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lakesparkles · 8 months

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Ants (OC oneshot)

I'm not sure if anyone here is interested but, just in case, I'll share here something I wrote for some of my OCs, Taylor and Daisy :D

They're surely my fav OCs ever, if you want to see more of them, you can check their tags here (or my Instagram that I talk about them all the time)!

The oneshot can be read on this google doc or under the cut:

Ants

Sometimes frustration comes from things that are impossible to change.

Taylor and Daisy look at old photos

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Daisy's ants always held his gaze. He felt strange. He had seen several ant tanks before, but this one in particular interested him. It hung on the wall of the closet, with a lamp directly overhead, which made it even clearer: the tiny ants never stopped in their tracks, walking through the same tunnels they had dug long ago. He imagined what it would be like for them. How big everything was.

Taylor blinked, breaking out of his trance for just a second. It was enough to make him aware of the lack of attention, realizing his situation as a whole. Until that moment, he hadn't even realized that he was, in fact, in Daisy's room. Even after dating her for so many months, it must've been the third time he had entered there in his life.

"I like ants!" He commented, his eyes still glued to the tank. "There are so many! Can you recognize them one by one?"

He managed to turn around, now looking at his fiancee (he has a fiancee!!). Daisy tilted her head slightly, sulking a little and giving him the terrible impression that she had been talking to him during all this time of distraction. Before he had time to confirm the theory and open his mouth to ask something stupid, Daisy took a few steps forward, getting close to him and the tank.

"Do you see this little one here?" She pointed to a farther one and Taylor leaned his body forward, nodding. "I call her Courtney! She's kind of a loner, but she works just as hard as the others... Maybe even harder! She is one of my favorites."

Taylor perked up, the tip of his tail starting to wag as he pointed at another specific ant:

"And this one? What is its name?"

"Oh, that's Clarita!"

"HOW DO YOU DO IT!?" Now the tail was completely wagging. "They're so similar... And there are so many! Is it serious that you recognize each one?"

"Of course not, silly! I was kidding... Taylor, were you paying attention to what I said?"

The dog straightened his posture, lowering his head, a little embarrassed. Not just for the last conversation, but the way Daisy called him. To her, he could be "nugget", "sweetheart", "strawberry cupcake", "furball" or anything else that popped into her head. He was only called "Taylor" if Daisy was being extremely serious.

"Maybe the ants distracted me..."

At least Daisy didn't look offended, laughing and making him feel lighter. Without saying a word, she moved even closer to him, only to smack his butt (to be fair, she had rubbed his butt more than anything, but you wouldn't hear any complaints from him about that).

"Stop being lazy!" She exclaimed. "We have a lot to do!"

That command was the equivalent of turning Taylor's brain on, which automatically felt more focused. He turned around, starting to survey the room at large. Just like his house, the rooms there were not very spacious, although comfortable. The walls were cream and… unfortunately, it didn't even look like Daisy's room. It had some furniture, ants and that's all. No decorations or anything to make it livable beyond the basics.

He remembered how Daisy had commented that she liked his bedroom and how everything in there reminded her of himself. Also how, little by little, it became less his place and more of both of them. Daisy bought some plants to decorate, as well as fairy lights. She left her clothes hanging on the hanger, right next to his. The floor was always covered with a toy or more from the pups and, even though most of it was still his own stuff... his house seemed infinitely more like Daisy's home than that empty room.

That warmed his heart and only then did he realize he had gotten distracted again, looking at the ants, wagging his tail and laughing like crazy.

"Ants make you so happy, don't they?" Daisy implied from the other corner of the room, where she analyzed her remaining clothes inside the wardrobe.

"We're moving in together!" He ignored the question, smiling towards her. "It's sinking in now!"

"Look, we kind of already lived together" Daisy stopped looking at the clothes for a moment. "I'm just going to sleep at your place every day, but the puppies will still stay here from time to time and...

"That's like, 90% living together!"

"Right, right! So let's go before my grandmother arrives."

Taylor nodded vaguely, as he often did when Daisy spoke. Seconds later, he realized he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing in the first place.

Focus, Taylor, focus!

Daisy had told him that they should just gather her remaining things to take to her house and... It shouldn't be that difficult.

Except that everything there seemed so boring and lifeless. It wasn't like he was judging his fiancee, it was more thinking how nothing there must matter much to her. However, he started pacing and looking around, hoping that Daisy would think he had something useful running through his brain.

He ended up facing the cabinet next to the bed, kneeling down to reach the drawers. Above him was just a small framed picture, which seemed incredible compared to everything else. Taylor guessed it was a photo from a couple of years ago, considering how small the four puppies were. None of them looked at the camera, being around Daisy, who opened a nervous smile.

Taylor couldn't help but laugh softly, holding the end of the frame until he lowered it and brought it closer to him. This would certainly go to their house.

Finally opening the first drawer, he was surprised by the amount of stuff there. It was as if everything that was supposed to be in the rest of the room had been concentrated in that tiny, cramped space.

"Ahhhh, there's a lot of stuff in the drawer!" He spoke aloud, a little confused about what was important or not.

"Most is just crap, but see if you can find something."

Yeah, he didn't want to do that, his whole body already being taken over by laziness before he even started. But that was what he was there for, wasn't it? Half the reason, because he figured supporting his fiancee emotionally was just as much the reason for that. Daisy never felt right being there or seeing old things, although she seemed relaxed now. She still looked from outfit to outfit, even pulling on some pants or coats and grumbling when she realized they didn't even fit anymore. Taylor could spend the rest of the day watching her do it, his mind amused to note how the best clothes were already at his house (where they really mattered), and that he could buy her lots of new ones.

But now he had a job to do!

Still with great reluctance, he put his paws in the drawer, almost digging through all the junk. There were old diaries. Old bills. Old notes. Even old cell phones! And nothing that seemed to pay off, Daisy certainly didn't lie.

The first thing that interested him was a pink watch in the shape of a cat (with ears and a small face drawn). It had no batteries and obviously didn't work, but he remembered Daisy telling him about such an object once: she had accidentally taken it in her suitcase, as it belonged to her old college roommate, Claudia. The siamese cat didn't mind it so much, and now the watch was Daisy's, as a keepsake.

He put the watch together with the picture frame.

And it was just thinking about Claudia that another interesting thing appeared. It was an envelope already opened once before, with a small message written by the same cat, along with her address.

Curiosity got the better of him for a moment, almost feeling bad for snooping through her things… But it wasn't as if that wasn't exactly what Daisy had asked him to do. Then, without thinking too much further, he spilled the entire contents of the envelope onto one of his paws.

"What photos are these?" he asked, almost shouting, realizing what it was about.

"What pictures!?" Daisy nearly tripped over the jeans she was pulling off her legs, walking towards him. "Oh, those. They're from college, Claudia sent me a few weeks ago."

"Oh, yes? Why didn't you show me?" He made a point of moving his tail to the ground and smiling, fearing that, otherwise, his curiosity would be mistaken for accusation.

"I was going to, but I forgot."

Taylor wasn't entirely convinced though, he didn't want to dwell on something the other didn't want to talk about. What's more, she crouched down on his side, as if she wanted to see the pictures too.

More cheered up, he turned his attention to the pile he held. The first image was a simple selfie between the two. Claudia showed her sharp canines in a wide smile, hugging Daisy (who was smiling too!!) with the arm that wasn't holding the camera. The two seemed to be sitting on a bed, almost at night.

It was so natural and cute and…real? He hadn't seen pictures like that of Daisy before... In fact, most of the pictures he had of her were taken by himself. It made him more excited for the rest.

Not all of them had Daisy, whether they were part of the college campus or other animals that Taylor didn't know about. One was the theater stage.

"Wow, I look terrible in this one," Daisy commented when he moved on to the next one, which was a group photo. There were a dozen different people there, his eyes going from Daisy to a big gray wolf in the far left corner, dressed in the typical green college coat.

Taylor lowered his ears even more, feeling a mixture of feelings that made his body paralyze for a few seconds.

With his heart starting to race, he realized it was the first time he'd seen Ralph in his life. He was so much friendlier than he'd imagined, his rectangular glasses making his muzzle and smile almost look cute.

He didn't like it, starting to feel weird. Daisy shivered beside him, but said nothing.

She let Taylor to do this job:

"Are you crazy!? Terrible where? This dress shirt did wonders for your body!"

Daisy laughed lightly, returning to the good mood of seconds ago:

"Come on, look at my face there!"

"Extremely adorable! Like... Obviously they took the picture at the moment you would blink, but that doesn't take away from the fact that-"

He was interrupted in mid-sentence when Daisy dragged her body even closer to him until she could lay her cheek against his shoulder. Now she was close enough that her scent was the only thing Taylor could smell, and that motivated him to change the photo.

Most were about her and Claudia, with them visiting somewhere in town or having coffee near campus. Daisy seemed excited to review the moments, despite always finding a flaw for every possible photo. In fairness, Taylor soon understood the insecurity: She would surreptitiously ask for compliments and oh, he was more than ready to give that kind of attention! He commented on her different clothes and hairstyles, as well as her fur appearing shorter than usual. The more she talked about the details, the more he noticed how different Daisy was back then. Even though she looked relatively the same, she had dark circles under her eyes and appeared to be constantly tired. Not that the Daisy of now wasn't too. It was just… different, somehow.

Taylor's heart raced again as he changed photos, his mouth almost agape.

Nothing could have prepared him to suddenly feel so much.

Daisy pulled away from his shoulder as soon as he turned to face her with the biggest smile he could muster, his tail thumping the floor like a drum.

"How many months were you?'

"I think about five..."

"Only that?? But your belly is already huge!"

"Yours would be too if you had four creatures inside you!"

Taylor barely heard the answer, his eyes glued to the photo. The Daisy over there looked kind of uncomfortable, and according to the Daisy next to him who kept talking (you should have been paying more attention, Taylor), it was because it took Claudia a long time to convince her to take that one off. Daisy apparently didn't like pictures very much, but Taylor loved them... even more when they were of his fiancee.

His brain and heart still hadn't calmed down. It was one thing to have the notion that Daisy had been pregnant once. It was quite another to actually see it. The penny was usually slow to sink in for Taylor. He knew things, however, his brain didn't process them as something real. He didn't even fully understand that they're going to get married soon!

So that photo made the pregnancy real.

He felt so excited and passionate, in a way that was even difficult for him to understand and express.

He felt equally sad too.

"I found my new favorite picture." Ignoring that last part, he gave Daisy's cheek a quick lick.

"Are you sure? I would choose the next one if I were you."

At an insanely fast speed, he switched the photo on his paw.

"Oh no..." He whispered, his voice almost breaking from the sudden urge for his eyes to water. Daisy laughed beside him.

"I imagined you'd like this one~"

He might be being dramatic, but Taylor was pretty sure he would actually cry if he said a word. Instead, he continued analyzing every little detail of the image. The Daisy over there was smiling even more tiredly, her ears flat and fur ruffled. It made sense, judging by how she was on a maternity bed.

However, the part he couldn't stop staring at was the four fur balls on her lap. He was so used to seeing the wolves agitated and overgrown that he could barely make them out here. They all still had their eyes closed and fur much darker, with small, flat ears. Gabriel (was that Gabriel? Yes, yes) was yawning, huddled for warmth among his siblings.

"Daisy...." After much effort, it was all that came out of Taylor's mouth.

"That's why it took me a while to show you, I knew you would act like this!" There was no rancor in her voice, quite the contrary. She ran her hand down his back, her smile still plastered to her face.

"You never told me about the day they were born."

"No?"

"No."

Daisy grunted softly, shrugging.

"Errr.... It's not a very nice story, y'know? I think it's for the best if you imagine it any way you want."

Taylor's eyes returned to the photo:

"I'd like to hear it, if you want to tell me.'

"All right... Look, you know how pregnancy between herbivores and carnivores works. It's like any other species, but twice as bad. They were planned to be born in December and.. This photo was taken in September."

"What happened?" Taylor was already worried.

"Briefly? I almost died. They almost died. But everything worked out, so this picture exists."

"Daisy, I didn't... I had no idea..."

"Great! It's not something I like to remember either, you know?" She laughed awkwardly to lighten the moment.

Taylor's throat was dry. That didn't stop him from continuing:

"I don't even know what I would do if I were there!"

Yeah, saying it out loud only made him sadder. Dumb dog!

"You would go from the maternity ward straight to the hospital, that's it! Not to make it worse, but I barely got to see them at first.... Or spend the nights in the maternity ward. They were so small and fragile and.... They had to stay in the incubator for a long time before they gained weight. I remember not being able to sleep well at night, Claudia needed to keep calming me down" Her laugh sounded even faker now, but she relaxed when Taylor wrapped her in a half hug.

What he would say would make him very sad, just like a few seconds ago. He knew it would. But he let the words out anyway:

"I so wish I had met you before" he paused to swallow hard "I would give anything .... everything .... to have seen you pregnant and gone through all this with you."

The hurt look Daisy gave him caught him off guard, as he thought he was saying something nice. He quickly analyzed his own words, realizing the mistake with despair:

"No no! Not because of that! Jeez, Daisy, I don't care 1% that they're not mine... I mean, they're mine! That's what I mean. I wouldn't change that part, I just would.... Oh, I don't know what I'm talking about, sorry!"

Daisy didn't look angry, thankfully. She buried her head in his neck, placing a small kiss on that same region:

"I wish you were there too. Everything would have been so much easier... I thought I liked being alone. I still like it! But it's also good not to be..."

From the tone she spoke, Taylor understood that she had just confessed to something big. Something she now trusted him well enough to know. Nothing seemed fairer than compensating for it by confessing something too:

"These two photos will definitely stay in our room! I loved it so much... But... Would it be selfish to say that they also make me feel bad for not being there?"

"This was not your fault!"

"Yeah, but it frustrates me anyway! Like I said, this has nothing to do with me not being their biological father! It doesn't change anything at all, but I can't stop thinking about how I missed their first two years of life... I wish I had met you when you were pregnant... Or whatever."

"Hey, it doesn't matter! We're together now, aren't we?"

"Yes... Yes, it's stupid, sorry" He turned his head to the side, not wanting her to see the expression that was on his face.

"It's not stupid!" Daisy sighed, pulling away from him. "Don't you think I would rather not have gone through all that shit alone and end up here again? Damn, I... I think I'm taking it out on you... It's not you I'm mad at, okay?

Taylor nodded, sighing at the turn the conversation had taken.

