your pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your fairytale.

“Jaehyun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He spoke about me to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he your favorite muse?”

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

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

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

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

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

“So tell me about your new book.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What really went down in Provence?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

6 ans plus tard (1964)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remember when you said how his mansion felt too big?

It no longer did after getting married.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouvre-le.” (Open it.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

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

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

Excluding being drenched from the rain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

copyright © 2021 by alluringjae.

[deleteddewewted]

Hey comadre! I saw you asked for a fluff request, and I came to deliver 💜 I think you might be intrigued by the idea!

Shinsou who has been bullied his whole life, with the bullying growing harsher his middle school years. When he begins his high school life in UA, he remains distant, not allowing himself for others to get close to him, and for them to hurt him, because he has developed that trauma. He then successfully transfers over to the Hero Course, and his seat partner is the chubby/curvy girl of the class. She is friendly and welcoming towards him, but he remains to give her the cold shoulder, although he saw her intentions genuine, but he still keeps his guard up. She then goes and sits with him during lunch, her explaining that she understands why he gives off the cold shoulder to his peers. She explains she has underwent being bullied herself, by her weight and such. She tells him that as time passed, she learned to love and accept herself for who she is, and offers to help Shinsou in a similar manner. To help him learn to trust people and she asks if he puked accept her as a friend. He accepts and their friendship grows, with him starting to develop feelings for her, and wants to spend more time with the person who saved him from his own troubles 💗

My heart and soul needed this, thank you comadre!💜

(I may or may not have used some of my personal experience being body shamed in here so....yeah, thats your heads up.)

Misery and Company

Emo/Himbo Shinsou x F! Reader (Reverse Comfort)

TW: Mentions of bullying, Mentions of Body Shaming, Leading on

He remembered the constant laughter that was present in his life. Everyone would assumed it was a great childhood but to him, to someone like him, it was never the paradise that it was thought to be. The laughter was at him not with him. Kids pointed their fingers towards him and blamed him for all of the problems that would happen throughout the school day.

“I didn’t do it!” As a child, he didn’t know any better. He assumed that he could scream and yell like every other kid and be listened to. He found out quickly that he didn’t get that right. The teacher quickly told him off and called his parents. They came to pick him up from school and started to ask all kinds of questions. Did your quirk go off? Why did you do it? Is it that hard to listen? He didn’t bother to try to make connections after that. Friends were a waste of time. A liability. An opportunity to suffer unnecessarily.

When Shinsou reached middle school he suffered from the increase of villain comments. His quirk became the center of attention, it didn’t matter if he had good grades or was nice to people. His quirk was the focus, always was.

“You can get away with everything you want!” He’s heard that one about a million times already. It always managed to irritate him how much people cared about what he did with it. He hated the eyes. The voices. It only made his internal monologue become aggressive with himself. The constant reminder that he was less than the others for being born with a quirk that used people. It made him want to scream his head off.

“Yeah, I’m aware. Um, can we stop talking about it now?” He wasn’t a pushover but he knew that he could just say what he wanted. He purposefully asked a question to get the other student to stop talking without using his quirk. The last tithing he wanted was for someone to accuse him of using his quirk on them.

That night, Shinsou worked on his homework at his desk. His parents were away on a work trip so he had the entire house to himself. He looked at the time and groaned when he realized it was already one in the morning. He walked into his bathrooms and looked for his toothbrush. When he looked up at the mirror, ready to brush his teeth, he couldn’t help and stare at himself. His eyes held bags under them, dark and heavy as if he hadn’t slept in days. The faint smudging of the eyeliner he put on only making his eyes look even worse. He was tired and alone. His parents weren’t there to comfort him and with his quirk making it difficult to connect with others, he had no one to speak with other than himself. He dropped his hand down and just stared at his reflection. The image became hazy as he continued to stare back at it.

His face felt warm. He couldn’t stop the river that flowed down his face. He didn’t ask for his quirk, he also didn’t ask to be born. Shinsou couldn’t stop the rattling within his chest nor the stuttered gasps as he tried to breathe. He looked up at his reflection again, this time noticing the red and swollen eyes that belong to him. That night, Shinsou laid down to sleep on top of the covers and stared blindly at the uncovered window. He vowed to never become attached again. Not to classmates, not to family, and definitely not any possible friends.

Going to UA was a dream come true for him, the ability to be closer to your heroic dreams was closer than ever, but not for him. Shinsou had to watch as the heor course students acted like entitled brats, everyone in the school bowing to them like they were some great thing. He hated watching them boast, hated everything about them, to be honest. He wanted nothing to do with them, so why did they want something to do with him?

“Uh, sorry but I was wondering if you’d like to sign this petition?” Shinsou looked up from the book he was reading and stared straight towards the holder of the voice. It was a short chubby girl with a clipboard in her hands. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his answer to her question.

“No thanks.”

“It’s for a local shelter, it’ll help abused and abandoned pets find a good home-” Shinsou wanted to be left alone. He sighed out loud and closed his book while rubbing his eyes, the eyeliner smudging.

“I said no. Now leave me alone.” Shinsou watched as the girl flinched at his annoyed voice.

“S-sorry, I’ll just leave you alone.” She quickly walked away from him, nearly entering a jog as she left him behind. Shinsou couldn’t help but become disappointed with himself. The girl was being nice to him and he snapped at her. She wasn’t even benign annoying, he just felt tired. He could hear how some people around him mumbled about the exchange he packed his things up and left towards his class.

He did see the girl again from time to time. He found out she was in the hero course and that she was in the A class as well. He would spot her on occasion but he did interact with her during his hero course admissions test. She wore her hero costume with pride and honestly, he had to look away for a moment, she looked like power itself. He couldn’t help feel intimidated in her presence. She didn’t come up to him yet so he had to come up to her. He intended on apologizing for his behavior a few months back, he didn’t mean to snap at her and he never found the opportunity to do so.

You watched as the indigo-haired boy awkwardly made his way towards your group. He wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes but instead focused on the floor below him.

“Hi, I’m Shinsou Hitoshi.” He extended his hand out to you but you just stared at him like he grew a second head. He felt awkward again, he was expecting you to at least call him a dick but the silence made his stomach become tight.

“Nice to meet you Shinsou, I’m L/n Y/n.” You felt bad for being quiet for too long, you couldn’t help it. He was really pretty to look at especially since he wore eyeliner that sharpened the appearance of his eyes.

“Oh, uh yeah. I um, wanted to apologize for my attitude a while back. It was rude of me and uhh, I know that saying I was in a mood isn’t a good excuse but-”

“It’s fine, I get it. I can be annoying so it’s ok.” You gave him a bright smile and a clap on the back of his shoulder.

He tensed when he felt the heat of your hand on him, he couldn’t help but lean slightly into it. His ears reddened and not wanting to embarrass himself more than he did already, he quickly pulled his mask up to cover his ears and face.

“No- yeah- I mean no, you- you weren’t annoying, I was just in a mood and it accidentally let it out on you. Sorry about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you briefly. You just smiled at him again and got closer to his person.

“Hey, do you mind if i-” You grabbed the bottom part of his mask and pulled it down slightly, your face closer than ever before to his own. He stopped breathing as you got closer, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about his breath. He smelled like coffee and for some reason, it made him feel embarrassed if you were to found out about his dependency of it.

You reached out with your pinky and brushed some of the black flakes of his eyeliner away from his upper cheek. You blended the smudged eyeliner on the bottom of his eye out and pulled his mask up again to cover his face.

“There! Just wanted to clean up your makeup. It’s really well done, by the way, wish I could do my own eyeliner as clean as your own. Do you wear eyeshadow on the bottom lid or is it just eyeliner with you?” You weren’t mocking him for his dressing and styling choices, many of his old classmates did.

He told you about what products he uses and yes, he did use eyeshadow for his bottom lid. You just smiled at him and occasionally added what you used. He enjoyed talking to you, you were nice to him and allowed him to speak his mind. He couldn’t help but want to know more about you. Unfortunately, your conversation had to come to an end since his group was the first one up, but you both agreed to talk after all matches were over.

His second year at UA was better but he still felt awkward around everyone. Everyone, discluding Bakugou, was nice to him. You especially made it your duty to be around him all the time. He enjoyed your company but he found himself still pushing away from him at times. The constant lingering feeling of possible betrayal being prominent in all of your interactions. It didn’t matter how many times you helped him do his makeup or how many times he did your own, didn’t matter if he showed you his favorite video games to play, nor if he introduced you to his parents and had you in his room playing those same games with him for hours. He was still nervous, paranoid that you’ll stab him in the back. Scared that you’ll turn around and show your true colors. That you’ll take everything you know about him and tell everyone so you could all mock him again.

