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alluringjae · 3 years

Text

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)

⤑ 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.”

887 notes · View notes

hslotharrie · 3 years

Text

To My Best Friend

summary: reader faces quarantine at Harry’s and, turns out, it was exactly what they needed to come clean. also, Anne is the superior Mum.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: completely fluff. with marriage + mentions of family? not edited... when do I ever edit

based off of this ask<3

When you wake, the sun is shining through a slightly opened window in the far left corner of your bedroom. You can hear birds chirping amongst themselves from outside, cars driving far in the distance, it's quiet at Harry's home. Peaceful.

It's been a little more than four months since you and Harry decided to bubble at the beginning of quarantine. What you expected to be a few weeks turned into a lot more, but there were no complaints. Harry has the space, is the type to crave company, and you're his best friend.

Best friend.

You roll in the soft sheets, hugging the covers for a few minutes until you inevitably force yourself to get up for the day. You're not sure what sort of expensive luxury bed set this is, but god, they are comfy. You make a mental note to ask him later.

You zone out again on the soft sounds of the birds and the pleasant cool breeze flowing in through the window. You pull your phone from the bedside table to check the time, 10:56– and the weather, sunny and 78. You consider getting in the pool later.

Harry's phone rings somewhere outside of your room, followed by some muffled mumbling from the man himself signalling that he's awake too. You wonder if he's ate yet; he's a sucker for your omelettes and you're craving one about now.

You climb out of bed, going to the bathroom to tame your hair and brush your teeth, before heading to the kitchen to put together ingredients for the omelettes.

It's about 10 minutes before Harry appears in the kitchen, provoked by the smell. He places a hand on your lower back as a silent 'good morning!' while he stands to your side to admire your cooking. You try your best to ignore the warm feeling that his touch brings; the feeling that makes you wish for more than just a touch.

It makes you nervous, how quickly his presence has you feeling butterflies or how fast he can make you smile when you're in the darkest of moods. You've been sitting on the feelings for years, they were always there, hiding in the back of your head. The feelings that made you wish you'd shared that drink with him just for the second-hand contact to his lips.

Those are the thoughts that make you nervous. You try not to think about them when he's standing right next to you watching your every move with a wandering hand on the small of your back.

He's dressed in a colourful flannel and some shorts, you notice, much different than your fresh out of bed joggers and t-shirt. You make a mental note to change later, and you consider stealing one of his flannels (there's the thoughts again,) just to have his smell on you.

He pulls away from you to begin setting up the eating area, bringing out cups and silverware and then returning with a plate when he senses the omelette is nearly done. He stands to your left with the plate held in both hands like an excited toddler and when you flip the breakfast meal onto his plate he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead in thanks. The thoughts come rushing back; I like when you kiss me, Harry.

"D'you have any plans for today?" he quizzes, before taking a drink of his orange juice.

"Was thinking about going in the pool later," you tell him, "it seemed nice out, an' I love your pool."

"I rather like my pool too," he chuckles "I'll join you, yeah? Could go for a swim later."

When you finish eating, Harry takes the plates to wash despite your protests. You cooked, he argues, so he cleans. You glance at the time, almost 12, and decide that the time it will take to change and freshen up will be enough for your stomach to settle and therefore a swim will be safe.

Returning upstairs, you first search for a bikini and then your sunglasses, changing and adding a pair of shorts. You brush your hair, throughly this time, and tie it up to avoid contact with the chlorinated water.

Before you go back downstairs, you take a minute to look at yourself in the mirror— doing your best not to allow the thoughts to come forward. (You don't think about how your body will look to Harry, and you definitely don't allow yourself to think about what he might think about the bikini you chose. Absolutely not.)

When you return downstairs to the kitchen, the dishes are washed and on the drying rack. Grabbing two cups and straws, you fill each about half with ice and then filtered water; and carry them both out to the poolside where Harry sits contently in the sun.

Unbeknownst to you, Harry's eyes travel along your body through his sunglasses when you appear from inside of the house, wishing he could touch you. His brain flicks back to the phone call he had this morning with his Mum, how she encouraged him to make a move because she knows you're meant to be. His stomach flips thinking about it.

"Do you remember when we went to that party and you pushed that guy into the pool because he was flirting with me?" you smile, sitting down beside him and handing him one of the cold waters.

"Mm, we had to leave because he was gonna' beat me up," Harry chuckles, "I was drunk. Probably lucky he ended up in the pool."

"You were being protective! It was cute!" you defend, rubbing his back lazily in comfort. He looks at you in a funny way, smile faltering a little before he returns his eyes back to the pool.

"M'gonna test the waters so the princess doesn't freeze," He proposes, rising from his seat when you give him a playful smack.

You rise as well, shimmying off your loose shorts and moving to sit at the side of the pool. Watching harry submerge himself first, you let your legs dangle off of the edge and into the water. It's cold, but a pleasant, enjoyable cold in the hot sun.

You sit contently for a few minutes, enjoying the water on your legs and watching harry swim back and forth. You lean back and turn your attention somewhere else, trying to avoid being caught staring. Suddenly, though, a hand brushes up the side of one of your submerged legs, informing you of Harry's presence.

"Y'coming in?" he asks, standing now. He's tall, so your faces are about level now.

"Are you in a hurry?" He's close enough now that he's dripping cold water on your skin.

"Maybe,"

Suddenly, he's gripping your waist to lift you and pull you into the water. You squeal, grabbing his shoulders as leverage as he practically drops you into the water that feels ice cold against your warm sunny skin. He laughs loud and happy when you splash water in his direction as payback.

Soon, both of your energies mellow out. Harry's on his phone, while you're floating around in a doughnut shaped floatie. Harry snaps a photo, but you don't notice.

When it's time to get out, Harry offers to go grab the towels while you float around for a few more minutes. He's driving you crazy in the best way. Your skin still tingles where he had touched your sides to lift you into the water, and your palms burn with the memory of his bare shoulders.

When he returns, it's like his energy has changed. The sight of a shirt over his chest makes you frown momentarily, and he's light on his feet rather than the happy strides he took on his way into his home. You see him tuck his phone into his pocket as if he's been talking to someone again, and when his eyes meet yours the wide smile is hiding something else.

When you slip out of the doughnut and climb up the pool ladder, he mumbles a soft "c'mere" and wraps the towel around your shoulders. His eyes watch you for a little longer than they should've.

"Mum called again," He murmurs.

"I's she doing well? Is that who called this morning?" you question, keeping your attention on his eyes.

"Yeah, woke you up I suppose,"

"Not at all!" You defend.

He goes quiet, picking at his fingernails (a nervous habit you notice he's developed since beginning to paint his nails) and looking off to the side to avoid holding eye contact with you. This makes you nervous, he's never this way around you.

"Harry,"

"I'm sorry, 'shouldn't be such a big deal," he says, letting out an awkward laugh.

A soft smile appears on your face, taking his hands into yours to part them. Gently, you move towards him, pressing yourself wordlessly into his body and allowing his hands to wrap around your towel-covered body. It brings him comfort, and you ignore your own heart beating at the contact.

"Better?"

"A little." He admits. He loves holding you, and sure, it helps his nerves, but he's going to tell you.

His Mum's been on him since he told her you'd be staying with him, telling him “now or never, Harry!”, and he's beginning to realize it really is now or never. He doesn't know how long quarantine will keep up or how much longer you will decide to stay, and he misses you even when you're just running something as simple as a grocery trip.

He doesn't know why he's scared, he knows a friendship as strong as yours could work through anything, Still, there's always the possibility that things could go bad. “Get out of your head!'”Anne would say.

This type of topic between the two of you is quite common, given Harry's music and your tendency to be quite open. However, this type of topic concerning the two of you is uncharted territory.

He thinks about the story you'd brought up earlier. When you'd both went to a party together and some guy, very obviously drunker than the both of you, tried to flirt his way into your pants before Harry had pushed him into the pool himself.

The truth is, he knew you would hold your ground if you weren't interested. Actually, Harry knows from first-hand experience that you don't need protection, you can be very vocal when you need to be, and he's even seen you deck someone at the bar a few years back for touching one of your friends. You were the protector.

That's why, upon seeing Harry at such a nervous loss of words, you had hugged him. It was your own way of protecting him.

"I wasn't trying t'protect you when I pushed that guy into the pool." He states, quiet and unsure.

You only hum in reply, allowing him to finish his sentence but letting him know you heard what he said.

" 'was jealous."

What?

"What?" you pull away from him only slightly, “why?"

"I didn't want stupid—" he pauses for the name "Josh, or whatever, t'be the one to take y'home."

You give him a confused look, now that you can see his face. Not putting two and two together.

"Josh is great! I love Josh—"

"More than me?" he murmurs, and it clicks.

Oh.

"Of course not... Harry," you hesitate, watching his eyes move between your own and his jaw clench.

Is this happening?

"I wanted," his shaky hand finds your arm, sliding down to take hold of your own, equally shaky left hand to toy with your fingers.

"I wanted t'take you home. Crawl into bed with you. Whatever else." he finishes. His stomach is in butterflies by now and he feels the tight, anxiety feeling in his lungs.

It catches him completely off guard when your lips are on his.

When you try to pull away, scared you've overstepped, his mouth only follows your own and his hand rises to your jaw to hold you steady. He feels a weight lifted from his shoulders, holding you, kissing you, like this. This is what he's needed.

When you finally do pull away, it's to go inside. Harry erupts in happy laughter when you make a beeline up the stairs. Nothing happens though, it's too soon and Harry agrees, but that doesn't stop you from curling into Harry's sheets, cuddling and kissing each other while watching one of your favourite films.

Catching up on missed time.

***

The wedding reception.

How did we end up here?

"Honestly," Harry speaks loudly to the crowd of your family and friends within the dinner hall "I have two people to thank for sealing the deal."

You smile wildly, knowing exactly which story he's about to bring up. Your eyes travel through the table groups you and Harry had spent so much time planning out. When your eyes catch with Mitch's he gives you a wink.

"Anne, my beautiful Mother, thank you for not letting me coward out of finally telling my girl how I felt," he pauses, you place a hand on his knee

"And Josh—"

You can't hold back the laugh, especially when the entire room turns to face the poor, completely unsuspecting victim. Josh, face red and confused smile on his lips.

"Years ago, when I pushed you into that pool at your birthday party because— you would've killed me if I didn't run! Because you were talking to her and I got jealous!" the room is erupting in laughter.

The room is full of the most important people in your's and Harry's lives. Still though, your happy eyes are glued to Harry, working the small crowd of people as per usual and telling a story about the time of and before quarantine; of when you'd basically moved in with him and never left.

Later, when you're wrapped in warm blankets and Harry's arms, you're reflecting on your day. The guests, who you'd talked to, what you'd heard.

"Wow. I'm married." he dumbfounds.

Wow is right.

"We're married." you restate for him, giving his hand a soft squeeze.

"Wow. I'm married to my best friend.”

Giggles boil over in the dark room. Harry is astonished suddenly, pupils blown, wide grin on his face. He presses quick kisses to the side of your face and you snuggle into his side more.

"I think we win, H."

#i feel like this was sorta rushed but hskdjsks it’s fine #can you tell i love the zane lowe interview #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #fineline #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles friends to lovers #harry styles marriage #request #not edited

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shokami · 3 years

Text

featuring tsukishima, kenma, oikawa, and semi

genre fluff

word count 1.7k

tsukishima kei

if anyone were to be asked “do you think tsukishima likes to cuddle?” their answer would most definitely be no. which is false.

although he will always tease you about it first and foremost, he secretly enjoys his cuddling time with you.

the teasing has to happen, because it is almost always you who’s trying to initiate the cuddling first.

tsukki thinks that if he were to try to cuddle with literally anyone else, he would hate it. it isn’t because he’s not a people person, but because he’s only ever really cuddled with you. so he’s accustomed to the way you cuddle.

cuddling usually starts when you’re both in the middle of your movie binging, and you’ll be all wrapped up in blankets and eating snacks.

you always curl up underneath his arm, and cuddle into his side— or try to find a way to weasel your way into his lap.

your attempts at trying to get as physically close to him as possible, never fail to amuse him. he scoffs at your effort, and repositions you in a way that’s more comfortable for the two of you.

when it comes to finally sleeping, you’re still cuddled underneath his arm but he’ll pull you in more so that you can lay on his chest and entangle yourself with him.

you’re definitely a mess of limbs together.

slowly peaking your eyes open, you squinted at the absurdly bright rays of light that shined through the curtains. that was your que to finally get out of bed, and start your day.

against what tsukishima would have wanted, had he been awake— you decided to try and squirm your way out from under his grasp. you knew he hated that you were an early bird, he detests that about you everyday and he isn’t afraid to tell you.

as you attempted to wiggle out of the bed, you knew there was no way for you to escape his hold on you without waking him up. always unfortunate for you, considering he was a very grumpy morning person.

you could always smooth it over with a few good morning kisses though, he seemed to enjoy those.

just as you thought you could make it, you were almost out of arm's reach when the familiar cold fingers grasped around your wrist and pulled you back down on top of him. “where do you think you’re going?”

“i wanna go shower, tsukki.” you groaned, already hearing the annoyance in his voice before even seeing his expression. “you could always get your lazy butt up, and come with.”

he groaned, tossing you to the side and pulling you into his chest in a new position. “why can’t we ever sleep in? you have an annoying sleeping pattern.”

“it’s not annoying! you just want to sleep in until 10, every weekend. we lose time like that.”

“yeah, obviously. that’s how time works.”

“tsukishima kei.”

“shut up. go back to sleep, and you can be cute later.”

another sigh, and you relaxed against tsukishima and the pillows once more. there was no use in trying to defy his need to sleep in, you wouldn’t win.

kozume kenma

the two of you are always cuddling, there is no doubt about that. not one bit.

if you aren’t cuddling, you’re still finding a way to be physically touching. touch starvation is very real, and you probably both have it.

when it comes to actually cuddling though, kenma prefers to either be the little spoon or be laying between your legs / on your stomach.

it’s actually your preferred way of sleeping too, as you’re both usually on your phones, or kenma is playing a game that you’re not really paying attention to.

you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair, scrolling through one of your social media apps, and without realizing it he’s drifted off to sleep with his arm wrapped around your waist and his head tucked into your stomach.

this is the comfiest sleeping position, but if either of you tosses and turns in your sleep it’s likely that the direct cuddling will stop.

but, the two of you will still have physical contact. kenma will either hold your hand from the opposite side of the bed, or you’ll still be close enough that your leg is brushing against his underneath the pile of blankets.

eventually though, you’ll probably roll over behind him and koala yourself against his back before repeating the cycle of tossing and turning again.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“kenma make it stop.” you pulled the blanket up over your head, cursing the alarm.

he made no noise, or movement— sleeping through the sound as if the room was silent.

you didn’t know why either of you ever had it set, it wasn’t like the two of you ever woke up at a decent hour. especially not when the god awful sound of it started screaming at you. it was always shut off, and tossed to the side. you made a mental note to tell kenma that you should just throw it out.

“KENMA! ALARM. OFF.”

finally snapping out of his sleep, he sat up startled by the noise of the alarm and your irritated sleepy voice. quickly slapping at the alarm on the nightstand, he silenced the beeping. climbing underneath the blankets to get closer to you in the dark room, you offered him a tired smile.

it was going to be another one of those days, where you continue to convince each other to sleep in just a little longer each hour. the previous nights antics, of screaming at the television screen at the new game you both decided to play, you were both overly exhausted and craved sleep. again.

“what time did the clock say?” you asked, pecking a kiss to his nose.

“11:30 a.m,” he closed his eyes once more, snuggling into you. “wanna sleep in longer?”

“i thought you’d never ask, kenken.”

oikawa tooru

he is almost always the big spoon. he loves how you fit into his arms, and feeling like he can protect you from the world.

it definitely gives him a certain type of satisfaction that he never really knew he needed, until he got to cuddle in bed with you for the first time.

oikawa being the big spoon helps him feel needed. which is something that he needs a lot of constantly, honestly.

however, there are times when you get to be the big spoon.

these times come after he’s had long tiresome practices, particularly hard days, or after losing a match.

more often than not, you end up in this sleeping position because he asked, or you came into the bedroom after he was already dozing off.

either way, you will always gladly oblige and climb into bed after him.

you always make sure to play with his hair, by softly brushing it away from his face

you were enjoying the body heat that was radiating off of oikawa, the warmth spread through you in the most comforting way. your internal clock could sense that the sun was rising, and ultimately you knew what came with that. that didn’t stop your unconscious mind hoping for the opposite though. you knew oikawa had already had a rough practice the day before, and you wanted nothing more than to keep him in your arms and rest for the morning.

that fantasy was quickly shattered.

the weight of the bed began to shift, and your arms were slowly unwrapped from his torso. attempting his move from the bed, you decided to take matters into your own hands. with ease, you softly grasped the back of his t-shirt and pulled him back down to the surface.

a surprised groan, followed by soft laughter; oikawa stared down at you as if you were a sleepy child. “angel face, i have to get ready for practice.”

