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czascornertfs · 3 months

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In Another Place, In Another Time (1)

Jack had a habit of wandering off into the library in his off time. A man in his mid-twenties, he liked gazing upon the rows of shelves. Not for books, but to simply revel in fond memories of the past. As a teenager in the 2000s, he used to bring with him his old Nokia phone and simply message other people, free from the judgmental eyes of his peers and teachers. But today was different. On the horizon lay an intimidating activity about the different countries of the world. A "simple" geography quiz where the teacher would pick a city from a different country and the student's would have to answer interesting facts about it, without repetition. This week's country: Russia. "Why on Earth did I choose World History...", he thought to himself, rubbing his eyes in general upset.

Quickly finding a spot to read some books, he brushed up on Russia's many different cities, from Vladivostok, to Irkutsk, to the far northern reaches of Murmansk. Each fact slowly blending together however, causing him to become slightly panicked. "Dammit! I can't remember sh*t!", he angrily mumbled to himself.

As he was to return a book to move onto another one, he spotted something strange. In the far back of the shelf lay what he thought was a strange black covering of some sort. Pulling it out, he breathed back in surprise: it was a Nokia 8210. Not the exact one he had but, the same model nonetheless. "The hell..." Jack thought to himself, pressing the selection key to turn it on. Almost immediately, he found his surroundings blur into an incoherent mess, as his eyesight became weaker and weaker, before everything became black. No longer than a few seconds later, he blinked. He found himself in an unfamiliar bathroom, staring at his phone on the toilet. Panic rushed in, as he quickly exited the bathroom. "What the FUCK just happened to me?!" he thought. As he swung open the doors of his stall, he locked eyes with a stranger. Approaching it to ask for help, the man in front of him did as well, with the exact same expression. He stopped in his tracks. With shaking hands, he lifted his Nokia as the man in front of him did the same. A flash. This was a mirror. That man was him.

"Ч-что…" (Wh-what...) He covered his mouth. Russian. He was a Russian man. In some Russian bathroom. Wearing Russian clothes. In Russia. The thought circled over and over in his head as he stepped back. "Что, черт возьми, со мной случилось?!" (What the fuck happened to me?!) He screamed again, clutching his throat as a deeper voice vibrated within him, the Russian words flowing out like a rushing river. He quickly went through his pockets and found his driver's license.

Name: Alexandr Mishin Date of Birth: 24 December 1976

He quickly pocketed it. Checking his Nokia, he found something even stranger and frankly, more terrifying. The date was listed as 8 April 2000. That would make him 24, the same age he was before everything changed. "П-подожди. Я ВЕРНУЛСЯ В 2000-е?!" (W-wait, I'M BACK IN THE 2000'S?!) He screamed. Almost immediately, a wave of discomfort hit his head, as his vision became blurrier before quickly going back to normal. In that span of time he suddenly remembered everything about his new life. How he was born in Moscow before moving to the city of Norilsk way in the north of Siberia. He remembered how he dropped out of school fairly early, and was not considered to be the smartest tool in the shed. He remembered how he worked out almost everyday, not giving a damn about fickle matters like math, reading, nor world history. He was still literate enough to read and understand basic signs, words, and sentences, but something like акклиматизация (acclimatization) took a few minutes before the meaning popped into his head. He was still gay, but now he had to ever-so-slightly hide it when among his peers, who were currently in mandatory military service. He remembered how he had managed to bribe the officer's to avoid it, still being gifted a camouflage-patterned uniform which he wore almost everywhere to pretend he already finished his service. Slowly stepping up and rubbing his forehead, he looked down once more at his muscular frame, rubbing his sensitive nipples and running his hands along his head. "О боже… Я так чертовски возбужден…" (Oh god...I'm so FUCKING horny...). Pulling his pants down and leaning down a wall, he pulled up his cock and began stroking it. With each successive stroke, the panic from his head gradually formed into uncontrollable pleasure. His mind swirled with thoughts of fucking muscular Russian men, as he touched himself all over his body. His lips, nose, eyes, ears, were perfectly proportioned. His hair, while shaved, was so exciting and fun to rub his hands over. His muscles were all so supple, and so sensitive when touched, as was his ass and cock. And his cock was long, standing proud at a whopping seven inches long and being the width of half his wrist.

He tugged and tugged, his mind becoming even foggier as he got closer to the edge. And then it happened. Ropes of hot steaming cum raced down his shaft as it splattered across the bathroom floor. His breath was still shaky from the ongoing orgasm, as his cock quivered. With each rope of cum, it seemed as though something from his past became blurrier. Sure, he knew who he was and what he was doing, but he started to forget what year it had even happened. Images of more-modern smartphones, new fast-food items, and even some celebrities he used to love and became a fan of.

"…Перенесли на десять лет назад? Нет, нет... наверное, восемь лет... может быть, шесть? " (...Was I transported back ten years? No, no... probably eight years... maybe six?) He thought to himself as the years started blurring together.

"...w...v....vat'ever...." He said in an accented English, slightly limited and dumbed down by this point, before hurriedly fixing his clothes and leaving the bathroom. The cum stayed behind on the cold floor tiles. He was back in 2000, the dawn of the new millennium, and he was excited to relive it, even though he was in another place, in another time. His cock stirred in his pants, and he knew exactly how he would live this new life.

#male transformation #male tf #inanotherplaceinanothertime #nationality tf #time travel tf

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yessa-vie · 4 months

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HEART STRING OF GOLD [TEASER] ❣

→ PAIRING. OT8! ateez x fem!reader.

→ SUMMARY. They had abandoned you, all nine people you cared about most had completely abandoned you. In the end, you were just like your parents and superiors said you would be if you continued to allow feelings to be felt. You then became Stricland's weapon and the Black Pirates, like their leaders, were your ultimate target.

→ TYPE&WARNINGS. written. canon of ateez lore au. enemies to lovers, heavy angst (!!!), a little fluff (on specfic ocasions), slow burn (!!!), a lot of miscommunication, a lot of pinning, dimensional traveling.

fic masterlist || main masterlist || playlist || ⇨

❝It was time, they all knew it. All of them knew what that choice meant. All of them felt the weight of that choice. Your image entering each of their minds as they exchanged glances before one of them held Cromer in his gloved hands. The image of your face once again took over the minds of those present. What they were doing was for you. Everything was for you.

(...)

The words coming out of the satellite call you received made your entire body vibrate, they had finally captured one of the leaders. You would finally have your answers, but your body was tense. Who would have been captured? What questions would you ask? Should you ask the questions that have been swirling around your mind for the past two years?

The door that connected you to the corridor that would make you see one of the leaders face to face after two years seemed heavy, your feet were planted on the floor, your hands were shaking slightly. Which one did you want to see? All of them, that was the answer, but only one was there, a few meters away from you, two doors and a corridor separated the two of you. So, who exactly did you want to see?

(...)

It was when your right hand slowly went towards where the birthmark was, that something caught his attention. The man became agitated, even more so when your fingers lightly touched the mark, noticing that foundation stained your skin. He really was hiding it. Despite everything, it was the reaction that came afterwards that completely destabilized you.

“How do you know about my birthmark?”