Shinsou, due to his fears, started to pull away from you. No more hanging out with him, no more doing each other’s makeup, no more eating lunch together. Shinsou ignored you every time you tried to speak with him, always turning himself away from you or being rude in some manner. It did discourage you at times, made you feel like you were back in middle school with the cute guys in your grade only speaking with you to make fun of your interests afterward. You thought that maybe he was going to be different but you guessed not. You kept away from him as you processed the situation but that also gave you the chance to watch him. You noticed that instead of sitting with your guy’s other classmates he would op to sit on his own within the cafeteria at a faraway table or somewhere else. You noticed that he not only avoided you but the rest of your classmates. He was back to how he was in his first year.

You couldn’t keep watching him be alone again, you didn’t want to leave him alone. You made up your mind and made your way towards Shinsou. He was sitting outside of the cafeteria eating his lunch while reading a book that was placed on his lap. He looked tense as he continued to read and nervous at any sound that made itself known. You felt bad for him, from what he told you about his own school experience, more of the lack of, you assumed that he was bullied for his quirk. He never used it on you and he never spoke much about it. He never gave you any details and never told you how his quirk activities, he just avoided the conversation entirely but he was always excited to listen to your own though.

“Shinsou.” You watched as the male jumped in his spot on the floor and direct himself towards you.

“Shinsou, can we talk for a bit?” He averted his eyes and began to pick his things from the floor, shaking his head as he did.

“N-no, sorry. I have to go-” You got in his way and crouched down to meet him at eye level.

“I know you have nowhere to be at. Please, talk to me for a bit.” You placed your hand on his own and stared at him. Shinsou didn’t want to meet your eyes. He didn’t want to see the disgust in them or the hatred you felt for him.

What he didn’t expect was for you to place your hand on his cheek and gently guide his gaze to your own. His eyes were wide and watery, he didn’t understand why you were being so gentle, so kind with him. Didn’t you want to be angry with him? Your own eyes were soft, a small smile present on your face.

“Shinsou, what’s wrong?” Your voice was gentle and your touch never leaving him. He took in a breath and spilled everything and all of his troubles to you. Once he finished, he was welcomed by a hug.

You pulled him into your own body and shared your warmth with him. You gently brushed his wild hair as you allowed him to cry to his heart’s content. He needed someone to listen to him, someone who would just let him talk. You were that person for him. Once he felt better, he pulled away from your person and rubbed his eyes. His eyeliner was running and smudging severely on his face. He pouted slightly at his destroyed makeup but then looked at your uniform. You had black smears all over your jacket and shirt.

“I-i’m sorry L/n. I didn’t mean to ruin your uniform.” You just chuckled and shook your head at him.

“It’s fine Shinsou, you needed to let it all out.” He began to take deeper breaths and eventually sat next to you. His head gently laying on top of your own.

“It… it was frustrating you know? I thought that I was the problem and I still feel like I am at times.”

“I get what you mean, I also had to deal with bullies.” Shinsou lifted his head and looked at you confused. You had to deal with bullies? Why? You were nice to everyone, why would anyone want to hurt you?

“I think it’s obvious as to why Shinsou.” Shit, did he say that out loud?

“Yes, you did.” You gave him another smile and took his hand. You compared him to your own. Your hand was smaller than his own but it was rounder, chubbier, just like the rest of you. You found it adorable how different the both of you were.

“I’m overweight, man. People tend to hold a preconceived idea of what overweight people are like.” Shinsou still couldn’t understand.

“So?  Why would anyone bully you for something you don’t have all that much control over?”

“Because they’re mean. It’s a power trip for them.” You began to play with his fingers, taking note of the muscles that you weren’t aware existed within them.

“I used to have a crush on this guy and for the longest time, my classmates made fun of me because of it. They always said that I was too fat for him or that id hurt him if I leaned onto him. Typical mean comments about my appearance and how I was unloved.” Shinsou began to frown and got closer to you. His body heat becoming a welcoming presence to you as you recounted your own struggles.

“Then one day he asked me to hang out with him. We ate lunch together and we spent time together. I thought he was interested in me just like I was interested in him. He once got close to my face and made it look like he was about to kiss me before reaching for something behind me. We laughed it off as an accident but I noticed the small blush on his face. I was excited.” You pressed on each of his fingernails and wiggled his fingers in between your pointer and thumb.

“I thought that this was it, he liked me back. Our school dance came and everyone was asking out their dates for it. I thought he was going to ask me to go with him but that didn’t happen. He pulled me towards him in the middle of class with everyone watching us, a lot of the other girls were jealous of me because of it.” You noticed the chipped nails polished on his nails and began to scratch it off.

“He cupped my face and pulled me closer to him. We were going to kiss.” You stopped playing with Shinsous hand. Your hand falling onto the ground limply.

“He gripped my face and pushed me away saying “Did you really think id like you? You’re such a joke L/n.” ” You pulled away from Shinsou, your hand rested on your lap instead of anywhere near his.

“I felt so alone, so gross, so….fat. It hurt but it was made worse because it was in front of everyone. Everyone saw how he treated me and made fun of me. No one did anything, not even as I ran away crying. Instead, I got comments about my weight. I got called some really mean names that day and the following. I didn’t go to my school’s dance, I didn’t want to be made fun of again.” You didn’t hear a thing from Shinsou. He just sat there looking at you like you were crazy.

“Their assholes.”

“I know.” You looked at him and smiled. He came closer to you, grabbing your hand from your lap and interlacing them in one another.

“But I don’t feel like that anymore. I don’t care is a better way to phrase it. People can have their opinions, either nice or mean. I can’t dictate that.” Shinsou scooted closer to you as you continued talking.

“But I can dictate the way I think about myself and the people I want to be around me.” Shinsou couldn’t help himself anymore.

He leaned in towards you and placed his hand on your cheek. His lips gently pressing onto your own and unmoving. You felt your heart fluttered but it quickly turned to amusement. He just pressed his lips to yours and wasn’t moving, He wasn’t moving. He had his eyes closed and pressed into you, it was beginning to bruise your lips. You pulled back slightly and looked at his face. He had his lips still puckered and his eyes closed. You giggled and quickly kissed him again before he pulled away. You on the other hand did move and deepened the kiss.

Shinsous heart soured as you kissed him back, his lips no longer hurting but feeling gently caressed by your own. He couldn’t help the small gasps that escape him nor the way he pulled you closer to him. When the two of you parted, Shinsou looked at you with sleepy eyes. He wanted this and he wanted more.

“I like you L/n.”

“I like you too Shinsou.”

[ninak803]

Letters (XIII)

I obviously can either not post for weeks or post everything at once, so here we are again!

By now you all probably know that @whataboutmyfries is my lovely beta & I am so sorry for all the pain I cause her. (Sarah, I love you so so much)

Character by @lumosinlove (Except for Ines, who I maybe intend to keep on writing)

But whatever! HERE IS FINALLY AN ANSWER FROM ALEX!!!!

Dear Kase,

I’m sorry for the long silence. I didn’t mean to ghost you, I really didn’t do it on purpose. yes I did. Life was just a mess.

I think I have some explaining to do. When I was in Gryffindor for the match, I wanted to talk to you. But my mom called me right after the match and told me that Finn was in the hospital. He got a severe concussion, he also had a match that day. So I left right away. I didn’t even think of you, I’m sorry. I knew I couldn’t do much about the concussion, but I wanted to see my little brother. God, that really scared me. He’s my baby brother. He’s not supposed to get hurt. I know hockey can get ugly and things like that can happen, but it never occurred to me before that it could actually happen to Finn. So, right after the match, I left for Cambridge. When I arrived, Finn was asleep and my parents waited for me. He was okay; they said. He needed a lot of rest. I talked to him the next day. He really wasn’t feeling well. He wasn’t like Finn at all. You wouldn’t have recognized him, Kase. He was pale, paler than usual, and his voice was kinda flat and monotone. I know it was because of the concussion; I know that. It just made everything so real. I had to leave then, but I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t leave him there, all alone. Well, my parents stayed, though Finn told them to go home with me. He promised them he was okay. He lied, obviously. One of his teammates showed up right before I wanted to go. His name’s Logan. He promised me he would look after Finn and he told me he’d make him rest for as long as he has to. I don’t know why, but the way he said it; I knew I could trust him with my brother. His tone was so genuine, and he looked so worried. I could tell he hadn’t slept all night by the dark circles under his eyes. So, I hope you understand why I left right away without another word to you. It was an asshole move (that’s how you phrased it, right?), but an understandable one, or so I hope.