“no, just a little while longer… please?” you pleaded, pulling the best performance with your pouty face.

with a soft kiss, oikawa collapsed fully into your arms once more. “20 minutes,” he told you sternly.

an hour passed by, and he was still in bed with you. he just can’t say no to that face. he hates the way you pout, and use it against him.

semi eita

if he wants to cuddle, you better be prepared for him to be grumpy about it.

he doesn’t know how to directly ask you for cuddles without being awkward, or sound demanding.

usually, he’ll just lay beside you and give you very indirect gestures that he assumes you’ll know mean that it’s affection time. ( you've picked up on the indirect hints he gives you.)

it’s very rare that semi will cuddle in any position that doesn’t involve him on top of you.

similar to kenma, he will lay between your legs with his chin resting on your stomach or your chest and just hold you like that.

he is also a very touchy cuddler, meaning he will rub your thigh, your sides, and play with your hair. whatever he can touch, he will. his love language is heavily dependent on touch.

when you’re finally falling asleep wrapped up in one another, he will most likely find a comfy position to lay with his head still on your chest.

we call this position the cradle.

the moment you began to stir, you could tell you were alone in bed. you were no longer intertwined with semi, but you could hear the distant noises of rustling around in the kitchen.

it wasn’t uncommon for semi to wake up before you, sneak out of your grasp, and go on to make a cup of coffee for himself or the both of you. he never wanted to wake you up early, because you looked so peaceful sleeping that he didn’t want to ruin that.

however, that did not stop him from peaking his head into the room to see if you were awake yet. as if on que, you heard the creek of the bedroom door followed by light footsteps.

“eita,” you opened one eye, looking up to see semis drowsy expression staring back at you. “come back to bed, baby. we can sleep in.”

“... but it’s already 7 a.m.”

“7 a.m is really early. we don’t have anything to do today, right?”

“no.”

“so… sleepy time, again?”

semi rolled his eyes, knowing that you would just keep asking if he didn’t climb back into bed. he didn’t know why he bothered waking up early, if you were just going to guilt him into bed again with puppy eyes.

“you’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?” he asked you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the palm of your hand.

a/n this was not supposed to be this long, and this is what it turned out to be... tooth rotting fluff. very nice maki

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kitsunekissesxo · 4 years

Text

Demon Bros Pet Names HCs and Scenarios

Demon Brothers Pet Names Headcanons and Kiss Scenarios

Summary: Headcanons of the brother’s petnames for you, vice versa, gender neutral MC, fluff kisses <3

Warnings: Implied nsfw, suggestive, somewhat explicit

Lucifer:

Oh, Lucifer. This man may seem cold but on the inside, and when the two of you are alone, he’s the biggest softie. Like, big softie.

His pet names are more...traditional, if you will. He absolutely despises pet names such as baby, babe, honey, etc., so don’t expect him to use them. If you use them on him, expect a wrinkled nose and a grimace.

His personal favorites are my beloved, my rose, my darling, my love, my dear. He’s very possessive of you and intends to make sure his pet names for you further prove that.

He allows you to call him Luci and LuLu when you’re alone, and, even though he vehemently denies it, he finds it incredibly endearing. Other than that, he isn’t very fond of pet names for himself.

However, he simply adores when you call him your love. He might be possessive of you, but it fills him with so much pride knowing that you want others to know he’s yours as well.

During sex, you 100% call him Daddy and Sir if you’re into that. If not, his love-making is so intense that you can only manage to utter out his name- and he loves that. It really strokes his ego wink wink

Lucifer absolutely adores calling you princess/my prince during sex, no matter what the mood is. He finds the way it makes your face flush irresistible.

“Luuuuciiiiii,” you whined out impatiently, attempting to get your boyfriend’s attention. He’d had his nose stuck in paperwork for hours now and you were in some serious need of attention. “You haven’t so much as looked up at me in the past, like, 10 hours,” you pouted.

Finally he raised his head to lock eyes with you. Dark circles marred his beautifully pale skin, showing the effect of the overwhelming workload he was forcing himself to push through. You felt your heart ache at the sight of him, all signs of impatience leaving you to be replaced with a look of worry.

He gave you a weak smile while resting his head in his hand. All you wanted was to wrap him up in your arms and play with his hair as he napped against your chest. So that’s exactly what you went to do- love him.

You stepped towards him, his tired eyes looking up at you quizically.

“My love, please take a break. You’re exhausted. Please,” you softly pleaded, reaching your hand out to hold his cheek, thumb swiping back and forth soothingly.

He closed his eyes and pressed himself into your hand, letting out a content sigh, bringing his own hand up to hold yours to his face. Your heart swelled with love- early on the in the relationship, he’d flinch when you’d try to touch him. Now he treasured every carress you had to offer.

“Come here darling,” he murmured, motioning for you to climb into his lap. You did as he asked, straddling his lap and lacing your hands together at the nape of his neck.

The way he looked at you with such adoration made your heart race. You leaned down to capture his lips in a sweet, loving kiss. His hands came up to press you closer to him, one hand threading into your hair and the other pressing on your lower back. Your fingers played with the hair on the nape of his neck.

He pulled away slightly to whisper against your lips,

“You always know how to stir up these feelings in me, my dear.”

Mammon:

This man adores the cheesy petnames. Like the tsundere he is though, he denies it with a blush so intense it reaches his ears.

He doesn’t even use petnames for you when your relationship first begins. The tsundere is strong with this one.

At first, it seems like all he ever wants to call you is “his human”. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed

Until one fateful day, he called you. You picked up the phone eagerly and to your surprise he uttered out a, “Hey babe, are ya busy right now? Ya better not be- come to my room asap.”

Needless to say, you could have sworn your heart skipped a beat

Mammon’s pet names of choice include, but aren’t limited to, sugar, baby doll, dollface, doll, baby, babe, honey bun/honey bunny

He loves anything that will make you smile, though. It’s his favorite thing in the whole world.

During intimate times he mainly sticks to calling you baby and baby doll, expect him to desperately moan that into the crook of your neck as he begs you to continue

He blushes, stammers, tells you to stop, but then tells you to not stop when you call him pet names. He not-so-secretly loves it, and you know it.

You like to call him mammonie, monmon, baby/babe, handsome, and my prince. Just to mess with him and to see that cute flush of red on his gorgeous tan skin. It’s also undeniably cute and cheesy

During sex, he absolutely adores being called baby boy. It really gets him going. This boy is a sub

You were scribbling school notes in your notepad, studying for the upcoming exam when your D.D.D rang. You sighed, setting your pencil down and reaching for your D.D.D to see who was interrupting your study session.

It was Mammon.

Of course it was. You adored him, you really did, but his timing was pretty awful. You answered and put the phone up to your ear with your shoulder so you could continue copying down some notes that Satan so generously lent you.

“Yo, yo, yo! Babe, are ya busy? Ya better not be- come to my room asap!” He exclaimed happily.

The phone fell from your shoulder and onto your notepad. You had felt your heart skip a beat. He called you babe.

“U-uh...MC? MC??? That was an accident. I aint mean it. Just...come to my room. Hello? Human, are ya even there??” He stammered on nervously.

You scrambled to pick the phone up, responding in a teasing tone, “Mammon. Three things. 1: I heard that. 2: I’m studying. 3: I heard you call me that.”

You could hear him huff on the other end. He was seriously too cute, too easily flustered.

“Just drop it, wouldja? I aint mean it! Now get your ass over here- I dont care if you’re studying. No one makes The Great Mammon wait!!”

You could practically see him puff his chest out. You just wanted to engulf him in a hug and ruffle his snowy locks so badly.

With a grin, you taunted, “Okay, babe. I’ll be right over.”

You hung up just as he began to sputter and protest, checked yourself in the mirror, sprayed some perfume/cologne on, and began to make your way to Mammon’s room.

As you reached Mammon’s room, you thanked all your lucky stars that you didn’t run into any of the brothers. Without warning, you swung Mammon’s door open, and he jumped with a shriek.

“Jeez, ya scared the livin’ evil outta me, human!” he exclaimed, clutching his t-shirt near his heart. His cheeks were already tinted a lovely blushed hue against his beautifully tanned skin.

“Awww, sorry Monmon. Didn't mean to startle you,” you poked, watching as he crossed his arms over his chest, beginning to protest that you didn't, in fact, frighten him.

You quickly leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on his lips. He froze, and you could practically hear his heart race. You pulled away, both hands coming up to the nape of his neck as he just stared at you, mouth slightly open, his face bright red.

“You worry too much, baby.” You teased him, a smile playing on your lips.

And then he leaned in to return your kiss, hands settling on your lower back gingerly

Needless to say, he began to “accidentally” continue to call you endless pet names. He really did love them and you

Leviathan:

Please, for the love of all things unholy, please let this shy boy call you silly pet names. He adores them, simply because it makes you giggle, and he loves knowing that he’s the one making you laugh

Levi appears as though he doesn’t feel shame, but we know he just hides it really well. However, he still rambles to anyone and everyone about Ruri-chan and anime, so he won’t mind you using pet names for eachother around other people

Because of his anxiety though, he probably won’t be too keen on that idea at first. Will his brothers laugh at him? Surely they’ll think he’s gross and creepy regarding his choice of pet names, right? Wrong. Ensure to him that he doesn’t have to do anything that he isn’t comfortable with, and if anyone judges them then they’re just normies. He’ll love you forever.

Levi’s most used pet names for you are sunshine, cutie, snookums, goofball, and player 2

Sunshine is his personal favorite because humans seem to associate happiness with the sun, and you’re his main source of happiness. So why wouldn’t he call you that?

He also refers to you as his player 2 a lot. You’re not only his lover, but his best friend. His partner in crime. His Henry.

Calling him pet names is undoubtedly one of your favorite things. He stutters, blushes such a deep shade of red, and tries to hide his face behind his hands. Please take ahold of wrists, move them from his face, take hold of his face, and place a kiss on his nose. You want Levi.exe to stop working? K.O’d? Do that.

Your favorite pet names for him are Leviachan, cutie, sweetie, handsome devil, baby boy, my sweet prince, etc. Anything that helps boost his confidence is a good pet name in your book.

During sex, Levi would hardly be able to form a coherent sentence, so I imagine your name would fall from his bitten lips like a mantra

If you’re into it, he would be down to call you master/mistress, 100%

Most of the time you call him baby boy and sweet boy and needy during sex. I HC that he’s very submissive and melts at your endearing yet dominating pet names for him.

We also know it’s canon that Levi has a degradation kink- so use it. Call him a whore, pervert, slut, needy bitch. He’ll let out the sweetest whines and whimpers.

“Levi, sweetie, I promise it’s okay. Nothing happened between Mammon and I. We just went shopping,” You gently explained to a very frazzled Levi.

He was sitting in his gaming chair, anime paused, arms crossed, avoiding your gaze, and pouting. A frown also adorned his troubled features.

He refused to answer you.

“Levi, please speak to me,” you tried again, reaching out to take ahold of his hand.

You offered your hand to him gingerly. He studied it for a moment, and then, with a blush beginning to spread across his cheeks, he complied and laced his fingers with yours. He heaved a sigh as you swiped your thumb against his hand soothingly.

“I know, MC. I trust you. It just makes my blood boil knowing you’re out with him instead of being with me....I don’t really blame you though, I guess. I’m a gross and yucky otaku. I wouldn’t want to hang out with me either,” he grumbled, his voice cracking near the end, along with your heart. You wished so badly he wouldn’t talk so down on himself all the time.

It was time to show Levi just how much he meant to you.

You surged forward to engulf your serpent-like boyfriend in a bone-crushing hug. He let out a squeak, his arms coming up in surprise.

“Leviachan, I wish you saw how much I love you. I love spending time with you. I love playing games with you. I love watching anime with you. I love listening to you rant and ramble about them. I love how passionate you are. You’re so cute when you get like that, yknow?” You murmured to him with as much love as you could muster.

Suddenly his arms were wrapped around you, hugging you tightly to him. He planted a kiss on the top of your head before nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“You normie,” he whispered, “you’re really too much. I think you’re the only person who can find my ranting endearing.”

You pulled away with a pretend frown on your face, lacing your fingers with his once more.

“Normie? Again? Really Leviachan? In what way am I a normie?” You prodded, grinning at him.

He blushed, looking down at your intertwined hands.

“I suppose you’re not really that much of a normie. You do nerd out with me, to be fair...” He grinned back at you- a genuine grin, at that. It warmed your heart.

Before you could say anything else, Levi surged forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips. It was gone as soon as it was there. You blinked, wide eyed at him. His face was ablaze- you didn’t think you had ever seen him so flushed. You didn’t even know he had the confidence in him to do that.

In a rare moment of softness, he whispered

“I love you, sunshine. I really do. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my player 2.”

Satan:

Satan is the absolute best in the business at hiding his true intentions; after all, all smiles are an act

Except... you actually stir up feelings of love within him, and it drives his curiosity through the roof

He appears to be very confident so his brothers opinions don’t really matter to him. He’s also awfully petty, so I imagine he moreso uses pet names for you around them to simply dangle in their faces that only he can do that

That doesn’t change the fact that every time you use a pet name for him, hes face flushes an adorable red before he sorts himself out

His favorite pet names for you are sweetheart, kitten, darling, little kitty, gorgeous, wildflower, and my sweet girl/sweet boy

We all know this man is into pet play, so his most used nicknames for you are kitten and little kitty. During and not during intimate times.

During sex, Satan calls you all sorts of endearing terms- he’s a master of dirty talking. It’s filthy yet simultaneously charming. Kitten, darling, and your name roll off of his tongue the most. If you’re into it, he will definitely degrade you, calling you a needy whore, filthy slut, cumslut, cumrag, fuck toy, you name it and he’ll use it. He’d most likely be opposed to calling you a bitch- it feels too hurtful for him.

You love to call him handsome, my bookworm, stud(teasingly), good looking, and babe/baby. Each and every one earns a chuckle and a momentary blush from him, so it’s definitely worth it.

Want his attention when he’s too busy reading? Call out his name a few times- he can hear you, but he chooses to ignore you. Bring out the pet names and he’ll be burying his blushing face into his book, completely flustered. He takes a moment to compose himself before tutting at you. You interrupted his very important reading- how naughty.

When Satan’s feeling dominant, he’s dominant. He demands that you call him Sir or Master during sex. He doesn’t mind being called Daddy, but it doesn’t get him going quite like the other two do. When he’s feeling more submissive, absolutely call him your handsome boy. Pet gets him riled up as well- use it from time to time.

You couldn’t believe just how beautiful the sight in front of you was. The stars in the Devildom seemed to burn brighter and more fiercely than the ones in the human world. You were almost entranced by them, not wanting to tear your eyes away from the gorgeous nighttime sky.

That is, until you felt the hand that was holding yours give a gentle squeeze. You quickly turned your head to make eye contact with his emerald gaze. The main emotion you could see in Satan’s eyes was adoration, and suddenly your heart was being squeezed as well as your hand.

Here you were, taking a late night stroll in the Devildom with Satan, the night sky painted with deep clouds and bright stars, and he was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He had taken you to what appeared to be a park. You walked along the path hand in hand as you took in every little detail. The deep greenish blue bushes were hiding little critters, the pond had a fountain that splashed around the deep blue water, there were bugs that looked and acted an awful lot like lightning bugs(Satan explained that they were practically the same except that these were called Hell Fire Bugs, were only found in the Devildom, and had little horns that adorned their head), there were giant flowers of golden and orange hues everywhere, and, to your delight, there was a little wooden bench sat right in the perfect spot.

“Satan, can we sit down?” You asked with a smile, motioning to the bench. “I love where it’s positioned; you can take in everything perfectly!” You peered up at him to see that a gentle smile was gracing his features.

“Of course we can sit down, darling. Are your legs feeling tired of walking as well?” He pondered. After all, he wasn’t completely sure what a human’s threshold for walking distance was.

“Mm, a little bit,” you admitted, absentmindedly rubbing your arm. You’d gotten so caught up in his presence and the sights around you that you’d only just now noticed the beginning of a burning sensation in your legs.

“That’s a shame. I guess I’ll have to carry you to the bench then, huh, kitten?” He said, flashing you a sly smile.

Protests left your mouth but to no avail. You were already thrown over his shoulder, his long fingers resting on your bum, giving a gentle pat. He was comfortably warm, and you were lying if you said you couldn’t stay in his strong arms forever.

You were giggling, squirming, demanding that he put you down that instant- but you both knew how much you loved it. His grip tightened on you as a warning.

“Kitty, if you keep squirming, I’ll have to punish you. It’s not nice to deny my kind gestures.” He teasingly warned, giving a harsher smack to your bum. And at that, you huffed, but calmed down.

He gently set you down on the bench, caressing your face before sitting down next to you, reaching out to grab ahold of your hand once again. You gladly took his hand in yours, sighing contentedly as he swiped his thumb soothingly against yours.

You leaned in closer to him, pressing against his side, and placed a gentle peck on his cheek. His skin was so soft, so warm. Welcoming. You couldn’t have felt more safe, more comfortable, more at home than you did in this moment. He let out a light chuckle.

“Are you happy now?” He murmured, snaking an arm around your waist to pull you flush against his side. You curled your arms around his arm closest to you, resting your head on his broad shoulder. You breathed in deeply, taking in his calming scent. He smelled like old books and tea. “I couldn’t be happier.” You whispered out. Your heart was so full, you could hardly take it.

“Good, I’m glad,” He warmly responded, and began to absentmindedly play with your hair as you both enjoyed the scenery in a comfortable silence.

“Hey, Satan?” You gingerly asked after a few minutes. He gave a hum in response.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” You admitted, feeling your face heat up.

He craned his neck to peer down at you, you pulling away gently to look at him.

“You truly are something else. You want to stay with me, a demon, forever? Are you sure about that?” He inquired, secretly hoping you wouldn’t backtrack. And you didn’t.

“I’ve never been more sure in my life. I love you.” You whispered back.

His only response were gentle hands coming up to cup your face, his lips softly melting against yours.

Asmodeus:

Naturally, as the Avatar of Lust, pet names are his forte. He calls you pet names about as often as he tries to cop a feel- so, very often

He loves using them in front of anyone and everyone, shame just isn’t a word in his vocabulary. He finds cute nicknames incredibly endearing and genuinely wonders why everyone doesn’t feel the same way about them.