The world seemed to open up under your feet. The table no longer supported you, you only realized that your body had fallen when the firm hands of the man in front of you held you by the waist, electric shocks being sent throughout your body. The touch was the same, the place he held was the same, the pressure was the same, the worried eyes were the same, but it wasn't him.

"It's not possible."

Your voice came out weak and low enough to be nothing more than a whisper, but you noticed when the man in front of you watched you curiously. There was no way they had done what you thought they did.

Confirmation came when the stranger's hands released your waist, one of them feather like on your back. Logan would never leave you completely free like that, not in the state you were in at that moment, but that wasn't Logan.

The voice was the same, the face was the same, the birthmark was the same, even the fucking body was the same, making you aware of how you were holding the stranger's biceps, a way to stabilize yourself since his hands were no longer around you. Logan would never leave you completely free like that. You needed to get out of there, you needed to get out of there now.

(...)

If the hair was black, straight, and with the birthmark on the eye and temple, you'd think you were looking at a painting of Logan, but that wasn't Logan. It doesn't matter the appearance, the smell, the touch... The one who spoke to the superiors a few stairs up, was not Logan. You needed another name for him as you knew he wasn’t going away anytime soon.

The eyes passed over the frame, finding the small copper plate with the name of the artist (both the original and the person who made the copy) and the work. The Fallen Angel, by Alexandre Cabanel. It was at that moment that you named the first leader lookalike.

That wasn't Logan, so you'd give him another name, Angel.

(…)

“(y/n)? Where are you? Your mother is looking for you.”

“Don't worry, I'm coming,” the voice was weak, but your feet were quick towards the door, your mind going back and forth between the past and who was at that moment with the superiors. A cynical laugh left your lips before you took the handle of the repository, sighing before turning the handle. “What the hell did you guys do now?”

You groaned, already imagining the headache that situation would cause.

There was no way they had actually done that.

Even though your feet directed you to the place you were before, your mind wandered to the corners of your room, wondering where you had hidden that diary. Still in disbelief at how stupid they would have to be, you managed to hold back your curiosity enough to join your team in the hallway, but you were quickly stopped by your mother, her curious eyes falling on you.

“He said he only talks to you.”

You were completely fucked.❞

hello everyone!

so, i believe a small spoiler has been release already with this story, but this is the series i was talking about on that post. it will kinda follow the line of the mv's, kinda like a guide, but not really. also, i won't be following their diary, the only time i used it was for the prologue and very very very lightly!

i'm excited to see where this goes (and hopefully, no one kills me in the process). let me know what you think about it, please. i'll be waiting (:

i'm tagging the people that commented something regarding making it a series/enjoying the story on the post above. the story will probably come by end of febuary to early march, i'm still figuring it out.

tag: @cksanpurpleluv || @fanoflife || @lavishloving ||

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

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angelasscribbles · 2 months

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What Once Was

Fandom: Vying for Versailles (Romance Club)

Summary: Renee married someone else. But what happens when Alexandre comes back into her life?

“Madame, you have a visitor.”

Renée looked up from her writing desk curiously. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. “Who is it, Beatrice?”

Beatrice had served Renee since she had first set foot in Versailles all those years ago. She had risen from lady’s maid to maîtresse d'hôtel. Her duties now involved overseeing all the other household servants at Chateau de Marly.

“It’s Monsieur Bontemps, Madame.”

The door to the study swung wide as the mistress of house backed away, revealing Alexandre, his fingers twisting nervously at the hat clasped in his hands.

Renee rose from her desk with surprised delight and swept across the room to greet him with a hug. “Alexandre! This is a pleasant surprise! Wait….” She drew back with a worried crease across her brow, “Is all well? The king—”

“The king is fine, Madame.”

Her good mood faltered as her eyes tracked his face noting the agitation in his stance. Very little rattled the king’s spymaster. “Then why are you here?”

“I was hoping we could have a private conversation.” His eyes darted around the room. “May I come in?”

“Certainly, but I think we would be more comfortable in the small sitting room.” She stepped out of the study and led him down the hallway to the smallest of the sitting rooms. It was cozy, plush, and private.

She gave Beatrice instructions to send a maid in with tea service then she shut the door. Turning back to him, she crossed her arms and studied him closely.

He was fidgety, clearly wound up about something, which was completely out of character for him. She couldn’t help the smile that crawled across her face as she took in his agitation. “Do I still make you nervous, Alexandre?”

“You do have a way of knocking my equilibrium off balance, Madame.” He gave her a small smile.

The affection and heat in his gaze sent butterflies exploding through her stomach. “That is good to know, Monsieur.”

He arched an eyebrow skeptically, “You think me indifferent to you?”

“Perhaps.”

“I could never be indifferent to you.” The pure, undisguised longing on his face sent shivers cascading down her spine.

There was a brief lull in their conversation as the tea was served. Renee watched the maid retreat as she stirred her tea. With her eyes focused on the cup in her hand, she softly said, “You should have stayed.”

“Renee…I couldn’t stay in close proximity to you knowing I could never touch you again.”

She glanced up at him and her tone was sharp as she told him, “Those were the choices you made.”

He sighed as he carefully sat his cup on the table. It was the same argument they’d had before he had left for Geneva to serve the king’s interest in Switzerland. “You didn’t choose me.”

“I did. I simply didn’t choose only you,” she reminded him. “And it’s not like you were ever going to marry me anyway.”

“A spymaster—”

“I know. Believe me, I remember all your excuses.”

“They weren’t excuses.”

“Weren’t they?”

He didn’t answer. He had told her that they could never be a couple. He hadn’t had a noble title back then and his work made it almost impossible to conduct a love affair. But when she had accepted a proposal from the Prince du Sang, it had felt like a knife plunged into his heart.

He drew in a deep breath and decided to tell her the truth. “There’s something you don’t know, Renee. I did approach Louis about a possible match. The king had been offering to ennoble me for years. I thought, maybe…”

Renee jerked in surprise, nearly spilling her tea in the process, “What?”

“My request was rejected out of hand and when Philippe got down on one knee in front of the entire court a mere day later, I understood why.”

Louis loved him like a brother. But Philippe was his brother. And he had probably asked first. The prince was a better match for her anyway. He knew that.

Renee quickly sat her cup down and tried to quell the shaking in her hands. “Alexandre…why didn’t you tell me?”

“After witnessing firsthand your pure joy at accepting another man’s proposal? What would have been the point?” He had, instead, determined to keep his distance from her.

And yet when their paths crossed, he had found that he still could not resist her. “Do you remember that night in Paris, right before your wedding?”

Madame de France, princess, duchess, and marquise did not blush easily, but her cheeks colored at the reminder. “Of course I do. But why are you bringing that up? Why are you bringing any of it up now?”

“Pardon?”

“Why discuss these things now? After all this time?”

“Ah, yes.” And here was the reason for his visit. “Do you remember when you told me that you would recognize me anywhere?”

“Yes. And you said the same. What does that have to do with why you’re here?”

“Only that I by chance saw you last time I was in Paris on the king’s business. I only saw your profile as you climbed into your carriage, but I knew it was you.”

“And you didn’t think to say hello?”

“I started to but then I saw your son.”

“Louis-Philippe?”