"On second thought, maybe it was for the best that I wasn't there" Then he shrugged, recovering the energy and good mood he didn't even have at the moment. "It's like you said, I don't even know if I could be there without stopping at the hospital. If this picture almost made me cry, imagine that!"

"Oh, you're right," Daisy laughed, giving him a very light punch. "I admit that I cried as well..."

"They were so little, love! Tiny little fur balls! Did you want me to hold you and not feel all the love in the world?"

"You would certainly have worried throughout the pregnancy, thinking it was wrong even when I walked and stuffing myself with blankets. And with the puppies then? You would be those overprotective parents who would be afraid to hold them."

"Don't you think I'm an overprotective father these days?"

"There's nothing that I can think of more, are you kidding!? And they even talk already."

Taylor's cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

This time, the penny dropped fast.

Such would never happen. He and Daisy couldn't have babies on their own.

It doesn't matter.

"All the photos go to my house!" He exclaimed, concluding.

"Okay, I found some clothes, that should be it."

Nodding, he tucked the photos back into the envelope, carrying it under his arm along with the watch and frame.

He was at the door, just waiting for Daisy, when he noticed that she wasn't moving. It was her turn to stop in front of the tank, her attention held by the ants:

"One thing is missing."

"Are Coutney, Clarita and the rest going too?" He couldn't help but wag his tail. "Oh, our relationship is serious-serious!"

Daisy smiled as she reached for something to unscrew the tank from the wall. This time, she didn't even try to deny it:

"It's serious-serious."

#my writing #taylor #daisy

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theunexplainable · 2 years

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Greenhouse au!

Basically, Hermitcraft is just a giant greenhouse that Xisuma owns, his father used to own it but gave it too him. And a lot of plant people take refuge there, some leave and some stay, but at least X has a bunch of friends!

Every plant hybrid has their own section of the greenhouse so they can grow whatever they like! And btw, the greenhouse is fucking huge, like, bigger than the industrial ones lol. Some of the hybrids like staying near friends, some like being alone, some don't mind either!

All the plant people specialize in different plants, they can work with almost any plants, but usually make a strong connection to one or more specific kinds.

Also, they basically look normal other than some have black eyes, and have plants growing out of them, usually the ones they specialize in!

Scar, a specialist in Bluebells, who like Cub, a Phalaenopsis specialist, is also part vex.

Mumbo, a specialist in black roses and daisies, no one knows how they're black, not even Mumbo.

Grian, not as much a plant as he is fungus, specializes with The Prince, Honey Mushroom, Chicken of The Woods, and the Fly Argaric. He can also work with molds and almost all decomposer plants.

Cleo specializes with Selaginella lepidophylla, and Italian Cypresses, she is also a zombie hybrid, which they personally think is ironic.

Joe is a poetic one, so of course he specializes with Laurel trees it's a joke only he seems to find funny, or maybe very few understand.

Doc is a creeper hybrid, due to an accident he also has cybernetic prosthetics, specifically, his right arm and the left side of his head! He specializes in Bryopsida moss, also known as True moss, because he is truly the best. [It was originally Java mos, but that's an underwater moss lol]

TFC specializes with Eryngos, which he finds pretty. :]

Ren is a dog hybrid, so it's only fair that he specializes in Anethum Graveolens and Nasturtium, he says they smell good.

[That's all I have for now! Hope you guys like, if you ask about someone who wasn't mentioned, I'll tell you what I think they would specialize in!]

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imagines-from-the-pit · 1 year

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What Types of Flowers the Bears Like/Give

Type: Headcanons

Requested By: N/A

TW: N/A

Author's Note: Happy Valentines Day everyone!!! Here's a quick little post to help celebrate. It can be taken in a platonic or a romantic way. Also note that for Mutwain, the left head I refer to as Matthew and the right head was Michael (I'll explain more in depth in a future analysis for them).

-Mod Sam

Bear likes yellow roses. A combination of something classic, yet something unique. Yellow is one of his favorite colors, so honestly any kind of yellow flowers would be an appropriate gift for him.

There's a chance he may have forgotten to get you something for Valentine's Day. He gets so caught up in work that he would sprint to the store to get you something before he sees you. He would most likely get you daffodils, which are another one of his favorite flowers.

Bear has some decent skills in gardening and care for flowers, so if he is not working for once he'll tend to it as needed. The lifespan of flowers in his house honesty vary depending on his workload.

He's more of a fern kind of person, but this is usually because any flower that enters his home usually dies within a week. He'll accept any kind of flowers that are easy to maintain like pansies or marigolds, but honestly if anything, he'll accept a fake plant as a gift too.

Since smells are a big thing to him, he would find flowers for you that are very fragrant. For that he would get you a variety of tulips, because not only will they come in different colors, but also a variety of different scents as well depending on the color.

Despite not having a preference for flowers in his home, he still likes to smell flowers. When walking in botanical gardens he loves to stop and smell all the variety of flowers and admire their beauty. Unfortunately, he can't be around daisies because the high amounts of pollen give him bad allergies.

Being a gardener, he's seen all kinds of flowers, so he will accept any kind of flower you give him since they mean a big deal to him. His favorite kind of flower however, is the sunflower, which to him is a good luck symbol. He also enjoys when someone chooses an unexpected choice on Valentine's Day and he cherishes those flowers as a special gift.

Talk about a personalized gift! Sungarden would get you a large assortment of flowers that he grew himself. These flowers would vary based on what colors you like and what kind of scents catch your fancy, and he would make sure they are in pristine condition before presenting them to you.

Valentine's Day is one of the busiest times of the year for him since many of the other bears are rushing to buy flowers from him. However, he will always plan and arrange specific flower arrangements for the significant people in his life as soon as February 1 hits.

Sorry to say this, but Matthew does not like flowers. He finds no use for them and can't stand their smells most of the time. If you ended up getting him flowers as a gift, he'll accept the gesture since he doesn't want to be rude (and totally not because Michael would've slapped him), but don't expect them to last long because chances are he won't take care of them.

Michael however, loves flowers. He has some experience in taking care of flowers. He tends to like white flowers the most which is evident by the fact that his two favorite flowers are Mountain Clemantis and Jasmine flowers. He would most likely get you Calla Lilies, and get one of every color imaginable since he tends to forget your favorite color.

If Matthew ends up giving you flowers, it would be against his will and would probably go for the typical bouquet of red roses. When it comes to giving gifts, he is more accustomed to taking you somewhere rather than giving you an object. It also doesn't help that Valentine's Day really isn't his thing.

The best kinds of flowers to give him are ones that can survive in chilly weather. Bonus points if they're purple! Violets and Irises are two of his favorite kind, so those are usually a go to. However, he'll also accept flower seeds so he can try and grow them as well. He loves Wisteria and wants to try and grow them along the walls of his Sunroom.

He isn't really one to give flowers as a gift, but he will definitely get you some if he knows that's something you like. He'll try and find some that look like stars and snowflakes, which usually include: Balloon Flowers, Blue Phloxs, Eastern Bluestars, and Sea Hollys to name a few

Flowers like Delphiniums and Lupines are absolutely fascinating to him. When he sees a field or a large patch of them, he likes to imagine its a snowy forest. Unfortunately for him, they are a bit more complex to take care of in the winter times, and he doesn't feel experienced enough to have them yet.

#headcanon #bear*#bear* roblox #bear alpha #roblox bear #bear #rejected #sungarden #mutwain #blizzard

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chappythegardener · 2 years

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#backyard #chappygardener #decoration #decore #Farming #garden

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azlrse · 2 years

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Can you do head canons for herb cookie where his crush likes a different cookie please :) he’s so wholesome

Sunflowers (Yandere Herb Cookie x GN Cookie!Reader Hcs)

CW: yandere themes, possessiveness, implied kidnapping, manipulation, herb is easily pissed on this one.

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Both of you became close friends due to your love of plants but specifically, you love flowers.

Roses, yellow bells, daisies but your most favorite flower among all? It's sunflowers, the bright yellow flower that you loved ever since you were a small cookie.

You constantly ramble about plants and always brought some of your spare ones as a gift for Herb.

Herb knows your love for sunflowers so he secretly grew some at a secret greenhouse.

Despite being his closest friend, there's no doubt that feelings also came along. He loves your personality, your love for plants and your smile, the same smile that makes his heart soft for you.

But as soon as he knows that you are attracted to a certain cookie, the war is on.

"Hey Herb, do you think that (c/c) Cookie loves orchids? I could drop that plant in her/his/their house.."

He constantly leaves letters and well crafted pots as gifts of affection but your oblivious mind thought that it's someone else.

Herb would also hold your hand accidentally intentionally as a way to see your reaction. But you smiled and held his hand, making his face red as a rose.

He would also drop hints on how much he loves you, but you only took it platonically, not romantically.

After all, you only see him as your best friend, nothing more.

But Herb couldn't accept it, he sees you as his partner and his lover.

"Hey (y/n) Cookie.

"Hmm?"

"I love you"

"I love you too"

He was about to say something else but..

"platonically of course."

His.heart.shattered.

He felt like he's about to fall apart, you, the only person he cared and gained feelings for, only saw him as a friend?

No no no no!!!

He needs to do something, he's not gonna waste his chance for you to be someone else.

He'll resort into taking you by force, that cookie doesn't deserve you, only him and only him alone.

You were talking to Herb when you spill the bomb towards him.

You'll confess to the cookie you fell in love at dusk, carrying the orchids on your hands.

Oohh how badly he wants that cookie to be crumbled into pieces.

Now his plan is set in place, you'll be his in no time.

"Hey (y/n), before you go, take this sunflower with you as a sign of luck!"

"Aww thank you Herb, you're such a good friend!"

Friend....he hated that word....

"Why don't you smell it? Just to make sure that I grew those right."

"I'll try, thank you again Herb."

While walking into the lonely path and Herb watches you from afar, you felt drowsy all of the sudden. You didn't know that your favorite flowers could be so drownsy.

The sound of the shattered pot of orchids as you became more drowsier and drowsier the more you walk.

Then your legs gave up and you fell.

You're supposed to feel the dirt in your head when someone holds your waist firmly.

Brown sweater, apron and green hair...

"Oh dear, looks like I put way too much sleeping essence on the flower, my bad.."

Sleeping essence, what-

"I should take you home, darling. That cookie don't need you, I do. I promise I'll be the best boyfriend you could ask for."

-----

Soft sheets and fluffy pillows. The scent of pure lavender makes you at peace, reminds you of your home.

You opened your eyes and realized that you're not in your home.

The room was filled with vines & plants and the sound of the humidifier producing the sweet aroma.

You became scared and trying to pry yourself off from the bed.

A chain was placed on your leg, preventing you from escaping his room.

"I should visit them, my friends, they must've woke up."

After Herb was done talking to his plants, he unlocks the door, carrying a tray with your favorite food.

"Oh, I hope that you have a good nap, my sunflower. Would you like to drink your tea?"

"H-Herb, what's going on? Why am I here?" You spoke frantically.

He placed the tray on the table beside you and cupped your cheek with his hand.

"You're home, dear. This is where you live from now on."

In a state of fear and panic, you began to shake your head sideways as tears began to pour down from your face.

"No no please don't cry, love. Don't cry..."

"W-why? Why did you take me by force? I didn't do anything to you." You tried reasoning with him, only to find out what's actually your fault.

He stood up from the bed and holds the same sunflower that causes you to pass out hard.

"You know (y/n), I couldn't accept the fact that you shattered my heart."

"What-"

"Having to have this feelings to that pest instead of me..."

"Herb what are you talking about-"

"Am I not that good enough dear? Am I not worthy to become your lover?"

"Herb, I only see you as a friend! You do not have the right to control whom I have feelings for!"

His patience became thin from your statement.

"I love that cookie and you also don't have the right to make me love you!"

"AND THAT'S THE PROBLEM!"

Herb shouted as he threw a random pot on the wall, making you startled.

"I'M THE ONLY ONE WHOSE WORTHY TO HAVE YOU! THOSE PESTS DOESN'T EVEN DESERVE TO HAVE YOU! If you dare to escape this house, I won't hesitate for them to be crumbled into bits.."

You began to back away from him and shaking in fear.

Herb's anger began to wear off and couldn't move from what he did.

He couldn't control his anger and now, look at you, he now made you scared so bad that you hid from the blankets.

"Oh no oh no, I'm so sorry, love. I didn't mean it, here let me-"

He tried cupping your face, only for his hands to be swatted away.

"stay away from me..." You mumbled

"What?"

"I said.." you shoved him off, causing him to land hard on the floor.

"Stay away from me! I don't wanna see your face!!"

"But dear-"

"GET OUT!" You screamed as you refused to look at him.

While Herb got up and proceeded to lock the door, he heard what you said and it shattered his heart.

"I can't believe he's my friend. He's a monster.."

A monster...he really did fucked up...

But he'll not give up just yet.

He promised himself that he won't let his anger got the better of him again.

He'll treat you with care and love, so much love, even if it hurts him...

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites. Reblogs and likes are appreciated!

#tw yandere #tw possessive behavior #tw kidnapping #tw manipulation #yandere cookie run x reader #yandere cookie run #herb cookie x reader #herb cookie #yandere herb cookie

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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

staysaneathome · 2 years

Text

Think of the Family (Part 1)

Five years prior

Jon frowns down at the paper in front of him, trying to decipher the vision.

“Well?” His mother prompts.

“It’s…hard to say.” He hedges, fingers tightening on the edges of the paper. “Nothing. Nothing seemed to be going wrong, but.”

Mum doesn’t make an impatient noise, but the edges of her lips do tighten, slightly.

“Was there anything specific?” She presses. “Anything at all?”

“If there was, I would’ve told you, wouldn’t I?” Jon snaps. Mum doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow.

He deflates. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She says. “I know it’s stressful, but Agnes needs the peace of mind. She’s worrying herself sick over Lynn’s ceremony, the silly thing.”

Jon keeps his mouth shut for once, not eager to rehash the argument his eldest sister and his mother have been having for the better part of the last few months.

Instead he turns his gaze to the record which came from his vision again.

The ink drawing is less detailed than usual. Hatched lines at its edges give the impression of light. Brilliant enough to be blinding, obscuring nearly all other elements.

All, save for what looks like a small, jagged line at the edge. Like a crack or something.

The actual documentation below it is also singularly unhelpful. They don’t always describe what’s going on in the accompanying image perfectly, sometimes just recording something that’s said or done when the vision comes to pass. But normally they at least clarify something, even if it’s just the time or place where the vision is going to take place. They certainly aren’t so succinct;

“Knock knock”

What even is that supposed to mean? Jon supposes that it at least tells him that this will take place at Lynn’s door-opening, but considering that’s what he was looking for in the first place, it’s almost insulting how unhelpful it is.