He high-key expects you to use pet names for him as well. Let EVERYONE know he’s your beautiful boy, dammit. Its obvious but it makes him feel happy, so you’re more than willing to comply.

His personal favorite pet names for you include, but aren’t limited to, cherub, dear, little darling, angel face, doll face, honey/hun, bunbun, love bug, lover, and mi amor.

He simply loves to do anything and everything you want him to do to please you, but he expects the same energy in return.

So, during intimate times, if you want him to degrade you he will. It just isn’t his favorite thing to do- he’d rather worship you and make you feel on top of the world with honey dripping words. Therefore, during sex, he prefers to call you darling, baby, baby girl/baby boy, princess/my prince, beautiful, etc. If you want him to call you mommy/daddy, master/mistress, or sir/madam, he absolutely will. Anything to please you.

Your pet names of choice for him include asmobaby, asmo, lover boy, cutie, beau, charmer, eye candy, heart breaker, heart throb, etc.

“How’s my favorite heart breaker doing?” “Feeling a little frisky, are we, lover boy?” “You see that absolute eye candy over there? That’s my boyfriend”

During sex, you call Asmo anything and everything you want. He’s down to try and do anything, so he’s all yours. He’ll do the same for you. However, he does love being praised- so please use praising pet names for him like gorgeous, handsome, sexy, etc

The most passionate and intense lover you will ever have, and his endless pet names are only the tip *wink wink* of the iceberg.

For once in the Devildom, you were freezing. Your nose was numb, red, just an icicle, really.

Asmo had dressed you up with a pompom hat, fluffy earmuffs, and a giant puffy coat with gloves to match in attempts to keep you warm in the Devildom’s famous ice rink. Of course, his entire outfit matched yours with a lovely complimentary color. He figured it was enough for him, so surely his little cherub was warm and snug, right? Wrong. Somewhat wrong, anyway. You were still cold and made a point to complain about it to Asmo.

“Dear, I promise I will warm you up as soon as we leave, just please do this for me?” He begged, holding your gloved hands in his own. His pinkish-yellow hued eyes stared into your own hopefully, and you knew you could never turn down those puppy eyes of his.

He cheered excitedly when you agreed and took you by the hand over to the rink. He turned around to face you, an expectant expression on his face. He took your hand and placed his lips on the backside, winking up at you, before murmuring, “Watch and learn mi amor!”

With wide eyes you watched as Asmo skated off, moving with incredible balance and grace. Every move was intentional; he looked stunning in this state. Here he was, skating a lutz, an axel, a salchow, everything. He was professional level talented, and he never told you! And, oh, yes, you. You could skate, but not well.

“Asmobaby, I didn’t know you were so talented at this!” You exclaimed as he approached you, an accomplished smile adorning his features. You skated over to him, his hand reaching out to grab yours as you skated together side by side.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I love how graceful it looks,” he responded, as you noticed how the tip of his nose was beginning to turn red. His breathing was still a little irregular, his breath coming out in puffs, the cold making the cloud of breath visible. He was so beautiful.

“Darling, if you keep staring at me like that, I won’t be able to control myself,” he teased, squeezing your hand.

You quickly averted your eyes, your face flushing at being caught.

“Oh, don't be embarrassed, MC! There’s nothing wrong with admiring beauty! I do it with you all the time, you know.” He winked, and you had to slap away a wandering hand, leaving a very pouty Asmo.

You attempted to get closer to give him a kiss to make up for it, but you lost your balance, falling right onto your bum. Asmo gasped, made sure you were okay, and then giggled at you.

“Asmo!! I just fell!! On ice!! And you’re laughing!” you feigned offense, resting your hand over your chest. “And I was going to give you a kiss, too!”

Asmo leaned down to help you up, murmuring, “You can’t help but fall for my charming self, hm, love bug?”, and pressed a loving kiss to your chilly lips. His nose bumped against yours, somehow still warm to the touch. You were so enraptured by his lips that you hadn’t even realized he’d gotten you back on your feet.

“How about we...continue this later?” Asmo whispered as you pulled away.

“Oh, you better. You promised to warm me up, lover boy” You huffed, beginning to skate off with him again. “Don’t have to ask me twice, doll. I’ll show you my love allllll night. Now, watch this next trick- it’s absolutely stunning!”

Beelzebub:

This wholesome boy honestly doesn’t understand pet names at first

“Why would I call you a baby, MC, you’re clearly a grown human??”

Even after you explain it to him, he still doesn’t really get it, but it makes you happy, and he’ll do anything to make you happy

When you tell him that he doesn’t have to call you baby/babygirl/babyboy, that he can use almost anything, he lights up.

“My cheesebur-” “No, Beel, anything but that”

Once he somewhat gets the gist of petnames, his preferred ones for you are love muffin, pumpkin, cookie, honey, sweetheart, gum drop, and cupcake

Occasionally calls you his cheeseburger just to enjoy your reaction

Please, please, please, don’t be mean about it. this baby's feelings are hurt so easily and he always means well

You favorite pet names for him are Beel, beelzeburger, big guy/big boy, bunny,/honey bun, bonbon, sweet boy, honeybee, Cookie Monster, and handsome

Each time you call him something other than his name, he blushes profusely, his lips upturned in a happy smile

Adores everything you call him, even if its incredibly cheesy because he loves cheese you chose those pet names for him specifically, and he feels honored

During sex, he’s so focused on how good it feels and trying to not hurt you that anything that comes to mind rolls off of his tongue when he speaks, which isn’t often

mainly calls you by your name, but he loves to use babygirl/babyboy if you like it

he also prefers for you to call out his name, as other names don’t really do much for him. if you’re into it, though, I'm sure he won't mind if you call him daddy. will be incredibly confused the first time you gasp it out though

“Huh? Is your father here? Or did you call me that? You’re not my child, though...?”

The music was loud- blaring, actually, and your head was beginning to ache.

Lord Diavolo was holding a party at his castle, with almost every one of his friends invited- it was a huge party. Everyone was sat down at tables or were out on the dance floor. Lucifer was chatting it up with Barbatos, Simeon, Luke(who was just following Simeon around), and Lord Diavolo, Satan was sipping some demonus while flipping through the pages of a book, absentmindedly chatting with Solomon, Mammon and Asmo were participating in some dance competition, Levi was playing his switch with his headphones on, and Belphie was napping on Beel’s shoulder.

You were sitting at the table with Satan and Solomon, feeling particularly uninterested in their talk of spells and magic. The music was nice, and Mammon and Asmo looked like they were having fun, but you didn’t have the energy to tear it up on the dance floor. You heaved a sigh, feeling insufferably bored.

And that’s when your eyes landed on Beel. Belphie had his cow print pillow resting in the crook of Beel’s neck, snuggling himself into Beel. He was zonked. And poor Beel was munching on whatever food he had left on his plate, looking just as bored as you- at this rate, he wouldn’t have any food left, and soon.

Making your mind up, you got up from the table and made your way over to Beel. As you got closer, Beel lifted his head at your approaching footsteps and smiled when he saw that it was you- you swore it made your heart beat faster.

“Gum drop! I was wondering when you would come over.” He smiled, motioning for you to take the seat next to him. Belphie continued to snooze on.

“Actually, Beel, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the kitchen with me? Your supply on food is low, cookie monster ..” You murmured in his ear. He nodded, and went to wake up Belphie. Talking to him didn’t work, shaking didn’t work, nothing did. Beel carefully moved Belphie’s pillow on the table, his head now resting on Beel’s shoulder, and then gently moved Belphie’s head to rest on his pillow. He continued his little cat nap, completely unbothered.

Beel stood up, took your hand in his, and led you to kitchen.

You lifted yourself up on the counter to sit, watching as Beel opened every cabinet and drawer, rummaging for something else to devour. He finally made his way to the fridge and freezer, and let out a delighted laugh when he discovered a pint of hellish nightshade ice cream.

“Wanna share?” He asked, smiling and showing you the ice cream container.

“Uh, Beel, can humans even eat nightshade? Won’t it kill me?” You inquired, fairly sure that nightshade would kill you dead.

“Oh, no, it won’t. Barbatos said there’s different kinds of nightshade that won’t hurt humans and Lord Diavolo made sure that everything here is human-proof!” He happily exclaimed, already grabbing two spoons.

If it did kill you, well, that was Lucifer’s problem because you were gonna enjoy some ice cream with your boyfriend.

Beel began to happily eat the sweet treat, you taking bites whenever you could get your spoon in. He noticed you were having some troubles and shyly apologized, retreating his spoon so you could get a good bite.

And oh, you did. It was a heaping spoonful, resulting in ice cream getting on the corners of your mouth. You didn’t know why Beel was suddenly staring ravenously at you instead of the ice cream.

“You have ice cream on your mouth,” he murmured, leaning in closer to you, his face inches away from yours. Your breath sped up.

“Wanna help me clean it off?” Was all you needed to ask before his mouth was on yours, delicately licking off the ice cream. His hands rested gently on your waist, your own hands resting on his broad shoulders. He pulled back gently, a buzzing sound emanating from him.

“I always love your taste,” he exclaimed happily, blush spreading across his cheeks.

You leaned back in for another syrupy sweet kiss, Beel all too happy to oblige.

Belphegor:

ah, our favorite eboy

he thinks pet names are cute and he really enjoys them, but he’ll never outwardly say that. he might mention it to you when you’re half asleep, though

gets all blushy blushy uwu when you use them around other people, but he doesn't mind. don't expect him to use them on you around other people, though- that's mostly for when you're alone

when he's really happy to see you or really sleepy he’ll use pet names for you regardless of who is around

he finds it to be very intimate so he likes keeping it to yourselves

his favorite pet names for you are dork, cuddle bug, star, teddy bear, and pillow pet

he loves stars and stargazing, and especially loves stargazing with you so he figured why not combine two things he loves and call you his star

he also loves to snuggle you, so you're practically his personal teddy bear- and he wouldnt have it any other way

you're favorite pet names for him are cowboy, Little Dipper, cuddle monster, snuggle bug, belpharoo, belphie/belpie, and sleepy prince

during sex, belphie likes to call you his cowgirl when he's feeling more dom. he seems like a bratty power bottom/sub, so he’ll call you master/mistress, mommy/daddy if you like that, but he’ll give you shit for it. other than that, your name falls from his lips in breathy moans and whines

you tend to call him baby boy, sweet prince, brat, good/bad boy, naughty boy during sex. he loves being called a bad/naughty boy, PLEASE do it, it really gets him going

You woke with a start, eyes blinking a few times as you looked around you. You had fallen asleep in the Planetarium. stargazing with Belphie. Oh yeah, Belphie. You turned your head to see he was still fast asleep, holding onto your arm with a death grip. You knew waking him would be fun.

“Belphie? Bellphiiieeeee...” You whispered in his ear, which earned you a little bit of stirring from him.

“Belpharooooo, it’s wakey time,” You said a bit more loudly, beginning to rub his shoulder.

His eyes fluttered open sleepily, his amethyst gaze meeting yours warmly. He stretched his arms out with an adorably soft yawn, his shirt riding up to expose his soft yet toned abdomen. He gave you a sleepy smile.

“I love waking up to the sight and sound of you, teddy bear” he murmured out, clinging onto you once again, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Your own arm was wrapped around him, the other coming up to lazily play with his hair. He let out an almost purring sound, attempting to get as close to you as possible.

“Uh uh, Belphie, we can’t go back to sleep yet. We’re still in the Planetarium- let’s go to bed, okay my sleepy prince?” You cooed, patting his back to get him to sit up.

With a huff, he sat up, but demanded you pull him up by his arms, giving you the sweetest smile in return. He complained the entire way to his and Beel’s room, his hand gripping yours loosely as you lead him forward.

Beel wasn’t there when you arrived which disappointed you both a bit, but you figured he’d be back soon and with some snacks, too, so that was a plus.

Immediately Belphie flopped onto his bed, hardly giving you enough time to crawl into bed beside him before he cocooned himself with blankets. He turned to face you, eyes glazed over, and yawned once more. You yawned in return, the both of you giggling. His amethyst eyes never left you, even when his hair fell into his face. You gently brushed the strands of navy blue hair out of his eyes, giving him a soft smile as his own hand came up to keep your hand pressed against his face. He nuzzled into your hand, sighing happily, before you wrapped your arms around him loosely.

“Goodnight, teddy bear” he murmured as you both drifted off to sleep once more.

A few hours had passed when you woke again , only to find that Belphie had not only pushed you to the edge of the bed, but had also stolen all of the covers and blankets. You were chilly without either of those.

You shook him, earning a groan from the sleepy demon.

“Belphie I love you but I swear I will execute you if you don’t give some blankets back” you lightheartedly threatened, opting to lay your body across his.

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” he murmured, nuzzling further into his pillows.

“Oh no, you don’t. I literally have no covers! You have all of them! I’m freezing!” you exclaimed desperately.

He poked his head out of his cocoon, a mischievous glint in those amethyst eyes, his hair sticking up in random spots.

“If you want a blanket so bad, then come get one from me.” He dared you, a smile playing on his sleepy features.

You immediately began your assault by tickling his sides, which resulted in him laughing, gasping, and trying to swat you away. You began giggling with him, not stopping your violent attack on the poor helpless demon. Your torture went on for a few minutes before he finally gave in.

“Okay, okay! I give in! You can have all the blankies you want, I swear!” he puffed out heavily, tears forming in his eyes from being tickled and laughing so much.

You smiled triumphantly as he let you into his little blanket cocoon, immediately becoming engulfed by warmth and his scent. You were waiting for both of your breaths to even out as you heard a low voice say,

“Hey, I know you guys love each other and all but it’s 4am and I’m kinda trying to sleep”

You looked at Belphie, holding back a giggle as he gave an apology to poor Beel.

You snuggled up to Belphie once again, beginning to feel sleep take over your body for the 3rd time that day. You fell asleep before Belphie, so you never felt the soft kiss he planted on your forehead and the sweetest “I love you so much” he whispered in your ear.

I hope you enjoyed this! I loved finally writing for all of the brothers- It was so much fun figuring out how to incorporate their personality into my own writing style. Let me know if you’d like me to do a version of this with the undateables! As always, all feedback is appreciated. <3

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jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-My Little Slytherin- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

♡~🐍~♡

Request: hi! could you please do a fluff where the reader gets jealous of another girl flirting with draco and he stays the night in the reader’s dorm room to make it up to her or something like that? you can change the ending if it’s easier for you. thank you~

Kody- “he stays the night in the reader’s dorm room to make it up to her or something like that?” feels smutty, but at the same time not everyone likes smut. So i'll write two alternative endings. A fluff and a smut. I also don’t condone Astoria Greengrass slander, but it’s needed for the story, i’m sorry.

Warning: Sexual and Mature themes. s i n. I mean- yikes. Both characters are 18 in this story.

House: Slytherin

♡~🐍~♡

the best days at Hogwarts were free days. Being able to catch up on missed homework was great, or hang out with friends you didn’t usually see on your busy school schedule, but today you were doing none of those things. You will be spending all day with your lovely boyfriend.

well not all day. Draco had Quidditch practice early this morning, but it should have finished about 10 minutes ago. So you were walking out of Hogwarts and making your way towards the Quidditch field. You had a skip in your step as you walked, excited to have your boyfriend around.

you saw a couple of the Slytherin players land on the ground, high fiving each other and whatnot. ‘guess it was a good practice’ you thought. You gaze around the field, looking for your boyfriend. “You were great out there, Draco” you heard a voice say, turning your head in the direction. You see Astoria Greengrass.

she was holding Draco’s bicep and was practically drooling all over him. You could feel your eye twitch in irritation, she was always around Draco. You swore she was more obsessed with him then Pansy Parkinson was. Which was a lot, but at least Pansy stopped when you two started going out.

the pale boy gave her a polite smile “Thank you, Greengrass” he says and ran a hand through his platinum blond hair. “Aw Draco. You can call me Astoria!” she smiles a sickenly sweet smile. He nods slowly and grabs her hand removing it from his bicep “Thank you, Astoria, but i have to go find my girlfriend” he spoke.

‘damn right he does’ you thought. Astoria puts on a pout “but you never hang out with me anymore. Y/n stole you away from me. Just talk to me for a bit, yeah?” she whines, making her sound like a mandrake root that had just been pulled. You watched Draco’s conflicted face ‘oh he better not’

look you weren’t jealous, okay maybe a little, but it’s only because even after you both started dating Astoria still continued to try and ask out Draco. You understood her feelings, but she was being entirely disrespectful and didn’t consider yours like you did hers.

so you told Draco, until she learned to be a normal person and deal with her feelings that he couldn’t hang out with her. It seems rude, but the girl would take an inch and stretch it for a mile. She needed a Draco detox basically. It’s not like he was being rude to her in like a ‘go away’ way. More ‘sorry, but i have go’

Draco sighed and gave her a small smile “She doesn’t seem to be here yet, so yeah we can talk” and you had lost all hope for your boyfriend right then and there. You regain your composure and activate ‘Petty Y/n’ mode. You walk right past the two, catching the attention of the pale boy.

“Y/n! i thought you weren’t coming?” you heard him say. You turn your head and watch as Astoria’s face twist into one of annoyance ‘yeah whatever bitch’ “Oh you seem to be busy, so i’ll catch up with you later” you say, putting on a smile that Draco knew was fake.

he looks at Astoria then you, opening his mouth to speak, but before he could. You turned and made your way towards Blaise Zabini.