“Yes. One of the servants handed him up into the carriage to you and I got a clear view of his face, Renee.”

Her heart stopped. “And?”

“And he favors neither the prince nor a certain count that you are overly fond of.”

She ignored his reference to Armand as her heart started to thump even harder. She knew exactly who the child favored but she wasn’t going to make this easy on him. Her hands and her voice were steady as she looked him directly in the eye. “What are you asking me, Alexandre?”

“Is he….is he mine?”

She jumped up from her seat and stalked across the room to stare out the window. After a long pause, she replied, “You are not a father in the way that Philippe is. You do not tuck him into bed at night nor ease his fears when the thunder booms. He does not know you.”

He stood and followed her across the room, resting a hand on her shoulder. “That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.”

Without turning to look at him, she whispered, “Yes, he was conceived that night in Paris.”

Alexandre’s world tilted on its axis. He had known, of course, the moment he had seen the child’s face. But to have confirmation…. He dropped his hand and stepped away from her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Anger flared through her as she spun to face him and flung his own words back at him. “What would have been the point? You ran away from me fast enough the moment you didn’t like my choices.”

“But a child, Renee!”

“By the time I knew I was with child, I was already married! What would you have had me do? Put it in a letter so your enemies could use it against us both? You well know how easy it is to intercept correspondence.”

He nodded in acquiescence. He could not fault her logic. “And the Prince du Sang... does he….”

“Philippe knows. He does not care.”

“I find that hard to believe, Madame.”

“Did you think we were cuckolding him every time we were together?”

“Well…”

“I told you, before he even proposed, what our arrangement was!”

“Yes, but I—”

“You what? You thought I was lying?” She stepped closer. So close she could smell the vanilla and cardamom scent that always clung to him. So close that she could feel the heat radiating from him, sense the tension in his body, “I may lie to everyone else in service to my king and my country, but I have never lied to you nor him! I do not lie to the people that I love.”

Alexandre froze, shock, pleasure, and disbelief coursing through him at her words. She loved him?

Oblivious to his reaction to her unintentional confession, she plowed on. “And your assertation that I would have divided loyalties was preposterous! My loyalty to my husband would never put me at cross purposes with you, Alexandre and you know it! Philippe loves his brother and is loyal to him. Furthermore, I do not tell him everything that I know or that I do. He understands and respects the need for discretion when it comes to my duties as a spymaster! He would never ask me to betray—”

“Alright! Alright!” He held both hands up in surrender with a bemused chuckle.

“It’s not funny, Alexandre!” She stood in the middle of the room, just inches from him, cheeks red and chest heaving with emotion.

He was struck nearly speechless by her beauty. She was even more breathtaking when she was angry. How was that possible? He took an involuntary step toward her.

She froze, her eyes trained on him, but she didn’t back away.

He took another step toward her, this one purposeful.

They stood, unmoving, staring into each other’s eyes; two hearts pounding in anticipation. He lifted a hand and reached out for her just as the sitting room door banged open.

“There you are, my love! I—oh! I didn’t realize we had company.” The prince stopped short, causing the chevalier who had been hot on his heels to collide into his backside.

Alexandre jerked his hand back and stepped away awkwardly. “My prince! I…” he executed a low bow. “So lovely to see you again.”

Philippe’s eyes took in the valet’s flushed and guilty expression and then his wife’s stoic demeanor. Renee had not backed away when he entered the room. She had stood her ground. Her ire was evident and he smothered a smile. He understood everything. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Alexandre, but let’s not pretend you came here for me.”

“I….” For the first time in his life, Alexandre was struck completely speechless.

Renee finally moved, closing the distance to greet her husband with a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. She murmured in his ear, “He knows about Louie.”

“Hm,” he hugged her back, but his gaze was trained on his brother’s spymaster.

Renee moved around her husband to greet the chevalier with the same hug and kiss she had just given her husband. “How was grouse hunting?”

“As usual, we didn’t find a single grouse but at least we didn’t end up drunk in a fountain again.” The chevalier laughed at his own joke as he returned her hug. Not a day passed that he didn’t count his blessings.

There had been a time when the king had been adamant that Philippe make a political marriage, likely to some English noblewoman who would expect fidelity from him. He would forever be grateful that Louis had allowed the prince to marry Renee and that Renee had never blinked at the relationship between the two men. Now he practically lived at Chateau de Marly and was both a godfather and cherished uncle to their son. They functioned very well as a threesome and while his whole heart belonged to the prince, he wasn’t completely indifferent to Renee.

He also liked the life they had built together very much so he glared suspiciously at the intruder. “Why are you here, Monsieur Bontemps?”

Finally recovering, Alexander stiffly replied, “I had some…business to discuss with the duchess.”

Renee snorted. “Business? Is that what this is, Alexandre?”

He flushed scarlet which caused the other two men in the room to laugh.

The prince spoke first. “Let’s drop the pretense, shall we? Renee and I have no secrets from each other nor do I keep secrets from the chevalier. His discretion is not in question. You may speak freely. Everyone in this room knows that Louis is your son. So why are you really here?”

“Do you wish to challenge me to a duel, Monsieur?” Alexandre asked carefully.

Philippe looked at him askance. “Why would I do that?”

Alexandre shook his head slowly. “Most men in your position would.” It was dawning on him that Renee had been telling the full truth of the matter. Philippe showed no signs of rage or jealousy.

Of course, it was an open secret at court that his affair with the chevalier never ended, but for most men indulging their own desires did not mean they were tolerant of their wives doing the same.

Philippe’s face broke into a wide smile. “When have you ever known me to be like most men? Come now, stay for dinner and we can discuss everything.”

“As tempting as that sounds…I have some urgent business matters I must attend to tonight. However….”

“Yes?”

“With your leave, I would like to visit the child. As a family friend, of course. I would never disclose the true nature of our relationship to him.”

“You want a relationship with our son?” Renee asked so quietly he almost missed it.

Turning to face her with beseeching eyes he answered her. “If it pleases you, then yes.”

Renee closed her eyes briefly as she fought against the onslaught of conflicting emotions that collided inside her at the thought. When she opened them again, she blinked up at him. “I think I would like that very much.”

Profound relief swirled through him at her answer. He had not known what to expect when he knocked on her door, but things had gone better than he could have imagined. Turning his attention back to Philippe, he asked, “And this is alright with you?”

“It is. You’ll find Louie is a capricious and wild little hellion who delights in his friendships with children and adults alike. I think he’ll be good for you.”

Alexandre barked out a surprised laugh. “He’ll be good for me?”

“Yes….” Philippe drawled out with a mischievous grin. “I think you need to loosen up and he’s just the person to help you do it.”

The king’s valet turned to go but an idea had taken root in his mind and he could not let it go. Turning back he asked, “And your wife?”

“What about her?”

“May I have permission to resume our….friendship?”

“Oh, he wants to court your wife!” The chevalier chortled out loud.

“Monsieur,” Philippe shook his head. “You disappoint me. I thought you understood. You do not need my permission. You need hers.”

Alexandre turned slowly, his heart thudding in his chest. “Madame. I would be most grateful if you would agree to indulge me in a conversation soon. I think we have many things to discuss.”