“Hm. I see what you mean.” Mum looks stern, like she always does when the future isn’t exactly as she planned it to be. “And there were no details, nothing clarifying this?”

“N-no.” Jon tries not to fidget. “Just—just Lynn in front of the door, and then. Light. Everywhere. So bright I couldn’t see anything through it.”

Oh no. Now she’s frowning outright. He’s disappointed her again.

“Maybe it means she’ll get some sort of, I don’t know, light-based gift?” Jon hazards. “It, it can be hard to control, when you first get it…”

Mum purses her lips, considering. “That would be logical, considering Agnes’ gift, and how it follows Callum’s…”

Jon does not point out that Melanie and Daisy’s gifts had no bearing on what Alexa, Petra, and Callum got.

Mum’s finally looking vaguely approving, and he has no clue what else it could be, so he just nods along.

She gently plucks the paper from his fingers and pulls his head down so she can plant a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you poppet. Now, remember, no more predictions until after the ceremony, alright? We don’t need to get everyone all het up before Lynn’s big day.”

Jon pulls on a weak smile for her and nods.

He collapses onto the couch in the sitting room barely an hour later and wishes he hadn’t.

It’s just—things are never that simple for him, okay? He can count the number of times he’s predicted something even vaguely positive on one hand, and even then there always seems to be some kind of drawback or fluke.

He needs to Look again, he Knows he does, not just at Lynn’s ceremony but at the small, mysterious cracks that only he’s been catching glimpses of all over Helen and Michael recently. Surely it can’t just be coincidence that one of them was in his vision, he’s got to try to figure out what the catch is here before it takes them all off guard.

But he told Mum he wouldn’t.

Practically promised, in fact.

She’ll know if he tries to sneak it past her anyway because his gift always has a large area of effect, even when it catches him off guard. Subtle is the last thing glowing green eyes and a whirlwind of paper and ink can be called.

And then she’ll be disappointed in him, which will make her more stressed on top of everything else going on, and make her and Agnes’ arguments worse, and—

Jon buries his face in his hands, groaning.

“Uncle Jon?”

He lifts his head.

Two pairs of eyes are peeping at him over the edge of the couch.

He smiles. “Oh, hello. What are you two up to then, hm?”

Andy scrambles up first, little feet pushing off of Lynn’s hands and head as he tumbles over the arm of the couch onto the cushions below, continuing to roll until he faceplants in Jon’s midsection.

Lynn tries to follow, but can’t quite get her leg up and over without help, and so resorts to scampering around to Jon’s other side and clambers up to lean against him.

“Are you sad?” Lynn asks, a little worried furrow in her forehead.

Jon chuckles softly, tucking one arm around her shoulders and one arm around her brother’s. “Of course not, just. Just thinking hard, is all.”

Lynn pouts slightly even as she snuggles into the hug. “It sounded like you were sad.”

He runs a hand over her curls fondly. “Well, be that as it may, I’m not sad, I promise.”

“Are you sad because you’re smelly?” Andy pipes up.

Jon feels his smile tighten slightly and can’t help the sigh that comes on his next exhale.

Ah. The return of Callum’s new favorite joke on him, with a vengeance. He’d hoped he’d have a bit more time before Andy started repeating it too.

At least one of his nieces and nephews retains family loyalty, as Lynn jerks upright and leans over to glare at her brother, full of indignation. “No! He’s not smelly! He’s not!”

“He’s Uncle Smelly.” Andy replies promptly, still hugging Jon from one side.

“Nooooo!” Lynn protests, clutching at him. “Don’t be mean to Uncle Jon!”

“What’s this about being mean to your uncle?”

Andy’s face brightens and he wriggles out of Jon’s grip to stand and stretch his little arms up towards the person standing behind the couch. “Mummy!”

Agnes leans over and scoops him up, settling Andy on her hip. “You’re not calling him names, now are you?”

“No,” Andy says, as in the same breath Lynn shouts, “Yes!! He was!! He was calling Uncle Jon smelly and making him sad!”

Andy’s face shifts into a pout and Jon’s stomach squirms guiltily. “I-it’s fine Aggie, really. Just a silly joke.”

Agnes frowns, glancing between her children. “Maybe, but it wasn’t a very nice thing to do, was it Andy? How would you feel if someone was calling you names for fun? Wouldn’t that make you sad?”

Andy shrinks a little against his mother’s side, burrowing into her neck. Jon hears a faint, muffled “M’sorry.”

Agnes presses a kiss to his forehead and murmurs. “That’s good, but am I the person you should be apologizing to?”

Andy nuzzles further in, then leans down and away so abruptly Jon finds his own hands coming up in an attempt to catch his nephew before he falls.

What actually happens is Andy’s face bonks into his forehead with all the force of a bruise, a kiss that’s more sound than feeling bestowed upon him before Andy dutifully recites, “Sorry Uncle Jon.”

Jon nods, hiding a wince and resists the urge to reach up and rub where his forehead’s now smarting a bit. Six niblings have taught him the perils of appearing to “rub off” a kiss by now.

“That—that’s okay Andy.” He says. “No harm done.”

Agnes frowns gently, coming around to the front of the couch and sitting down next to him as Andy wiggles himself into a more comfortable hugging position at her side which lets him poke his sister.

“Are you okay?” She asks, brow furrowed. “I can have a word with Daisy and Basira about talking to Callum about the name calling—”

“No, no, it’s. It’s fine, Aggie.” Jon replies. Then, because he can’t keep his big mouth shut, he continues, “Mum just asked me to See if anything happens at Lynn’s ceremony.”

Agnes’ eyes widen, and then narrow in quick sucesssion. “Really? So that’s what she’s been chasing me around over, oh for goodness’ sakes—!”

Jon feels his shoulders hunch under her ire. “It—it didn’t seem, to be anything bad? Or, or anything at all, really, just a lot of, of light, so…”

“Hey, hey.” Agnes wraps an arm around his shoulders, reassuringly warm like when they were small. “I’m not upset you Looked, or with you at all. I just wish she’d stop doing this. You, Daisy, Melanie—you’re all run off your feet half the time, for the family and for the village. I wish she’d remember that too. That you’re not—”

Agnes lifts a hand away from Andy’s side to make an odd waving gesture that Jon’s never been able to parse. She quickly returns it to her son’s side at Andy’s disgruntled grumble of “cold.”

Jon leans against her more, something sour in his mouth. “I just. I want to help. I should help.”

“And you do.” Agnes turns her head to give him a quick peck on his forehead. “But that shouldn’t be all you are. You’re more than your gift, Jon. So much more. Your Martin certainly thinks so, doesn’t he?”

Jon can’t help shifting petulantly, feeling the blood rush to his face. “W-Well, but that’s. That’s Martin.”

Agnes at least presses her lips together to stifle her giggles. He’s not sure he could take Melanie’s noisy teasing or even Daisy’s quiet ribbing right not without hunching in on himself like a tortoise.

“Of course, Jon.” She hugs him one last time and stands, ruffling a hand through Andy’s hair as he slides off the couch to follow her. “I’d better get a start on lunch. Just. Just don’t let her push you around, okay?”

Jon nods, smiling weakly at Aggie as she leaves, blood burning in his ears.

“Uncle Jon?”

He starts a little, blinking down at Lynn curled up against his side. She’d said so little the entire time he’d practically forgotten she was there.

She’s fidgeting with a loose thread at the hem of his shirt, tying knots in it.

“W…will my ceremony go okay?” Her voice quavers, eyes wide and nervous as they stare up at him.

A pang goes through Jon.

He pulls Lynn more firmly into a hug and presses a kiss to her crown. “Of course. I even know what your gift could be. Want to know?”

Lynn wiggles like an overexcited puppy, a happy grin on her face.

“No!” She shouts, then leans in close to whisper, “But you’ll see my swooshy dress?”

Jon grins, darting fingers to tickle his niece, causing her to curl up like a pillbug and shriek with laughter. “As if there could be anything else!”

Lynn’s birthday dawns a bright and warm spring day. Helen and Michael are abuzz with activity, as practically the entire village swarms the house to help get everything ready.

Everyone in the family who is able to help out does, Daisy lugging pieces of furniture back and forth while Melanie and Petra follow in her wake with decorations, Agnes and Georgie holed up in the kitchen together while Alexa flits about, becoming whoever’s most needed and helping Basira and Jack with the small odd jobs the others are too busy to do under Mum’s keen eye and stern direction. Even Callum is conscripted into entertaining his cousins and the rest of the village kids with his new shadows, keeping all the little ones in one place so the adults can shepherd them into their formal wear when the time comes.

Jon does try to help lift some of the heavier things, pop his head into the kitchen to see if there’s any peeling or chopping that needs doing.

But Basira takes the box he was struggling under with a joke about not “straining those noodle arms of yours, Jon,” and Georgie all but chases him out of the kitchen while pointedly repeating the Incident of the First Date Toad-in-the-Hole which they both swore to take to the grave but she loves to bring up at every opportunity.

Eventually Helen takes pity on him and ferries him over a chair so he can have a quiet sit down out of the way of everyone else, trying to ignore the tiny cracks that keep appearing in the edges of the walls.

At least he won’t have a chance to muck up his nice clothes like this?

“Excuuse me, out of the way, very important boyfriend coming through, ooh, sorry Ms. Josie, watch your step there.”

Jon blinks at the sound of Cecil Palmer’s voice going a mile a minute as he weaves through party helpers and guests over to Jon’s little corner. That’s not what’s odd.

What’s odd is that instead of his “perfect husband” Carlos behind him, Cecil appears to be leading Martin Blackwood towards Jon.

He blinks and then takes a slightly closer look.

“Thank you, Alexa.” He says, once the two of them are close enough for him to feel like standing.

Cecil’s face twists into a pout, and then twists even more as it shrinks down to Alexa, impeccably dressed and made up as usual. “What was it this time?”

“Nose.” Jon just says and chuckles as she snaps her fingers in vexation, muttering “never can get that right…”

There’s a noise from the main throng of people, an indistinct shout that he’s long-since been primed to hear as “Jon?”

Alexa glances back at it and shivers again, features shifting and resettling until Jon’s staring down at himself.

“I’ll see to it. You two don’t have too much fun!” It’ll always be odd to see his own face grin mischievously and wink at him, Alexa already working her way back through the crowd and laughing as Jon calls after her, “I’m not that short!”

“She’s getting good at that.” Martin remarks, nodding after Alexa.

“She is.” Jon answers, a small glow of pride in his chest. He glances up at Martin shyly. “Hello.”

Martin grins bashfully back, threading their fingers together and squeezing Jon’s hand twice. “Hi.”

Jon doesn’t know how long he spends just staring soppily at his boyfriend’s lovely face before Martin clears his throat gently.

“So. A-hm! So, big day today, yeah?”

“Yes. Lynn’s been very excited.” Trying to get her to go to sleep last night gave him flashbacks to when she was just a little baby, all giggly and incapable of settling down.

“Aw, bless.” Martin cracks a grin. “Give her a hug and a kiss from me, yeah?”

“Of course I will.” Jon scoffs, squeezing Martin’s hand back. “What do you take me for?”

Martin giggles, taking Jon’s other hand in his, swaying them from side to side gently as he presses his forehead to Jon’s.

Jon would luxuriate in the warm pressure and closeness to the man he loves so much, but something’s…off.

Martin keeps opening his mouth, and then closing it without saying anything, giggling seemingly at nothing. He also keeps trying to keep eye contact with Jon, only to lose his nerve and stare down at their intertwined hands.

Jon frowns lightly, pulling back slightly and waiting until Martin’s looking at him again. “Martin? Is something wrong?”

“Wh-wro-wrong?” Jon usually adores his boyfriend’s voice cracks, loved how high pitched and squeaky he can get when he’s laughing too hard or trying to cover up the fact he was kissing Jon silly from whoever just walked in on them, but now it just stokes his concerned curiosity even further. “No! No, why would anything—what, what could be wrong?”

Jon raises an eyebrow and squeezes his hands. “Martin.”

As if in an absurd call-and-response, his mother’s voice rings out over the crowd, “Jon! It’s time!”

He turns back to grimace at Martin, but finds his his hands clutched in a tight grip.

“After—” Martin gulps, his eyes darting around for some reason. “Find me after? There’s something I want to ask you. In-in, in private.”

He’s fidgeting, rubbing his thumb over the swell of Jon’s knuckles with a frequency that’s edging out of oddly charming into charmingly odd. His palms are slightly clammy.

Jon’s stomach feels like it’s doing loop-de-loops inside of him, an odd weightlessness not unlike the time Mike Crew pushed him off a wall when he was a teenager but infinitely more pleasant.

Not that there’s any reason for it to, he scolds himself quickly. It’s not like this—this promises anything. Martin, his steady boyfriend, just has something he wants to talk to Jon about after the ceremony. Some question he wants to ask. In private.

Oh good lord, he feels faint.

“Okay.” He replies giddily. Breathlessly. “See. See you after then.”

Martin smiles widely, beautifully, and ducks his head for a quick, sweet kiss to Jon’s cheek.

Jon feels like he damn near floats up the stairs to take his place for the ceremony.

He may well have done, because the first thing Melanie does when he takes his place next to her is elbow him. “Get you.” She mutters as Mum begins her spiel about travelling to Helen and Michael, hardship and miracles and earning worthiness while the candle’s flame burns beight. “What’d Blackwood do to you to get you all smiley? Gonna kidnap you in the dead of night to elope?”

Jon scowls and tries to elbow her back without disrupting Mum’s speech. Melanie returns it much more successfully.

Daisy leans over and pokes them both in the arms, and then squeezes his shoulder companionably. She mouths to him, “Happy for you.”

He smiles back, butterflies in his stomach.

The sound of Mum’s speech coming to an end and the door at the other end of the room opening has his head turning in conjunction with all the others in the room.

Lynn coming in through Michael’s door at the end of the room is nothing more than a small, light-colored blob at this distance. But when she slowly, carefully makes her way through the parted crowd to the stairs, it becomes clear that the dress she’s wearing is very swooshy indeed.

She’s also clutching the skirt of her swooshy dress so tight it almost looks like the fabric’s in danger of ripping. Her little shoulders are near her ears as she slowly walks up the stairs.

Her eyes catch Jon’s as she goes past. He gives her a discreet thumbs up.