♡~🐍~♡

and just like that you completely blew off the Slytherin boy all day. A couple of times you caught yourself going up to him to apologize, but would turn all the way back around because he was still with Astoria. Letting her flirt with him and grab him. Okay yeah, you were definitely jealous.

it was getting late and you were changing into your pajamas to lay down and get some rest. You slipped the long shirt over your head just as a knock came to your door. Straightening the shirt you realize it was one of Draco’s and sigh ‘stupid boy’ you thought and go over to your door.

grabbing the handle, you turn it and pull it open revealing the pale boy himself “Draco” you spoke, crossing your arms “I take it your still mad at me?” he asks, leaning against the door frame. “and the boys a genius. What do you want? a cookie?” your sarcasm made him roll his grey eyes.

“you let that girl put her filthy hands all over you, Draco” you scowl at him, but it seems to have no effect considering he just smirked in return “Are you jealous Y/n?” he asked, a cocky expression on his face, knowing he already knew the answer.

♡~🐍~♡

Fluff Ending

you feel your face flush and roll your eyes “Me? Jealous? of what? Greengrass? as if.” your face was small under his gaze. He nods once and takes a step towards you “Good, because your my girlfriend. Not her.” he says and places a hand on your face, turning your chin up to look at him.

“i love you Y/n. Not Astoria or anybody else. I’m sorry that she ruined our day together, but it isn’t exactly over is it?” he asked, his smirk turning into a genuine smile. You nod slowly and he walks into your room, reaching back to shut the door behind him. “You also look really cute in my shirt”

“Yep it isn’t. So i’m spending the night with you as an apology. Only if you’ll allow me of course” he says and you sigh contently “Your lucky i love you Draco Malfoy” you spoke, causing the boy to laugh slightly “Indeed i am” and with that he grabs your hand and leads you to your bed.

you crawl in and lay down on the left side and he does the same on the right. You were about to pull the covers over your body when he grabs your hand. “Yes?” you say and he doesn’t respond. Instead he leans into kiss your lips gingerly. The exchange only lasted a couple of seconds.

“i promise i’ll stay away from Astoria. Your right, she is kind of crazy about me” he sighs and you nod “Her and me both” you joke, causing the pale boy to snicker before pulling your body flush against his. “There’s a difference between the both of you though”

you raise a brow curiously “and that is?” you question. “I can only imagine you wearing an engagement ring, wearing a nice black dress as you walk down an aisle towards me, saying i do and having a family with” your caught a bit off guard by his words. He imagined his whole life being with you?

“you just have this all planned out, huh?” he nods confidently. “Of course i do. It’s me after all, you know how dramatic i am. Now, get some sleep Mrs. Malfoy” he spoke, making your face flush again. He notices your pink face and grins slightly “Cute” he mumbles.

you feel his arm wrap itself around you and rub circles on your back, making you hum. You close your eyes leaning into his chest, so close your able to hear the rhythmic beat of his heart. “I love you Draco Malfoy” you mutter and soon enough you were asleep. Draco smiles and closes his eyes as well.

he kept his protective hold on you and felt himself dozing off “I love you too my little Slytherin” and with that the pale boy fell asleep holding his future bride.

♡~🐍~♡

S i n Ending

your face flushed a light pink at his question. “What? no of course not” you sputter out, which didn’t help your argument at all. “Oh you are. That’s really cute” he speaks, his smirk not flattering in the slightest. You roll your eyes “Whatever, don’t you have Astoria to go talk to?”

he rolls his eyes and gazes at your sleepwear “Is that my shirt?” he asked, his hands grabbing at the hem of the shirt “Don’t change the subject Draco!” you swat his hands away making him sigh. “Oh merlin, Y/n you don’t have to be jealous. You know i will always love you”

your stupid face turned a light pink and you turn away “I know” you mumble and feel him grab your hands. “Y/n, look at me” he says and lets go off one of your hands to gently force your chin up to look at him. “How ‘bout i make it up to you, yeah?” his smirk returned to his face.

your face turned a darker shade of pink making the pale boys smirk grow wider “Consent would be lovely” he says in a sing song voice. His hands trailing to your hips to give them a light squeeze. “Y-Yes” you stutter out. The way he had this effect on you was indeed magical.

he captures your lips in his and pull you against his chest. You begin to respond to his rouch kisses with your own, but pull away once you remember that the door was open “the door” you huff out and he uses his foot to push it closed.

then reaches behind it to turn the lock, locking the door. Draco turns back to look at you and smiles before going into kiss you again. The kiss is full of passion and very needy, which you were at this point. The pale boy started to back you up into the foot of your bed.

as you were about to pull away from the kiss Draco grabs the back of your thighs, lifting you from the ground to throw you on your bed. You landed on the bed with a ‘oof’ sound and prop yourself up on your elbows to look up at him. “You look so cute disheveled like that” he coos.

he then crawls over you, straddling your hips as he dips down to your neck. Starting to nip at the sensitive skin, you let out a small whine. You could practically feel the smirk that formed on his face when he heard you. He pulls away to lift your- well his shirt that you were wearing over your head.

he stopped his movements to take in your choice of bra and underwear. “I certainly know i’m going to enjoy this” his voice was low and raspy, need dripping off of every word. You simply observed as he placed a kiss between the valley of your breast and went lower and lower

he left purple love bites in his path until he reached the hem of your underwear. You felt his finger run along your clothed area, making you shiver “Already so wet for me, darling” he hums and hooks his finger into the waistband, pulling them down skillfully.

when they reach your ankles he places a kiss on your caff before throwing them on the floor. “Now, where was i?” he asked and looked down at your now exposed lower half “ah yes, that’s right” the pale boy leans down and plants a kiss on your bundle of nerves, making you squirm under him.

you could hear his cocky laugh as you stare up at the ceiling, unable to look towards the boy. “Eyes on me, love” his voice had an demanding tone and slowly, but surely you look down at him. He gives you a innocent smile “Good” and grabs your thighs, placing them over his shoulders.

you didn’t get a chance to react as the boy licked a long stripe along your core “how sweet” he mumbles all you could do was stare as the Slytherin worked his mouth on you, leaving you a moaning mess under him.

your hand went to his hair to tangle themselves in his platinum blond mess. Your hips began to buck up, trying to get more friction against your lower region. Draco used his hand to hold your hips against the bed “Keep still” he growls and uses his tongue to prod at your entrance.

you let out a huff of pleasure as he pushes the wet muscle inside you “Draco” you breathe out, making the Slytherin boy smirk again “I like hearing my name come from you in a such a lewd way” you felt a knot form in the pit of your stomach as he continues his actions.

“Draco i-”

“Let it all out my little Slytherin”

and you felt the knot burst, your release coming in a wave of euphoria that crashes over your body. “So sweet” you heard him say as he sits up, wiping his chin from you. “Now, let’s sleep” he says, going back to his casual demeanour. You blink a couple times as you sit up as well

he gets up from the bed and begins to look at the ground “What?” you ask and he picks something off the ground “Tonight was about you, not me. Plus i have you all morning tomorrow” he sends you a wink and tosses your underwear to you, which you start to put on.

“I need my shirt” you say, pulling the undergarment over your area. Draco grabs the bottom of his shirt and hands you it, leaving him topless ‘woah’ “I rather you wear that one” he smiles at you and you snicker before slipping the shirt over your head.

Draco climbs in the bed next to you and pulls you down to lay with him. “Hmm now sleep Y/n. You won’t be doing a lot of that tomorrow” he says, his tone going deeper. You roll your eyes as you feel him pull the sheets over you two. “Night darling” he mumbles and kisses the side of your face.

you smile and lay your head on his chest “Night Dray”

♡~🐍~♡

Kody- HAHAHAHA i suck at writing this, but i hope you enjoyed. Anyways, peace.

#draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco x y/n #draco x you #x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #slytherin #smut #hp #harry potter #fanfic #fanfiction #astoria greengrass

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volleyball-dontknowher · 3 years

Text

Sick - Tanaka x reader

Warnings: none

Words: 2282

Summary: You and your neighbor walk your dogs at the same everyday, but what happens when he stops showing up

A/n :! I am so so so so sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth, college is hard man and then it’s partially online and COVID and things and the depression really hit and I have started a new self care book and it is adding one thing back in my life at a time that I am passionate about and last week was French and this week it is writing because I really do miss it! I threw this together last night based off of a request I got forever ago and I hope it is liked <3

You’ve lived in the same apartment for years and people always come and go, in and out, it feels like you see a new face everyday. In your three years there, you’ve only had one consistent fact, and that’s your bald neighbor who goes on walks with his dogs at the same time as you twice a day. At first you only saw him occasionally and now the two of you go out at 7:30 am and 6:30 pm on the dot. You have no idea how it started but now you get kinda excited to run into your neighbor on the stairs everyday and hopefully make a comment about how good his two big dogs are looking or even jsut the smallest acknowledgement with him.

Speaking of your neighbor, he wasn’t out this morning before work, and you didn’t think too much of it because he works kinda funny hours and some random days misses the times. (Though he always tells you about it in the afternoon or the next time you see him) and because you’ve learned he’s a personal trainer he has finicky clients and sometimes is up wayy too early or way too late. It bugged you all day that you hadn’t seen him and no matter how hard you tried to focus at work you couldn’t imagine why he wasn’t out on a Wednesday. All of your explainations could make sense but you really don’t feel right about any of it. And when you got home and took your two babies out and he wasn’t there you were sure something was up. Tanaka loved his dogs more than anything and says that their routine keeps them together and that it keeps them well behaved. Something had to be wrong. Maybe he got a new girlfriend? Or he forgot? But he didn't forget and he hasn’t been with anyone ever, and if he was his dogs would still come first. You had no idea what you were thinking but when you came back up the stairs you kept walking and knocked on the door of the man you knew so completely and not at all. You quickly realized what you’d done and your heart was racing as you silent prayed that no one was home and that you could creep back to your door before anyone heard you.

This was a great thought, except you forgot what happens when you knock with dogs. They bark. And unfortunately for you Tanaka doesn’t get a lot of guests so his dogs barked a lot. Like they could wake the entire neighborhood a lot. You had to grin and bear it and face the consequences of your irrational actions.

After thirty or so seconds the door creeps open and there he is, Takana Ryuunosuke, in his pajamas and a beanie opening the door. He looked like a walking corpse and by the way he sniffed out a weak “hello” as he opened the door told you everything you needed to know. He was sick. Very sick, and you had just knocked at the door and now have to figure out what to say to him.

“Oh, hey,” you stutter, “I was just checking on you to see if everything was alright, you weren’t out with your dogs and I was wondering if anything was up, or if you needed me to take them out for you because of their routine and everything,” you ramble on, hoping that somewhere your logic connected and this made sense.

Takana stared at you blankly and you couldn’t help but mentally smack yourself because that was exactly what a stalker would say and you now seemed like his stalker.

After a few more seconds of blank stares his expression caught up to your words and he broke out the goofy smile you love so much.

“My dogs? Walk them?” He asked. Maybe they hadn’t caught up after all.

“Well yeah, they weren’t out at their regular time and i wanted to make sure they were still going out and I have my two out and they are so well behaved and you clearly don’t feel well so it would really be no problem,” you rambled on again.

This time he was closely listening and nodded along with you before smiling once again. “No no no,” he chuckled, “ I can take them out” though he was laughing you could hear that he wasn’t feeling well and his energy was lower than you had ever heard.

“Let me do this one favor for you, I can take them out, no big deal, okay?” You smiled.

After you smiled it was a done deal for Tanaka, he grabbed the leash and thanked you about a hundred times. His dogs are fantastic and took you less than five minutes to walk before they’d used the restroom and were ready to go back inside. You took them back and he thanked you once again and you headed back to your apartment to make some dinner.

You settled on a sun dried tomato soup with grilled cheese and happened *wink* accidentally *wink* make more than you could eat on your own and you’d hate for it to go to waste and you do have a neighbor who is sick and could probably use a hot meal right about now. So, you packed up a container for him and wrapped the sandwich in aluminum foil so that it would be hot for him and put some tea in a thermos and headed out your door once more. This time though, you were a little less bold and just rang the doorbell and ran back to your room. You did however, leave a little note saying “hope you feel better soon - room 420” on it and you hoped that it would at least help his night a little bit.

Little do you know, Tanaka was so shocked to see this from you that he almost dropped the hot soup onto himself in a panic because this not only meant you paid attention to him but you cared for him. This was the best thing to ever happen to him. He finished every last bite and washed the container and thermos and placed them back by your door with a note of his own.

When you got up the next morning and went to take your dog out you couldn’t help but beam when you saw your tupperware back in front of your door. You picked up the two items before seeing the little note on top of the container.

‘Best Soup Ever! -Room 419’

You beamed and did a little happy dance before deciding to go knock and see if he needed your help with his dogs again today, and boy are you lucky that you went. WHen he opened the door he somehow looked worse than yesterday, you could have swore that he had snot dried to his face and he was a total mouth breather and the bags under his eyes as well as tripled overnight. There were no arguments when you asked if he needed help with his dogs, because truthfully he really did.

The walk was quick and the morning was over before you knew it. Another distracted day at work, you found yourself wondering how you could help him feel better, especially because he lived all alone and his closest family was something like an hour away last he told you.

You had a brilliant idea and decided to go to the store after work and make him a ‘get well’ basket. You filled the basket with cough drops, tissues, teas, chocolates and other little goodies that help him feel better and put him in a better mood. You got the groceries and were right on your way, practically skipping with excitement.

Once again, you accidentally made an extra soup after you’d taken care of the dogs and happened to leave it with the basket later that evening.

In the morning however, none of your dishes were by your door, which was no big deal, especially because he was feeling so under the weather, but what was even more strange is that he didn’t answer the door and the last thing you wanted to do was wake him up. So, you headed to work wondering if he liked what you did for him or if you’d crossed a line or if he was allergic to chicken noodle, or if he was too much of a health nut and you’d offended him, or if he’d… you had no idea, maybe died. This was not good for you and you could feel the stress starting to get to you when you got off work the sprint back home was exhausting and anxious. You rounded the corner of the stairs when you saw

Nothing.

You saw nothing.

That was fine, everything is fine. You are fine. Life is fine. If he doesn’t feel good you can’t expect him to do dishes or even leave his room. That’s best for everyone, no one wants a walking germ contaminating everything around, there were probably old ladies on this floor, you hadn’t seen any, but they were there, probably, so he was just doing the world a favor.

Again, he didnt answer the door for his dogs and you couldn’t force your kindness onto him so you had a night to yourself and went to bed way earlier than usual. You couldn’t help but wake up earlier than usual and instead of looking for things that weren’t there you got out and went to work early and got busy right away. You had a full day and worked until almost 8pm, hurrying back to hopefully get home before your local take away had closed. You made it, but just barely, and got your favorite meal to bring home with you to watch something horrible with.

You got home and plopped on the couch completely exhausted. Immediatley you started eating and got about halfway through when you heard a knock at the door. Oh shit. You had no one in your life that would ever knock, well almost no one. THere was one person you were really hoping wasn’t on the other side of the door. You were in a t-shirt you got 10 years ago and a pair of crappy shorts from the general store, there was nothing remotely nice, or even tame about your appearance, you looked to be frank, crazy.

You creeped the door open and saw exactly who you were hoping not to see, Tanaka Ryuunosuke standing in front of your door beaming.

“Hey?” You question nervously.

“Hey, I noticed that you didn’t take your dogs out earlier and was wondering if you needed me to take them out for you?” He questioned genuinely, smiling from head to toe, clearly feeling better.

You had no idea what to say or do but he just smiled as your dogs trotted out the door with him, without you saying a word. You awkwardly closed the door and stood there in shock. That was horrible. An embarrassment to you, an embarrassment to your family name and even worse an embarrassment to society. The shock still hadn’t worn off when you heard a second knock at your door, and well that was the man with your dogs and you couldn’t just leave them outside.

This time when you opened the door you couldn’t help but gasp. Tanaka has a giant bouquet of red roses and a giant blush on his face.

“Y/n, I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I have had a crush on you since I first met you, and I never knew how to tell you, every time I got close to you I just freeze and I started taking my dogs out when you do to try and get to know you and I could never make myself do it but you have been unbelievably kind to me and I can’t wait any longer. I want nothing more than to have a chance with someone as stunning as you are. Y/n, will you go on a date with me?”

This time it was you standing there dumbstruck for longer than you should have. You heard every single one of his words and your heart was fluttering out of your chest. You’d had feelings for him for as long as you can remember and here he was with a bouquet of flowers standing in your doorway asking you to go on a date with him. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything so you just grinned and nodded at him enthusiastically, hoping he understood just how much this means to you.

He beamed right back and handed you the bouquet of flowers, “perfect, then I’ll see you Friday at 7, I’ll pick you up.” He winked.

You were still dumbstruck and nodded again, and right as you were about to close the door for the night he stuck his foot in the doorway.

“One more thing y/n,” he pushed the door back open and had a basket of little goodies for you, as well as a homemade meal in the containers you’d given him with a little note that says ‘your soup warmed my soul, and my heart’. You couldn’t help but absolutely beam with happiness. You set the basket down and threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a big hug, repeatedly thanking him for his kindness. You two parted ways happier than you could have imagined and both in great anticipation for Friday.

The next morning, you were both out at 7:30 on the dot, excited to see one another.

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calciopics · 3 years

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Kylian Mbappé is Born to Run

The France forward grew up in the suburbs of Paris, steeped in the culture of football. At 22, the World Cup-winner is already a global superstar, and only now entering his prime. Will Euro 2020 be the moment when he overtakes Messi and Ronaldo to become recognised as the best player on the planet?

Kylian Mbappé was 18 when he walked into the changing room of the French national team. “It’s very difficult,” he recalls, “because great players don’t want to give you their place. That’s what makes them great players. They especially don’t want to give you their place if you arrive with the label of ‘Future Great Player’.” Within a year, Mbappé and France had won the World Cup in Moscow.