I’m going to be honest with you. You talked so much about Natalie in your letters and how she makes you feel and how happy you are that I felt kinda left out? I don’t even know if that makes sense. We haven’t seen each other in months. I’m so happy for you, Kasey. I’m so happy that you found her and that she’s making you feel great and that things are going so well for you two. Don’t get me wrong, please. You’ve absolutely earned such a gorgeous person and I can’t wait to meet her. But it also made me realize that I want to be with you someone again. Someone who makes me feel that way, not just an occasional hook up. So I went out there again, into the scary world of dating. I didn’t remember there were so many strange people. Am I one of them? I went on some dates with some girls, but never on a second one with any of them. One looked at me with these huge puppy eyes and really asked me if I wanted to move in with her. We knew each other for less than an hour. You met Nat in a supermarket? Maybe I should try my luck there. I have another date later this week, I’ll let you know how it goes. At least she seems nice. We met at a bar last weekend. I’ve been there with the team, you know, celebrating and all that. And she was the bartender there. Yup, I have a date with a bartender. Is that cliche? Maybe. I don’t care. I mean yeah; she looked dazzling there behind the bar and that maybe was the reason I talked to her (other than ordering my drinks) but we talked for a while and she was funny. Her name’s Ines and as I told you, we’re going out this week. I hope she’ll actually show up, but then I know where she works and I can just ask her what all that was about if she really didn't show up. I just realized that made me sound like a stalker. I’m not a stalker.

Again, I’m sorry for not being a good friend these last couple of weeks (months, damn it). I’m really sorry, Bliz. I had some stuff to deal with and I was busy and I just wasn’t a good friend. Period. I was a shit friend and I’ll try to do better.

I miss you. We should plan my trip to Gryffindor soon. The season is almost over now. How long would it be okay for me to stay? Am I allowed to stay at your place or do you want me to get a hotel room? Now that you have a girlfriend and all that, I bet you want your privacy and not another roomie. You know I’m just kidding, I’ll stay at yours. Sorry, buddy.

I’ll try to answer your next letter sooner,

Alex

[pitubea1910]

Ready

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Featuring: Avengers

Word count: 5k

Warning: some swearing, alcohol, mention of sex, a bit of teasing.

Tags: -

Request: -

Notes: -

Masterlist

A few months ago, you and nine other recruits received a phone call saying to be at the training facilities first time in the morning. Once you got there, you were told that you would be receiving extra training, long hours and double effort. Whenever you asked why, they just said it was classified.

After two months of training ten hours per day, seven days a week, being put through several trials and tests, you were called to the office of Maria Hill –the head of all the recruitment process-. To your surprise, she wasn’t alone when you got there: Nick Fury was there.

You had never met him in person, although you had heard many stories about him. And his presence was as intimidating as you imagined. Or even more. He had a deep voice that shook to your core, a way of talking that let you know he was someone not to mess with, he owned S.H.I.E.L.D and he knew it.

“Agent (Y/L/N)”, Hill started as soon as you took a seat after recovering from the surprise of finding Nick Fury in the room. “Let me introduce you to Nicholas Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Yeah, I know who… he is”, you said with a small smile. There was no one around the facility who didn’t know who this man was. Maria Hill smiled too.

“Nice to meet you, Agent (Y/L/N)”, Fury said. “I have been following your training for the last two months quite closely.”

Your felt your mouth go dry. He had been following your training?

“And I have to say it is quite impressive”, he added. He took a tablet from Hill’s desk and swiped the screen a couple of times. “When it comes to strategy there’s no one who can beat you, you’re strong, fast, your combat skills could be a match for Black Widow’s… definitely impressive.”

“Thank you, sir”, was all you could say. You knew you were good, but you never thought you would be good enough to hear it from Nick Fury himself. He was a legend.

“As you know, these last two months we have been testing you on a daily basis”, Hill said and you nodded. Of course you knew. You could feel it in every bone and muscle in your body. “What you don’t know is why.”

“And I guess you’re going to tell me?” You asked, looking at the two of them.

Fury put the tablet back on the desk without taking his eye off you. You would be lying if you said he didn’t make you nervous, but you had the feeling that looking away wouldn’t help you there, so you were determined to hold his eye. After a few minutes, you thought you could see a hint of smile on Fury’s lips, but you probably just imagined it.

“The Avengers have requested a new member for their team”, he simply said.

If you had been drinking something, you would have choked on it or spitted out for sure. Out of all the things you thought this meeting was about, the last thing you expected was something like this.

“The Avengers?” You asked. “As in… Captain America, Black Widow and Iron Man?”

“Are there any other Avengers that we don’t know of?” Fury asked with a teasing tone.

“Fair enough”, you mumbled.

“We chose 10 candidates and we have been putting you through tests and trials without telling you why”, Hill said now taking the tablet and showing you some graphics. “All of you started off with enthusiasm, showing the best results you had got since you got recruited. However, as the weeks passed, most of your colleagues’ performance started to deteriorate.”

“We had meetings with them”, Fury said. “We asked if there was something wrong, why this change when they had proven to be among the best of their class. They said that they were tired. That they didn’t know what was going on, what was the point of all this suffering.”

“I never got any meeting”, you said.

“Because your performance only got better”, Hill said, showing you a graphic with your name on it. “You have been the only one who, despite not having a purpose, a goal, not knowing what was going on, kept on working as hard as you did on the first day.”

“And that, Agent (Y/L/N)”, Fury said, “is exactly what we need. Someone who won’t fail, who won’t slow down, who will be there every day no matter what, with the same spirit as the first day. However, as much as we thought you are the perfect candidate, we are not the ones who have the final say.”

“Then?” You asked confused.

“We sent all of your files to The Avengers, with all the progress of the last two months. And they have made a decision. They want you, Agent (Y/L/N).”

A week later you packed all of your belongings in a suitcase and left the S.H.I.E.L.D HQ in a black SUV to move into The Avengers Headquarters in Upstate New York. Their welcome had been incredible. Since the very first moment you walked in the residential quarters of the huge compound, you were warmly welcomed by the team.

It took you a time to get used to your new life. You still had to train every day and soon you found out that it was a harder training than the one you did as a simple recruit. Obviously, they didn’t hold their punches. At first, you ended up at the infirmary most of the days, but eventually you started getting stronger and getting used to this new way of fighting. There was less theory and more instinct. And, soon enough, you started going on missions.

At first, they would be recon missions, nothing major. However, in a few months you proved yourself to be able to do more. You would never forget your first mission with Steve, Tony, Bucky and Natasha. It was the most exciting, exhausting and hard day of your life and, despite coming back injured, everyone kept on telling you how amazed they were by you, your work and your skills.

They took care of you, visited you every day until you got better, helped with your recovery and to get back on your feet in no time. You had found a family in them and it looked like they saw you as one of them now.

“You know what day is it tomorrow?” You asked when you walked into the kitchen.

You had just finished your training and had walked into the kitchen to have a smoothie. As usual, since you had the same training hours scheduled, Bucky was there as well.

Since the beginning, you had started training with Bucky as your mentor. You didn’t really fight against him, since he could knock you out without even trying, but he was there to observe and correct, give you advice, put more weight on your weights and push your limits.

When you first started training with him, he wouldn’t talk much. But, eventually, he started opening up and you gladly discovered that underneath all that sulking attitude was a really funny, easy going, teasing and loving kind of guy.

You spent so much time together that soon you found yourself looking around for him every time you walked into a room, sitting in front of him in every meal, next to him every time you would watch a movie, spending hours in his room just talking or playing videogames. You just couldn’t picture your life without him in it anymore.

“Saturday?” He said, throwing a bottle of water at you, which you caught without problem.

“Something else?” You asked, unscrewing the cap. Bucky thought for a moment and shook his head. “Really? I should be offended. A year ago, your life changed.”

“Did it?” He asked, a smirk forming on his lips. You narrowed your eyes and threw the cap of the bottle at him. He laughed and dodged it. “I know, I know. It will be a year since the most annoying person in the world walked through those doors with that lost puppy look on her face.”

“I wasn’t lost!” You exclaimed.

“So you’re annoying?” He teased.

“Not as much as you are”, you said and stuck your tongue out. “Maybe we should celebrate.”

“Why?”

“When was the last time someone put up with you for so long?” This time, he was the one narrowing his eyes at you, which made you laugh. “But seriously, it doesn’t have to be a party. But we could have a drink all together or something.”

“Ask Tony”, Bucky said. “He will organise anything in the next 45 minutes.”

“Good point”, you said nodding your head. “I’ll talk to him.”

You were about to walk out of the kitchen, fully intending to talk to Tony as soon as possible, when Bucky called your name. You turned around to find him walking over you.

“Yes?” You asked.

Once he was standing in front of you, he sighed and moved some hair that had flown out of your ponytail and put it behind your ear. He caressed your cheek and looked into your eyes, making your heart beat louder and faster. You took a deep breath, trying not to look down at his lips.

“A year ago, I met the most important person in my life”, he said. “She’s strong, funny, annoying as hell and incredibly oblivious. But I wouldn’t change her for anything.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek softly before winking an eye at you and walking out of the kitchen, leaving you flustered, confused and on the edge of fainting.

***

Just like Bucky had said, as soon as you said to Tony that you would like to have a little celebration, he took out his phone and started organising a little party. You made it clear that you didn’t want or need anything big, but once Tony started organising a party there was no way of knowing the size of it until you were in it.