She gives a wide beam in response, shoulders relaxing, walking to stand by Mum with her head held high. There’s a small chuckle when she takes a moment to wipe her hands off on her skirt before she reaches out to touch the candle.

Lynn goes up to the door. Her little hand reaches for the doorknob—

And then she stops. Her head tilts to the side, staring at something. Jon tries to subtly lean forward, but he can’t see what’s caught her attention, not from this angle.

Lynn’s hand pulls back, curling into a fist, her gaze transfixed on whatever it is she can see.

She raps at something on the edge of the door gently with her knuckles. “Knock knock?”

Light.

It’s so bright Jon can’t see anything, gold gone yellow gone nearly pure, blinding white.

He can’t hear anything either the normally gentle hum of the magic turned to a roar and then a scream that leaves his ears still ringing in the aftermath.

His hands come up to rub at his eyes, trying to scrub away the colorful afterimages obscuring his vision.

The door’s dark brown again.

The magic just isn’t—isn’t there, anymore, the wood as dull and lifeless as it normally is between eighth birthdays.

But that—that doesn’t make sense, Lynn hadn’t opened it yet, where’s her door, where’s—?

Lynn’s not there anymore.

She’s somehow at the bottom of the stairs, lying in a small, crumpled heap.

Her body twitches violently in time with the spasms of yellow-white magic washing over and sinking into her.

As it fades, she falls worryingly, horrifyingly still.

no.

No.

Jon barely hears his oldest sister screaming.

He only knows she’s barged past everyone and raced down the stairs because his view of Lynn has suddenly been blocked off by Agnes’ form. As she drops to her knees, the air around her shimmers with heat. There’s the scent of burning cloth, scorching stone that Jon hasn’t smelled since he was very, very small, since before he received his gift.

Mum’s screaming now too, something about no, about don’t, about not touching, not in a state like this—

Jon’s hand is burning.

He can’t keep himself from pulling back from Agnes with a sharp cry. The flesh of his hand looks like it’s bubbling, or maybe that’s his vision fuzzing with tears.

He stumbles, falls backwards, and suddenly the world around him seems to explode into motion.

More screams, the loudest of which seems to be coming from in front of him. Jack, with a requisitioned curtain wrapped around his weeping wife, whimpering through grit teeth as Aggie’s gift burns him even through this flimsy attempt at protection. Daisy scooping up the limp bundle, running for the door. Martin’s face swims in his vision. Yells for someone, anyone, get the doctor, get help, please—!

And the next thing Jon knows is black.

“It’s not your fault.” Jack tells him again.

His face and arms are a mess of gauze and antiseptic. He shouldn’t really be speaking. Andy is curled up at his side, sniffing hard. He at least knows to be gentle with his father. It mirrors Martin, who is curled protectively around Jon, and has been ever since Azu finished bandaging him and went into the other room where Lynn’s now lying, with Mum and Dr. Smith and Aggie. Jon’s hand now looks more like a mummy’s, barely able to move his fingers swaddled as they are in white gauze. His hand throbs, like a second heartbeat.

Jon makes himself focus on the pain, let it dull all his other senses. He deserves it, after everything he’s done and failed to do.

“It’s not.” Jack insists. “You had no idea what would happen, even if you saw it. None of us did. How would we prevent it if we didn’t even know that could happen? It came from nowhere. It’s not your fault, Jon. I swear it’s not.”

Thankfully, Dr. Smith coming out from the room keeps Jon from having to correct his brother-in-law for the umpteenth time. The man looks exhausted.

“H-how is she?” Jack asks, making as if to get up before his injuries have him hissing and sinking back down, continuing in a creaky tone, “Lynn’s not…?”

Dr. Smith heaves a sigh. “Well, the convulsions haven’t come back, if that’s what you’re asking. They stopped once we got her back into the house again, hasn’t moved a muscle since. All I can advise is that we keep monitoring her condition, stay on look out for any changes. Hopefully she’ll wake up soon, in the morning maybe, but if not…”

“And that’s it? There’s nothing else you can do?” Jon can’t help snapping. “No treatment? Nothing?”

“That’s the problem.” Dr. Smith says. “It’s magic. There’s no doctor in the world that could tell us how it’s messing around with her system, or what to do to treat it. Best we can do is keep her comfortable and wait.”

Jon has nothing to say to that, settling back down into Martin’s side as guilt begins sharpening its claws on his insides. He can barely feel the gentle squeeze Martin gives him.

Andy lets out a little sob, burying his face in his father’s side.

Dr. Smith and Azu say their goodbyes not long after that. Martin tries to stay longer, but Mum all but orders him out of the door and the rest of them to bed, saying they’ll need to be well-rested for discussion at the family meeting tomorrow.

Agnes is the only one who won’t go, instead bringing pillows and blanket to the nursery so she can keep watch over Lynn during the night. Helen obilgingly shuttles a spare guest mattress through the suddenly wider doorway for her.

It doesn’t occur to Jon until after he’s tossed and turned and resisted the urge to scratch at his bandaged hand, on the very edge of sleep, that Martin never got to ask him whatever it was he wanted to talk about in private, earlier.

He buries his head further into his pillow. Next time. The next time he sees Martin, he’ll remember. He’ll ask. Next time…

Melanie’s waiting to pounce on him once everyone convenes at the base of the stairs in the morning.

“Finally up, are you?” She says, in that tone that automatically makes him bristle. “What, too busy not warning us about some other disaster to make it down here at a decent time?”

Jon tears his gaze away from the new scorch mark imprinted at the base of the stairs to snap, “I tried to See if anything bad would happen! I just, I couldn’t—!”

“You Looked?” Basira cuts in, curling an arm around Petra’s shoulders and staring impassively. He hates when she does this, acts like she’s somehow more mature than even the adults. “And you didn’t think to share this with the rest of us?”

Jon throws his arms in the air. “Mum asked me to! And I told her and Agnes what I saw, for all the good that did, not that it actually, strictly involved you—”

“It didn’t need to!” Melanie yells, some of the lamps beginning to wobble as they slowly ascend. “You Looked, you may as well have signed poor Lynnie’s death warrant then and there! This always happens, Jon!! I swear, this is just like my wedding—!”

Jon’s about to retaliate with some choice language he really shouldn’t use in front of three children about Melanie’s wedding, when Mum’s voice cuts in from the top of the stairs.

“That’s quite enough, all of you.”

They all look up as she descends. Jon feels his shoulders hunching almost of their own accord.

“It is not just Jon’s fault that this happened.” Mum pronounces. “I’ve been asking why our miracle would go haywire like it did last night. But the answer is really quite simple. We were gifted with our home, with Helen and Michael, with your gifts. So long as we repaid the boon we had been given, proved that we were worthy of earning it, gave back to the community who have allowed us to make our home here and let us into their lives and hearts. But for this to happen… We have grown complacent. Content with doing the bare minimum to help, but nothing more. Too focused on squabbling to recognize that there are those in greater need than us. The excess magic must have built up, and now poor Lynn is suffering the consequences of our actions. We are all to blame for this.”

Daisy looks openly distraught, while Petra and Callum both inch closer to Basira, heads hanging. She envelopes them both in a hug.

Melanie folds her arms and grumbles while Georgie leans over to plant a kiss on her shoulder, but doesn’t actually dispute Mum’s words. Alexa bends over Des, seemingly focused on distracting him though her hunched shoulders give her away.

Agnes looks one wrong word away from bursting into tears again. Jack wrapping a careful arm around her shoulders and Andy clinging to her leg almost seems to set her off, before she visibly regains control of herself.

Jon just folds his arms over his stomach, wishing that Martin was here to help him manage the guilt writhing inside him.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t fix this.”

Mum’s voice is gentle as she arrives on the last stair, looking around at all of them. “We know what the problem is now. Know the source of it, what we must do to ensure it never happens again. We can put aside our differences and start making a real difference to the community, like we were meant to. Yes, it may be difficult, or tiring. Yes, there be times where all we want to do is give up, or blame each other for things not going as smoothly as they could. But we are the Robinsons. You are Robinsons. You have gifts far beyond what anyone else could hope to have. And this family is not known for giving up simply when things become difficult.”

She smiles at them all. Even Jon feels his spirits begin to lift, a little bit.

“We will be better.” Mum proclaims as Callum and Melanie nod, as Daisy and Alexa straighten. “We will do better. So this tragedy will never happen again, and we can celebrate Andy’s gift together, as a family.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“What?” Agnes says softly.

Mum turns to her. “Andy deserves to have his ceremony go perfectly, so we must make sure there can be no mistakes this time. You understand that, surely.”

“But that’s only nine months away!” Jack protests, one hand pulling his son closer to him. Andy clutches at his father’s arm, whimpering slightly.

Mum stares at the two of them impassively. “Then we had better get started soon.”

“No.”

“No?” Their mother looks incredulously at Agnes, eyebrows raised. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean you are not feeding any more of my children to—to your ambitions!” Agnes shouts.

Mum blinks like she’s been struck. “Wh—what on earth are you talking about, you silly girl?! My ambitions?! I’m trying to take care of this family!”

“No you aren’t!” It almost sounds like Agnes is about to start laughing hysterically, she’s so angry. “You’re trying to protect ‘the miracle’! If you actually cared about this family, you wouldn't force your own children and grandchildren to work themselves to the bone in pursuit of your goals, like, like tools! Ones that you’ll throw away once you’ve worn them down enough! Well, no more!”

Mum draws herself up to her full height. “How dare you?! I am trying to fix the mistakes that your lack of control and quibbling has caused—!”

Jon can’t help shrinking in on himself as Agnes yells back, “Don’t you dare try to put what happened to Lynn on them! I, I, swear, if Dad could see you now, he’d be ashamed!”

Mum actually recoils at that.

Daisy actually starts forward. “E-easy, Aggie, you, you don’t mean that—”

“Wake up, Daisy!” Agnes turns on her, on the rest of them, eyes flashing. “You come home so exhausted some days you can barely move! And, and Melanie, how many times have you been told to suppress what you feel in case you have another ‘incident’? And Jon, always made to feel as though everything is his fault, when he’s done nothing wrong! I’m sick of it! Sick to death of my family hurting!”

Jon rubs his bandaged hand over his arm, as if the rough texture will somehow calm the squirming in his stomach. An odd cracking sound keeps catching his ears, making him want to look to find where it’s coming from.

Agnes lets out a wet laugh. “But that’ll never stop you, will it? Nothing will ever get through to you. Not unless drastic measures are taken. As long as we live here, you’ll never stop hounding us, hounding Andy until he feels he has to take a gift to be worth anything. So maybe, maybe it’s best if we don’t. Jack?”

Jack looks around, clearly at a loss for words. Then he straightens his shoulders, and nods, stepping forward to take his wife’s hand.

“You take one step out of this house, and you are dead to me!” Mum screams.

“Like our daughter already is?!” Agnes shrieks back.

The family meeting doesn’t last much longer after that.

The family disperses in different directions. Georgie, Basira, and Daisy seem to swap between Mum and Agnes, trying to “talk sense” into each of them. Judging by their faces when they leave, none of them are very successful.

Melanie sequesters herself with Petra, Alexa, Des and Callum, trying to make them meals and keep them happy.

Agnes and Jack alternate between packing for themselves and Andy, and keeping watching over Lynn. She still hasn’t woken up.

And Jon spends the day wandering through Helen and Michael, counting all the new fissures that have appeared throughout the house.

The day after the argument, Jon finds himself outside of Agnes’ door.

He raises his fist and raps hesitantly.

“Come in.” His sister’s voice sounds tired, strained.

But when Jon pokes his head around the door, she smiles, face lighting up. “Jon! What, what can I do for you?”

There are bags on every surface, full to bulging. Jon didn’t even know they owned any travelling bags, let alone this many.

“So you’re really going then.” It’s not a question.

The light in Agnes’ eyes dims a bit. “Y. Yes. We’d have no peace if we stayed.”

She pats an empty space on the bed next to her. Jon carefully picks his way through the debris to sit down.

“Jon, I.” She bites her lip. “I wanted to say sorry. For, for your hand. I-I should’ve kept my calm, not let my emotions run away with me—”

“No, no, Aggie, it’s. It’s fine, everything’s fine.” He soothes. He can’t stop his uninsured hand from trembling slightly when he goes to set it on her shoulder, but he pushes through. “It was a, a high stress situation. You didn’t—you couldn’t—”

“That doesn’t make it okay for me to hurt you, Jon.” Agnes says, eyes beseeching. “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

He knocks his shoulder with hers. “Well, thank you. I, I forgive you, by the way. So. There’s that.”

That makes her chuckle weakly, at least.

They sit next to each other in silence, for a few minutes.

Finally, Agnes murmurs, “I don’t think we can take Lynnie with us. When we leave.”

Jon blinks in surprise, twisting to look at her. “Wait, but—?”

“You didn’t see what happened after Daisy tried to get her to Dr. Smith’s.” Agnes’ eyes are haunted, one hand coming up to cradle her mouth. “The moment she left Michael and Helen…Lynn began. Shaking. It got so bad, Daisy brought her back here because she didn’t know what else to do.”

Jon sits there, tries to absorb this. “So, you think the magic. Won’t let her leave?”

Agnes gives a pained laugh and rubs her eyes, sniffing hard. “I. I don’t know what to think. I, I can’t stay here or one of my children is at risk, but I can’t bring the other with us when we leave unless I want to risk them too. It’s a mess.”

Jon stares at his hands in his lap.

The contrast between the one still swaddled in bandages and the one still free provides a convenient distraction from the looming sense of dread that’s begun to grow.

“…Jon?” Aggie says, hesitantly. “Could I ask something? Would you. Would you look after Lynn for us? After we go?”

He can’t help sputtering at that.

“But, Aggie! I, I’m,” A disappointment, a colossal screwup, not even engaged yet, a coward, the reason your child is like this, how can you know I won’t just hurt them further?

“Please Jon.” She begs. “Please, look after her for me.”

Jon, dry-mouthed, hand wrapped in starchy bandages, has the wild impulse to say “no.” Because then Aggie would stay, Aggie and Jack and Andy wouldn’t leave them, and it’d all somehow be alright.

He nods, throat too tight to trust.

Agnes smiles at him even as her eyes brim with tears and throws her arms around him, mumbling a choked-up litany of “thank you, Jon, thank you” into his shoulder.

Jon hugs her back just as hard, heedless of his hand, and tries his hardest not to think about how this might be one of the last times he ever sees his eldest sister.