Three years on, we are talking in a room of his mansion in the leafy, old-money streets of Neuilly, just outside Paris. It isn’t even his home; he bought it to house his foundation, which offers after-school activities to rich and poor children alike. In conversation, Mbappé resembles a veteran TV presenter more than a young footballer. He makes short speeches in complete sentences, as precise in his footing as he is on the field. He sits as straight-backed as he runs. His expressive face keeps breaking into smiles: he likes talking, and is almost unburdened by the usual footballer’s fear of saying the wrong thing.

His burly father Wilfried sits beside us, but only once during the interview will he feel impelled to intervene. Meeting Mbappé, you come to understand how he hit football seemingly already fully formed. At 22, he has achieved more than most great players ever do. Can he take one more step and become the world’s best footballer?

His story starts 10 miles and a universe away from where we’re sitting today. His hometown, Bondy, is a multicultural suburb just northeast of Paris that looks as if someone plonked a Soviet town on top of an ancient French village. The old church is surrounded by fast-food joints and fading 1960s’ apartment blocks, one of them now adorned with a giant mural of Mbappé.

His parents grew up in Bondy: Wilfried, of Cameroonian origin, and Mbappé’s mother Fayza, of Algerian descent. Mixed marriages are common in the Parisian suburbs, the banlieues, but the couple did have to defy some local disapproval.

If a wannabe footballer had to choose the ideal place on earth to grow up, it might have been the Mbappé home in Bondy. Mbappé’s father and uncle were both football coaches, and Fayza, who ran after-school activities, played handball in the French first division. His parents had adopted an older boy, Jirès Kembo Ekoko, who went on to make a long career as a journeyman professional footballer. “I didn’t bring a new passion into the family,” Mbappé says with understatement.

He grew up practically inside the local football club, AS Bondy. “In the Parisian suburbs there are football fields everywhere,” he enthuses. “People here live for football. I was born with the sports ground facing my window.” It’s no wonder, he adds, that Paris’s suburbs are perhaps the deepest talent pool in global football, producing players such as Paul Pogba, Blaise Matuidi, N’Golo Kanté and Riyad Mahrez.

As a non-white kid from the suburbs, did Mbappé always feel accepted as French before he became a French icon? “I’ve always felt French. I don’t renounce my origins, because they are part of who I am, but I’ve made my whole life in France, and never at any moment was I made to feel I wasn’t at home here.” In the banlieues, he says, “We have a love of France because France has given to us and we try to give back to it.”

Mbappé’s parents made him take school seriously, and he was also a not-very-talented flautist at Bondy’s conservatory, but football came first. At AS Bondy, he says, “My father was my coach for 10 years. He helped construct the style of player I wanted to become. But I never felt the pressure of, ‘You have to become a footballer.’ Above all, it was a passion.”

Tagging along with his dad and uncle on their coaching jobs, the child acquired an unusual gift: he became a footballer who thinks like a coach. “Very young, I was always in the changing rooms, listening to the tactical talks and the different points of view, because football is made up of different viewpoints. I learned to have this tolerance, and I think it helped me, because being a coach is putting yourself in somebody else’s place. I think I have the gift of doing that. It helps in football, because if you’re a player, generally you think about yourself, about your own career. I can see, for instance, when something in a game is frustrating a team-mate. I can put him at ease.”

When you’re in the World Cup final, you’re convinced you’re going to win. You walk onto the field, the trophy is there, and you tell yourself it is impossible the other team will take it

Mbappé turned out to be that perfect sporting combination: a natural who is coachable. “He assimilates advice quickly. You ask him something once, and the second time he does it,” Antonio Riccardi, his former youth coach at AS Bondy, told me. Even as a child, Mbappé was an efficient footballer: decisive, never just decorative.

By adolescence, he was being courted by the big European clubs, which all keep close tabs on the Paris region. He visited Chelsea, and celebrated his 14th birthday at Real Madrid, which cannily found him the perfect babysitter: the club’s then assistant coach Zinedine Zidane, the greatest French footballer. When Zidane offered Mbappé a lift in his fabulous car, the overawed child offered to take his shoes off first.

The Mbappés sifted the countless offers and chose Monaco, where the route to the first team looked shortest. Mbappé arrived there, he says, “with my [footballing] baggage well filled.”

Kids in performance-sports families learn that they never arrive. Each step up is just another learning opportunity. In Monaco’s first team, the teenaged Mbappé encountered the veteran Colombian striker Radamel Falcao, freshly returned from unhappy loan spells with Manchester United and Chelsea.

“He was a star,” says Mbappé, “but he had a desire to transmit. He was like a teacher to me. He’s someone who always wants to score, but he left me the space to express myself. He’s very cool in front of goal, calm in his game, and he transmitted this serenity that I didn’t have, because I was young, excited and wanted to go at 2,000 kilometres an hour.”

The kid who didn’t yet have a driving licence scored 15 league goals in his first professional season to help Monaco win the French title in 2017. He added six more in the Champions League knockout rounds. He also passed his baccalauréat, France’s equivalent of A-levels.

Mbappé marvelled at the tension on the faces of other professionals, because he didn’t feel it himself. Everything came easily to him, without great sacrifice, he has said. When I ask about stress in a profession of hypercompetitive men, he shrugs: “Daily life is easy.”

His vertical ascent didn’t surprise him; it just happened a bit quicker than he’d expected. But others were stunned. Here was something new: an 18-year-old complete forward. Built like an Olympic sprinter, Mbappé ran upright, looking around him. He could dribble, cross and shoot. He was more advanced than Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo had been at 18.

How does he describe his style? “The modern attacker who can play anywhere,” he replies. He explains that forwards used to be specialists: “There’d be a number nine, or number 11, or number seven.” Mbappé, though, is the all-in-one. “I think my CV can speak for me. I’ve played alone up front, I’ve played on the left and the right. In all humility, I don’t think it’s given to everyone to change position like that every year and keep a certain standard of performance at the highest level. That didn’t fall from heaven. If I speak of the baggage given me in my teens, it’s all there.”

In one regard he has always been unequalled: the counterattack at speed. He says, “I’ve managed to work on my weak points but above all to perfect my strong points, because I was always told that it’s through your strong points that you’ll exist.”

In March 2017, Mbappé became the youngest player in 62 years to debut for France. Five months later, his hometown club Paris Saint-Germain agreed to sign him for a fee of £166m. He drew on his childhood experiences to navigate two alpha-male changing-rooms. At PSG, his good English and Spanish helped him deal with foreign team-mates. With Les Bleus, France’s assistant coach Guy Stéphan told Mbappé’s biographer Arnaud Hermant: “He knows the codes of the changing room. At table or in the bus, he doesn’t just sit somewhere randomly. For a youngster, he isn’t timid or introverted. He expresses himself.”

By summer 2018, picked for the World Cup in Russia, Mbappé was comfortable enough to claim the blue number 10 shirt — previously worn by Zidane and Michel Platini — and to say in public that he was gunning for the trophy.

“I went to play the matches calmly like I always have. I didn’t want to change just because it was the World Cup,” he says. “We were lucky to have a young squad. We were totally carefree, just a band of mates.”

Hang on, surely a football team isn’t really a band of mates? “No,” he acknowledges. “Just like the baker doesn’t get on with all bakers. You don’t have to eat with your team-mates every evening to win.”

In the World Cup round of 16, his two goals and a 37kmph gallop through Argentina’s defence made his global name. The night before the final against Croatia, he admits, “I was a bit stressed. I didn’t manage to sleep much. But the nearer the match came, the less stressed I was.” Before kick-off he was joking in the changing room. Stéphan recalls: “He experienced the final as if it were a PSG-Dijon game.”

Mbappé says, “When you’re in the World Cup final, you’re convinced that you’re going to win. Even the Croats were convinced they were going to win. You walk onto the field and the trophy is there, between the two teams, and you tell yourself it’s impossible that the other team will take it. That’s why there’s such disappointment afterwards if you don’t win.”

Half of Bondy gathered in front of a giant screen to cheer on the commune’s own “Kylian national”. Scoring in France’s 4–2 victory, he seemed to have reached his career apogee aged 19. He didn’t see it like that. Interviewed the night of the final, he described winning the World Cup as “already good” but only a start.

The next day, as the Bleus’ bus edged along a packed, ecstatic Champs-Élysées, writes Hermant, the ice-cold kid mused to the French Football Federation’s president Noël Le Graët: “Was all this really necessary?”

Mbappé explains now: “For me, it wasn’t an outcome, a finality. I don’t think of that trophy now at all. I don’t look at pictures of the World Cup before going to sleep. Honestly, it’s people on the street who come up and say, ‘You’re world champion, merci, merci.’”

He understood that his early triumph had upset football’s all-important hierarchies. Returning to PSG, he immediately reassured Paris’s Brazilian star Neymar: “I’m not going to walk on your flowerbeds. I’ll be a candidate for the Ballon d’Or [the award for world’s best footballer] this year because you won’t be, but I promise I don’t want to take your place.”

Soon after, he took the World Cup trophy to Bondy, where thousands came out to greet him. “It was a way to say, ‘Thank you.’ I’ve never forgotten which soup I have eaten. So it was important for me to return there after my first World Cup and first international title.” (Note that word, “first”.)

France’s coach, Didier Deschamps, recalls falling into “physical and moral apathy” the season after he lifted the World Cup as a player in 1998. Did Mbappé experience a hangover? He grins: “I finished as best player in the league, highest scorer, best young player, I was chosen in the team of the season, and we won the league.”

Winning the World Cup made Mbappé a national hero. Does he consider himself a star? “I think so. If your face is everywhere in the city, everywhere in the world, that’s for sure. Being a star is a status, but it doesn’t make me a better person than others.”

He lives like a luxury prisoner, who cannot leave home without being mobbed. “It takes an organisation just to go out,” he says. He has joked that when his future children ask him about his youthful adventures, he won’t have any.

“A fan gives you enormous love,” says Mbappé carefully, “but sometimes maybe an excess of love, and he might not respect your intimacy. We give our lives to the people, because we give them pleasure every three days, and we give them our time. It’s impossible to hope for a normal life, but just a little respect for one’s private life isn’t too much to ask for, I think.”

As a young man of non-white origins, he has a particular vulnerability with the French public, one-third of whom voted for the far-right candidate Marine Le Pen in the run-off of the presidential elections in 2017. Even so, he has begun to speak out against police violence.

“I took time to start talking about it, because I wasn’t ready,” he admits. “I had a lot of things to digest: my change of status, my new life. But I have always opposed all types of violence.”

When I note that French police violence is disproportionately directed against people of non-white origins from suburbs like Bondy, his father stirs from his silence: “We’re not answering that. You’re orienting it as if the violence were only against people from the banlieues, which is false.”

In high-level football, nobody will make a place for you. Ego, self-love, isn’t just the caprice of stars. It’s also the will to give the best of yourself

French fans like their stars humble. Mbappé has explained “the French mentality” to Neymar, who favours a bling-bling, poker-playing party lifestyle. Mbappé says, “In Brazil, they are more festive, in France more serious. Here it’s not considered good to display your passions. People will think he’s neglecting PSG because he plays poker. I think he has begun to understand that. At first it was hard for him because he experienced it as an affront. When he arrived, they put his face on the Eiffel Tower, and six months later they’re asking him why he’s playing poker. In France, people know what you have but they don’t want to see it. They just want to see you playing football, smiling.”

But Mbappé believes humility isn’t enough. He thinks great footballers need big egos. “In high-level football, nobody will make a place for you or tell you that you’re capable of things. It’s up to you to persuade yourself that you are. Ego, self-love, isn’t just a caprice of stars. It’s also the will to surpass yourself, to give the best of yourself.” Every time he walks onto the field, he says, he tells himself, “I’m the best.”

In truth, he knows he isn’t the best — Messi and Ronaldo are better. “It’s not only me who knows that,” he laughs. “Everyone knows it. If you tell yourself that you’ll do better than them, it’s beyond ego or determination — it’s lack of awareness. Those players are incomparable. They have broken all laws of statistics. They have had 10 extraordinary years, 15.”

Still, he admits: “You do always compare yourself with the best in your sport, just as the baker compares himself with the best bakers around him. Who makes the best croissant, the best pain au chocolat? I watch matches of other great players to see what they’re doing. ‘I know how to do this, but can the other guy do it too?’ I think other players watch me, too. I think that pushes players to raise their game, just as Messi was good for Ronaldo and Ronaldo was good for Messi.”

Does Mbappé compare himself with the other great forward of his generation, Borussia Dortmund’s Norwegian Erling Braut Haaland? Mbappé’s reply sounds a touch patronising: “It’s his second year, we’re getting to know him. It’s the start for him. I’m happy for him, for what he’s doing.”

The more you become an important person, the more duties you have. I’m no longer the little kid. I’m Kylian Mbappé

In this elite individual competition, the top spot may be coming free. Messi (34 this month) and Ronaldo (36) are “nearer the end than the beginning”, acknowledges Mbappé. In February, his hat-trick helped PSG thrash Messi’s Barcelona 1–4 at the Camp Nou. “The best match of my career,” Mbappé says, “because it was complete. I helped my team both offensively and defensively, and I succeeded in the creation and finishing of my moves, in one-against-ones. I won 90 per cent of my duels, if that stat is correct. All match, I never had a moment when I felt extinguished.” He then scored two at Bayern Munich, before PSG fell to Manchester City.

Some opposing teams now rearrange their entire tactical systems to combat the Mbappé counterattack. “There are quite a few anti-Kylian plans every match,” he says. “It means I’ve been recognised as a great player. It requires you to have multiple strings to your bow. I like that, because I adore challenges.”

Surely he’s now too big a player for the French league? He umms and aws: “France isn’t the best championship in the world, but it’s my responsibility, as a flagship player, to help the league grow.” Yet he may well leave this summer, to Real Madrid or England. The decision, perhaps the biggest he’ll face in his career, will be made inside his family. Almost uniquely for a star footballer, Mbappé doesn’t have an agent, just lawyers.

At 22, he considers himself an experienced footballer. He says he and Neymar “are now the two natural leaders” of PSG. When he kicks off the delayed Euro 2020 with France in June, it will be with more responsibility than at the World Cup. “The more you become an important personality, the more duties you have. I’m no longer the little kid. I’m Kylian Mbappé.”

Kylian Mbappé’s prime may have already arrived. Fast strikers usually peak between 20 and 24. A Euro and a World Cup within 18 months, while France’s generation of 2018 remains almost intact, may be his best chance to make football history. What are his career ambitions? That smile again: “To win everything.” (Esquire Magazine)

#kylian mbappe #Mbappe #AS Bondy #AS Monaco FC #france national team #world champion 2018 #paris saint germain #PSG #football #fussball #foot #fodbold #futbol #futebol #soccer #calcio

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pompousbiscuit · 3 years

Text

(Y/N) Meets Zeke Yeager at a Radiohead Concert In the Year 2012 (Yes, It's The King Of Limbs Hour For Sure)

(You-16 Zeke-17 Porco-16 Pieck-17 Colt-16 Yelena- 17)

I don't fucking know why I think of these things, but here I go, this is for all of you Superior-Music-Taste-Thom-Yorke-er- Radiohead-virgins out there B)

The year is 2012, (Y/N) is 16, and the setting is a Radiohead concert almost one year post-King-Of-Limbs-album-drop.

After working for a few months at your first part time job, you were able to save enough cash to buy concert tickets for you and a friend.

The location of the venue is about 2 hours from your hometown, and it's quite the road trip.

Either using your/your friend's car, or public transportation, to make the trip.

Zeke is 17, he's also at this concert with a group of his friends: Colt, Porco, Pieck, Yelena.

You're jamming out to all the hits, swaying your body to the sound of the music just right, and letting yourself go in a way you've only ever done alone in your bedroom.

King Of Limbs wasn't Radiohead's most well received album, but you love almost anything Thom, that droopy eyed bastard, and the other members put out.

Your friend that you came to the concert with is currently on a bathroom break, leaving you to your own devices in the crowded room.

"Separator" plays loudly throughout the concert hall; the drum beat feels like it has made it's way under your skin, and the melodic sound of Thom's voice feels as if it's an instrument in its own right.

Zeke is currently jogging back inside, he had left only for a moment during a run through of "Morning Mr. Magpie" for a smoke break.

(it's not particularly his favorite on the album)

"Separator" is one of Zeke's favorites comparatively, and he might hit himself after if he ends up missing the live rendition.

He sees a familiar slicked back head of blonde hair while peering over the heads of the crowd, and Zeke's relieved to see Porco turn around and wave him over.

Zeke makes a b-line for his friend, trying his best to shove through the crowd as politely, yet firmly, as he can.

Whilst making his way over, Zeke bumps into someone who's almost completely oblivious to his presence, until said person trips over themselves and falls to their feet.

You luckily brace yourself, your palms and wrists making contact with the dirty ground as to protect your face.

Normally, Zeke would most likely brush this off and claim the situation to not be his problem, and most likely continue on his path to his friends.

A change of heart? Guilt for being a catalyst in knocking you over? (as he suspects it would've happened eventually) Or maybe it's because he notices the way your ass looks in your blue jeans.

Zeke can tell a good ass when he sees one, and everybody has an ass to be appreciated after all, no consideration for gender identity or assigned anatomy needed.

Zeke pauses and decides 'ah, what the hell'.

Zeke crouches down and holds his hand out to you, flashing a boyish grin that suits his younger looking face well, as he begins to offer you an apology.

"My mistake for knocking you on your ass, I was trying to get to my friends... Need a hand?"

Zeke half yells this apology, and in the end it's still very muffled sounding due to the loud music.

You are wary of the boy in front of you, being very well versed in all the basic "stranger-danger" rules, the ones your care-taker/parental-figure drilled into you before you left.