“For how long?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How long will these discussions go on? When do you leave again?”

He nodded in understanding. “Given today's revelations, and assuming you will continue to welcome me as a visitor in your home, I will start making the preparations to return to my house in Paris immediately and permanently.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment and then she nodded. “I would like you to get to know our son and I would be open to you and I having a conversation about where we go from there.”

He couldn’t help the smile that crawled across his face. He left the chateau with a spring in his step.

The truth was, he had not been happy since he’d left court shortly after her wedding. He hadn’t thought he could share her, open relationship with her husband or not. But an even larger concern had been his fear of openly loving her, thereby making her a target for his enemies, which were many.

He would never be comfortable being physically affectionate with her in front of others, he was more private than that, but if there was still a relationship to be had with her, there couldn’t be a more perfect cover than her marriage. No one ever had to know what she meant to him, or that he had a child. They could therefore never be used against him.

The thought of rekindling what they once had made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time….happiness.

It was entirely possible that things had worked out for him after all.

#vying for versailles #rc vying for versailles #rc vfv #rc alexandre #rc renée #fanfiction #fanfic #romance club #vfv

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halcyonwrld · 5 months

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— SATIN RIBBONS

PAIRING. Park Chaeyoung/Rosé x Reader

Your morning routine is simple, peaceful. A quiet moment away from the drivel in the real world that inevitably awaits you. All it takes is one incidental encounter with the princess and her hyper puppy for things to change completely. (2K)

NOWPLAYING. Amy - Alexandre Desplat

TAGS. royal!au, mutual pining but roseanne is an obvious dork, self-indulgent fluff, typical helpless dog owner shenanigans, ft. lisa as roseanne’s personal maid who definitely needs a break

There is no better view than this one here, you decide.

Spring mornings are calm, quiet, and soft in every way. Standing in the gazebo as you do every morning, you look out into the pink and violet sky.

Just beyond the castle, a thick fog muddles the outline of the surrounding walls. The sun is so orange it looks to be drawn by a child. That saffron orange light gives a soft, dreamlike glow to everything in its reach.

Petrichor permeates the cool air. Dew from lastnights downpour slinks from the trees, coming down like drizzle in the gentle winds. Cattails along the rivers edge sway. Though the geese scattered along it remain unperturbed, suspended in time.

(That ethereal, rich light falls upon them in such a way that makes you wish you’d been a painter instead of a florist, if only to immortalize this moment forever.)

All you can do is appreciate it for what it is.

Opening the pouch on your hip, you take a handful of the birdseed inside, and toss them out into the river. Used to this routine, hardly any of the geese startle, simply drifting closer to eat.

Might as well join them.

You split open a golden-crusted loaf and lather on a thin layer of melted butter, mouth already salivating just from looking at the platter before you.

Birdsong whistles overhead as you set down your cutlery on the empty side of the dish.

You toss a bit more seeds into the river. They dapple the shimmering water, creating ripples that look like fully bloomed roses.

You’re about to gather your things and take a seat when you hear noise from below the gazebo, moving fast. The source doesn’t take long at all to reveal themselves. Hank skips up the stairs with a few excited barks. The terrier is nothing but a white and brown blur charging toward you, nails clicking all the way.

You smile as he reaches your feet, wanting to lean down to pet the pup but deciding against it. You still have to eat, and you’d rather not have a mouth full of dog hairs… no matter how cute said dog is at the moment.

“Hello to you too,” you mutter fondly.

Hank yips enthusiastically in return, spinning himself dizzy around your feet.

A few of the geese startle at the ruckus, lifting off from the foot of the gazebo and settling back closer to the empty bridge.

You shush the canine nonsensically, only seeming to make his frenzy worse. His wet snout tickles your ankles. Searching. You shake your head in amusement when he seems to settle just enough to look up at you with those expectant, glittering eyes.

“Sit still, boy..”

Hank obliges without you needing to ask twice, though his tail thumping against the mahongany planks doesn’t quite seem to get the memo. The puppy stares up at you with big guileless eyes and a panting smile that tells you he's never had to beg for a thing in his life.

You give in with a long, dramatic sigh, and a defeated fine you win. You rip off a small chunk of sausage from your platter to share with the canine. “Spoiled little thing, aren’t you? Always causing trouble these days..”

Hank takes it gently between his crooked teeth, and it’s only after you’ve pulled away to eat some yourself do you realize you’re a part of the problem as much as anyone else. Spoiled mouths hardly ever feed themselves.

Hardwood creaks as someone else steps into the gazebo, causing you to turn.

You both pause as soon as you lock eyes, dumbstruck by each other’s presence.

Princess Roseanne.

The woman looks absolutely radiant in the morning sun. Light frames her soft edges. She’s like a walking daydream. Closer to angel, than mortal. Pink hair rollers wrapped in her blonde locks. Nose tinted pink. Satin bunched between her pale fingers to hold up the frills of her nightgown. Robe falling off of one of her sun-kissed shoulders.

You think you’d do anything she’d asked of you, if only to forever bask in the fond recognition that overcomes her face after her shock settles.

“Morning, your highness,” you greet, slightly bowing in courtesy.

Her smile falters. She gives you a look.

It takes you a moment to understand, but when you do, you immediately bow again in apology, face becoming far too hot for so early in the day. “Sorry sorry, still a habit.”

You straighten up and try again, “Good morning, Rosie. Lovely to see you out bright and early on such a beautiful day.”

Roseanne smiles, and just like that, all is forgiven. “It’s nice to see you too, petal.”

She finally takes in the scene. The full plate and mug on the railing, Hank sitting patiently at your feet, tongue lolling out of his mouth in a pant.

“Here he is… thought I’d heard him making a fuss over here! I’m so sorry about him, he has a frantic mind of his own in the mornings, I swear." She briefly bends to smooth down the wild fur around his eyes with an exasperated look, "One second he’s playing with the butterflies and next thing I know he’s halfway to the bridge…”

“He’s just lucky he’s as cute as his owner,” you say unthinkingly. There's little time to retract the statement because the moment Roseanne looks down —unable to hide behind the curtains of her hair like she tends to— you know you've said something right.

She turns away, but you catch the reddening apples of her cheeks before she can get too far. An overwhelming amount of fondness blooms across your chest.

You’re still biting back a smile when her stomach grumbles.

“Want to share?”

Roseanne looks over, still flustered from your last comment. You offer a good chunk of your loaf. The tension eases as she gives you a grateful smile.

Finally, you take a bite of your own food, buttery goodness melting on your tongue.

“So, have you—”

“Is this why—”

You both stop short, glancing at each other with secret smiles.

“You first,” she says, beating you to it.

You hum thoughtfully, picking up your mug filled to the brim with fresh spring water. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Ah, no.” She confirms your suspicions as you take a long swig, covering her mouth to speak around her bread. You give her a stern look, making her laugh. “Your concern is sweet, but I was planning to, swear! Hankie has been sick for the past few days and he finally wanted some fresh air, couldn’t pass up the opportunity, you know?”

“I see..” you murmur. “In any case, I’m glad he’s feeling better then. And please have a real meal after you’re back inside the castle. Picking berries off of my plate surely can't be fulfilling in any sense.”