“I thought you didn’t want anything big”, Bucky said when you stepped into the main living room of the residential quarters the following evening.

Looking around, you barely knew anyone. You had no idea how Tony had managed to pull this out in such short notice. There was people everywhere, food, alcohol music and banners everywhere saying ‘Happy Avengesary (Y/N)’. It was incredible.

“This is what happens when you leave Tony in charge”, Steve, who walked in after you two, said.

“I’m not complaining”, Natasha said with a huge smile as she looked around. “See you later guys.”

“Where is she going?” You asked, looking at her as she got lost in the crowd.

“She has seen that IT guy she likes”, Steve said with a chuckle.

“I say we make the best out of this and get a drink”, Sam said.

“And that’s the most intelligent idea I have heard so far”, you said and took Sam’s hand to follow him through the crowd.

The bartenders that Tony had hired knew exactly who you were and the reason you were having this celebration. So the moment they saw you, they made sure you had a drink in your hand without even asking for it. It looked like Tony had told them what you liked.

The next couple of hours went by in a blur. Despite not knowing most of the people in the party, it was obvious that they knew who you were and many kept on stopping you to congratulate you on the work you had been doing the past year or just to take a photo with you. Definitely, that was something you would never get used to: being a public figure.

When you finally managed to sit down on the couch, next to Bucky, you didn’t even know how many hands you had shaken, how many photos you had taken and how many hugs you had given. But your mind was buzzing.

“How you doing, superstar?” Bucky smiled when you let yourself fall on the couch.

“Exhausted”, you admitted.

“It will wear off, don’t worry”, Sam said, patting your shoulder. “Once they get used to you, they won’t pay much attention.”

“Unless you’re Captain America or Thor, of course”, Clint winked.

“Shut up”, Steve rolled his eyes.

“It took us an hour to get some milk from the grocery store”, Clint said. “An hour because people kept on asking Steve for photos and autographs.”

“One would think that after a century, no one would be impressed by Captain America right?” Sam laughed.

“It’s not Captain America”, you said. “It’s… you.”

“What?” Steve asked confused, which made you laugh.

“Are you really that oblivious?” Wanda laughed as well.

“You’re a specimen, man”, Sam winked playfully, making you all laugh.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s not that”, Steve said as you could all see him blushing.

“Oh, trust me. It is”, you said. “Everyone has a crush on Captain America”, you added.

“Do you?” Bucky asked, his arm casually over the back of the couch and your shoulders.

“Don’t you?” You asked back with a laugh.

“I saw him putting newspaper in his shoes to look taller”, Bucky shrugged. “It’s kind of a turn off.”

“So that means that there is a turn on?” Clint asked wiggling his eyebrows.

“There’s always at least one turn on”, you smirked.

“Oh really?” Bucky smirked. “What turns you on, (Y/L/N)?”

“Right back at you, Barnes”, you said, looking at him with a playful smile.

“Okay, this just gave me an idea!” Sam said.

You forced yourself to look away from Bucky, whose eyes were burning through yours. You had felt that electricity running between you two many times before, but you had never felt the heat you felt at the moment. So you needed to focus on something else beside the warmth of his body next to yours.

“Please, enlighten us”, Natasha said.

“What about an old good game of Truth or Dare?” He suggested. You laughed out loud, just like Wanda and Natasha.

“Are we 16 now?” Steve said, although he didn’t look like he rejected the idea completely.

“Afraid of airing your dirty laundry, Rogers?” Clint asked.

“I have no dirty laundry to air”, the alluded said with an innocent smile.

“Yeah right”, Natasha laughed. “Okay, let’s do this”, she said.

“Seriously?” You asked.

“Why not?” Natasha shrugged. “It’s always fun to get to know each other in different ways”, she winked.

You sighed and shrugged. It looked like you didn’t have a choice. As soon as you all agreed, Sam asked a waiter to bring a couple of bottles of tequila, shot glasses for everyone and an empty bottle. In addition, Bucky he asked for a bottle of the Asgardian liquor Steve and Bucky used to drink in these situations.

“It’s no fun if two of us can’t get drunk”, he explained once they brought the small bottle and everything was settled.

“Fair enough”, you laughed. “Okay, who goes first?” You asked.

“You’re the honouree, so…” Sam said.

“Okay”, you laughed and spun the bottle that stopped pointing at Sam, who smiled widely at you. “Truth or dare?”

“Let’s start with a truth”, Sam said.

“Have you ever practised kissing in a mirror?” You smiled.

“First, that’s a lame question. Second… yes”, he admitted, making you all laugh. “I was 10, okay? And I was nervous about a potential first kiss”, he shrugged.

“That’s cute”, you admitted still laughing.

“Okay, here we go”, Sam spun the bottle and this time it landed on Bucky.

“Truth”, Bucky quickly said.

“Mmm…” Sam smirked after looking at you for a brief second. “Would you make out with someone in this group?”

Bucky looked at Sam like he wanted to kill him and you felt him tense up beside you. You looked up to him although his eyes were fixed on Sam, whose smiled only grew bigger.

“You can always drink. Although that will give us half an answer”, Sam shrugged.

“I would”, Bucky finally said. You raised both eyebrows and looked up again, surprised.

“With who?” You asked.

“That’s not part of the question, doll”, Bucky winked before spinning the bottle, which landed on Natasha. Yet, you didn’t stop thinking about it.

“Dare, of course”, she shrugged.

“I dare you to go to that IT guy and ask him out”, Bucky smiled.

“You know I don’t ask out”, Natasha said.

“Is Black Widow backing off a dare?” Clint smiled.

Natasha narrowed her eyes, her pride obviously taken the best of her. Immediately, she got up and you all looked at her while she walked up to the IT guy. It was a quick conversation and, by the end of it, the guy looked like was about to marry her while she came back with her face as red as her hair.

“I’ll get back at you, Barnes”, she said, spinning the bottle.

There were all kind of dares and questions. The more you drank, the juicier they got without even realising it. At some point, Steve was playing without his shirt –to the delight of many of the guests-, Clint was speaking only with the vowel E, Wanda was wearing Natasha’s clothes and viceversa and you were on your pyjamas.

“Okay, let’s go”, Natasha said when it was her turn to spin the bottle after reading out loud the last text she had sent –Rated X-. “Finally!” She said when it landed on Bucky. “Barnes?”

All along, every time it was Bucky’s turn, there had been numerous hints of him liking someone, someone he would sleep with, his crush, but no name had come out of his mouth. You didn’t even know Bucky liked someone, which was strange since you spent so much time together, and to say you were curious was a misunderstanding.

“Truth”, he said.

“Playing it safe, huh?” Natasha smiled.

“You’re a dangerous woman, Romanoff”, Bucky said, his fingers brushing your shoulder absently.

“Fine. Have it your way”, she said. “Is (Y/N) the one you’ve been talking about all along? The one you would make out with, sleep with, have a crush on?”

Bucky’s whole body tensed up, just like yours, with that question. It was obvious she had been saving it for quite a long time and it looked like everyone was waiting for someone to drop the bomb. They all looked at Bucky smiling a little, as if they knew something you ignored, waiting.

“Damn you, Natasha”, Bucky finally chuckled.

“Would you prefer a dare?” She smiled widely.

“I don’t trust your dares”, Bucky said.

“Then… answer or drink. Although… drinking would be an answer itself”, she innocently shrugged and winked an eye at him.

You saw Bucky biting his lower lip without looking at you, his eyes fixed on Nat, as he was deliberately trying not to look at you. Your heart was pounding in your ears and you swore you would explode if he didn’t say something soon.

“Yes”, he finally said, taking your breath away. “She is”

And he spun the bottle.

***

The game was finished in no time after that moment. Although you didn’t pay any attention to it anymore. All you could do was look at Bucky, waiting for him to look at you and explain what he had just said. However, all he did was smirking whenever he felt his eyes on you.

“Okay, come here”, he said once everyone had scattered around.

He took your hand and took you through the crowd. You didn’t know where he would take you until he scanned his finger print on the door that lead to Tony’s office. He let you walked in first and looked around to make sure no one was looking before closing the door.

“What was that?” You finally asked after a few moments.

“Do I really need to explain?” He smiled, getting closer to you which only made you nervous.

“I think? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” You asked.

“When would I say anything? When I was kicking your ass during training?” He asked.

“You don’t kick my ass”, you said. “We never even fight against each other because you’re too afraid of me kicking your ass”, you added, crossing your arms.

“You’re so damn blind”, he laughed shaking his head. “I don’t fight you because I would never forgive myself if I ever hurt you. Even if it happened during training.”

You blinked a few times and looked away, trying so hard not to blush and failing completely. He was now so close that you could even feel his breath on you. It wasn’t the first time he was this close, but it was the first time it made you so nervous.

“That’s just another way of saying it”, you mumbled.