Jon makes his way back from Agnes’ room, trying to scrub his cheeks dry with his sleeves. He shoots dirty looks at all the cracks that are spiderwebbing their way across the walls and ceiling.

For some reason, he is completely unsurprised to see Mum standing outside his door, waiting for him.

He shrugs, hands spread helplessly. “She’s going. She won’t change her mind.”

Mum presses her lips together hard, eyes glittering fiercely. Her thin shoulders buckle a moment before she heaves them back into their usual, perfectly straight frame. “Stubborn girl.”

Jon’s never thought of his mother as small before. Even as he, Agnes, Melanie and Daisy grew, Mum always seemed to dwarf all of them.

He almost wants to offer her a hug, if he wasn’t sure she’d just rebuff him.

Mum sucks in a deep breath, and exhales slowly.

When she turns to face Jon again, the looming sense of dread from earlier is back.

“Jon, dear.” She begins. “You wouldn’t mind having a Look at Lynn’s future, would you? It’s just, it has been a few days since Dr. Smith said she might wake up, and it would be good to check and make sure nothing bad will happen…”

And you want to find any reason for Aggie to stay that you can, Jon thinks to himself.

But as she stares at him, Jon already knows he’s going to cave.

Lynn is so small in her bed.

Her chest rises and falls beneath the covers, but she’s too still to really be sleeping even if her eyes are shut.

There’s some odd markings on her face, thin, seam-like lines tracing from the sides of her mouth, over her cheeks, and down her neck to about the collarbone or so. No blood, no scarring, nothing to suggest that these weren’t always there, but then there wouldn’t be, would there? Not with magic involved.

Jon bends over his niece, presses his lips to the crown of her head.

“‘M so sorry, Lynn.” He murmurs into it “So, so sorry. I’ll look after you. Don’t worry. I’m here.”

He has to mop at his eyes again, before he takes his seat on the floor next to her bed. Lynn’s little hand is limp and slightly cold when he takes it.

Jon takes a deep breath, and Looks.

no.

Jon’s legs can’t carry him back to his room fast enough.

The paper he clutches in his trembling hands is nearly crumpled beyond all hope of saving. He smooths it out on his desk again and tilts his head.

The picture is of Lynn, older, with the markings that now mar her face, staring out at him sightlessly. Behind her, Helen and Michael, alternating between collapsing and reconstructing themselves depending on how the ink catches the light.

Here, this way:

Robbie Robinson will cause the destruction of the magic.

And that way:

Robbie Robinson will cause the salvation of the magic.

Jon gives a growl of frustration and pushes away from the desk, pacing back and forth in a frenzy, tugging at his hair.

What, what does that even mean?! He’s had visions where the fate he’s seen is avoidable, nebulous even. But this?

This is one of the first times that a vision has had two concrete outcomes, but no indication of what could lead to which.

Also Lynn will apparently undergo a name change at some point. “Robbie” is nice enough, he supposes, but what—

Jon’s insides go cold.

What will Mum think?

The paper crinkles in his hands as his grip tightens on it. This isn’t something that will make Aggie stay. He’s not sure that anything will make Aggie stay, at this point. But this?

This says Robbie could be a direct threat to the magic. To the miracle Mum cares so much about. And what will happen to Lynn then? If everyone else’s gifts are on the line, who’ll side with her over Mum? What will Mum even do to her, if it comes down to it? She has no one to protect her—

Except for Jon.

But if he goes back out there, Mum will want to know what the vision says. And even if he tries to lie, she always wants to see what the paper says. She’ll make him do it again, with her watching this time.

He’s Jon Robinson. It doesn’t matter what he sees, the worst outcome is always, always inevitable.

Tearing up a sheet of paper is hard when one of your hands is so throughly bandaged.

Jon grits his teeth and does it though. He has to, to keep his promise to Agnes, to look out for Lynn.

“Helen!” He shouts as he nearly runs up to the second floor of his room. “Michael!”

They swirl around him, colors dizzying and bright.

“I need to disappear.” He snaps, quickly, sharply, pacing back and forth. “I, I can’t go back out there, it’s, it won’t be safe, not for Lynn, not for anybody. But of course, when have I ever been good for anyone, huh?”

Helen’s sad creak from his bed is drowned out by his bitter laugh. “Don’t. Don’t pretend like my gift, the gift you gave me, need I remind you, has brought us anything but misery. Even when I try to warn people, it never works! They usually end up getting what I’ve predicted anyway, like I can’t stop it. I can’t help anyone by being here, so I need to. To not. Be here, I mean. And, and you two owe me, you need to help me, because you got us into this mess by letting me let Lynn get hurt, so if you don’t, I swear—!”

There’s an almighty cracking noise from behind him.

Jon can’t help his startled yelp as he spins around, to the family portrait he keeps up here.

Georgie and Melanie always teased him for keeping something so sappy near the place where he sleeps, but. He loves his family. He’d do anything for them.

Now it seems to be almost…hanging off the wall, slightly?

Jon crosses over and gently touches the frame. It swings away from the wall.

There’s now a hole behind the portrait, large enough for him to enter. The area behind it is nothing like he’s ever seen before in this house, all stripped down wood and dust. He thinks he might even see a moth, fluttering out of sight.

Jon takes one last look at the room around him. The lights below are steadily going out.

“Thank you. I’m sorry.” He mutters softly, before stepping through.

It’s dark, in the foundations between the walls. The only points of light are the cracks in the walls—and there are many, many cracks. So many, it’s making Jon worried about the foundations.

Well, that’s something to do, he supposes. Fix up Helen and Michael from the inside. Make himself useful in a way he never could be before.

This is for the best, he tells himself as he settles down on a stable-looking board, trying not to sneeze. He can still help and stay close, and no one will be burdened by him anymore. Not Lynn, not Martin, not Agnes or Mum or anyone else at all.

He’s just thinking of the family, after all.

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dawn-cafe · 3 years

Text

Modern AU meet-cute series

A/N: I didn't have to include a moodboard with this but I felt like being extra. Also... this was meant to be just a headcanon list but here's a whole ficlet, I guess! Can’t decide if I’m gonna finish Childe’s or Diluc’s after this, so inputs are welcome. Requests are open, rules are here! -Hal

Prompt: meet-cute

Content includes: Part 1 of Modern AU meet-cute series. model!kaeya, semi-ooc kaeya i think, florist!reader

Pairing: kaeya x gn!reader

Kaeya: he's a model who's escaping the paparazzi and you're closing up your flower shop

Kaeya's a pretty big-name model in Mondstadt.

He's been featured in Fontaine Fashion Week for the past 2 years and has modeled for every season for Favonius & Co.'s works.

With such popularity, you'd think he'd have some sort of body guard to keep him away from the prying eyes of Teyvat Pop News.

But no, he's a pretty stubborn guy and Jean, his manager, never fails to give him a piece of her mind every time.

He finds himself escaping from a few paparazzi as he's walking home from the mall, so he detours and tries to find a place to rest after he think he's lost them.

Kaeya then spots the lights on inside a little flower shop and thinks, "Oh, thank god."

You're closing up your little flower shop, sweeping the floor of any fallen leaves and flower petals you've cut up for the day. Normally, you'd keep the shop running til evening, but something felt off and you couldn't place what it was. So it's only late afternoon, yet the shop sign has been flipped to 'CLOSED' and you're packing up hours before closing time. There's faint music coming from the back room and you're humming along to the tune when the serenity gets cut off by something knocking on glass. You jump in surprise, looking behind you to see someone by the porch. By the looks of it, they were out of breath from running.

Setting aside your cleaning equipment, you walk up to the door to see a blue-haired guy, dressed in similar-colored clothing, hands on his knees as he pants. He looks up at you with starry blue eyes and blows his bangs away. You think he looks familiar, and that he's breathtaking even when he looks frazzled.

The chimes ring as you open the door a crack. "Hey, sorry..." you start, "but we're closed for the day." you tell him halfheartedly.

Kaeya stands up and you see he's taller than you expected. He leans back and looks to the side past the road, and blue eyes meet yours in desperation. "Sorry, I'm trying to get away from... a few people." His head tilts to the side, puts on the best puppy-dog eyes he can muster, and clasps his hands together. "Can I come in and stay for a while?" he pleads.

It's bizarre, you think, that someone could look so innocently cute yet dangerously handsome at the same time. At first, your instinct is to open your mouth and agree to help him. Of course, if this was a bad situation and you're the only refuge he could find, who were you to deny him? Though there's also the possibility that this could be a really bad scheme, and he'll rob you as soon as you let him in. He looks too dashing to do such a thing, but you can never be too sure... but also do robbers even wear designer clothes like he does?

He senses the hesitation in the way you don't immediately respond. "I-It's nothing dangerous, I swear!" Kaeya's slim hands are held up in front of him in defense before he runs it through his deep blue locks. The cool afternoon breeze sweeps his cologne to your direction. He smells of mint, of fresh summer air and freedom. "The paparazzi won't get off my back and I could really use the help," He explains briefly.

At the mention of paparazzi, it makes so much more sense. You still don't remember where you've seen him, but he sure fits the role of some celebrity by the way he dresses and carries himself. That... and his face looks really attractive. He's still smiling at you with just the tiniest bit of desperation creeping in his voice when he talks. All caution goes out the window as you open the door wider. There's still no one behind him, but you usher him inside your little shop. "Alright, but if they start bombarding my business, that's on you." you warn him playfully.

The breath he's holding escapes as he exhales in relief. "You're an angel," He beams at you with the brightest of smiles.

The door closes and is locked once again, and you go around the shop to close the blinds just a little. Kaeya breathes in. He's not the first stranger to walk in your shop, but it sure feels a little awkward as if you're being judged. "Do all flower shops smell this good, or is it just yours?" he asks coyly, taking in the array of flowers and plants on display. The playful roll of your eyes and your retort of "Do you ask this to all florists, or is it just me?" make him laugh, with his eyes crinkling at the corners and a hand over his chest.

He follows you around, assisting you in closing up, and you don't miss the way he wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead most likely due to his escapade. "It's better this way," you say, pulling a string to close a set of blinds, "at least they won't see you." With the last of the blinds shut, you turn to your pseudo-customer and ask, "Would you like some water?"

"Please." the embarrassment shows on his face.

You disappear in the back room for a bit, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. When you emerge to the front of the shop, you find Kaeya seated on a barstool next to the counter, idly thumbing the calla lilies on display next to the cash register. The beginning of the day's sunset peeks through the slats of the blinds, capturing him like a painting. It's peaceful, ethereal, and you almost want to pull out your phone and take a quick photo to immortalize what you see. It doesn't help that some love song starts playing on the shop's speakers. The spell is broken when he catches you looking, and he looks at you with an easygoing smile.

Clearing your throat, you step forwards and place the bottle of water in front of him. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, and if he notices you were staring, he doesn't comment on it. "Here." You place the bottle in front of him and he takes it eagerly. "Thank you." Kaeya bows his head graciously.

Picking up where you left off, you hold the broomstick and dustpan and start cleaning the floors again. "So um... you're gonna have to forgive me," you sheepishly smile at him, "but why are you being chased by the paps?"

As fate would have it, the magazine rack next to the counter has several magazines including a copy of last month's Mondstadt Fashion. And he recognizes himself on the cover, wearing a few of Favonius & Co.'s Spring Collection pieces. Kaeya picks up the magazine and places it on the counter, which you peer at curiously. The double-take you do makes him laugh again, watching you look at the cover, then to him in front of you, and back at the cover.

"Oh," you murmur as the realization dawns on you. "you're a model."

You don't dwell much on celebrity gossip so you don't really recognize most of them at first glance. But no wonder he seemed familiar, you'd seen him in a couple of magazines both in your store and in news sites. If paparazzi were chasing him, he must be a huge hit with the general public.

For Kaeya, however, he shrugs like it's no big deal. "Specifically, Teyvat's hottest model and top bachelor of 2021." he says as he closes the water bottle cap. "According to Mond Fashion." he adds with a cheeky wink. You scrunch up your nose impishly. "Still though, having paparazzi invade your privacy and all." you shake your head to the floor mostly, still occupied with cleaning the remaining dirt. "Glad I could be of use somewhat." you tell him.

“Kaeya.” he holds out his hand in a formal handshake.

You give him your name and grasp his hand; it’s soft, like the smile that never leaves his face

Kaeya offers to help around with your closing routine, but you stop him before he could pick up the broom again. It feels wrong having someone else do your tasks even though it's offered in good faith (and after all, he wanted to repay you for taking him in past your closing time). So you settle with having him arrange your excess daisies in a basket for tomorrow's bouquet orders. It's pretty easy work that he couldn't mess up, so you leave him at it while you clean out your floral buckets. Still, you try to speed through your routine and leisurely chat with him, thinking he must be bored with his task.

What hobbies do celebrities even have?, you wonder. Surely it can't be chatting up some florist and counting flowers.

"Do I look pretty?" he asks abruptly. And when your eyes land on him, your breath gets caught in your throat.

Kaeya looks different. In fashion magazines he's featured in, he's always prim and proper, composed. It's not to say he's stiff, because he definitely carries that confidence wherever he goes. But to be dressed and told to act, smile, and pose a certain way; it can look... artificial. But here, sitting on a barstool with a few daisies in his hair; here with his blue jacket draped across his lap, a loose white shirt and hands full of flowers. Here, where instead of studio lights, it's just the soft lights overhead on your small store. And here, where instead of cameras taking shots upon shots of his face, it's just you in your apron that he focuses on.

"Breathtakingly so." You smile.

By the end of the day, he has a whole flower crown on his head and you wonder why blue's related to sadness when it's brought you joy when you least expect it.

#i swear i only meant to make this a headcanon list #somehow i ended up with over 1.6k words on kaeya alone so that's that #i know nothing about flower shops im sorry #and i haven't written in ages #just hal things #genshin impact #genshin impact moodboard #genshin moodboard #genshin impact fanfic #genshin fanfic #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya #kaeya fanfic #kaeya x reader #kaeya moodboard #moodboard #fic

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imgoingtohellsofuckit · 4 years

Text

Not The One For You

Rodrick x Reader

Warning - Smut (don’t be too hard on it )

Summary - Rodrick’s parents don’t like you so you are having dinner with them to change their mind

Rodrick Heffley wasn't the brightest kid. It was pretty much universally known. So when you told your friends that you were dating the wannabe rock star. It's not like you two were that different. You liked the same music, both had an alternative style, both of you were older siblings, had families who only saw reasons to be disappointed in you. On the outside you two getting together seemed to make a lot a sense. However there were a lot of differences that your friends decided to focus on. Specifically that you were actually really smart and wanted a life that was normal. Well halfway normal. You were excited to keep the alt style but you wanted an actual job. Granted you were trying to be a mortician but still. You wanted the job, the house, the family and well Rodrick wanted the fame and the glory of being a musician.