Her blush deepens at being caught red-handed, but you just laugh, lightly bumping your shoulders together. “Now, your turn."

“Ah- this,” she gestures to your setup along the gazebo railing, a hint of mirth in her tone, “is why I’ve never seen you during breakfast? You’re out and about making friends with the local wildlife?”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

“Nothing like that, no. Just… another one of those habits I can’t seem to shake, I suppose you could say.” You look over the railing into the water. A few geese glide across the river in search of birdseed. “I don’t garden for the mere motivation of wage. Nature is just where I’ve always felt most at peace. And so, my days tend to be far more productive the sooner I can get outside and simply,,, take a moment to breathe.”

When you look over, Roseanne stares at you like you’ve just given the most interesting spiel in the entire universe, with that fond quirk to her lips.

You offer a nervous smile in return, “If I may ask… why the inquiry? Has someone asked for me?”

The princess looks away to tear off another chunk of her bread, meek as she is hopeful when she asks, “Does it count if I’m asking you now?”

You can’t help the way your smile widens, finding her madly endearing. “I suppose so, princess."

Roseanne doesn't quite fluster this time, but you swear you've never seen her face so red since the first time you introduced yourself to her.

(She'd kissed your knuckles like you were more than the head of gardening staff, said your dedication in the months you'd been serving had really shown… then minutes later she tumbled into a roseberry bush full of thorns. That was how you met Lisa, too, who couldn't hold her giggles when you retold the story while plucking the twigs out of her hair.)

Roseanne even opens her mouth to retort, but is stopped by a shrill voice in the distance.

It takes another few times for either of you to realize it’s nothing dangerous, and that they’re calling for the princess herself.

Who rubs the back of her nape with a sheepish smile, “Ah right, I’m not supposed to be out here quite yet..”

One look at her attire —feet bare and draped in delicates— and surely anyone could’ve guessed that.

You notice movement on the bridge.

Not even a few moments later, Roseanne’s name rings into the air, clearer than ever.

“I take it that’s your maiden?” you ask knowingly, failing to keep your laughter out of your words. Lisa has never been known for her subtlety.

Roseanne blanches, “Shoot.”

In a rush, she gathers up her satin drapes all over again, pink pins wobbling atop her head but no worse for wear when she stops abruptly in her departure, spinning to face you once more. “I won’t ask you to stifle away in the castle… but maybe, we could come back tomorrow?” she asks, smile shy, eyes glittering.

You open your mouth, but she cuts you off.

“If it's okay with you, of course,” she tacks on as an afterthought, genuine as ever for someone of her status. You tilt your head, as if there was ever really anything to think over. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Roseanne smiles as bright as the sun, blinding you with her beauty.

You're only pulled out of your daze by the clink of cultery, and you by the time you realize what she's doing, she's already got your empty mug and platter in hand.

You frown, stepping forward. "Oh no, I couldn't ask you to-"

She steps back. Brandishes another one of those disarming grins that makes your heart flutter. "Please, we're headed back to the castle anyway. No need for you to waste your energy on a second trip back over the bridge."

You sigh.

"Fine… but, next time I'll walk with you. Alright?"

Roseanne nods, smile seeming to widen if anything.

“Come on, boy, we have to go now." Hank perks up at the tone shift, happy to finally be addressed. “Say bye Hankie!"

Hank barks as if he really understands the princess, making you chuckle.

You wave them off, watching them leave the gazebo.

Roseanne meets her maiden halfway. Lisa promptly snags an arm around her shoulders, mouth running a mile a minute as she tells the princess off, equal parts exasperated as she is playful. Hank zips toward the bridge. You catch word about Roseanne’s lack of shoewear, her bundled hair, and… a patch of dandelions?

You can't make out much more as they get too far out. But you were sure you'd figure it out eventually, as it was literally your job to oversee all of the plant life around here.

Oh well, nothing to fuss over as of now.

You toss the last of your birdseed, and the geese are eager to reform back near you with Hank's ruckus. The princess and her maiden follow the cobblestone path back down the river. Their figures become smaller and smaller amongst the green grass and the pink, hazy sky.

Just a little before they reach the bridge, Roseanne looks back, and you both share one last secret smile.

#rosé x reader #gg x reader #blackpink x reader #blackpink imagines #gg imagines #idol x reader #kpop imagines #park chaeyoung x reader #kpop fanfic #blackpink fanfic #halcyonfics

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wild-moss-art · 2 years

Text

blaiydd—

blidy—

blaidyd—

bliddyd—

blond—

help

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #yes I am going to put it in the tags #why is that word like that #shakes it

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soscarlett1twas · 27 days

Text

Fallen Tree

↳ Lawrence and Nathaniel had a favorite childhood tree. Xanthus returns to the spot 400 years later. ↳ 3k words / also available on ao3! ↳ Inspired by Fallen Tree, a painting by Alexandre Calame

“Please, do be careful.” His voice lifted just above the rushing water, carrying its way to the little boy right above it.

He giggled. “I am!”

Lawrence gave a haphazard sigh, crouching down into the grass. His sight didn’t leave his brother, who had begged to go here.

The clearing was a peculiar place - not far from Claiborne land but not owned by the family, nor anyone for that matter. All but abandoned, the plot had become a favorite of Nathaniel’s. He loved to run and let the weeds, some even taller than himself, graze his fingertips (which Lawrence found adorable). He had proclaimed his ‘discovery’ of this place as a step towards becoming a true adventurer.

And now he’s graduated from running between weeds. Now, it’s tree climbing. Lawrence found this significantly less cute.

His brother’s tiny frame pushed from branch to branch, smiling all the way. Every time he grabbed a divot in the bark he pointed it out. Lawrence watched on in silent agony. He tensed every time Nathaniel’s frail hands seemed to loosen. He had half a mind to ban him from doing this altogether, but seeing him smile, holes from missing teeth and crooked, made Lawrence shove it all down. How could he take this away from him?

There was one barrier he put onto the whole ordeal: He was only allowed to climb this beech tree, which stood in the middle of the clearing. Its branches were thick enough to hold his weight, wasn’t too big for any real danger, and its trunk was tall enough so Nathaniel couldn’t climb without Lawrence’s assistance. Granted, the thing was situated right next to a running stream, but Lawrence saw it as a blessing more than anything. Sometimes, when Nathaniel got winded from climbing, they drank its water because he didn’t want to wait to get home.

Looking up at him, shadows danced across Lawrence’s frame from the shifting leaves. The winds, however calm, seemed to eddy around the clearing. Lawrence took a breath, the sugary smell of honeysuckles wafting into his nose, and felt his unease steady. The kid had never fallen. He was here to watch him. His brother was alright.

He took a moment to look around him. It truly was a beautiful day. Blue skies peppered with clouds, flowers waxing towards the sun. Bird songs echoed from treetops, some even diving down to sit on bushes, collecting twigs and scrap for a nest. Tranquility bloomed in every crevice. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Look! Look,” a breathy voice hailed from the beech tree. Lawrence did as it commanded.

Nathaniel sat on a towering branch, feet dangling in the open air.

“Wow,” Lawrence half-shouted. “You’re quite high up.”