Bucky placed his index finger on your chin to make you look up at him and to his eyes before rubbing your cheek softly. His eyes moved down to your lips, just like yours to his, just in time to see him biting his bottom lip. Your breath got caught in your throat and an urgent need to kiss him overcame you.

“You drive me insane in every possible way, (Y/L/N)”, he said leaning in. You closed your eyes instinctively but his kiss never came. “But you’re not ready for it yet.”

You opened your eyes to see him slowly walking backwards, with a smirk on his face.

“What…? What are you doing?” You asked breathless.

“I could kiss you right now and make you realise that you feel the same way about me”, he said, a hand on the doorknob. “But I have decided that, if I have waited a year, I can wait a few more days and make you want it, drive you crazy just like you do with me.”

“Don’t walk away, James. Don’t you dare”, you said.

“See you later, doll”, he said.

Before you could even take a step forward, he opened the door and walked out the office, leaving you with your mouth open and your brain completely melted.

What the hell had just happened?

You had to take some time before you went back out to the party. Your heart had never beat like this. It felt like it would jump out of your chest at any given time and getting it back to ‘normal’ wasn’t easy.

When you finally made your way back out, you spotted Bucky at the bar, talking to Steve. When he saw you, his eyes were on you for a moment, while his lips formed a smug smirk, and then looked back at his friend to continue the conversation. All you wanted to do was go and punch him in that perfect face to kiss him afterwards. Or maybe kiss him first and punch later. You were confused.

The rest of the night you were completely unfocused. It felt like you couldn’t hold a single conversation, like you were zooming in and out all the time, looking around for Bucky and imagining his lips, hands, body on yours. In the end, you decided to leave the party earlier than expected. It wasn’t like anyone would notice, since most of the guests were too drunk to pay any more attention to you.

Once in your room and in your pyjamas –an oversize t-shirt and your underwear-, you laid on your bed and looked at the ceiling, thinking about what the hell had happened and trying to process how you felt about it.

It would be a huge lie to say that you didn’t have feelings for Bucky. You knew they had always been there, but you had always considered them platonic. He was one of the most attractive men you ever met and he was also kind, funny, witty, smart and incredibly thoughtful. You would have never thought he felt the same way about you. You thought all those times he flirted with you, it was just a game to him. Maybe you had been wrong.

You didn’t even know when you had fallen asleep, but when you opened your eyes, you heard the rain against the huge window of your room. You sighed and rubbed your eyes, your mind immediately racing as memories from last night flooded your head. Damn James Buchanan Barnes.

When you heard the buzzing of your phone, you sighed and picked it up from the bedside table to find a text message from the man himself.

“Training in 10 minutes”, the text said. He had to be kidding you. It was Sunday.

And did he really think he could just act like nothing?

“Sorry. As someone said to me last night: I’m not ready yet”, you texted back.

He read the text immediately, but it took him a little while to reply.

“If you’re not in the training room in 10 minutes, I’ll drag you there myself”, you shivered, knowing he fully intended to act on his threat. But you weren’t going to just do as he told you.

“Didn’t you say I drive you insane? Then good luck, babe”, you texted, smirking to yourself as you pictured the look on his face.

You knew what was going to happen. Maybe you were pushing him a bit, but you weren’t going to let him dictate what to do or when to get up. Especially after how flustered and frustrated he had left you the previous night.

Yes, you were dying to kiss him. That was all you could think about since last night. But, unless you were mistaken, he wanted that kiss as much as you did and you were going to get it, even if you had to drive him insane.

At first, you thought he would go to your room immediately, but it looked like he really waited those 10 minutes in case you showed up. Or maybe he was just waiting outside of your room, because exactly 11 minutes later, there was a knock on your room. You smiled to yourself and stretched out still in bed, but didn’t move.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you please tell him that I am not training today?” You said to the A.I.

“You know I can hear you, right?” You heard Bucky’s voice on the other side of the room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you please ask Tony to make the rooms soundproof? That would be extremely useful for certain people”, you said.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, open (Y/N)’s door, please”, Bucky said.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Each room has its own personal protocols and can only be lifted with the permission of said owner”, the A.I said, which made you smile.

“Too bad, soldier”, you said.

“You know I can just kick him in, right?”

You narrowed your eyes, looking at the ceiling. You knew he could, but did you want to push him until that point? It could be fun, but you didn’t want to deal with Tony afterwards. You knew how much he hated when doors got kicked in –something that happened surprisingly often in the compound-.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, unlock the door, please”, you finally said.

The A.I. obeyed and unlocked the door. In a second, Bucky walked in and closed behind him. You looked at him from the bed, still not moving, and smiled. He was wearing his usual training gear –black sweatpants and a black t-shirt- and was looking at you with an eyebrow raised, waiting.

“Do you need anything?” You asked.

“You were supposed to be in the gym 5 minutes ago”, he said with his arms crossed.

“Yeah, well…” you stretched out again, making sure your t-shirt went up a few inches, enough to let him see your underwear and belly. “I’m kind of having a lazy day”, you said with a smile as you saw his eyes on your exposed skin.

“I know what you’re doing”, he said. You raised both eyebrows.

“And what is it?” You asked innocently.

“Pushing me”, he said.

“Don’t be so egocentric, Barnes”, you said. “Not everything is around you.”

“Oh really?” He said.

Slowly, he walked around the bed, taking a seat just next to you. You got nervous when he leaned in, placing one hand around you to support himself as he got closer. You looked at his lips and then his eyes, which hide the smile he forced himself not to show.

“Tell me you haven’t been thinking about kissing me since last night”, he said in a low voice.

“I…” you mumbled, your eyes moving down to his lips, which finally curved up into a small smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you going to tell me that if I kissed you right now…” he said, almost brushing your lips with his, “you wouldn’t melt against me?”

You took a deep breath through your nose, trying to control your heart rate, which felt close to impossible. All about him was overwhelming and you had no idea how to manage his closeness. You just wanted to grab him by the neck and kiss him. However, it looked as if he was reading your mind. Just when you were about to move your hands, he moved his and pinned your wrists against the bed.

“Gym. 5 minutes”, he whispered so close that you thought you would die if he didn’t kiss you.

Then, he just let go, got up and walked to the door. You couldn’t believe this was the second time in less than twelve hours that he was going to leave you like this. You looked at the door to see him smirking before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, punching the mattress.

Five minutes later, you walked through the doors of the gym, still sulking and flustered. You had been quickly to put some leggings and a training top. If Bucky wasn’t going to give in or let you kiss him, you needed some other way to let your frustration out. Fighting.

“Maybe today we can try something different”, you said to Bucky, acting as if nothing had happened, as if your mind wasn’t full of imaged of him kissing your whole body.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” Bucky asked while he adjusted the punching bag.

“Why don’t we fight?” You asked. Bucky laughed quietly and shook his head. “What?”

“Have you warmed up?” He asked.

“I’m warm enough, thank you” you said making him smile. Anyway, you started stretching since you didn’t want to pull any muscle or cause any injury. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You know I’m not going to fight you, doll”, he said, taking the bandages from the floor. “I could hurt you.”

Your eyes went to his hand as he started wrapping the bandages around it, wrapping it tightly. You had always loved watching that routine. There was something about the way he moved his hands, how he wrapped the bandages around them that was hypnotizing.

“You won’t”, you said, coming out of your little trance.

“How do you know it?” He asked.

“Because I trust you”, you shrugged. He looked at you for a moment and smiled.

“You just want an excuse to hit me because you’re frustrated”, he said.

“That’s just a bonus”, you shrugged and took the other pair of bandages from the floor when you finished stretching. “I really think it would be helpful to fight against an actual person and not just a bag.”

“You have fought against Natasha, Wanda, Peter, Scott and Clint many times”, he said.

You sighed while you wrapped the bandage around your left hand. You knew him well enough to know he wasn’t going to change his mind. It wasn’t the first time you had this conversation and you understood his fear of hurting you, but you really wanted to punch him. Maybe if you caught him by surprise?

When you finished wrapping your hands, you looked at him. He was checking his own bandages and looked kind of focused on it. Without even taking a minute to consider your next move, you quickly took a step forward and threw your leg up to his stomach. To your surprise, your kick caught him completely off guard. Unfortunately, you weren’t strong enough to make him fall, but he took a few steps back with a hand against his stomach.

“What was that?” He asked with an amused smile.

“If you don’t want to fight me, okay”, you shrugged. “I’ll fight you.”

“Stop before you get hurt”, he said.

“Stop patronising me”, you said through gritted teeth.

Quickly, you launched against him, but he just took your arm before it came in contact with him and pushed you aside as if you were a mundane annoying fly. You groaned to yourself and turned to look at him. He looked at you smiling, which only infuriated you even more.

“It’s just facts, doll”, he shrugged.

You narrowed your eyes but decided to launch again. This time, you went for his face, but he grabbed your arm and twisted so your back was against his chest. You took a deep breath at the contact when his lips were on your cheek.