"You guys are acting like me dating him now means I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him," You point out, "we are 17.... the only thing we know is that we like each other right now."

"Yeah but it's Rodrick," One of them points out, "he's incapable of taking care of himself. This is gonna be your life."

"Exactly! I mean what if you do end up getting like married?"

"Then I handle it then," You answer, "you are looking way too deep into this. We are just dating."

"Babe you ready?" Rodrick calls over. You look back to see him a little bit down the hall from the circle of girls gathered around my locker.

"Of course Rod," You say as you shut the locker leaving your friends behind as you meet your boyfriend. He drapes his arm around you with a big smirk. Moving to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. My friends weren't the only ones who have problems with us. Rodrick's parents also found a lot to not like in our relationship. First of all Rodrick's mother is well- controlling to say the least. She saw another person in his life dressed in chains and all black, so she decided that I was just like the other people he hangs around with. Ignoring all the parts about me that aren't just my style. And whatever feelings about me his dad had all turned negative when Rodrick forgot to lock his bedroom door and his mom walked in.

"How was your day beautiful?" he asks as we head out to his van.

"It was slow- my calc teacher was riding my ass," You tell him, "deadass he wouldn't leave me alone. He sent me to the office for my outfit and they sent me back saying that it wasn't agaisnt dress code- because it isn't. And this mother fucker looks me dead in the eye and says- 'well if you didn't dress like a hooker I'd feel comfortable teaching you' which is like first off what the fuck."

"Thats gross- did you report him to the office?" Rodrick asks, "do I need to kick his ass?"

"I reported him and I called my mom- who by the way apparently is still on the phone with the principal," You say chuckling lightly, "and no you don't have to kick his ass- mostly because if you did.... you wouldn't win."

"Oh I totally could," He says, "I'm strong as hell."

"uH Rodrick babe I love you but he's the football coach and weighs 300 pounds," You say trying to explain it to him, "you'd get crushed. I still love you tho."

"I'm upset- I could kick his ass.... especially if he's being gross to you," Rodrick says. You nod unconvinced.

"How was your day?" You ask him.

"Boring - however I appreciated the pickup lines during history," He says, "it was cute..."

"I was gonna send my tittes but then I remembered your mom still reads your messages," You say smirking.

"Oh I missed out," He says, "think we can make a detour for a quicky in the car?"

"Your mom wants us there early," You remind him, "plus she's still on the fence about us being alone since she caught us in your room." He rolls his eyes lightly as we climb into his van.

"Yeah but let's say we make a detour to the store hookup in the back of the van and then grab some flowers or something for her to make it seem like we stopped for her," Rodrick suggests, "or maybe like a cake or something. To ya know show the peace..."

"Fine but you'd have to be quick," You tell him, "and you better tell me that your van is clean back there. Last time I got pizza in my hair."

"Clean... no it's not clean," He says, "but I brought a blanket and we can like spread it over the back... It'll be fine..."

"Fine but the second I touch rotting food it's over," You say firmly. He smirks as he changes the course towards the store just up the street. He makes sure to get in the back line of the parking spots taking the furthest one from the store. He climbs in the back first shoving the trash around the back. The finally throws the blanket down across the back.

"Just like imagine rose petals and a bed and shit," He says. It's quite literally the opposite of the romance that I'd prefer but he's a giant punk dumbass so you have no idea why you would of thought this would be any different. He sits down and looks at you with a goofy smile. "Malady would you like to join me?" You chuckle before climbing back to join him. The second you get back there he already starts yanking off his shirt. Way too excitedly for his own good. You smile as you move to pull off your layers. Finally as you both get to your underwear he looks at you excitedly. "You're so hot."

"Awe thanks cutie," You say as you climb on his lap moving to meet his lips. His hands fall to your waist. Holding on as you take full control of the situation. You can feel the excitement coursing through him. You chuckle lightly. You move to pull his member free from his boxers. The moving your own underwear to sink down onto his member. He lets out a loud moan as I set the slow pace.

"Mmm you're amazing," He says softly. You chuckle as you quicken the pace. Soft moans filling the car. You can tell you both are moving way more than you thought you would. Anyone on the outside would know automatically what was happening. All you can hope for is no one relaying the information back to Rodrick's mother. "Uhh baby," He moans loudly. You move pulling him into a deep kiss. Feeling the moans through the kiss. You can tell he's not gonna last much longer. You move laying back allowing him to take control. He smirks widely and starts at his assault. The moans filling the van. Echoing off the metal walls. Finally he pulls out. Spilling his load on your legs. "Did you?"

"No not yet," You say slightly annoyed at him finishing before you. He nods pulling your legs on his shoulders. Pulling you towards him. He latches his mouth on your clit trying his best to get you off. He's sloppy. But even the sloppiest technique when your this close could send you way over the edge. Your hand moves over your mouth as you come upon. Stifling the loud moans as you cum. He doesn't stop. He keeps going. Your body feels so good you could scream. He pulls away after a minute catching his breath. "Come here," You demand. He complies clearly excited to see you like this. You move getting on your hands and knees. He looks like he's about to scream at the sight. He moves pushing himself in with out warning. Pounding into you as fast as he could.

"Mmmm I love you so much," He groans.

"I love you too Rod but please go faster," You moan. He complies. The van was filled with a pure moaning mess. "Oh Rod I'm gonna cum again." You can barely finish the words as you hit your second orgasm. He pulls out as you simply lay down on the blanket.

"Holy fuck," He says as he lays down beside you.

"Fuck Rodrick," You say softly, "we have to go see your parents after this."

"Yeah I guess we kinda went a little too hard," He says softly, "and we still have to actually get flowers or something."

"Ughh think you can manage that?" You ask, "I'm gonna go get cleaned up."

"Yeah what kind?" He asks.

"I don't care get something thats pretty but not a million dollars," You say as you sit up pulling your underwear back on. He nods as he follows suit in pulling on his own clothes. Once you both are fully dressed you climb out of the van. He takes your hand genteelly.

"You're beautiful you know that," He says smiling at you. You move pecking his cheek.

"Thanks Rod."

Once inside the store the two of you split up. You head to the bathroom to clean yourself up. Fixing you makeup and hair. Trying to make the whole thing less obvious. You meet him back at the entrance. He's holding two sets of flowers.

"Rodrick I know you're bad at math but I know you can at least count to thirty," You say chuckling.

"Actually I got these daisies for my mom," He says, "and these roses are for you." He hands the bouquet over to you. You take them with a big grateful smile. Moving in to pull him into a quick kiss. As you pull back he moves draping his arm around your shoulders. "Come on beautiful." As you both make your way to his van you can't help but smile. Sure he's not the most romantic boyfriend- he did just fuck you in the back of his disgusting van and instead of cleaning it to do so he threw a blanket over rotting food and old condoms. But the small gestures like the roses and the compliments. Really just prove that he's not as bad of a boyfriend as everyone thinks he is.

It doesn't take us long for you guys to reach his house. He holds your hand as he leads you both into the house.

"Rodrick is that you?" His mom calls.

"Yeah mom!" Rodrick yells back. His mom moves from the kitchen over to the doorway. She looks over us.

"Rodrick it is a 5 minute drive from the school to the house why did it take you almost an hour?" She asks him clearly not happy with you both. You smile nervously as you hand her the flowers. This dinner was my chance to fix the fact his parents didn't like me. And getting railed by their son right before this interaction was very much hurting my chances of this going well.

"We had to go to my mom's shop real quick then we picked up these flowers," You tell her, "sorry my fault. My mom wanted me to bring her a coffee." Her expression softens.

"Awe well thank you," She says, "how was your day Y/n?"

"Oh it was good," You tell her, "very productive."

"That's good! Here come with me I want you to taste this sauce for the pasta," She says brightly, "it's a new recipe." She starts moving off to the kitchen. Rodrick gives you a slightly impressed look before leading you both into the kitchen.

The rest of the dinner actually goes really well. Rodrick's mother despite her reserves after catching you and Rodrick seems to finally have forgiven you. Letting go of the stupid blame she had for you "corrupting her son" or whatever garbage she went on about.

"I hope Rodrick is being a gentleman," Mrs. Heffley says to you.

"Oh he is," You tell her, "he got me roses today. And he's always opening doors for me. Making sure to sent me good morning texts. He's actually a really good boyfriend." He smiles at you. You tighten your grip on his hand. She looks pleased with his answer. Greg starts to make a snarky comment but his brother kicks him from under the table.

"That's good, I'm proud of you Rodrick," His mother says. His father looks between you and his son. Not completely convinced his son would act like anything other than the slob he knows.

"We are talking about this Rodrick right?" His father asks.

"Yeah actually," You say, "I know it might be hard to believe- I didn't believe it at first."

"What's so hard to believe about it?" Rodrick asks, "she's my girl and I want to make her happy-" The sweet words ending in a loud burp. Both of his parents sigh loudly. You simply chuckle. He looks over to you with a big smile. Then moves pecking your forehead.

"Yeah she's perfect for you Rodrick," Greg says, "anyone who can handle that- you better keep her around."

"Can it nerd," Rodrick says harshly.

"So what are you planning to do after school?" Mrs. Heffley asks you.

"I'm planning to go to school and studying mortuary science," You explain, "Mortician's are a job that's always gonna be there... And it helps that my grandmothers a mortician and is hiring me on her staff when I meet the requirements to join." She nods along to your words.

"Oh so you want a real job," His father says, "hmm Rodrick you could try that some time."

"No thanks old man," Rodrick says, "I'd rather stick something that actually matters. Like music... Not that I think your ambitions don't matter Y/n."

"No I understand," You tell him, "you have your dream and I have mine." You look to his parents. "Real jobs are relative... society is changing and becoming things like musicians and influencers is a lot easier than it was before." His mother chuckles nervously. You know that they have this thing against Rodrick's music. However you also know you want to support your boyfriend way more than you want his parents to like you. "I believe that Rodrick will do great in his music career...."

"Awe thanks babe-"

"If he works for it," You continue, "the music industry is hard and you have to stand out. I'm sure he'll get there but it'll take a lot of work."

"That's well put," His father says.

"She's very insightful," Rodrick says, "right babe?" You chuckle lightly. His mother looks back to you.

"So where is this school your looking at?" She asks you, "is it local? Or are you going away?"

"Oh it's local actually," You explain, "the next town over really but it's like a 20 minute drive." She nods. You give her a soft smile. "It's just a small college. I told Rodrick to check it out. They have a music production course which is apparently really nice."

"I've looked into it," Rodrick says, "and I don't know if school is for me... Considering I barely go when it's free I don't know if I want to pay to skip school all the time."

"You wouldn't be paying for all of it," His dad says, "if you actually go I might help... but you'd have to stay enrolled." Rodrick scoffs.

"School doesn't have to be for you Rod," You say to him, "but it's worth a look ya know. Maybe even a tour. You don't have to decide right now."

"Fine I'll tour it," He says, "we can tour together."

"Did she just get Rodrick to agree to tour a college?" His father asks in disbelief, "this isn't real?"

"Shhh don't say anything he might change his mind," His mother says quietly. Rodrick stabs at his pasta. He takes his last bite and then looks to his parents.

"I'm gonna drive her home," Rodrick says, "we'll probably stop to get something sweet on the way. That good?"

"Yeah of course," His mom says, "it was lovely seeing you Y/n."

"You as well Mrs. and Mr. Heffley, I hope I see you again soon," You say to them.

"Oh well how about you come to Grandpa Heffley's birthday party," Mrs. Heffley offers, "it'll be here and I'm sure the family would love to meet you... And you and Rodrick have been dating for a little bit now so I'm sure they'd love to see more than just the pictures you and Rodrick post online."

"Is that okay with you Rodrick?" You ask him.

"Sure it'll make it a lot less boring," Rodrick says, "can we head out now?"

"Yes Rodrick," His mother says clearly not loving his attitude. You wave to them as you stand. Rodrick leads you both out to his van.

"You sure that it's okay?" You ask, "If you don't want to then I don't have to go."

"It's literally fine," He says as you both get into his van, "honestly if you're there I'll actually have someone who likes me there." He gives you a smile. "I'd love it if you'd go."

"Then I'll go," You tell him, "it's nice that your parents seem to like me again."

"Yeah now I can have you over without my mom making us sit downstairs," Rodrick says, "and I don't have to hear the whole- 'are you sure about y/n?' speeches now." You chuckles.

"That's good," You say, "I love how your parents didn't like me but my mom adores you."

"Oh yeah I know," He says, "not the way I pictured that going honestly. I was afraid your mom would hate me."

"No she loves you!" You exclaim, "she thinks it's good that I'm with someone who likes to have fun... something about how I don't do that enough. And my grandma thinks you're funny."

"You're grandpa doesn't like me," Rodrick points out.

"Yeah well he doesn't really like me either," You add, "he's against anything that's different. I mean he's still harassing my mom about having two kids out of wedlock so there wasn't any hope for you babe."

"Didn't he want you to have like a chasty belt?"

"No he bought me a purity ring," You correct, "I gave it back to him saying that I don't believe in waiting til marriage and he called his priest on me... Ooo if I wear that would your mom like me more?"

"I think after she caught us having sex a thing about being a forever virgin won't really mean much," He says, "even if its a religious thing." You shrug in response.

"I tried," You say, "so whats this sweet thing you want to get on the way to mine?"

"You," He says with a smirk, "your mom home?"

"Not for another hour," You say brightly.

"Good because I think I've still got more in me."

"You're a dog Rodrick."

"And you love it," He says with a smirk.

“I really do.”

#rodrick #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick heffley x reader #Rodrick Heffley x reader smut #x reader

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metalheddie · 3 years

Text

In Full Bloom

summary: Spencer goes to the flower shop 1 (one) time and falls in love somehow.

tw: mention of medication, Diana's care facility, Diana lashing out mention

word count: 3.9k

a/n: Alright y'all!!! It's finally here! My first ever fic :) I apologize if some of it is a bit clunky or awkward... this is my first time writing and posting anything like this. I hope y'all like this as much as I liked writing it! and this is a Spencer x POC!reader :)

It was early Saturday morning when y/n opened her shop. Unlocking the doors and stepping inside. It was raining pretty heavily, too. She closed her pastel pink umbrella and put it in the basket next to the door. She stopped to take a deep breath, she loved the smell of fresh flowers in the morning. She walked towards the back to turn on her fairy lights and low lighting for her plants and put on her pastel apron with embroidery on the trim. She turned the radio on to the oldies station and Etta James’ Stormy Weather was playing,

Don't know why

There's no sun up in the sky

Stormy weather

Since my man and I ain't together

Keeps raining all of the time...