“I am!” He threw his arms open wide. “I feel like the king!”

For as adorable as it was, Lawrence felt a bubbling fear in his chest. “Be careful.”

“I know…” Nathaniel began to stand, one arm pushed into the bark to stabilize himself. Lawrence felt his fingernails dig into his palm.

A breeze pushed up at him, hair tickling his ears. “Maybe you should come down now… we can always come back another day.”

“But I want to keep going!” His brother leaned slightly over the edge to look down at him. His arm was still on the tree, but the other swung at his side.

“We’ll come back,” he repeated. The wind carried the scent of honeysuckles and streamwater back to him.

“Come on… just a few branches higher!”

“No. Come down.”

“But-”

“Nathaniel, I said come down!”

A sudden gust of wind picked up, creating the static noise of rustling leaves. Lawrence watched as his brother opened his mouth to argue more, but lost his footing as the wood began to shake. The boy made a motion to grab the tree but it was too late: He had slipped off.

Florals and fear mixed as Lawrence ran forward.

Without thinking he dove into the riverbank, his brother plummeting towards it.

He held his hands out, and by some miracle of God, he caught him.

A deep sigh of relief hitched in his throat, almost sounding like a sob as he accidentally collapsed into the water. It rushed into his nose. He may as well have blacked out for a moment before the squirming boy brought him back to reality.

His clothes were soaked, caked with a layer of grime the water carried. As he waded out, Lawrence was careful to not let a single drop of it touch Nathaniel.

When they were both safely away from water, Lawrence set him down and promptly rolled into the grass, deep breaths permeating the space between words. “You aren’t climbing again.”

“...huh? What?” Nathan’s look of adrenaline faded into shock. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh yes, I can.”

“But…” Nathaniel started. Then he bit his tongue.

“You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, you could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t.” A pleading look danced on his face.

Lawrence steeled. “The answer is no.” He got up and grabbed Nathan’s arm.

The kid didn’t put up a fight, just allowing himself to be dragged along back to the house. But Lawrence could feel the hostility radiate off the boy. He understood the rage; Not towards his brother, but towards himself. He allowed the climbing, he enabled the fall.

The water still on his face mixed with his sweat, and maybe even a tear.

As they approached the beginning of the forest, the only known path back to their manor, Lawrence abruptly stopped.

He took a delicate, curling white flower from a bush and handed it to Nathan. The boy looked on in confusion, then delight.

He took the end of it - two green leaves from the bush - and pried them off, revealing filament with a singular drop of sweetness. He licked it off.

He grabbed a few more as they passed and handed one to Lawrence, a silent apology.

He took it but left it in his pocket. He didn’t have the stomach to eat it. Not when the stench still rang in his nose.

—

Xanthus stepped over a thick root, careful not to trip into the bramble. Underbrush and weeds had invaded the path, spattering the edges of the dirt with thorns that threatened to cut someone deep. He grumbled to himself something about wearing the wrong attire for a woodland outing.

He had long gone off the main road. Over the years he’d been gone, these dirt pathways had become rare as most were paved over with concrete and fences, cars moving in place of carriages. Industrialization throttled every part of London the same. Even this deep into the countryside, the sounds of it never left his ears. They buzzed like gnats, unwanted pests that flew around him like he was rot long left out.

Though Xanthus supposed, he was rot. Undead rot in a casing of slacks and a sweater, but rot all the same.

He suddenly became very aware of the fangs in his mouth. He adjusted his jaw.

Xanthus kept walking, following a vague desire path that seemed ten years overgrown. It had not been set by him - but he knew it well anyway. Farther in he went, the forest swelled. The light dimmed as the trees became thicker, trunks growing greater in circumference than his height. As he passed particularly large ones, he wondered who was older: Him or it.

In the distance, a rabbit landed. He heard its thump, saw the scurry of leaves around it, and could even feel the pumping blood in its veins. A quick object of focus before swiftly turning his attention to something else. He was used to this darting attention: The abundance of life blended together, less stimulating than the city yet still humming in his ear. He just tuned it out, focused on fleeting memories to trail him back to the clearing.

It had been so long. Was there even hope in remembering the way?

He kept going.

From the ambiance of wildlife emerged the unique purr of human voices. They started small: Indistinguishable from the trotting of deer and whiz of bugs, but slowly rose to stand out among the vibrations. At first, Xanthus neglected this realization, too lost in his mind to pay attention. But they became sharp, pushing their way to the front of the symphony until they were at the forefront of his mind - and though unwittingly and agitated, Xanthus looked up.

The voices echoed from just beyond the pathway if slightly to the left, beckoning him forward. Déjà vu struck him. They - were there two? The vocals were so similar it was hard to tell - spoke and giggled and yelled. Those were the sounds of children playing in the field. He paused.

It was a sign to turn back. To never see this place again. One final push to save himself the heartache. But Xanthus followed the voices, one step at a time. Just one. Then another, and eventually another. Until he dragged himself the rest of the hike, and the voices boomed in his ears, and he wanted to leave and never return here or any parts of London or England because what was there even to stay for–

“What if it breaks?”

The question struck the front of his mind, a thought so clear and strong that for a split second, he thought it was his own. But the voice wasn’t.

Xanthus honed in on the clearing. This was it. Most of it was the same. Weeds and flower bushes, saplings and stones. But there was no stream anymore, seemingly turned into a pond and then a puddle: Unmoving and dirty. The surrounding forest was noticeably thinner as well, with shadows lighter and allowing full sun.

Amidst it all, where a breech once grew, was a stump. And next to it was a felled log that cast above the still creek, gutted of branches.

For a second, Xanthus forgot all else, entranced with memories of an otherwise forgotten time.

“It won’t! Climb, come on,” buzzed a similar voice. Xanthus flinched, sharply turning his gaze from the stump to the log. On it sat a boy, dangling his feet above the still water.

“You don’t know that…” Xanthus glanced down. This one stood in the grass, staring up at his companion.

Xanthus felt himself lean forward, pushing out of the foliage to get closer.

The boys continued bickering about whether or not the grounded one should mount the log. From their voices, Xanthus guessed they were 12, maybe 13 - certainly from around here, as the accents seemed local.

The one previously in the grass hesitantly stepped onto a trunk, and Xanthus felt roil in his chest. He took a breath and felt the breeze scrap his teeth. They felt hollow.

Xanthus watched as he leaped from the stump to the log, trying desperately not to lose balance. His arms shot out, and the giggle of his companion echoed: “You’re fine, you’re a meter off the ground. A fall isn’t going to kill you.”

“It’s still dangerous…” He muttered below his breath, quiet enough for the other to not hear. With every step the hesitancy was clear. Eventually, he shot out his arms in some vain attempt to balance and, however tentatively, he finished the climb and met the other. Almost.

With one misplaced step, the boy slipped. His foot went straight through some rotten wood, shattering under his weight and taking his leg through the log. Xanthus rushed forward.

He hadn’t realized he had moved until he was halfway through the clearing, jolted out of his thoughts through stinging sunlight. He stumbled to a stop. His friend had caught his arm, pulling them close, free arms clinging to the other. Their heartbeats echoed together.

The once-still pool now rippled from the impact of moldered bark, the splash only registering after it happened. A distinctive hole was shot through the log.