“Stop”, he whispered and nibbled your neck.

With a grunt, you stomped your heel against his feet. He hissed, which was enough for you to drive your elbow against his ribs and your fist against his nose when he leaned down breathless. You hooked your arms around his neck and used your weight to bring him down, straddling his waist and pinning his arms to the ground.

You knew how easily he could just turn the situation around, but maybe he didn’t expect to find himself like this so easily and all he did was looking at you with a smile playing on his lips.

“What are you going to do now, (Y/L/N)?” He asked.

If you were honest to yourself, you just wanted to tease him like he had teased you. But you also knew you weren’t strong enough, not after last night and that morning. You bite your lip and leaned down, wondering if this time he would finally give in. He didn’t move, but his eyes turned a bit darker as his eyes moved down to your lips.

“I should just leave you wanting it”, you whispered against his lips. He chuckled a little.

“You wouldn’t make it to the door”, he warned you. You knew it was true.

You let go of one of his hands, which quickly moved to your hair, moving it out of the way. You took a deep breath, enjoying the moment, before finally closing the distance between your lips.

The moment your lips touched, you let go of his other hand. Immediately, Bucky flipped you around to have you pinned under him and kiss you deeply. You wrapped your legs around his waist in an attempt to bring him impossibly close to you. A moan escaped his throat, making you smirk against his lips while your hands sneaked under his t-shirt and brushed his warm skin.

You wanted him. Badly. But, of course, he wasn’t going to give you everything in just a moment, let alone on the gym floor. Instead, he pulled away after a few minutes and looked at you.

“You always get your way, huh?” He whispered, gently brushing your nose with his, a gesture you never saw coming from the big and fiery Winter Soldier.

“I have my skills”, you smiled.

With a smile, Bucky got up and helped you up as well, although he didn’t move away from you. He caressed your cheek and kissed your forehead.

“What now?” You asked a bit nervous.

“Maybe we should start with breakfast?” He suggested.

You laughed nervously and nodded, letting him take your hand and lead you out of the gym while all you could think about was kissing him all over again. Maybe over breakfast.

[awed-frog]

Kudos to this dad on TikTok who discovered clothes for women suck and is MAD about it:

“I knew it was going to be bad, but I didn't know how bad. And then we got a onesie for our daughter that says: 'Sorry, boys, dad says no dating' — sized for a newborn. I guess I'm wondering who they thought was going to date our 0-month-old daughter. But all the girls clothes are remarkably annoying for so many reasons. Why does everything have ruffles, why is everything hyper-pink, why is everything glittery? Why can't I just find a one-piece bathing suit for my daughter? Why are girl clothes smaller than boy clothes when they're the same size? Like, I don't get why boys get normal shorts and my daughter gets shorts with an inseam of negative two. Like, we legit buy boy pants for our daughter because girl pants are sausage casing leggings. I'm not squeezing a baby back into sausage casing every single diaper change. 

I don't think it should be this difficult to find what I'd call platonic clothing for children. Not to speak in absolutes, but the clothes we buy our daughter that were intended for boys consistently fit comfortably, are more durable, and aren’t see-through. The clothes we’ve found that were intended for girls are usually snug to the point of being form-fitting (even in the same size), cover less, and feel pretty flimsy in terms of quality. There’s no reason for it.

The most disturbing observation I’ve made is that it’s very easy to find clothes for girls that are revealing, and that’s not true for boys clothes. I don’t believe this is an accident. From the moment they’re very little, this is just one way society reinforces the toxic mindset that female bodies are intended to be displayed, and it conditions young girls to think objectification is normal.

You know what I want? Clothes that don’t have sayings that sexualize babies and children. Clothes that fit boys and girls the same when the size matches. Clothes that come in gender-neutral color options as a standard. And I want dinosaurs and functional pockets for my daughter. She deserves dinosaurs and functional pockets

I recognize I’m not the first person to have this thought. Women and moms have been saying this for a long time. There are plenty of dads on TikTok, but a good number focus on jokes or playing out the clueless dad stereotype. Part of my motivation is to be a dad who is both a competent parent and partner. This includes doing my best to be an ally to women, and that means speaking up on important topics like this to leverage the privilege I have in case it brings more weight to an issue. "

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea

Star Wars, The Bad Batch Pirate!au (Hunter x Reader

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and bothered are asses.

Chapter one: The Sentencing

Fate, you had decided, fucked you over. Which in itself, was not only a very unladylike statement, but was also very ironic. But how fitting for a woman of your time, to want something her whole life only to be told she couldn’t have it by the most infuriating of men. For passion to be pushed into a corset and cinched into fake smiles and batting eyelashes.

Everyone has a value, never mind how little or much, everyone is worth something. And you are worth a great deal to me.

At the time you’d thought your fathers words were a statement of affection, love brought to light by goblets of rum only to settle in your lap as you tended to the fireplace and did your best to lead him into his bed, staggering every step of the way. It was now that you understood his words. The choice of word may have been valuable, but the more accurate synonym, dowry explained his true intentions.

Enter one Lord Volim Nython, a pretentious man with a mind that was far more shallow than his pockets and a reputation to match. What Lord Nython did not already possess, he bought. And what he was without currently, was a wife. He was a man with a personality inked in gunpowder and steel, crushing his enemies in the war that made his predecessors and your fathers fortunes.

A very fitting match. Oh how quaint, the wedding would be so grand, and the children, oh they will be beautiful. The distinct lack of sincerity infuriated you, older women with tea parties akin to that of toddlers and the gloved hands they rest on their chests as they shake their heads at the utmost ridiculous things. While the tautly curled hair stays perfectly in place, rage resided in you at an unfathomable height. But, it was not without its reins, and as its rider, you had to lead your rage onto a path that would result in your success.

You chose this night carefully, knowing that it was on the last of every month, when the money came in from gambling, debts and the crown, that your father quite literally liquified his earnings. You shiver in your nightgown, every fireplace in the house was still burning, and the oil lamps were flickering away, though the household was asleep save for yourself. The main doors shifted open as the intoxicated man made his way in. And you steady yourself before greeting him.

“A good night, I'll take it then?” You ask with a breath of a laugh, wrapping a shivering arm arm around his shoulders and leading him over to the plush sitting chairs by the fire. He waves you off when you offer him water and so you sit on your knees by his feet. Grasping his hands on your own. He regards you with a suspicious look.

“I… I wanted to ask you something.” You start carefully, eyeing his look. The rug is warm from the flame and the way it illuminates his face, you wonder how many times your mother sat with him like this, or how often he looked at her in such confusion.

“Well? Get on with it then.” He slurs leaning further back into the red velvet. Causing you to shift and bunch your nightgown.

“I wanted to ask if, if you thought, the lord...”

“Lord Nython.” He confirms, watching you jump as the fire crackles, your nerves electrified by what you mean to bring up next. And it gives away your intentions before you can ask them. After all, your father may know you better than you had originally thought.

“Do not tell me what I think you are about to do.” he warns tilting his head down so the orange light reflects the way he regards you through his brow.

“I think we could make a better match.” You try and appeal to his motivations. “I think we stand to make a better-”

“I’ve been given offers.” He interrupts, the liquor making him less angry and more level headed as you had intended it to. “No one will wed you for the price Lord Nython will.” He moves to stand, the conversation finished, but you are not, having given yourself a stern word of not settling until you are free from the man's clutches.

“There are richer men outside of Coruscant.” You say with more force than you had intended. The translucent fabric whooshing as you stand. Your father pauses at the helm of the stairs, like a Blurg righting itself after an unsuccessful charge, he is listening.

“Naboo royalty, even a low Alderanian Lord would double Nythons offer.” You take cautious steps forward, hoping that his underestimation of your intelligence works in your favor.

“Those men are oceans away, Nython will wed you tomorrow if the crown gave its blessing.” He counters, but it is not a dismissal.

“Consider this an investment then, the payoff would surely be worth it.” You press carefully, like a healer tending to an inflammation, you palpate the area with caution looking to avoid the most sensitive of the inflamed tissue. Your father huffs.

“Providing you could snag a suitable man.” Hope flickers within you, and it warms you more than the fire ever could, it makes you feel power, and control. And hope, like it does with most, makes you foolish.

“Love is a powerful motivator.”

His booming drunk laugh shakes you, fear flooding you as you realize your mistake. But you were so close! So tantalizingly close to being free from the wretched man.

“You think men marry for love?” You see him wipe away tears of laughter as he sways on the dark oak staircase of your home. “You my dear, are even more dull than I thought.” You shake with anger and anxiety.

“I want to be in love! Like you an-”

“Do not say you mother and I. Ha. You are truly delusional.” He interrupts, taunting you with drunken laughter. Your father never speaks of your mother, and when he did it was pushed aside in favor of something else. But alcohol has a way of loosening tongues.

“I… I-” you stammer, if there was one thing you remembered about your mother it was the love she shared with your father and the stories of growing up and falling into a love so pure with someone it made your heart ache for it.