A perfect song for this morning. Singing to herself, she twirled as she moved towards her supplies, she got to work caring for her flowers and miscellaneous plants around her space.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

A few hours later, a light ting of the bell above the door of the flower shop sounded. Y/n hadn’t looked up from the bonsai she was trimming, as she was too immersed in her work to realize someone had walked in. When she finally looked up, she was surprised to see a tall and handsome stranger staring back at her. In that instant, she felt her heart stop for an eternity. He stood there a bit awkwardly as he waited to be helped. Snapping out of the trance she had previously been in, she walked over to the counter where he was standing.

“Hey there! How can I help you today?”

Her face slightly flushed but it wasn’t so noticeable on her tawny brown skin.

“Hi, um, can you help me find some flowers for- for my mom?”

Y/n noticed that he says this a bit sheepishly, almost as if he’s embarrassed to be getting flowers for his mom. Or maybe he’s just awkward, who’s to say?

“Sure! Is there anything specific you’d like to say with this bouquet?”

“Um, yes...well I just wanted to let her know that I appreciate her and I love her very much. She hasn't been feeling well recently, so I wanted to do this small thing for her just to let her know I’ll always be here…”

Y/n smiled at that. It was always so nice to see a man value his mom so much. It warms her heart.

“Aww, well I'm so sorry that she hasn’t been feeling well. I think that's so sweet of you to do this for her. I get my mom flowers when she’s not feeling well too” y/n says with a smile.

“So,” she says, clapping her hands together softly, “I think the best flowers to get her would be Carnations, pink of course, and daisies!”

Y/n excitedly moves around the counter and beckons him to follow her. He does this with a small smile, admiring how animated she had become.

“Why those specific flowers?” he asks.

“Well,” Y/n started, “Did you know that Carnations symbolize the love for a mother as well as the phrase 'I will never forget you’ ” The daisies mean innocence, motherhood, and purity. That meaning stems from the old Celtic legend. In Norse mythology, it’s known as Freya’s sacred flower. Freya is the goddess of love, beauty, and fertility, so it only makes sense that this would be her flower!” y/n continued excitedly.

The man nodded along in interest, all the while y/n was collecting and arranging the flowers in a lovely bouquet, putting them in a small and tasteful vase. She brought them over to the counter to ring him up, fixing the flowers as she went.

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Spencer’s POV

While on my way to my mom’s care facility, I saw a quaint little flower shop at the corner of the intersection. I decided to stop in and get some flowers for her. She hasn’t been doing well recently… She’s been lashing out at the nurses and is almost always agitated. Hopefully, this small act will remind her of all the love there is in life.

As I pull into the parking lot of the shop I notice the sign, hand-painted with a unique border that reads Fantasy Flower Shoppe. The side of the building is covered with several winding paths of ivy, truly giving it a fairytale cottage feel. The railing up the steps to the entrance has the ivy as well, acting as a guide to the sage green door.

I stepped through the door, mesmerized at the inside of the shop. There were plants and flowers hanging from the ceiling, on wooden tables, in large pots on the ground, and even in a large misty cabinet on the east wall. A small record player radio hybrid was nestled in between a budding avocado tree and a pot of budding bluebells softly playing what I believe to be I’ve Got a Crush on You by Ella Fitzgerald…

I've got a crush on you, sweetie pie

All the day and nighttime, hear me sigh

I’ve never had the least notion

That I could fall with so much emotion…

I looked around the room, searching for someone who could help me, that's when I laid eyes on the most beautiful girl in the world. She had dark, curly hair that fell to her shoulders wrapped in a cream-colored silk bandanna. She wore a cocoa brown dress with a beige long sleeve shirt underneath and an apron with what looks to be hand-embroidered flowers on the hem. I felt as though I was put under her spell as I gazed at her. She hadn’t looked up from her work, being so focused on trimming her bonsai, she hadn’t realized I had walked in.

I let my eyes linger on her a bit longer as I appreciated her focus. She must have felt my eyes on her, for she looked up and met my eyes. I quickly turned away, as to not make her feel uncomfortable, but also to hide the redness rising high on my cheeks. I suddenly realized what I came into the shop for in the first place.

“Hi, um, can you help me find some flowers for- for my mom?” I stuttered out, cursing myself internally for it.

She smiled sweetly and agreed to help me pick out the best flowers for her. She suggested I get Pink Carnations and daisies. I already knew that those would be the best choice, but I loved the sound of her voice. So as an excuse to continue to listen to her, I asked

“Why those specific flowers?”

I watched her eyes light up with a passion I never knew existed and proceeded to tell me the meanings and origins of both flowers.

“-so it only makes sense that this would be her flower!” she said

I nodded along in interest as if I didn’t already know the answer. She became so animated when she talked about the things she cares about. It was refreshing after being in the BAU for this long and witnessing so much hate and sorrow that came with the job. Seeing someone filled with passion and liveliness when it comes to making a career out of their hobbies was a wonderful thing. All this was not to say that I didn’t like being in the BAU. I wouldn’t be able to leave my family there, not now anyway.

Speaking of family, I need to go to the care facility before visiting hours are over.

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Y/n POV

I set the flowers on the counter, tying a silk ribbon around the vase just to add a little flair.

“Alright! That’ll be $10.50.” I said with a smile.

I look up from the register to see him staring at me with a crooked smile. God, he was cute. I wish I was confident enough to ask for his number… Hopefully, I’ll see him again someday. After admiring his features for what seemed like a lifetime, I realized we’ve just been staring at each other since I looked up at him. I start to get a bit insecure. Why has he been staring so long? Is there something on my face? Oh my god is that pesky pimple back?

As y/n was internally freaking out, Spencer on the other hand was basking in her beauty. He couldn’t believe he was standing in the presence of such an ethereal being like her. Her… Oh god. He doesn’t even know her name.

“Um,” y/n stuttered, “Hello? Are you alright?” She lifted her hand to wave it in front of his face to get his attention.

“Oh! I- I- uhh, Sorry about that. I got a bit distracted…” Spencer stumbled over his words like a teenager in love. “What was the total again?” he asked embarrassedly, a blush rising from the bottom of his chest to the tip tops of his ears.

“Oh, um it was $10.50,” she repeated with a newfound shyness, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

Spencer tried not to fumble with his wallet too severely in an effort to save himself any further embarrassment in front of the pretty florist. That plan failed miserably because as soon as he pulled out his cash, several coins flew out of his wallet. He muttered a quick ‘I’m so sorry as he bent down to get them.

What he didn’t notice was y/n bending down to help him. As she collected the few that fell over by the counter and he collected the ones on his side, they both stood up slightly too close together and headbutted each other. It wasn’t hard enough to leave a bruise or bump, but enough to send a shock through both of them.

Y/n stumbled hard enough from the collision and surprise that she almost toppled over. At the last second, the handsome stranger reached out and grabbed her hand, effectively steadying her.

Rubbing her forehead y/n said “I'm so sorry! Are you alright?”

Letting go of her hand, Spencer replied “Oh, no I’m sorry, I didn't even realize you were right there. Is your head ok?” He was genuinely worried if she was ok.

“Oh, I’m fine, no need to worry!” y/n giggled.

Spencer set the money on the counter and put his wallet away. Y/n rang him up and gave him his receipt.

“Oh, wait! Before you go, I wanted to ask if you wanted to add a small card or note…free of charge” y/n said, the last bit a little sheepishly because of what (she hoped) she was implying. Unfortunately for her, Spencer was very dense when it came to flirting, so he didn’t pick up what she meant.

“Really? Thank you…”

y/n grabbed a card with a pretty border and one of her fountain pens. She looked up at him and nodded, waiting for him to start speaking.

“Live the wonderful life that is in you. Let nothing be lost upon you. Be always searching for new sensations. Be afraid of nothing. I love you, mom. Love, Spencer.”

y/n smiled at that. This was one of the sweetest bouquets she’s ever had the pleasure of putting together, too bad he’ll be gone before she knows it.

“Well Spencer, you're all set! Thank you for stopping in today, I hope to see you again soon,” she says with a smile. Although this encounter was fleeting, she was enamored with him.

“Thank you for all your help. I wouldn't have been able to do this,” he gestured to the vase full of flowers, “without you, um, I’m so sorry I never got your name...”

“Y/n,” she supplied. “and it's no problem! Stop in whenever you'd like!”

With that, he walked out with a small wave and a smile. Y/n sighed happily, knowing that the rest of her day was going to go very well.

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Spencer’s POV

Once I left the shop and was on my way to the care facility, I realized I couldn't stop thinking about her. Like she put me under her spell as soon as I laid my eyes upon her. I want to see her again but it’s not like I get flowers all the time for people… Maybe I should do that, for the sake of the economy and helping out a small business. Also, it makes people feel appreciated, so what's not to like about getting and giving flowers?

By the time I decided that buying flowers for people would be my new gift-giving method, I had arrived at the care facility. I took a deep breath and exited the car. I was nervous to see what kind of day my mom was having. The last time I talked to her nurses, they said she wasn’t doing as well as they had hoped once they put her on new medication. I, of course, still wanted to visit her. She’s my mom, the person that has been there for me always.

After checking in and locating her I greeted her with a smile and a warm hug.

“Oh, Spencer! I’ve missed you so much! I have to tell you about this poem by Jane Austen I read the other day…”

“I can’t wait to hear it, mom.” He said. He was so glad she was having a good day. He wanted to tell her about y/n after she said her piece.

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“ ...and that's why I can never read it again without thinking about Stevie Nicks!” exclaimed Diana.

Spencer was having such a nice time with his mom and he must have lost track of time because when he looked at his watch it was almost the end of visiting hours. It completely slipped his mind to tell his mom about the beautiful girl who runs the flower shop.

“Mom… Do you believe in love at first sight?” he asks, a little out of the blue considering the conversation they were having before.

“Well Spencer, that’s a pretty hard question to answer. I think it all depends on the other person's first impression that they may have had on you before even opening their mouth to speak. Though I’m not sure if I’ve ever experienced that feeling firsthand…” she answered honestly.

Spencer sat there contemplating the advice he was given and said

“I met this girl today… She owns the flower shop just a few minutes away from here. She helped me pick out the flowers I gave you. She was kind and so smart. She knew the meanings of the flowers off the top of her head like it was nothing. Her smile could light up any room and I could tell she was so passionate about her job. I would like to think she would be my first experience of love at first sight…” he rambled hoping he didn’t sound foolish.

Diana looked at him and shook her head lovingly.

“She sounds wonderful, Spencer. Please tell her thank you from me the next time you see her.”

And with that, visiting hours were over and it was time for him to head home.

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The Next Day

The next day Spencer Reid walked into the bullpen with a smile on his face and a pep in his step. He was still a bit giddy from the encounter he had yesterday, playing it over and over in his mind. The perks of having an eidetic memory. Since he works with a bunch of profilers, they were able to analyze his cheerfulness and boil it down to-

“So who’s the special lady?” Derek asked as he walked up to Spencer’s desk with two mugs in his hand, one labeled ‘Spencer Reid’.

Spencer froze, trying to make up a lie to explain his cheerful mood. “I- uh, I was j-just visiting my mom yesterday and she was having a really good day. No other ‘ladies’ in my life, thank you” he said as he snatched his mug from Derek. Tasting it and mentally noting that it needed more sugar.

Derek looked at him and obviously wasn’t convinced, but he dropped it, for now, settling for “Alright pretty boy, if you say so…” he chuckled and walked away, leaving spencer glowing red at his desk.

He folded his arms on his desk and put his head between them to hide his blush. If the day kept going on like this, he might turn into a permanent tomato.

A few hours later, after finishing his paperwork for the case they had finished a few days ago, he headed to Penelope’s office just to visit. In all honesty, she was just as much his best friend as Derek, just in a different way. She always gave him some much-needed positivity in his everyday life, and he will always be forever grateful to her for that.

As she walked into her lair she turned in her swivel chair and greeted him with a happy smile.

“What's Cookin good-lookin?” she teased, hearing from Morgan that something was up with him.

“Ha ha very funny Garcia.” he joked with her internally cursing Morgan for spilling the non-existent beans.

“Sooo…. Who’s the lucky lady that has caught the eye of the wonderful Junior G-Man?” Garcia teased, yet genuinely curious.

“There’s no girl I swear!” he lied through his teeth, and pretty badly at that.

Penelope shot him a look that said “Do not lie to the omnipotent being that is moi, I know all”

Spencer sighed and sat in the other spinny chair in her office and said,

“Yesterday I went to the little flower shop near my moms care facility just to do something nice for her because she hasn't been doing well recently,”

Garcia frowned a little at that and put her hand on his knee, comforting touches are just her thing and he knows that, so he doesn’t push her away, he places his hand on top of hers. He knows how much he cares.

“It was beautiful n there, but what really caught my eye was the girl working there… She was beautiful. She was so kind and she was incredibly smart. Her eyes were like honey in the sun and I’m sure she’s artistic because the sign out front was hand-painted… but all that aside, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.” he continued.

Garcia was practically vibrating in her seat with excitement as he finished. She was just so excited to see him happy.

“Spencer oh my god! She sounds perfect! You need to ask her out like today.” she said while turning to her computer. Spencer has a feeling of what her next question is so he says,

“No, Garcia, I will not tell you her name so you can do a deep dive on her life.” as he side-eyes her. Her face contorted into a pout at his words.

“But Spencer please~, “ she begs. “I can find out all her favorite places so you can take her there for your date!”

“No Garcia… I want to get to know her properly. No FBI intervention. Plus, I want her to take me to her favorite spots because she wants me to, not because I already know what she likes…” he states as he imagines what going on a coffee date with y/n would look like.

“Alright alright fine, but pinky promise that you’ll fill me in on all the details when you eventually take her on a date.” She said while holding her pinky out for him to accept.

“Deal.” he said as he locked pinkies with her.

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As y/n went to start cleaning up for the evening, the light ting of the bell above the shop sounded once more. As tired as she is, she turns and slaps a happy smile on her face

“Hi welcome in! How can I help you today?”