Xanthus pulled himself up from his half-lunge, placing a steadying hand on his chest. Memories boiled up to the front of his mind, distracting him from the painful taper of sunlight on skin, however much more cruel they may be. Something wet grazed his waterline. The warm air felt boiling as he took in two long breaths.

When he looked up, the boys were less tangled, only their hands still gripping the other's arm. Silently, they watched the pool, breaths and heartbeats calming in tune with the water. The nearly-fallen one slowly turned his head to his mate, a look of incredulous horror painting him.

The other shrugged, almost slinking away from the gaze: “Well, I got up here just fine…” Skeptical humor dripped from his voice as if he were testing the waters to see if the situation was considered funny or not. It was a tone Xanthus remembered surprisingly well.

“This is why I didn’t want to do this.” Xanthus squinted, finally registering just what he was looking at.

“I was just trying to have some fun, I’m sorry; I wouldn’t have gone up here if I knew it was dangerous.” That’s why this was so familiar.

“Yes, you would’ve!” They were brothers.

Of course. Wasn’t it obvious? Only siblings could squabble like this while still hooked to one another as if their lives depended on it. That was the very nature of them. Sardonically, Xanthus wondered what it was about this valley that drew in brothers.

Moreover, they were identical. How Xanthus hadn’t noticed before, he didn’t know - but next to each other, he saw the blatant similarity. Same stature, same shape. Hickory brown swept around their heads in waves, slightly unruly in its twists. Not even clothing was an indicator of who was who. They wore the same schoolboy uniform.

That’s why the voices were so similar. A huff of laughter left him.

It took a moment to realize that fast-paced noise was no longer voices, but pumping blood: Did something else happen? Xanthus refocused on the boys, only to be met with their eyes doing the same to him.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then the one hardened his grip on the other.

Xanthus raised his hands. “I don’t mean any harm.” It sounded more sarcastic than he’d like. “I heard the snapping and came running.” Not technically a lie.

They were not convinced.

“Then why were you laughing…” One of them muttered. He pretended not to hear.

“Are you two alright?” He made a show of scaling the fallen log, casting purposeful scorn onto the hole through it. “Do you need help down from there?”

“We’re fine,” and “Please,” echoed from uniform voices at the same time. They traded a quick look of confusion with each other.

“What are you doing?” Once again they said it at the same time.

“We need help down.”

“No, we don’t. This guy’s a creep.” Xanthus resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Would you stop being so stubborn? I’m not doing that again. Sir? Yes, could you help me please?”

A smile of gritted teeth bled onto Xanthus’ face. He truly didn’t care about them. He just wanted them gone, and if hoisting them off the timber would do it, well, he was waiting with open arms. Literally.

He walked up as close as he could to the log, stepping to the side that they climbed up from, reaching out his hand for the boy to take. The cooperative one started shimmying along the wooden minefield, letting go of his brother's hand in the process.

When they were close enough to touch, Xanthus grabbed his arm and glided him off the beam, catching him and carefully setting him to the ground.

“Thank you,” he said through a wavering smile.

Just behind Xanthus, a thud hit the ground in tandem with a bit of murky water splashing up and onto his shoes. He didn’t even need to turn: The boy stomped around him and stood next to the other, arms crossed.

A ghostly twitch flickered in Xanthus’ under eyelid. “Where are your parents?”

“Why do you care?”

Xanthus took a moment to convince himself not to compel the brat into shutting up and leaving.

“We’ll be going now, so sorry to disturb you.”

“What? We were already here, we don’t need to leave.”

“I think it’s best if we do.” He grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

“I’m not leaving, some guy showed up and took it upon himself to ‘help’ us. This isn’t weird to you? Andrew, please admit this is weird.” Xanthus didn’t even need his enhanced hearing for this, they were just talking right in front of him.

“You’re berating me for him helping me down? I could’ve – you could’ve – gotten seriously hurt!” Andrew snapped at his brother. His voice was shockingly distraught.

Those words rang in Xanthus’ ears, ripples of the past resurfacing. He had said that. A long time ago.

He looked on at the boy and saw a wraith of Nathaniel inlaid in the shocked eyes, the agape mouth. One aching part of him hoped he would argue back, just as Nathaniel hadn’t.

But he wouldn’t either.

The boy just looked down at the grass, cheeks getting redder as he thought about what to do.

When he did reopen his mouth, Xanthus raised a hand.

“It’s alright. Everyone’s fine, just… you two run along.”

They nodded politely. “Thank you again, sir.” They turned to leave.

When far enough away, their attempts at whispers flocked to Xanthus’ ears. “I told you none of this was a good idea!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know–”

“That it was rotten and I’d slip? Well, I didn’t either and I still had the forethought to not climb it.”

Xanthus stared unblinking at the boles, frayed and damaged, withering into the dirt. Trees felled to logs. Wood into mulch. Bones in the ground.

He reached into his pocket and thumbed a honeysuckle he plucked on the way here.

Don’t be cruel, Andrew, Lawrence thought. He didn’t know. It’s alright. He didn’t know.

#sakuverse #zsakuva #xanthus claiborne #lawrence #nathaniel claiborne #andrew marston #“twin” marston #(cause of course they're here)#fanfic #xanthus fanfic #zsakuva xanthus #just so many brother issues #Xanthus grapples with the immortality of being an older brother

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earthtoharlow · 4 months

Text

Flashing Lights

11) Kentucky Daddy

Jack Harlow x Singer!OC

Series Masterlist

“I can’t believe you, Jack!” Maryse said while FaceTiming Jack, she was currently packing as she was going to spend the weekend with Jack as he was preparing to drop his highly anticipated sophomore album. They were going to end the trip at the Kentucky Derby where she was going to meet his parents.

The screen was blurry as Jack was holding his phone walking down the busy streets of New York, on his way back from picking up takeout. “How was I supposed to know?!” He huffed into the phone.

Maryse just rolled her eyes, “Literally everyone knows Brandy and Ray J are siblings!”

“White people..” she added, shaking her head in disappointment.

Jack with a click of his tongue, jokingly glared at her as he rounded the corner of her place. “So what, you are embarrassed to be with me now?”

He was back at her apartment now, Maryse had the phone placed on her bed as she continued to pack. “Yes.” She said with no hesitation.

“HEY!”

Maryse turned around and Jack was leaning against the doorframe with a pout as he held onto the bags of takeout.

She ignored his reaction, as she skipped towards him and placed a kiss on his cheek before grabbing the food from him and began walking towards the kitchen.

Jack was hot on her heels like a love sick puppy, it was going to be a busy week and he couldn’t wait to show her around Louisville, and finally meet his parents.

He continued to watch as he sat across from Maryse as she began to eat her Pad Thai. Jack didn’t introduce many women to his parents, especially to his mom. None of his past relationships had been long enough or even serious enough for them to actually meet.

Jack wasn’t nervous at all about this week, he knew all his friends and family were going to love Maryse as much as he does.

After they got up from the table after they finished eating, Maryse dragged him back into the bedroom.

“Ok Jack, what are you wearing to the derby? I wanna try to match.”