But the slight tug of the left side of his mouth, the dimple in his cheek, his shaggy yet soft looking blonde hair, his stupid but admittedly cool glasses that hang low on the bridge of his nose...

He's cute, and you're too aware of the fact to deny his hand that he's offered to you.

You say a "Thanks", only letting yourself look him in the eye for hardly a second, as he accepts your hand into his roughly textured one.

You feel a flush begin on your chest and rise up to your face, ashamed of yourself for practically drooling at the feeling of just a grasp of a hand around your own.

Zeke assists you in rising to your feet, and he can almost feel your eyes tracing his form, taking him in.

He looks rather typical, a dark t-shirt with a faded "Kid A bear" logo printed on it, under a wrinkled rusty-toned flannel with rolled up sleeves, dark denim loosely encompasses his lanky legs that end with damaged and worn low-top skate shoes.

You only realize your hand is still in his own, when you catch the cheeky look in his eye, after scanning back to to his face.

You retract your hand from his, with suspiciously quick retreat, that has him grinning a little wider.

"Name's Zeke, do you have one?"

You can smell his last cigarette on his breath as he talks, you're both in close proximity due to the people around you.

The performance of "Separator" is almost long forgotten at this point, it's now just the background noise to your first conversation with each other.

You shift your weight back and forth to each foot, settling on leaning to your right side, before looking up to answer him.

"It's (Y/N), and it's okay, I was kinda in my own world for a minute there..." You answer honestly, but almost too bashfully, taking the blame for your tumble.

Zeke shakes his head and answers immediately, "No, I wasn't really paying attention to who I was knocking into, but I guess I was kinda lucky that you happened to be my first victim."

His voice has a slight rasp to it, though he's just 17 he admittedly smokes like a chimney.

His words also have an attractive cadence to them, you can already tell he's a smart ass by the way he's immediately putting the moves on, but you find yourself not really caring all too much.

Zeke starts again, "I also get like that though, in my head I mean, 'specially with "Separator"..."

You nod along and begin to talk to him more about your interest for the track, hardly noticing as the minutes roll by, and with the song changing into "Little by Little".

The both of you exchange words and information throughout the next song, like your ages, preferred albums, what other concerts you've been to.

Zeke completely forgets about his friends in the minutes he's conversing with you, and the same happens with you, until Porco loudly appears with Colt behind Zeke.

"Dude! I waved you over like 10 minutes ago! What the hell Zeke? You're dragging your ass and the other's are-" Porco's sentence cuts off as his eyes drift over to you, understanding the hold up.

Porco turns his head to Zeke and receives a glower from the taller boy. Whilst wearing a shit eating grin, Porco gives Zeke a curt nod and a slap on the shoulder.

"Whatever, just shoot me text in a few man,"

Porco's eyes catch your your for second, as he raises a hand for a quick sayonara,

"Nice meeting ya'."

Zeke pushes up his glasses as he shakes his head in annoyance and heaves a sigh.

As Porco gestures for a confused Colt to follow him back to the rest of the group, you catch eyes with your own friend.

They give you an apologetic glance but then notice Zeke near you, they hold up their hand and toggle back and forth between a thumbs up and thumbs down, silently asking if Zeke's presence was a bother.

You give a thumbs up, which they respond with a double thumbs up, as they make their way over to a group of people and easily start to blend in.

You turn back towards Zeke and offer a smile, finally free of interruptions, as the song ends and fades into "Lotus Flower". Commotion erupts throughout the crowd, as the majority cheer for one of the most favored songs.

Zeke offers you a smile as well, and shuffles a step or two closer, before beginning to speak again.

Ending it there! If I make a follow up then that'll be over here when the time comes: Part Two

I actually... I don't even... Why, that's all I have to say, just why???

Thanks so much for the notes on my previous post! That was my first time hitting over 100 notes!

Tbh... "The King of Limbs" is on the same level as "In Rainbows" for me, soz if you're offended by that statement dawg. Lmk your opinions!

I am Zeke Trash #1, and you're watching Disney Channel

EDIT:

OK, IN LIGHT OF THE NEW EPISODE HERE IS SPICY TEENAGER ZEKE

FUCK IT UUUPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!! imagine this bitch ass in some skater slouchy grungy garbage, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

zeke liking radiohead [zeke playlist] -> MONKE

98 notes · View notes

pterodactylterrace · 3 years

Text

Guys Like You Chapter 16

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 16

Chapter Summary: Meet the family

Rating: 18+

Warnings: None for this chapter

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8} {Chapter 9} {Chapter 10} {Chapter 11} {Chapter 12} {Chapter 13} {Chapter 14} {Chapter 15}

"How well does she do on flights?" Henry asked quietly, nodding for Faye to slide in first to take the window seat.

"She gets sick on longer flights." Faye explained as he sat down in the aisle seat, resting the snoozing child in his lap, her chubby cheek pressed against his chest as a small bit of drool tumbled from her lower lip.

"It's a little under an hour, do you think she'll be ok?"

"She didn't get sick until after the third hour when we came to England."

"Hopefully she'll just sleep the whole time." Henry sighed, smiling fondly at the child snoozing on him. To say he was excited to introduce his girls to his family was an understatement. He had been practically vibrating with giddiness for the last two days. That in turn wound up Kal and Briar, which meant no one wanted to go to bed. Faye had counted herself lucky to get the child tucked into bed and finally asleep before 11pm the night before. Certainly not enough time for any sort of decent rest before their 6am flight. She could also tell Henry hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before, the dark circles under his eyes a dead giveaway, no matter how many times he insisted he was fine.

Maybe they could all catch a nap during the flight. That sounded incredible, though Faye wasn't sure if her nerves would allow her to actually sleep. Henry had assured her over and over that his family would love her, but she had a nagging voice in the back of her mind that kept asking her 'but what if they don't?' Would Henry leave her if his family didn't like her? What if they didn't like Briar? She could be a bit much at times. Maybe they would think she was an awful mother who couldn't control her child. She just had to keep reminding herself that Henry wasn't like that. He wasn't a controlling abuser. He wanted to see her happy. He actually loved her and she was slowly learning how to be loved in return.

Henry reluctantly slid the child from his lap and into her seat before take off, buckling the now grumpy toddler in while Faye gave Briar her stuffed bunny in an attempt to pacify her for the time being. That only resulted in the rather amusing image of an incredibly angry looking toddler hugging a very well loved stuffed bunny, glaring daggers at the seat back in front of her. The second the fasten seatbelt sign went off, Briar was back in Henry's lap, smugly snuggling back into his chest with her bunny tucked under her arm.

"I swear, she likes you more than she likes me." Faye sighed, shaking her head at her daughter.

"I never tell her no." Henry shrugged, giving the child a small squeeze.

"I've noticed." Faye grumbled.

"How do you expect me to say no to that face?" Henry challenged, nodding down to where Briar was already sleeping on him, her cheek squished up against his chest, more drool slowly soaking into his shirt.

"What if she wants to do something dangerous?"

"That's why I have her wonderful, strong, beautiful mother nearby." Henry smiled at her, chuckling at her annoyed look.

"So what are you gonna do with any future children?" Faye shot back, not missing the way Henry's entire demeanor lit up.

"I'll just have to follow your lead." He offered, trying to tame the smile from his face. This was the first time she had mentioned any more children since their scare, and just the thought was enough to make him dizzy with excitement.

"Breastfed that kid for a year and a half, and this is the thanks I get." Faye grumbled to herself, moving over to the middle seat to use Henry's bulky shoulder as a pillow.

"As much as I'd like to say I'll help you every step of the way, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be useless when it comes to that."

"Such a shame, your tits are bigger than mine."

"They are not." Henry scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Mmhmm. Mine only look nice when I roll them up into a bra so you can't see how deflated they are."

"They're the perfect size for my hands."

"And your tits are still bigger."

"Fine, but I still don't think I can breastfeed a baby." Henry relented, his face heating up when he realized the flight attendant had made it to their row with the drink cart. Her look of confused horror was one Faye would remember for years to come.

"I think we're good." Faye half laughed, Henry dropping his head in embarrassment. Sometimes people just walk up at the wrong time in a conversation.

Faye was apprehensive at first when Henry told her his brother would be picking them up from the airport. What if he instantly didn't like her? Would he just leave her there or something? It would make for a very uncomfortable car ride to say the least. Thankfully Niki and his wife turned out to be just as nice and accommodating as Henry kept assuring her they would be. Naturally, Niki stuffed his younger brother into the back seat, allowing his wife to stay up front in spite of her half hearted protest. Faye had the feeling this was an ongoing thing between them.

The sight of a toddler seat in the back, hooked in and ready to go made a strange happiness swell in her chest. Faye was grateful they had taken steps to keep her daughter safe, while Henry was slightly annoyed that he was now crushed even more. With a simple look from Niki's wife, Faye understood that this was just how the brother's were, antagonizing each other whenever possible. Niki wasted no time filling Faye in on a few stories from Henry's childhood, telling her about the time he brought a turtle home and tried to keep it in the bathtub to hide it from his parents. Then he moved on to the time he split his pants at his cousin's wedding when he was fifteen and spent the entire reception trying to talk to the bridesmaids with his underwear showing. The last one he squeezed in before his wife stopped him was when they were all younger and buried him in the snow, having convinced him that's how an igloo was built.

No one hesitated to get out and start unpacking the car once it was parked in front of a rather quaint looking house, Niki tossing Henry's bag at him, Henry 'accidentally' shoulder checking him into the back of the car good natured retaliation. Niki's wife had already gone inside to announce their arrival, giving Faye a chance to talk with her daughter before meeting everyone.

"Now remember sweetie, we need to be on our best behavior for Papa's family today, ok?" She reminded, crouching down and straightening out her daughter's jacket.

"I a good girl." Briar stated firmly, nodding her head in self assurance as she grabbed her mother's hand with her mitten covered fist.

"Yes, you've been a very good girl, even though I can tell you're really tired. I'm very proud of you, sweetheart." Faye praised, giving the child her stuffed bunny before leading her after everyone else.

"And then-" Simon wheezed, pausing to catch his breath through his laughter. "And then Henry comes back inside, covered in mud, sticks in his hair, and he's just like "well, he's not under THAT bush!'." Faye wiped a tear from her eye, holding her aching stomach. She had lost count of the stories that had been retold, everyone seeming to take a turn at ribbing each other. Henry even told the story of Faye accidentally gluing her hand to a makeup brush when she was trying to apply prosthetics. It felt almost too easy settling into his family. He had been completely honest, they were very accepting.

His mother was warm and inviting, pulling her in for a hug and whisking Faye off to the kitchen, putting a glass of wine in her hand before she had even said hello to anyone else. It felt so good to be around a family again. Faye had been close with her parents and her siblings, especially her twin sister, and it was times like this that reminded her of what she had given up to chase her dreams. She had promised to try and be home for Christmas, but life got in the way of her going back the year before. Now it was coming up, and she was wondering if Henry would be alright with going all the way across the ocean just to meet her family. Were they really that serious? She knew they were pretty serious, having moved in together, but she didn't have any prior experience to compare her current relationship to. Would he want to spend Christmas with his family? They were all really nice and probably always spent the holidays together. Would she be interfering with a tradition by asking him to spend Christmas with her family?

"So how did you two meet?" Marianne interjected, everyone suddenly shifting their attention to the couple.

"Uhh... met at work?" Faye offered up, turning to look up at Henry to see if he had anything else to add. Always the eloquent half of the pair, Henry had plenty to tack on, telling them about how this sassy little makeup artist wouldn't give him the time of day no matter what he did to get her attention. He'd tried talking about her tattoo's: nothing. He'd tried talking about the show: nothing. He'd tried to ask her about her life: nothing.

"It wasn't until Briar's birthday that I got anywhere. I swear, if you weren't such an awful baker, you would have never even looked my way. Poor Briar made sure everyone knew you were no good at it too. Briar!" Henry called, smiling when the little girl came running in the room, a dinosaur in one hand and the other covered in a sock. "Briar, how's mummy's baking?"

"Yucky." Briar informed flatly, the adults roaring in laughter while she rushed off to go play with the other children again.

"She's actually managed to simultaneously burn and completely undercook a tray of brownies once. It was amazing."

"Wasn't that also the time I mixed up the salt and the sugar?"

"It was." Henry confirmed, pressing an adoring kiss to her temple.

"That reminds me of the time you accidentally used garlic powder instead of nutmeg in the apple pie one year." Piers turned toward his wife, laughing at her loving glare.

"Alright, alright. Enough." Simon jumped in. "We all know what needs to be discussed. Who is stronger, Superman or the Incredible Hulk?" The entire family seemed to groan in unison; this must be an age old debate.

"Superman, obviously." Henry scoffed.

"No way, the Hulk is indestructible!" Niki threw back.

"So is Superman." Charlie pointed out.

"A little bit of kryptonite and Superman is useless." Simon intervened.

"What are the odds of having kryptonite on hand, though? If we're going to be using weaknesses, when Banner couldn't shift into the Hulk during Infinity War should definitely be brought up." Faye countered.

"But we're not talking about Banner, we're talking about the Hulk, as in he already shifted." Niki complained.

"Didn't the Black Widow have some lullaby thing that turned him back?" Charlie mused.

"Come on, Faye. We all know you're just siding with Superman because you're sleeping with him." Simon teased, Faye rolling her eyes in response. She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

By the time they returned home just two days later, Faye was utterly exhausted but filled with joy. His family was so warm and inviting. They actually liked her. They didn't look down on her. They didn't question why Henry was with someone like her. They just accepted her and her daughter as one of their own. Two more to add to the Cavill Clan.

Now that they were back at home, it felt almost empty compared to the jam packed house they had just been in. Kal was all too happy to meet everyone at the door, his food bowl still full from the last visit from the dog sitter while their mail was stacked neatly on the kitchen table waiting for them.

Henry left the bags by the bottom of the stairs to take up later, sorting the letters into two separate piles. A large envelope addressed for Faye caught his eye, curiosity prompting him to bring it straight to her.

"What's that?" Faye asked, tossing the clothing from the bags into a laundry basket.

"I don't know. Looks important. Maybe it's informing you that you just became Queen a small unknown country."

"I've always wanted my own country." Faye chuckled, ripping the envelope open and pulling out the papers inside, her face falling more and more with each passing second. Her blood ran cold as teardrops stained the paper.

"What? What's wrong? Faye, you're starting to worry me. What does it say? Is something wrong?"

"My ex... my ex is trying to sue me for custody of Briar."

@weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay @nostalgicb-txh

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #guys like you #guys like you fic

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milkybonya · 4 years

Note

Hii!! can i request Astro as boyfriends 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

of course you can, my love <3

Astro as boyfriends

Warnings: none !

[a/n]: so i’ve found myself getting into txt recently,, if you ever see them in my request guidelines then that means i’m really falling for them hehe

MJ:

always wants to do everything with you

has a notes folder of places he wants to take you

takes photos of things that remind him of you and sends them to you

gives you kisses all the time just to show off how soft his lips are

does that in public

super clingy and always holds your hand

always trying to make you smile by being weird

sometimes he’s tired and low on energy and you have to hug him :”)

your hugs are his battery

always makes sure you’re eating well

wants to be babied

yet also shows off his non-existent muscles all the time

but also loves it when you rub his tummy and rest your head on it

Jinjin

i made a whole separate post a while back and it’s v long and detailed ! here’s the link :)

Eunwoo

10/10 dates

coffee shops, museums, restaurants, arcades, literally the most wide range of fun things

such a sweetheart, honestly

gets jealous a lot :”)

likes to show you off by holding your hand in public and always talking about you !

the rest of Astro tell him to stop talking about you but he just can’t >:)

worries about you a lot and runs over right away whenever you’re not well

holds you so tightly at night

rubs your back and presses his lips to your forehead

always compliments you

likes to share earbuds while you both read

but just ends up staring at you oops

“i was just... reading your beauty ;)”

Moonbin

i’m sorry but he definitely the type of bf to put on a white shirt when it’s raining just so you’ll get flustered when you can see his chest through it

always asking you to feel his arm muscles

“ahh i’m in pain, could you massage my arms?”

and gives you literal heart eyes when you actually do it

he just always looks at you like you’re the only person to exist

he’s so madly in love and always down to do anything you want

always buries his chest in your shoulder when you cuddle

like fully squishes his face against your body and takes in your scent

lets you watch his dance practices and goes hard so you can see him sweating

HIS RASPY MORNING VOICE OH LORD-

knows how much you love it so he always talks so much in the morning

and you have to shut him up by kissing him

facetimes you every morning when you aren’t together just so you can hear his voice

Rocky

s o f t and s h y bf

always making sure he’s not making you uncomfortable, not moving too fast

early in the relationship, keeps asking if it’s okay to kiss you

deeper in the relationship, will kiss you with no warning whatsoever ! and the kisses will be so damn passionate

always checking up on you and texting you reminders

thinks he’s so lucky that you’re his s/o

always appreciates how thankful he is for you

loves it when you play with his hair even though he gets shy and tells you to stop

appreciates when you check up on him in the studio, whether he’s dancing or producing

takes your feedback on his music and dancing very seriously even if you don’t know anything about dance or music

names dance moves and songs after your inside jokes

likes to walk around while holding your hand

likes to be babied but also wants to take care of you ;3;

Sanha

honestly a little awkward and shy

cause he wants to tease you and be his natural self but doesn’t want to hurt your feelings

so he’ll open up to you slowly

it gets to a point where y’all just roast each other back and forth

but also compliment each other like crazy

y’all are the coolest couple in town, a literal power couple

Sanha actually cares for you so much like he leaves you little gifts on your desk

“you liked this at the store but never bought it... i hope it makes you happy!”

always blowing kisses at you and acting cute

but i feel like this baby also somehow knows how to kiss v passionately and catch you off guard ;3;

like suddenly he goes from cute to hot sexy and you’re just like :”) help

but his duality makes dating him even better !