“We were not in love, she despised me, and I her.” He spits from his place on the stairs. The height difference adds to how small you feel. How his pitiful stare shrinks you and sends chills into your bones.

“I do not under-“ He interrupts again:

“It was an act! Pretend! Meant to fool young girls into thinking they could have a life as such. And even in death she continues to lie to you!” You blink away tears and think, you try to think he is lying, that they were happy, she was happy, and that in his intoxication your father lies.

“She was adamant that we would be in love for you.” He sighs, and drops to the stairs to sit and lean on the railing. “That we would keep up pretences for your sake so that you would strive for such happiness.” With his words it is as if he is taking away the core memories of your mother.

“I will not marry that man.” You have to push the words out, but the meaning is clear enough.

“Yes.” Your father says ever so sternly. “You will.”

“I shall not!” You fight back, hating how your eyes cloud with tears and emotions bubble up. “He looks at me like one does cattle, I am nothing more than a trade deal to that man!” both parties know you are right, from the first meeting when he had stalked around you, looking up and down, tutting here, humming there. Not engaging in any conversation that you’d deem intellectual or interesting. You’d been disgusted then, and you are still disgusted now.

“Please!” Your father wipes drunken saliva from his chin, “Lord Nython is giving us so much gold for your hand in marriage you should be grateful, and a renowned war hero like himself. You will wed that man even if i have to drag you to the altar.” You’re stunned, and horrified, and your father leaves you weeping on the dark oak stairs, a mess for one of the maids to clean up before he wakes in the morning.

Tag list: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st3r @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid

comment to be added!

[ghostdrew22]

Angel || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No. Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: Lots of angst in the beginning, mentions of self-harm/self-destructive behavior, mentions of blood, quite a few mentions of the devil, ptsd, just a lot of dark themes ig (let me know if i need to add another warning) Summary: You’ve always been an angel in Draco’s eyes and now, years after the war, he’s reminded why once again.

WORDS: 3440

I’ve been wanting to write about the ‘devil on the shoulder’ trope for a while and I felt like @anchoeritic‘s 3K WRITING CHALLENGE was the perfect opportunity though i think i lost the plot a bit at some point and this probably isn’t what you had in mind.

i had to do so much research for this, probably the most research i’ve ever done for a fic. It’s a lot heavier than I’d intended for it to be (i almost cried at certain points) but I still really love it.