Butterflies fluttered in the pits of his stomach, hearing that she wanted to match him. This would also be their first public appearance as a couple, as they were going to walk the carpet together.

“I think I’m going with an all white suit.”

He watched as she stood in front of her closet with her hands on her hips. “Jack, I think I need to go shopping!” She says looking at her clothes in front of her with a pout.

Jack rolled his eyes playfully before getting up from the bed and standing behind her. “M, you have plenty of things to wear! A lot of this stuff has tags on them”

“Besides..” he continued “it’s just going to be my friends and family—

Maryse cut him off “AND Drake.”

He laughed and lightly squeezed her hips “Yes, and Drake! You could wear a trash bag and everyone would still love you and think you’re beautiful.”

Her face warmed at that compliment and Maryse turned her head upward to give him a kiss. “While that’s really sweet, I’m not wearing a trash bag to meet your parents.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?” Jack asked her, walking further into her closet when she gave him the go ahead.

It took him a couple minutes but he finally found a dress that would be perfect for her to wear. “What about this?” Jack asked for her opinion.

It was a white custom made Alexandre Vauthier ruffled dress. It was sent to Maryse months ago and she hadn't had a chance to wear it yet. She loved it.

“I think I need to make you my stylist.” Maryse told him with a bright smile before grabbing it from the closet and placing it in her suitcase. It was a comfortable silence as Jack watched Maryse finish packing, the longer he watched her move around the room the more he just wanted her laying next to him.

To get her attention Jack let out a loud sigh. He could see the corner of her lips twitch trying hard not to crack a smile. So he let out another sigh, but louder.

“Yes, Jack?” Maryse says with a giggle

Jack immediately pouted and reached his arms forward, motioning for a hug. “Are you done yet? I wanna cuddle.”

One thing Maryse loved about Jack was that physical touch was his love language. He always found an excuse to touch her.

Packing could wait, she wanted to be in his arms more. She stopped what she was doing and crawled into bed with him. Jack's arms wrapped around her body tightly. She could stay there forever.

“Are you nervous about this weekend?” Jack asked, breaking the silence.

Maryse only took a split second to think before answering. “Surprisingly, no. I thought I would because I’m meeting your parents but I know they’re amazing people since they raised such a great son.”

“But I should be asking you the same thing, your sophomore album comes out in a couple days. I’m so proud of you, I know everyone will love it.”

Jack smiled. “How can you be so sure? You haven’t even heard it yet.”

He jumped as she pinched his side, “Doesn’t matter, I know how much hard work you’ve put into it.”

Jack pulled her even closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks babe, I have a feeling this week and album will be life changing.”

***

Maryse watched the television screen in Jack’s suite at the Churchill Downs and shook in laughter at Jack getting carried by his security guards across the field.

They had just finished walking the red carpet not too long ago. Since it wasn't announced that Maryse was showing up, press went insane when the couple walked the carpet hand in hand.

Waiting for Jack to make it to the suite, Maryse was talking to Urban as he decided to snap photos of her.

“Are you nervous to meet the parents? —oh and bring your chin down a little” Urban said as he brought the camera back up to his face.

Doing as he said, she waited for him to take a couple photos before replying, “Maybe a little?”

Urban shook his head “Don’t be, seriously. Maggie and Brian are cool as hell! Besides, I’m pretty sure Maggie already loves you.”

Maryse wasn’t sure why she was surprised to hear that but she was. Just as she was going to question Urban about it, she heard commotion behind her.

Turning around, Jack and Drake were walking in the room, as soon as Jack walked in his eyes searched all over trying to find his favorite person.

When his eyes finally met Maryse’s, he lightly tapped Drake in the chest and motioned for him to follow him over to where Maryse was standing with Urban.

“Hey, baby.” Jack said softly, giving her a small kiss on her lips.

“Hi, I missed you.” Maryse said, wrapping her arms around his waist, and staring upwards at him.

As they were having their moment a small fake cough came from behind them, turning around it was Drake and Urban who they honestly forgot was there.

The four all started laughing, “My fault, Drake, this is Maryse Monet, my girlfriend, which is the least interesting thing about her.” Jack laughed when Maryse lightly hit him in the chest.

Maryse smiled and shook Drake’s outstretched hand. “Hi, it’s really so nice to meet you! I’m a huge fan.”

Drake thanked her, “I’ve heard so much about you, it’s great to finally meet. You’re very talented, that album you dropped this year was amazing!”

Maryse almost audibly gasp, turning her head to face Jack and Urban and mouthing “oh my god”

Everyone around started laughing and they continued talking until Jack was dragged away to film some parts of the music video.

Maryse was grabbing another glass of wine when she heard someone call her name from behind her, turning around she saw a woman slightly taller than her with curly hair that resembled Jack.

Maryse smiled and held out her hand. “You must be the infamous Maggie Harlow.” Maggie returned her smile and ignored her hand before pulling Maryse into a hug.

She hugged Maggie back just as tightly. Pulling away Maggie held on to her arms as she spoke again. “I’ve been waiting all day for Jack to finally introduce us so I took matters into my own hands. It’s so nice to meet you. Jack talks about you all the time.”

Maryse wasn’t sure why she was so shocked to hear that but she was. “He does?”

“Yes, honey. It’s the first thing he mentions when he calls.” Maggie says with a laugh. Maryse's face immediately warmed.

It was quiet as the two watched Jack laughed and joked around with his childhood friends who Maryse was able to meet for the first time this week.

Maggie couldn't hide her smile when noticing the expression on Maryse’s face as she watched her son. It was the same expression Jack would have on his face watching Maryse. A look of love and admiration.

Maggie knew that her opinion on Maryse meant a lot to Jack but he didn’t need to worry. She could already tell Maryse was going to be part of this family for a long time.

***

Jack watched from afar as he watched his mother and girlfriend laughing and chatting. He was happy the two were hitting it off. Drake nudged him lightly to get his attention

“Looks like ya moms and Maryse are getting along well.” Drake told him.

Jack nodded he knew his mom was going to love her if not more than he did. Jack couldn’t help but think about how this all just felt right. Having Maryse in his hometown, laughing and getting along with all his friends and family was as natural as breathing.

Sometimes it felt like she had always been in his life.

“Stop drooling over your girl, I wanna run an idea with you for the video.” Jack rolled his eyes and smiled when Drake told him the idea. It was going to be incredible.

***

“Seven-fifty for the round, canaries, and they glitterin'

Everyone cheered and smiled as Drake rapped to Maggie and Maryse as he filmed his verse. Maryse caught Jack’s eye, and looked at him wide eyed with excitement.

This day couldn’t have gone any better, Jack thought. He was going to cherish this week for the rest of his life.

The next few months were going to be insane with Jack going off to film White Men Can’t Jump and then going on an international music festival tour, and then his own world tour at the end of the year.

He was hardly going to see Maryse as she was also planning a tour at the end of the year, so they were trying to spend as much time as they could before they both started touring, but Jack wasn’t worried, they always made time for each other no matter how busy they both got.

The next few months would be the true test.

***

AN: ok everyone be nice, my writers block was and still is kicking my ass!! that's why the ending is kinda sucky. the next couple chapters Jack and Maryse relationship will be put to the test hehe bye now

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