195 notes · View notes

viseralantlers · 3 years

Text

old friend (c!karl jacobs x reader)

takes place in episode 5 of tales ! The wild west one !

warnings: Injury, swearing, character death

Request: nope!

note: using Kit as the alternate name to avoid confusion and follow how the time travel thing works kinda !!!! If you don’t like it feel free to pick another one and fill it in ! I was mostly trying to keep it gender-neutral !! Sorry if it makes it difficult to understand : (

John led Karl around the small town to pick up people to help stop the hostile bandits he had the pleasure to meet when he first entered the saloon just a few hours ago. Now an eccentric band of characters were leaving William’s shop to head to their last stop, the bakery.

“Alright, so this is Kit!” John spoke with a slight drawl as Karl watched hesitantly as a head peaked up from behind the counter that had been covered in fresh loaves of bread. Karl paused at the sight, it was y/n. It couldn’t be, they had died on doomsday. He felt frozen to his spot as he studied their every move. Karl knew deep down that this wasn’t y/n. He’d seen these past versions, relatives of sorts. of his friends, but he’d never seen anyone that had looked like y/n. It had always been sapnap or technoblade, it was as if y/n died not only in the present but in every past he traveled to.

“Huh” they said as they wiped the flour from their hands on a black apron that had been tied around their neck and torso, stepping around to the group.

“Hey, Kit!” John was cut off as y/n jumped into a question.

“John, I thought you already picked up your stock for this week?” John scratched the back of his neck feeling Percy’s stare digging into the back of his head due to his newly revealed spending habits. Y/n, now Kit, continued talking before abruptly pausing when they finally noticed the crowd that had accumulated in their small bakery. “What’s all this about?” They said with a hint of anxiety slipping into their voice.

“Nothing to be worried about!” Karl jumped into action at the sign of y/n’s trepidation “We just wanted to ask if you wanted to help us take down those old democrat haters.” Karl nervously laughed.

“Oh! Yea, for sure bucko, I hate those guys as much as the next one of y’all.” They smile, a steady joyful expression breaking their former nervous demeanor. Karl felt strangely sick at the sight, at how much it reminded him of his old friend, or more so crush, before their passing. Though he also noted the change in your speech as a strong southern accent slipped in every once in a while, even using the word y’all.

“Good to hear, Kit!” John said happily as y/n and William shared a small conversation talking about stock and sales in the recent weeks. Karl trailed behind the group as he watched y/n converse with the crowd, their face filled with a wide smile, even daring to talk with Crops as if he wasn’t a convicted cannibal. They seemed as kind as ever, as an addicting presence as they used to be when the two lived together in L’manberg.

“Hey Karl!” y/n practically beamed at him as he passed them on the wooden prime path as tommy affectionately called it. “Niki and I made this new bakery together wanna come check it out!” They singsonged already reaching to grab at Karl’s sleeve. They smelled like freshly baked bread, their face dusted with a soft blush from the exertion of baking.

“Yea, sure!” Karl granted them his hand letting y/n pull him in to waste an entire day tasting pastries and sweets. He went home that night with flour handprints on his back and a warm feeling in his chest.

“Great shot!” Karl was pulled out of his trance as he watched Michael whiff the target by a few feet. Shaking his head he studied each member shoot with varying success. Though what really caught his eye was an aim that only rivaled y/n’s own coming from who John had called Kit, the baker that smiled exactly as y/n had every time he whispered a bordering on senseless joke into their ear on party island. He struggled to solidify the name Kit in his head as he watched Kit stick out their tongue as they focused their aim and hit a perfect bullseye. Kit smiled to themselves before they followed the party to the tents surrounding a warm crackling fire.

“Hey, Kit, right? Sorry I’m just never very good with names.” Karl said as he settled down beside the sweet-smelling baker.

“Yep!” They chirped with a relaxed face as they studied the flicking fire as it reached up towards the open sky. “Need something?” They asked turning to Karl. Karl blushed at the eye contact not knowing why he started the conversation in the first place.

“No, no, no,,, uh nothing, I just wanted to say good shooting back there I guess.” He laughed to himself playing with the ends of his sleeves.

“Thank you very much, kind stranger! Just a little hobby I picked up after they built that old shooting range. You know, I don’t think I ever caught your name back in my store?”

“It’s Karl.”

“Karrlllllllll” Kit drew out with a goofy face focusing on the l “Pretty name!” Karl felt stuck in time as the interaction mirrored one he had had with y/n.

“Kaaarrrrrrllllllll! Did I ever tell you your name is pretty?” Karl looked at y/n confused.

“No, but ,,,, I wouldn't quite call it that.” He blushed looking down at his feet.

“I would.” y/n nodded affirmatively “cause it’s Karl, not Carl, it’s pretty,,,,,, your pretty,, really.” y/n laughed at they looked up at the lazily passing clouds with a gentle smile plastered on their relaxed face.

Karl laughed away the small compliment after he looked back up into Kit’s e/c eyes as the group broke into talking about the coming showdown between the two sides.

“Kit, I think you should fight, Mason. You have the best shot out of us aside from me, of course.” Sherif Thompson spoke.

“That’s okay with me! Anything to stop those guys from ruining my pastries really.” Kit said as their interest was engulfed by the warmth from the fire once again. Karl felt fear dig its way into his chest as he looked at Kit’s side profile remembering the last time he had seen them like this.

“Karl go to your library, please. The grid can’t reach it” y/n called to Karl over the never-ending sounds of explosions and falling rubble. “I’ll be okay, I got my bow and my charisma.” y/n chuckled sadly.

“Come down with me! We can be safe together. This isn’t worth it, y/n!” Karl begged as he yelled over to their figure standing tall knowing they were on their last life, knowing that they were not going to go with Karl, knowing this could end in tragedy. Y/n turned with fresh tears trailing down their cheeks.

“This is my home, Karl.”

“I know.” Karl resigned to the fact that you weren’t gonna come with him. Weren’t gonna cower as L’manburg breathed its final breath full of smoke. “I love you.” He yelled as they gave a brave smile jumping down to join the fray. He had imprinted the side profile of their face as they stood solemn, lit by the cloudy sky and the flashes of explosions.

Suddenly it was high noon. Tension building in Karl’s chest as he called out the paces studying Kit walk away from Mason. The track record had been 2-0 he could only hope it would remain so positive.

Y/n had died from an arrow.

An arrow through the chest.

It had been thought to have been shot from Dream’s grid.

No one knew who did it. There was no way to know.

They bled out at the bottom of the crater,

alone,

As Karl huddled in the library,

Eyes shut tight.

Karl knew that in some twisted way, he might as well of fired that arrow himself.

FIRE!

They both fell to the ground, Mason dying upon impact due to the arrow directly piercing his heart. Kit wasn’t as lucky, the arrow had hit it’s target, but not quite a bullseye, the tip was lodged into their upper thigh.

“y/n!” Karl called out in a panic, the strange name not lost to the group around him. He rushed to Kit’s side as tears freely flowed down his face. “Does anyone have a potion?” Kit stared at him in confusion.

“Hey, I’ll be fine, not an artery or anything, just hurts.” they gave Karl a soft smile trying to reassure him of the small injury not being lethal.

“Yea, yea, sorry, I just.”

“y/n’s dead, Karl.” Quackity said as he walked into the secret room of the library that was hidden behind the bookshelf full of y/n’s favorite classics. Karl was frozen in fear as he studied Quackity’s face for any sign of this being some sick sadistic joke. He only found sorrow and loss.

“No, no, y/n, will be here any second! The fight is over, and they are okay, right? Right?” Karl begged Quackity as he felt his hands begin to shake, his breaths becoming ragged. Quackity sat down beside him letting Karl curl into his side. Karl hand’s gripped to his shirt as he sobbed. Quackity knew he couldn’t stop Karl’s pain, but he could comfort him through it.

“I guess, you just reminded me of an old friend.”

#karl jacobs x y/n #karl jacobs x reader #karl x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #mcyt insert #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction

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p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

I’ll Handle This (10)

In Which Marinette Says the Thing

I was the most excited about this chapter and had most of it written already. :)

Also, I bumped up the rating a bit because there’s extremely mild nudity in this chapter.

(Ao3 | FF.net)

—

She looked fierce. Nails done, a cute, white skirt (that she hadn’t spilled her breakfast on!) and a red and white polka dot blouse. She was cute, she was hot, and she was ready to nab her man!

Said man walked into class wearing...

Oh boy.

A leather jacket, with no shirt underneath, a kilt, and knee high combat boots. There was not a single person that didn’t stare at him.

“Sup nerds?”

Nino entered with him, slightly chuckling, like he had heard a very funny inside joke.

Marinette gawked at him. “Adrien...”

“Aww! Pooh Bear! Look at how cute you are!”

Marinette’s initial horror in his appearance turned into excitement. He called her cute!

“Adrien, do we have to have this dress code talk again?” Miss Bustier sighed.

It turned out he did have a shirt on under the jacket. A black button-up. He untucked the flaps, and buttoned them, unevenly, to cover his sweet sweet bod. “Better?”

Miss Bustier shook her head, but urged him to sit down.

“Soooo,” Alya asked, with a wiggling eyebrow. “Are you wearing that kilt...properly?”

He grabbed the hem, squeezing his knees together to shuffle shyly. “You wanna see?”

Marinette burst into color. “Adrien!”

He laughed, “oh, I’m just kidding. I’m wearing boxers under this.”

“Alright everyone, get in your seats, it’s time to start!”

—

Marinette tried to do her very best to stay calm. But the very idea that a confession to Adrien would be happening today kept her distracted.

She stared at him, watching as he scrawled notes...in Chinese? He really was an overachiever!

The day passed in a crawl, Marinette fretting every minute.

Then the lunch bell rang, and students began to pack up for break.

“Adrien?” She blurted, her hands shaking.

He turned and looked at her, grinning, and lowering his sunglasses to flash her half-lidded eyes. “You rang?”

“Um...can we talk together? Er, go somewhere together to talk? I have something I want to tell you.”

His grin turned into a full tooth smile. “Of course! Where to?”

“Um...mom’s got stuff for sandwiches, if you want to come over.”

“Sounds wonderful!” He packed up his bag, and then held out his hand for her.

He wanted to hold her hand! Ah!

Nervously smiling, she put her hand in his, and let him lead her from the room.

At the risk of having a horribly awkward lunch, she took the lead, and led him upstairs to the slowly emptying third floor.

“What’s up here?”

“I...can’t wait anymore. If this makes things weird, you could probably catch up with Nino or the guys...”

He very gently touched her cheek. “I told you I wanted to have lunch with you, and I will. So say whatever you have to say.” He took his sunglasses off and put them on his head.

Marinette took a huge breath. “Now, I just need to know...who is the real you? Are you...is this who you are, and you were suppressing the rebellious, chaotic side? Or are you putting on a show?”

He blinked at her, eyes wide. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean...I support whoever you are. I want you to feel free to be you, and celebrate what makes you special, but...” she tucked some hair behind her ear, a nervous motion. “I just miss the boy I fell in love with.”

“Marinette...”

“I love you no matter what, though! I promise! I just...your kindness, your shy sweetness and honesty really captivated me. That day when you gave me your umbrella, and you went out of your way to apologize for the misunderstanding. You didn’t have to. I was the one that jumped to conclusions, but you wanted to make friends and get on the right foot with me. Your laughter, your smile...I was a goner.” She hugged the strap of her purse. “So this new version of you has been jarring, but...if I’ve been reading your signs right...?”

He pulled her into a hug. “Oh Marinette. Sweet, kind, thoughtful Marinette. You’ve figured me out. This is all an act. Except my attitude towards you. I feel the same.”

“You...love me?”

“Yes. More than I can express.”

She raised her head, tilting her chin and slowly closing her eyes.

The gag kiss during truth or dare was one thing, but Adrien would kill Plagg if he kissed Marinette in earnest like this.

Instead, he pressed a finger to her lips and smiled at her confused look. “Not yet. The timing isn’t right. If I could give you the world, I would. In fact, anything else, I’ll give it to you. You have my heart, and that will be yours as long as you want it. But I don’t think you want a relationship right now.”

“I’m confused...” Marinette said, her lips trembling.

“I want to protect you from my father and Lila. If I make you my girlfriend, they will try to hurt you to get to me. I’d hate to ask you to wait for me, since you’ve finally gotten the courage up to confess...but would you wait?”

Marinette reached up to hold his face, letting her thumb pass reverently over his cheek. How had she gotten so lucky to fall for a man so thoughtful? So loving?

“Adrien, I’d wait a hundred years to be with you. It’ll be our secret for now.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted more from the conversation-“

“Just knowing my feelings are returned are enough. Thank you.”

He took her hand again. “You still want to feed me sandwiches? Do I still deserve it?”

“Of course you do...My Prince.”

Plagg almost retched, but he schooled his face into an adoring grin before he faced her again. “That’s adorable!”

“You like it?”

“I love it!” It was just cheesy enough for Adrien.

“Then that’ll be your nickname...in secret. No one else will know.”

“I think you’ll come to find that our little secret will be so much more fun between us.”

—

After lunch, Plagg and Marinette returned to school. They stopped holding hands as they approached the building, but they stood close and bumped each other coyly.

The behavior didn’t go unnoticed by Alya or Lila. But Alya was the only one to confront them.

“You two seem close,” she asked, twinkle in her eye.

“Oh, we just had a very funny lunch together.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Some great inside jokes. You had to be there.” Plagg sent a wink at Marinette and she seemed to swoon on the spot.

Plagg let her go back to her seat, ignoring the whispering from the girls behind him.

They thought he couldn’t hear them. He could.

Nino bumped his elbow. “Everything cool dude?”

“Absolutely. I’ll tell you later.”

—

Later came after school, of course. The second Plagg and Nino were away from school property, Plagg blurted out, “I’m a genius. I got Marinette to confess her undying love for Adrien. Boo-yah!”

“What?!” Nino shrieked. “Dude! She’s been trying to get that out for months! How on earth—no, wait. I know the answer.”

“Confidence.”

“And obvious flirting.” Nino scoffed. “Adrien always threw out the line, ‘you’re such a good friend’ in front of her. It was like wearing a big sign that said, ‘I will reject you!’”

“I’m right here, you know,” Adrien said, poking his head out of Plagg’s jacket. “And to my defense, I was trying to be faithful to—“

Plagg covered his mouth before he could accidentally reveal Marinette as Ladybug. “No excuses, lover boy!”

Thankfully, Adrien seemed to realize the mistake he almost made and nodded. “Fine, fine. I appreciate that you didn’t kiss her...again. So now what? Have we fulfilled that part of the contract yet?”

“Not quite.” He held up the ring. A paw print with three pads faintly shone on the surface. “Once a condition is met, you’ll hear the ring give its telltale beep and a pad will disappear. Once the paw print completely vanishes...well, you’ll be back in your own body anyway.”

“So...what do I need to do? She already confessed to me.”

This was a conversation better had without Nino involved. Of course he was a bro, and would be helpful for things. But Ladybug’s identity should still remain a secret.

“Nino...” Plagg began, with a drawl. “How much do you know about the birds and the bees?”

Nino sputtered. “HA! BYE!” And he made an about face and hurried towards home.

“Wait Nino!” Called Adrien.

“We’ll meet up with you later!” Plagg sang after.

Adrien looked to his body. “Please tell me you don’t have to...get up to some nasty stuff with my lady. Sure, it’s my body, but you’re like a bazillion years old and I was rather hoping to wait until marriage—“

“Calm down, Romeo. No, there’s not any hanky panky involved. I just needed to get Nino to leave without saying, ‘hey leave’. If he’s going to be suspicious, I need him on a whole other wavelength.”

“Okay, so if there’s no horizontal tango happening, then what are we doing?”

Plagg slipped the ring off his finger. “You need to spend time with her. Tell her or don’t. Just spend time with her outside of school and akumas and get to know her better. For an alibi, tell her that you haven’t been feeling well and you need to be in proximity of the Miracle Box. Then have her send her earrings to me so things stay even.”

“Will she go for that?”

“Probably. You know her better than I do.”

“What about the ring? Don’t you need to wear it because we’re switched?”

“Nah. It should be alright for a little while. It should stay with my body though.”

“Okay...I guess...I’ll go see Marinette.”

“Have fun!” Plagg wiggled his fingers in a farewell and started walking to where Nino had disappeared.

Nervous as all get out, Adrien fled to the bakery, trying to figure out what he was going to tell Marinette.

When was it appropriate to come clean? How long should he wait? Should he blab at all?

Soon, he was hovering above her trap door, and peering inside. Marinette sat at her desk, music playing as she worked on homework. Her head bobbed to some tunes.

“Okay, she thinks you’re Plagg. So she’ll welcome you in and listen to what you tell her. And if she finds out you’re Adrien, then she loves Adrien and everything will be fine. Right? Right!” He psyched himself up.

Using his poorly practiced phasing powers, he entered her room and came to float by her desk. “Hiya pigtails!” He chirped, in the typical Plagg style.

She jerked, before turning to him. Her eyes landed on the ring and widened with surprise. “Why do you have that?! Is Chat okay?! What’s wrong?!” She stood, and nearly knocked over her chair.

Even Tikki looked surprised.

“Everything is fine!” He rushed to rectify. Then he remembered Plagg’s crafted lie. “Mostly. I haven’t been feeling very good, so I think I need to be closer to the Miracle Box for a little bit. I brought the ring for you, if you would send Tikki to Chat for a little while. That way he’s covered in case there’s an Akuma attack.”