anyway this fic is inspired by ‘Angel’ by FINNEAS (which is a great song that I recommend listening to) and i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

~~~

Anger.

So much anger that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Red, hot, fury just begging to be unleashed.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. When he opens them again his fist collides with the wall. “Fuck!”

The miniature Mephistopheles that’s made home on his shoulder tells him to keep going, that this is the only rational response. Draco heeds the advice until his knuckles are bleeding and there’s a dent in the wall.

He lets out a frustrated sigh as he thinks about you returning in a few hours, then he punches the spot one last time out of frustration. Draco’s own love for destruction lies parallel to the myths surrounding Beelzebub, his own virtues bringing him to peril instead of an unseen force of evil. But it’s much easier to believe that the voice always telling him to do wrong, is not his own.

Maybe this is who he is, a fucked up kid with anger issues. Maybe this is all he’ll ever be, knuckles spotted in crimson and harmful thoughts being shoved down as to not raise alarm.

He feels violated by the mark on his arm. Sobs stacking up in his lungs at the very thought, but all he can express is anger- all he can understand is the resent that crawls beneath his skin and settles into his bones like calcium.

Was it his choice? No. Did it matter? No. Choice means nothing in a world run by circumstance. Intention holds no value when there’s no action to follow through. In another world, a better world perhaps, he would’ve had the right to choose and he hopes that he would’ve chosen the right side- the good side.

Forgiveness, they say, is often practiced by the strong willed. He’d tried to forgive, he really had, but Iblis had told him that it didn’t matter who he forgave because they’d still done this to him anyway- they’d still sold his soul to the Devil.

“Draco, when will you forgive me?” She pleads and he shrugs with a thin smile.

“I don’t know mother. I don’t know.”

“It’s been years.” He turns a steal glaze toward her.

“And yet I still can’t get the mark off.”

“What am I meant to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do. It’s too late to do the right thing.”

“What would the right thing have been back then? Huh?”

“The right thing to do would’ve been to protect me.”

“I did protect you. I took the Vow for you!” She yells as she stands out of her chair and points an accusatory finger toward him. He’s seen this scene so many times before that it’s permanently imprinted in his mind, but this time he’s not a scared teenager being scolded by his mother.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” He stands as well, “I just asked you to save me. Why didn’t you save me?”

“What?” She’s taken aback,

“Summer before fifth. You told me that you’d had enough of him, you told me that we were going to leave and run away so that you could save me from him, from all of them.”

“So now you hate me because I couldn’t leave your bigoted father?”

“No, mother. I hate myself because you couldn’t leave my bigoted father.” He tucks his chair back into the table and pulls out his wand, “Thank you for dinner mother, it was lovely.”

Then he’s gone, and he doesn’t come back.

Draco had shut himself out from the world, hoping that his loathing would dissipate with time but it hadn’t. He still wakes up every morning with that tiny voice reminding him that he’s worthless, and he still believes it.

Why had he done it? Why had he allowed them to put the mark on his arm in the first place? Why had he put his own morals, his own principles, on the line to save a family who might not have done the same for him? Why had he allowed himself to succumb to the many ministrations of Diabolous, which dragged him further and further down the dark side?

Weakness. That’s the only answer he can conceive. Or maybe that’s the sound of Lucifer on his shoulder, consistently reminding him that he’s no match for the evil that resides deep within his soul. He can’t fight it, it’s who he is. He’s weak and he’s unholy. Bathed so often in sin that it’s sunk into his DNA. Does that even make sense?

Draco shakes his head and runs his hands down his face in an attempt to ground himself. But it doesn’t work, all he can see is red and all he can hear is his own conscience belittling him for continuously making the wrong choices. Why does he always make the wrong choices?

His throat so dry it feels as though he’s swallowed sand. His palms sweaty like he’s dipped them in oil. He paces around the room in a desperate effort to remember where you’d placed the box last time this happened. He can feel himself disconnecting from the world, feel himself sinking further and further into the dredges of his mind that torment him most.

That part of his brain that holds the memories, the shame, the anguish, is his biggest obstacle in recovery. It’s always on good days, days when… He blinks when he realizes that no fond memories come to mind. Does he even have good days? Or does this always happen, is this what’s become normal for him?

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and steps back in shock, completely forgetting about his mission to find the box. The man in front of him looks clean, taken care of. When had he become this man and stopped being the terrified teenager that never ate and wore bags beneath his eyelids like name tags.

There is muscle on his arms, taut beneath the dress shirt that he must’ve put on that morning before going to classes… or work? When had he earned the right to stop looking the way he felt? Which of his actions had merited his beauty returning, when the dark mark still lays clear beneath the dress shirt that he’s got on? There are hickeys along his chest- one, two, three, littered around his torso like a map to his heart- and he can only assume that they’d been left in the wake of your last meeting, because he can’t seem to piece together the memory of them being made.

You. Where are you? Why can’t he remember where you are or what you look like? Did you finally leave? Did you finally realise that he wasn’t worth any of the pain and anguish that he’d put you through? Had you ultimately decided that Draco and the dark mark could not be separated, both physically and mentally? Maybe he never managed to redeem himself in your eyes, and it hurt so much to lose you that he made himself forget.

Redemption, he’d searched far and wide for it. He’d spent the months after the war trying to find some spiritual cleanse for the ailment in his essence, had dabbled in every muggle religion he came across in hopes of finding something that would provide him freedom from guilt. The Bible, the Qur’an, the Gita, the Torah, the Guru Granth Sahib, the Tripitaka- none of the holy books he’d read had promised him enough solace to feel deserving of love from a higher entity. They had all just reminded him of the purity and innocence that muggles embodied, the same qualities he came so close to erasing.

Redemption wasn’t in the cards for him. If it had been a game of Poker, Draco would’ve been the first fold with the knowledge that he didn’t stand a chance against the better players at the table. Who were the better players? He didn’t really know, he just knew that he wasn’t one of them.

His eyes drift toward his reflection once more and he feels disgust crawl through his anatomy. Nausea, a familiar friend in times like these, making itself comfortable in the barrel of his gut. Why had he even eaten today anyway? Sustenance won’t fill the emptiness that’s making domicile in his chest, it won’t make him less of a habitat to repulsive regret and desolation.

He walks toward the dresser and picks up a pocket knife that’s sitting in-between some make up and a music box. Then like deja vu he can already feel the weapon pinching, digging beneath his skin as if it’s trying to excavate bone. He recalls blood pouring out, drowning his pale skin in spills of vermillion and carmine, and dropping to the floor. The floor, chalky tile with tiny chards of black glass engrained in it, something that he hadn’t come up with himself but liked anyway. Who had come up with that again?

Screams, familiar but unrecognizable, had filled his ears soon after. He remembers his arm being wrapped in a bandage, him being carried off the bathroom floor and taken to the Hogwarts infirmary, no, it was actually St Mungo’s. He remembers being treated and loud cries settling down into comforting whispers beside him. He remembers feather light touches being placed on his face and kisses settling onto the skin of his palm.

He remembers something good, but he doesn’t know what.

He remembers the injury, and knows that it didn’t work.

Draco takes a deep breath and puts the knife back down. Staring at his reflection once more he sees that the man standing before him is not the same child that had stepped into battle way back when. When was that? Months? Years? He can’t tell.

The box. The box will tell him. But he doesn’t know where it is, he doesn’t even know where he is anymore. This room is definitely not his Hogwarts dorm room, it’s not in Hogwarts at all, and it’s not his room in the Manor either. Where is he?

His eyes shoot up when he hears a door shutting, and soon after voices follow suit. The voices are coming toward him, in this strange room that he’s in, and Draco struggles to identify them. His dorm mates potentially? No, this clearly isn’t Hogwarts. Friends? His mother? You?

Then there’s a laugh, from a child, from two children, and suddenly none of it makes sense any more. He knows those voices, he knows those laughs, so well that they might as well be his own, but he can’t seem to attach faces or names to them.

A few of the voices drift off, further down the hall, and one gets louder as the door to the bedroom opens. Draco holds his breath as the person walks in, not knowing what to expect, and feels a confused sense of relief wash over him when he sees you standing there.

You laugh as you enter the room, “If you can get an outstanding in Transfiguration then we’ll get you whatever your heart desires.” You respond to your daughter as you recall how both you and Draco had struggled with the subject during your Hogwarts years.

You furrow your eyebrows at the state of your bedroom- documents scattered across the bed, clothes in tiny piles all over the floor, and a tiny dent in the wall beside the bathroom door. A sigh escapes your lips as you process the mess and prepare yourself for what’s about to come. You turn and your eyes land on your husband, and your heart breaks at the sight of him. He’d promised this morning that he’d be fine, it was the only reason that you’d left him alone, but clearly he wasn’t.

“Love? Are you okay?” You ask softly as you take the shoes off of your feet and close your bedroom door behind you. He tilts his head to the side momentarily in confusion, but then realisation flashes across his eyes and he takes quick strides toward you.

“Oof.” You breathe out when he pulls you into his chest and rests his forehead on your shoulder.

“Y/N.” He muffles into your shoulder and you feel your heart swell with love for him- this man who recognizes you instantly, even when the entire world is nothing more than a distant memory.

“Miss me?” You ask with a small laugh as you bring your hands up to wrap around him tightly. He mumbles an agreement and you smile, “I missed you too.”

“Bad day.” He whispers and you nod, rubbing his back in an effort to soothe him.

“I know baby, wanna talk about it?”

“No. Can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” You pull him away from you and kiss his forehead with a warm smile, “We can just lie down for a while.”

He obliges as you pull him toward the bed and shuffle the papers off of it, climbing on after you and setting his head in your chest. You run your fingers through his hair and hum, trying to your best to make him feel calm and prevent another breakdown.

But your efforts are futile, within the hours that Draco had been alone he’d thought every terrible thought that he possibly could, Al-Shaitan had already tormented your husband through a series of painful misconceptions. Draco had never really subscribed to religion or faith but after the war he’d identified quite quickly with the concept of the Devil- confessing that he believed he had an evil conspirator sitting on his shoulder- and felt that his own soul deserved to be damned. You’d tried to rid him of that notion, many times, but it never worked, he was in too deep.

You tense up when you feel a cry escape his lips and his fingers tighten into the space of your torso. “I’m sorry.”

He feels terrible, terrible for ruining all of your hard work. All the effort you’d put into rebuilding him now disintegrating in the blink of an eye. But you’re here now, you’re going to fix him again, he knows it.

You try to level your breathing so that you don’t cry too, so that you don’t fall into this pit of despair with him, because Merlin knows that any pain Draco feels takes as rough a toll on you. You pull him off of you and sit up, bringing him to sit as well, so that you can look him in the eyes.

“Sorry for what Bub?”

“For being broken. I-“ He feels another sob rock through him and you pull him into your chest. “Please fix me Y/N.” He pleads, a whimper following suit.

His fingers are digging into you again, he’s clinging so tightly to you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t stay close enough, and it hurts you to know that even after all these years he’s scared that you’ll leave.

“You’re not broken Draco, there’s nothing to fix.”

“But I’m- I’m-“  Cries start to escape rapidly and interrupt him. He can’t see clearly anymore as tears form in his waterline and obstruct his view of you. It hurts, everything just hurts.

“You’re not broken, my love.” You whisper as you cup his face, “You’re not evil, you’re not bad. You’re good. You’re my husband, I love you. Did you open the box?”

He shakes his head, “Couldn’t find it.”

“Okay, let me get i-“ You’re cut off by your bedroom door opening and your children marching in.

“Dad, you’ll never guess what happened at school today- Oh, is this a bad time?” Ariel, your daughter, stops in her tracks as she raises her eyebrows at you.

You shake your head and gesture for them to come in. “I think it just got a little much for him this year. Please get me the box, love.”

Ariel goes to the headboard and pulls out the aforementioned box from the first drawer, before her and Cael, your son, get comfortable on the bed beside you and Draco. But Draco doesn’t need it anymore, he can already sense himself coming back down to earth. He knows where he is- with you, in your house, with your children, in your bed. He’s home, he’s safe.

He takes the box anyway and begins to unload its contents in silence, the three of you observing him with admiration. It’s a small circular box that your children made a few years back after witnessing one of his episodes for the first time, containing momentos from the last 18 years of you and Draco’s lives together. Pictures, notes, a few school projects.

“Tell him about what happened at school today, it’ll probably make him laugh.” Cael encourages his older sister Ariel, and she does as told.

Draco pays a significant amount of attention to the story, piecing together facts that he’s slowly starting to understand and recognize as a part of his normal life. He intertwines his fingers with Cael’s as Ariel continues telling the story from her spot on your lap.

Love.

So much love that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Bursts of it just choking him out.

Draco remembers everything now. He remembers this house of yours, the one he’d bought straight out of Hogwarts and begged you to live in with him because “It’s nothing without you in it”. These children that you’d had 14 years ago, that’d he’d been so scared to raise because he thought they’d resent him, and that made everything in the world just seem brighter. This life that he modeled with you on the embers of his haunting past, this life that reminds him he’s good.

Before you, he would’ve been terrified to show any one his vulnerable side, especially his children, but you’d taught him that loving someone means loving all the good bits and the bad bits, all the happy moments and the sad moments. Now he knows that when days like this happen, when he gets so lost inside the mental maze of his own construction, the three of you will always be waiting to help him out.

Ariel finishes her story and Draco bellows out a laugh, feeling thankful to have you three around in his moments of weakness.

His three guardian angels- the only people who can always lead him away from the shadow in his mind and toward the luminescence that he carries within him. “All the good within us is split in the middle, half from you and half from mum, just as it should be. I hope you remember that we wouldn’t be who we are without you both.” Cael suddenly speaks up and you smile pridefully at him.

“They wouldn’t.” You add once he’s done and smile, “I couldn’t have done such a bad job without you.”

“Hey!” Ariel accuses and you all laugh.

“She’s right though, I am the one who taught you hexes at age 7.” Draco grins bashfully and you roll your eyes.

“And look at us now, acing Charms!”

“See love,” Draco turns to you, “There is a method to my madness.”

“Mhmm.” You hum with a small smile. “Go do your homework, dinner soon.”

“Yes, I’m making pizza tonight.” Draco adds as he kisses both of your children on their foreheads.

They excitedly hop off the bed and run out of the room. “I can’t belie-“

“Harry called.” Draco interrupts you and your eyes go wide at his statement but you nod for him to continue, “He wanted to know how I was doing, you know with it having been 18 years since the war and all. Offered to come spend the day with me and make sure I’d be alright while you were gone.”

“And you said no?” You raise your eyebrows and he shakes his head.

“No, I told him that I’d come by his office instead. Then when I was getting ready… I just started having flashbacks again, and my mark hurt. I felt horrible all of a sudden, like there was huge weight on my chest and this fog obscuring my vision.”

There are few things that Draco has faith in, but you, you he never runs short on trust for. You’re a constant in his life, a shoulder that he can always rely on when he needs it, and as he sits here and tells you about his day, he feels love for you hit him tenfold.

You, this beautiful, kind, ethereal being that has no place on earth. You, the one who’s managed to convince him that saints are real. You, who has given him your entire life, along with all the love that you have to offer. You, Y/N, the love of his life.

You.

An angel.

~~~

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