Luckily, she bought his dirty fib and started to remove her earrings. “Oh, well if you aren’t feeling well, that means Chat won’t be in top form. We can’t have that! Of course we can trade!” She took the earrings off and handed them to Tikki, before putting on the ring.

Adrien felt a tingle down his spine as the black metal turned rose gold on her dainty finger.

“Is he at home?” Asked Tikki.

“No, come with me, I’ll tell you.” And he escorted her up to the balcony.

“Did Plagg put you up to this?” She asked, once outside. “This seems like one of his hair brained schemes.”

“I mean...he came up with the excuse...but I thought Marinette’s confession today would fulfill one of the conditions of the contract, but it didn’t. Plagg said I should just spend time with her.”

Thankfully, Tikki was the nice one. She patted his paws. “I’m sure you miss her too. I won’t say anything. But I will be having a word with Plagg about this whole thing. He should know that body swaps don’t always work!”

“Don’t tell me that! I’m struggling as it is!”

“Sorry!” She giggled. “Why don’t you go on in. Be prepared though. She’s been all sighs since ‘Adrien’ returned her feelings today.”

If he could blush, he would have. “Oh boy...”

“Where am I going?”

“Oh, Plagg is staying with Nino now. He left home. And uhhh...Nino knows. About me, not Marinette.”

She scoffed. “That rascal.”

“Thanks for understanding, Tikki.”

“I’m understanding with you, because you’re the victim of a manipulative, chaotic creature of destruction and havoc.”

“He can be a bit of a turd.”

“What am I doing? You could be spending time with the love of your life! Now, go on!” Tikki pushed him towards the door before flitting off to Nino’s.

Suddenly faced with seeing Marinette again, and continuing to lie to her face, he sheepishly returned to her room.

She had ducked out for the moment, and he found himself alone.

Alone, but surrounded by dozens of pictures of himself.

Knowing about her crush put these photos in a different context, for sure.

“Just a fan” she said. She was a big fat liar too!

“Adorable, isn’t he?” Her voice grabbed him while he was off guard.

“Uhhh...I guess? For a human?”

She giggled, and set down the plate of cheese danishes onto her desk. “That’s Adrien. He’s kind of my boyfriend. It’s not official yet, but he loves me.” She smiled widely. “He told me just today.”

“‘Kind of’ your boyfriend? You’re okay with that?”

“He can’t date right now because of his father. But he asked me to wait for him. I’d wait a thousand years for him.”

His heart hammered in his chest. “What about three years? What if he can’t date until he’s 18?”

“That’s fine.” She said nonchalantly. “We can still hang out. We can focus on school and drama doesn’t have to come between us...”

“And if someone else available comes along?”

Marinette couldn’t know the real reason he was asking that question. She just fondly patted his head. “Sorry Plagg. I know you care a lot about Chat, but Adrien...Adrien means the world to me. I love Chat too, but in a different way. And he’s not available, not to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Chat will always just be my partner. Can only be my partner. We couldn’t date if I wanted too. It would be too difficult.” She sat back at her desk and sighed. “It would hurt too much.”

Adrien was struck speechless. How was he even supposed to respond to that? Was that an admission that she actually did have some feelings for Chat Noir?

It didn’t matter. Not now. “I didn’t mean to put you on the offensive. I was just...curious, is all. I’m happy you’ve found someone who loves you.”

She smiled at him then, scooping him out of the air and scratching his cheek with her finger. “Thanks Plagg. I hope I didn’t come off as snooty. I know you care about Chat. But he can fight his own battles.”

Her words made him feel like garbage. She had no idea, of course. Because up until the body swap, Adrien’s battles were not being fought. They were purposefully not being fought, because he was too chicken shit to upset anyone.

“Yeah...he’s brave alright...” he muttered.

Marinette settled down at her desk and continued on her homework.

What was a boy to do? He sat on the desk, and helped himself to the cheese danishes.

They were almost worth the trip over here by themselves.

“Enjoying yourself?” Marinette asked, eyebrow quirked.

At that, Adrien realized with thinly veiled horror that he had been moaning.

Eek.

“These are the most delicious things I’ve ever had!” Or maybe it was because Plagg had only fed him Camembert until now. Sure, Plagg’s taste buds were attuned to the foul stuff, but after a while, the same foods over and over get old.

Marinette just smiled at him fondly and continued with her work.

Would it be odd to look at her? Would she notice? He certainly found it hard to look away. He couldn’t stare at her during school. Not as Plagg, and not as Adrien from now on.

She tapped her pencil against her perfectly kissable lips, scrunching her nose and narrowing her eyes as she studied the page. It was adorable, but more so, it was the same face she made as Ladybug, when she was trying to solve her Lucky Charm.

Was it hindsight? Or if he saw Marinette making that face, would he have realized it?

Would he have cared enough to look at her?

Of course he would! He argued with himself. Marinette was always special, and her being Ladybug only elevated her in his mind. It was a match that made sense. Of course she was Ladybug. No one else could be so…wonderful.

But faced with her, and not knowing what to say or how to begin to explain the truth, he had to ask himself the tell tale question:

Did he like Marinette now because she was Ladybug? Or did he always like her, and was only in denial?

He begged it was the second. It had to be.

Her qualities were the same. There was nothing about Marinette that made him recoil or actively deny her identity.

Scratch that, Marinette was ridiculously clumsy.

But besides that, they were the same.

“Thinking about something tough over there?” Marinette asked.

“Huh? Oh. Uh...yeah. You know how it is.” Like that made any sense.

“Right. Like I could understand the problems of a Kwami.” She teased. “If you need to talk, I’m all ears.”

Soon. Soon he’d explain everything. But right now, he was just too nervous and scared of her wrath. “Thanks Marinette. I appreciate it. But I don’t want to distract you from your homework.”

She shrugged a little, not wanting to pry, before going back to work.

Adrien and Marinette shared the cheese danishes, and occasionally talked as she worked. When she got severely stuck, he would throw her a few hints.

Then she stretched, finished. “Oh thank goodness! I’m so tired, and I could use a lazy evening.”

“Marinette! Dinner time!”

“Well, after dinner, I’d like a lazy evening.” She scratched Adrien’s head. “Let’s just hope there’s no Akuma attack.”

“Fingers crossed!”

“You’ll be fine up here alone?”

“Of course. Have fun with your parents.”

“Oh,” she wilted. “Should I tell them about Adrien?”

“Why not?”

“I’m just scared that my nosy parents will ask a hundred questions. And we’re not even official.”

“Maybe by mentioning it now, when it becomes official, it won’t be much of a shock.”

“And maybe we can avoid another disaster like when my dad got akumatized. You’re right.” She couldn’t help but sigh. “Well, I’ll tell you how it goes!” And she went downstairs.

Adrien sat on her desk, scanning the walls and taking in all of his pictures. She really loved him, didn’t she?

And how long had that gone on, and he never noticed?

Was it okay to snoop? Of course morally and ethically, no, it wasn’t. But he was technically her sort of boyfriend. It couldn’t hurt.

Right?

So he snooped. Just a precursory glance through her belongings. It was all very innocent.

Until he found the pink half-circle book. Her diary.

Maybe it was the influence of Plagg’s magic in him. Or this whole experience was turning him into a rascal.

But he opened the book and started to read.

The entries were pretty innocent too. Day to day things, balancing life as a superhero and a student. She mentioned him a few times. Using phrases like, ‘golden hair’, ‘handsome face’, ‘emerald eyes’, and ‘abundant kindness’. She wrote about the times they interacted. From him catching her when she tripped, to the glances they shared. Just the smallest interactions between them, she cherished.

It almost made his heart hurt with how moved he was.

And then there was an entry whose content made him feel a different sort of pain. She recounted a day he had not experienced. Her encounter with his akuma, Chat Blanc.

He read the pages, soaking up every heart breaking moment. All the cruel things he had said to her that he would have never known. Why hadn’t she said anything? Was it too painful? Or did…

Did she think he didn’t need to know?

The diary slammed shut as he was finishing the entry, and a very angry and embarrassed Marinette stood over him, glaring. “Little snoop.”

“Yeah yeah, cats and curiosity and all that. So sue me.”

She took the book away and put it in a box with a lid. “Remind me never to leave you alone in my room ever again.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

She walked away, heading to her dresser. “Are you like this with Chat, too?”

“Oh, I’m much worse. You have no idea.”

She laughed at him, and took her pajamas out of her drawers.

Then without warning, she took off her pants.

And Adrien’s mouth went dry. He watched as she slipped on her pajama pants, and then took off her shirt, and even her bra, before putting on a loose t-shirt.

He was not going to get that image out of his head for a long, long time.

She turned to him and started talking like nothing had happened. “So what do you want to do? I’m all done with homework, and so as long as there’s no Akuma attack, I can do whatever I want. What do you and Chat usually do?”

Adrien didn’t know how to tell her he didn’t really have free time. Plagg just looked up cheese blogs on his phone, or watched a movie while Adrien worked on homework.

“You pick. I’ll just watch if you want to play video games or design.”

“I’m actually kind of tired. I might just watch videos in bed.”

“Sounds fun! Can I join?”

“Sure! Whatever you want, Plagg.” Marinette climbed her ladder up to her loft and settled against her pillows. She pulled a fuzzy blanket around her legs and sighed in content. “Just what the doctor ordered!”

Adrien hesitated a moment, trying to decide where to sit. Her shoulder? Her stomach?

But Marinette took the choice away and patted her chest, just above her heart.

Eagerly, he settled, curling his tail around his body, and absorbing her body heat. She scratched between his ears and made him purr almost instantly.

This was heaven. When he got his body back, he’d lay his head here. Hopefully, she’d scratch his scalp just the same.

The videos played on her phone, just memes. Every time she chuckled, her chest would rumble with the noise, and fill him with joy.

He could hear her heart beating. The heart she had opened for him just today. A heart that he lived in.

And then her phone started flashing with a red light. And akuma alert!

“Uh oh!” Marinette clicked on the alert, checking out the details. “It’s a sentimonster! Come on Plagg, we can’t leave Misterbug out to dry!”

As she scaled the ladder to her balcony, he panicked. How was this going to work? Was she going to notice once they transformed? Would he be able to hear her thoughts like he could when Plagg transformed?

Would he look through her eyes?

She raised the hand with the ring on it. “Alright! Plagg, Claws out!”

Nothing happened.

“Um...Plagg, Claws out?”

“Oh.” Adrien gasped, “oh no.”

“Oh no what? Are you broken? Do I need to fix you?”

“No! I mean—sort of, but you already did your part! I’m just...”

“Plagg, what’s going on?”

He sighed, screwing up his lips and unintentionally showing his fangs. “Um...I’m not...I’m not actually Plagg.”

She stared at him, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing. “Then...who are you?”

“Promise you won’t be mad?”

“No guarantees!”

“Well, okay.” He gulped. “I’m...Adrien?”

She blinked. “Adrien? Like...no. No no no not like Adrien Agreste, my new supposed boyfriend?!”

“That’s me! Hi P-Pooh Bear?”

“What?!” She shrieked. “How?! When?! What—“ she snatched him out of the air with firm hands. “HAVE YOU BEEN ADRIEN THIS WHOLE TIME?”

“I mean, I’ve been Adrien my whole life,” he awkwardly chuckled.

“No, no don’t joke with me right now.” She sniffed. “How long have you been like this?”

“Um...about two weeks now. Since that day he came to school in a crop top.”

Marinette shut her eyes tight, a few tears slipping past her cheeks. “That long...”

“Marinette?”

“So it was all a lie? Plagg’s just—messing with us? With me? You don’t really—“ she squeezed her eyes shut and started crying in earnest.

“No! No Marinette! Of course I love you! I’ve always loved you, you know that! The second I learned you were Ladybug, everything made sense! I was so happy and I told Plagg he had to win you over. Please Marinette, this was never supposed to be malicious.” He nuzzled against her fingers, offering up a purr. “I promise.”

With her free hand, she wiped her face. “Alright, well suppose I believe you. What happened? Why are you like this?”

“I made a deal with the devil. Plagg, specifically. He said he was tired of me complaining all the time. So he said he could solve all my problems if I just agreed to it. Then I woke up in his body.”

“What problems?”

“Well...my unrequited love for you, for one.”

She blushed.

“My relationship with my father for two, and the third is Lila’s harassment.”

“Oh, I get it now.” Marinette sighed. “That’s why he was doing all those things...”

“You mean dressing like a moron and messing with Lila?”

“Yes. And flirting with me.”

“To be honest,” he scratched the back of his head. “I would have flirted with you earlier if I had known you were Ladybug. I liked you before, I was just trying to pretend I didn’t, because I wanted to be loyal to...well, you.”

She held him softly in her hands. “We’ve made a mess of things, haven’t we?”

“It was for our own good. Secret identities and all that.”

“You almost sound like you just repeat that to yourself, but you don’t believe it.”

“I had to repeat it to myself,” he urged. “Every day. Because I so desperately wanted to be with you, to spend time with you out of the suit. I was so lonely and I thought, if there was one person I could trust with my identity, it had to be you. But I wanted to honor your wishes. I just hoped to wear you down, eventually.”

She passed her thumb over his cheek and whiskers. “I had been thinking about it, ever since I became the guardian. I wanted to keep you safe, but if something happened to Plagg and you couldn’t transform, no one would know. I’m not upset with you, Kitty. Though I wish this reveal had happened a little more...mutually.” Suddenly, her eyes widened. “What are we doing?! We have a sentimonster!”

“Aw let him fight on his own! He deserves some sort of punishment for this and I have yet to come up with a good one.”

She chuckled. “Alright, fine. We’ll give him a few minutes and see how things are going.”

“You’re taking this better than I expected.”

“I’m in shock.” She chuckled, a little hysterical. “It took me so much courage to confess…and it wasn’t even to your face. That would happen to me.”

He floated out of her hand and nuzzled her face. “All that matters is that I know. We can’t be together quite yet, but the second I get my body back, I plan to make you mine.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely, Bugbear.”

She kissed between his ears. “Okay, My Prince. I look forward to it.”

The ring on her finger beeped, and a paw pad faded out.

“What was that?”

Adrien sighed with relief. “The condition has been met.”

“Condition?”

Just then, a swath of Ladybugs rushed over the city, righting whatever the Sentimonster had ruined.

“Well, looks like he didn’t need our help after all.”

Marinette laughed slightly. “They have been doing this a long time. It probably only took them this long to get it because of travel time.”

Adrien nodded. “So, just to clarify, you aren’t mad at me?”

“Of course not! It sounds like Plagg tricked you. Though I am mad at you for reading my diary…and watching me change!”

“In my defense, I was not warned you were going to change.”

“Still you could have turned around!” She blushed.

“Sorry, Bugaboo, I guess I was just a little star struck.”

She bopped him on the nose. “Now don’t try to flatter me to get out of being caught.”

A yoyo wrapped around the chimney above their heads, and Misterbug made his appearance. His very jarring, ancient appearance. He wore black leggings with a red loincloth around his waist. His shirt was cropped and had billowing sleeves. The mask was just a cloth that tied around his lower face.

“Well well well, I figured if you weren’t on the battle field, you were busy having a lover’s quarrel.” He smirked, the smile only creasing his eyes.

Marinette looked to Plagg. “Dearest Sunshine, do you mind terribly if I abuse your body?”

“Be my guest.”

Marinette wound up a punch and socked Plagg right in the shoulder.

“Ow! Hey, that actually hurt.”

“I hope you, you monster! How could you hurt my poor, sweet, innocent Adrien!?” She cuddled him close to her cheek.

Plagg scoffed. “Puh-lease. There is nothing innocent about that boy. Spots off.”

The pink light faded, and Adrien’s body remained. It was almost hard to look at him, even though she knew it wasn’t really Adrien.

“Oh, now she gets all shy~!” Plagg taunted. “I should have retransformed when I landed. Maybe she wouldn’t have punched me!”

“You deserved it.” Tikki said, flatly.

“Yeah, whatever. So? How’d it go?”

Marinette held out the ring. “It beeped?”

“Excellent!” He took it off her finger. “Two to go!” He slipped the ring on and took off the earrings. “Now I just have to focus on Gabriel and Lila. I think Gabe’s getting ready to crack. Lila though, I might have to push a little harder.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Marinette added. “It makes me feel better that I might not have to put up with her for much longer. So I can take a little damage.”

Adrien frowned. “Can’t I stay with Marinette a while longer?”

Plagg huffed. “I mean you could…but then you couldn’t see the absolute chaos that I planned.”

Adrien winced. “Ugh, fine. I’ll go with you.” He turned to Marinette, pressing a kiss on her cheek. “Bye Bugaboo. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay Kitty. I love you!”

Adrien’s heart nearly burst with love. “I love you too!”

“Gross.” Plagg gagged. “Alright, time to go! Adrien, Claws Out!”

—

Chat Plagg Noir returned to the Lahiffe residence, and swung in through Nino’s window.

Nino for his part, was nearly dancing in panic.

“You good, my man?”

Nino shook his head frantically. “There’s a policeman here for you! I tried to stall as long as I could, and said you were asleep and a heavy sleeper! But I think he’s about to burst down my door!”

“A policeman? What for?”

“I don’t know! He just said he had to talk to you!”

“Claws in.” Plagg walked over to the door, and exited, pensively watching the uniformed man in the living room.

“Did you have a nice nap?” The man asked, arms crossed.

“I did, until I was shaken awake. Is there a problem officer?”

“Adrien Agreste, you are under arrest.”

#miraculous ladybug #ml #fanfiction #I'll handle this #marinette dupain cheng #adrinette #adrienette #adrien agreste #adrien and plagg #body swap #identity reveal

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copias-thrall · 3 years

Text

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

#mary goore #longfic #gender neutral insert #aurelio voltaire

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