As she turns she sees the handsome man from yesterday, Spencer, if she remembers correctly. He looks even more adorable than before with his sweater vest and all-star chucks. She smiles genuinely now, tucking her curls behind her ears in an attempt to seem more casual.

“Hi again… I um I needed to get some flowers for my friend. She just announced that she’s having another baby and I wanted to congratulate her with something other than future baby items because unfortunately, I have no idea what I would get for her if I went down that route…” he trailed off, stuffing his hands in his pockets and making the Awkward White Person smile, obviously nervous and giving himself away with the rambling.

Y/n was so excited at the news of a baby she immediately got to work.

“Oh my goodness how exciting! Does she know the gender yet?” she asked just so she can accurately style the bouquet.

“Yeah! She’s having a little boy.” He smiles at that and he visibly relaxes. Y/n takes that as a sign that he’s warming up to her a little.

After half an hour of picking out the perfect flowers and placing them into a large vase, y/n finally tied a blue silk ribbon around the neck of it. She added a few finishing touches and voila! Her masterpiece was complete.

All the while Spencer was standing on the other side of the counter watching her work with such adoration in his eyes. He enjoyed watching her work. Adding flair and certain specializations to every bouquet to make them each unique.

After finishing y/n peers to the side of the large vase of flowers to look at Spencer in the eyes. To her surprise, he’s already leaned over and looking at her too. They share a brief moment of admiration of each other before getting embarrassed and looking away like a couple of high school kids.

“So, since this is a gift for a friend, It’ll be on the house…” she says desperately hoping he’ll pick up on the hint this time.

“Oh my god...I - I can’t let you do that. Here,” he takes out his wallet and tries to pull out 35$ in cash.

y/n reaches over and puts her hands over his. “That’s not necessary, really. I don’t mind…” she says this with a warm smile. Just being able to spend these few fleeting moments with him in her shop has brought her so much joy.

“Thank you… That’s so generous of you, but I can’t just let you give me a whole flower arrangement without something in return…” he stalls. “Would you let me take you out for coffee? I know a great spot near the farmers market, and it has a flower booth too…” His hands are trembling a bit but she doesn’t notice because she’s smiling so hard her cheeks are beginning to feel sore.

She nods enthusiastically and says “Yes. Of course, I’ll go out with you.”

She slides him a piece of paper with her number on it and leans over to kiss him on the cheek. He accepts it and flushes so brightly, it rivals that of the sun. They wave goodbye after scheduling their date for Saturday, and y/n could tell that soon this relationship would be in full bloom.

Fin~

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mycroftrh · 3 years

Note

I would like more information on matriarch trees and weird forest facts in general, please?

So, for outside sources (that have more to say about matriarch trees) there's a whole book written for a general audience called "The Hidden Life of Trees". My top recommendation in general tho is there's a super cool article on the Smithsonian's website that goes remarkably in depth about tree communication and matriarch trees and tree senses, with bits from a lot of different tree scientists. ...I can't link it because Tumblr Be Tumblr but if you google "smithsonian magazine do trees talk to each other" it'll pull up. There's a delightful quote in it from the author of that book: "They call me a 'tree-hugger', which is not true. I don't believe trees respond to hugs."

For now tho I will give you three random forest facts from my forest fact collection.

First is really Tree Facts:

"Tree" is an almost meaningless term. There's not actually a biological definition of "tree". If you select two random "trees" they're probably less closely related to each other than you are to a tubeworm. "Tree" just means "tall plant with a central stem, probably woody, probably has leaves".

"Trees" appear in two plant types; angiosperm (plants with flowers or fruits) and gymnosperm (plants with... not those; they put their seeds in cones and the like). Yes, that does mean an oak is biologically more similar to a daisy than it is to a sequoia.

Angiosperm trees divide basically into three categories; "palms, bananas, and bamboo," "the dinosaur-age ones (inc. magnolias, avocado, and nutmeg)", and "...all of the other ones".

(Note: this means that if anyone tries to be all snooty about "technically, bamboo is grass" you can answer "technically, a maple tree is a flower," because that is exactly as much true.)

The thing I was actually trying to get to tho was the kinds of gymnosperms. Even if we don't restrict it to trees, there are only four categories of gymnosperm. One is gnetopyhta, there are about 70 surviving species you've probably never heard of, tho it is cool that there's one of these over 2,000 years old living in Namibia. One is cycads, which is most of the plants that were around for the dinosaurs, there are several hundred species left. They look a lot like palms. Third is conifers, and that's where you get most of your trees: pine, sequoia, cedar, cypress, juniper, fir, etc.

Fourth is gingko.

Not "gingkos".

Gingko.

The only species left of this entire category of plant is Gingko biloba. It's one of the oldest plant types, from hundreds of millions of years before the entire concept of 'flowering plants'. They almost all went extinct by five million years ago, except for this one, single, "living fossil" species. Both the species and the individual trees can live through darn near anything. There are gingko trees that have thrived after being at the center of the blast radius of an atomic bomb.

If you see a gingko, give it a round of applause - it's a survivor.

Second random forest fact:

I'm gonna introduce you to a specific forest!

His name is Pando. Pando is the world's heaviest living organism, and possibly the world's oldest. He covers 108 acres, weighs more than 6 million kilograms (more than 13 million pounds), and is many thousands of years old. Most current estimates are around fourteen thousand years, but some biologists have suggested up to a million years, and 80,000 is a pretty common guess.

"But you said Pando was a forest," the imagined you in my head points out. Yep! Pando, also called "the trembling giant", is both a forest and a single tree. Pando is a single male quaking aspen.

There are two ways aspens make more of themselves: by pretty 'normal' reproduction, with pollen and flowers, or by root sprouts. With a root sprout, the aspen sends out a root underground and then just... grows another stem up from it. It doesn't make a second plant, just a second stem. They're just as connected to each other as two branches of the same tree, it's just that their 'trunk' is underground. You can test the DNA of each stem, and they'll be genetically identical, just as your left hand is genetically identical to your right hand.

Pando, apparently, decided many thousands of years ago that he just... really, REALLY liked doing that. Why have sex when you can just get bigger. So he's been growing that way ever since. If you get a leaf from one side of Pando, walk across the 108 acres to the other side, and get another leaf, they're genetically identical. The whole forest shares one single root system. (Not a connected root system. Just literally all one root system.)

A single stem of an aspen doesn't live for more than 300 years (generally no more than 130, in Pando's region). So Pando's very first stem has been gone for a very long time. But when one stem dies, he just makes a new one. So, theoretically - barring climate change etcetera - Pando could outlive the mountain he stands on.

Pando: repping the immortal-asexual community since ????? BC.

Third, the type of forest fact you were probably actually after (that you can read more about in the article linked up top):

Trees can tell when they're being "attacked", and will warn other trees to defend themselves. A lot of different kinds of tree do this, in different ways. I'mma talk here about acacias.

Acacia trees get grazed on by giraffes, and the giraffes will strip off enough leaves to harm the trees. Acacias have a defense mechanism against giraffes, which is to pump tannins into their leaves. Tannins taste very bitter and are also somewhat poisonous, so the giraffe will stop eating the tree.

The problem is, a) they can't keep their leaves full of tannins all the time and b) it takes a few minutes to start releasing the tannins. So by the time a tree is being eaten, it's already too late!

So: they warn each other about the danger.

When an acacia is bitten, it senses the injury and releases a distress-signalling chemical into the air. Other trees 'smell' the chemical, telling them that they're about to be attacked, and start pumping out tannins. So by the time the giraffe has finished with the first tree, the other trees are able to protect themselves.

(Don't worry about the first tree. Getting nibbled on once probably won't hurt it, and it'll get warned by another tree next time.)

#forest facts #misc #mine #ask #answer

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marmosa · 4 years

Text

it takes two.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: a little 18+ humor at a point, but it’s pretty low-key.

A/N: this had some anti-olives discourse and i’m not sorry about it olives r fcking nasty. also [y/n]’s smell is daisy love by marc jacobs for reference, it’s a perfume i really like but i was like there is no way anyone knows what a fucking cloudberry is, so next time you’re at sephora or sumthin go get a whiff of it, it’s lovely. anywho hope you guys like it, i had tons of fun writing the banter in this one, hope it turned out as nice as i thought :) p.s i didn’t proof read this so sorry in advance <3

***

[y/n] hated potions. She hated it more than anything else on this planet and that was saying something considering olives were literally out there existing. Potions shouldn’t have been such a hard class for her, not when she had no problem in her other classes, and certainly not when all it included was following a damned recipe.

Which explained why she wanted to drive a dagger through her skull when Professor Snape announced they’d be spending the next few days preparing to brew amortentia. Not only was the romantic part of it so nerve wracking it made the entire class nauseous, but the prospect of messing it up and not smelling anything at all was even worse (for those who cared, at least).

“You’re dismissed. Make sure to study up on the potion before hand or you’ll sorely regret it,” Snape called out to the class in that tone of his voice that sounded like rancid milk. Was it mentioned that [y/n] also hated Snape? Yeah that too.

As [y/n] packed up her things, she felt a tap on her shoulder, “Speak of the devil.”

“I’m not the devil, I know you lot think ginger’s are evil, but I can assure you I am no devil,” Fred shook his head displeasingly, crossing his arms and leaning back against her desk, “Also, what a way to great someone, sheesh woman, you’d think you’d be more excited to see me.”

“Okay, firstly, there was no need for that whole spiel,” [y/n] held her hands up defensively, “Secondly, I only said that because I was just thinking about you before you arrived.”

Fred rolled his eyes at her back-tracking, but smiled smugly none-the-less, “Aww you were thinking of me? Nothing too naughty I hope,” he winked.

[y/n] flipped her bag shut and looked up at him with a deadpan expression, reaching up and punching his shoulder, “you wish, Weasley. The only naughty thing I’d be caught doing with you is tying you up to turn you in to the police.”

“Tying me up? Didn’t take you as the type for that sort of thing,” Fred grinned, biting back another remark as he watched her groan in annoyance but refuse to make eye contact with him, “but honestly, what were you thinking about?”

“Well,” [y/n] began, pulling at his sleeve to get him to follow her out of class, “You know we have this amortentia potion coming up and I’m doing shit in this class, but I was thinking you could help me study since you have a track record of being good in this class?”

“Hmm,” Fred pondered the offer, shrugging, “what’s in it for me?”

“You get to spend time with me?” [y/n] smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes dramatically to emphasize the effect.

“That’s a shit deal,” Fred chuckled, raising his brows with a small grin at [y/n]’s frown.

“Yeah, it is,” [y/n] sighed, an idea popping into her head, “but if I brewed it successfully you’d get to find out who I fancy, I know you’ve been poking around there because you’re an nosy git who won’t leave me alone about it.”

Fred scoffed in mock offense, tilting his head to the side, “Rude, but not false. Y’know, that does spice up the offer, but what’s stopping me from just finding out by having you smell someone else’s brew? And who’s to say I’m gonna know who smells like that anyway?”

“You’re so difficult,” [y/n] groaned, sinking her shoulders, “you know what, just forget it. I’ll go bother George or something, y’know the better twin.”

Fred’s smile fell as he screwed his features together, ”Excuse me? You’ve got some nerve you little-,”

“I don’t-woah!” [y/n] yelped as Fred tackled her to the side of the empty hall, trapping her against the wall, his hand planted to the side of her head and his other arm situated above her head.

“Take it back,” Fred demanded, giving her a once over, amused at the way she silently reeled over the position she’d just been put into.

“And why should I?” [y/n] snapped back, staring right back at him as soon as she’d gotten her bearings.

“Take it back,” Fred repeated simply, his voice low as he tried to coax his desired response out of her.

“Again, why should I?” [y/n] hummed, relaxing against the wall and looking at him with a sly smile.

Fred rolled his eyes and straightened himself back up, pushing his hair out of his face with one hand, “you’re no fun, you know exactly why.”

“No I don’t,” [y/n] continued, chimed in amusement, “do you think George isn’t as good as you?”

“Now don’t you go putting words in my mouth,” Fred snipped, “you know just as well as I do that’s not true.”

“I don’t know, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” [y/n] shrugged, biting back a laugh at Fred’s less than amused expression, “I’ll cut you a deal. You help me with potions and I don’t tell George your dirty little secret.”

“That’s not-,” Fred groaned, his argumentative spirit draining out of his body as his will to spend time with her won out, “Fine. But if you ever tell a lie like that to George, I’ll feel no remorse telling everyone and their mother that you like being tied up for fun.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” [y/n] hissed, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What? It’s not like it’s true,” Fred teased, his smirk falling when she remained silent, “No way, [y/n] that’s got to be a lie.”

“So what if it isn’t? You’ll never know,” [y/n] giggled, biting back a smile.

“Now wait a minute-,” Fred began, startled at this random piece of questionable information, but was cut off as they arrived at [y/n]’s class.

“It was lovely chatting with you, but I will have to see you later,” [y/n] hummed playfully, giving him a quick hug before darting into her classroom leaving a shocked Fred to himself, “bye Freddie!”

***

“Do you think Fred likes me?” [y/n] rolled onto her stomach and looked over at her friend expectantly, bumping her ankles together to distract her from the rapid beating of her heart.

Nadya tossed her books to the side and slid her legs off the side of her bed, leaning forward to try and be level with [y/n], “Are you really asking me that right now?”

“What!” [y/n] scoffed, pouting, “it’s an honest question!”

“Of all things holy,” Nadya groaned, burying her face in her hands, “Of course he likes you? You really asked him to be your homework helper and he said yes. Who in their right mind willingly studies for potions?”

[y/n] chewed on the inside of her cheek, nodding along, “You are absolutely correct. But like, if he doesn’t, isn’t it going to backfire on me when he realizes I smell him in the amortentia potion?”

“Bold of you to assume that any man knows what he smells like,” Nadya chuckled, “Remember in grade school when the boys would wear that atrocious body spray? It was ghastly.”

“Again, you’re absolutely correct. But Fred has like a distinct smell, it’s like camp fires, caramel, and fire-whiskey,” [y/n] sighed, letting herself bask in the though of how lovely he was, “it’s wonderful.”

“Kinda creepy that you know how specific it is,” Nadya pursed her lips and titled her head to the side to avoid [y/n]’s flat glare.

“Oh yeah because yesterday you totally weren’t telling me about Sam’s ‘absolutely magical eyes’, your words not mine,” [y/n] hummed, a smug smile drawing itself across her lips.

“You’re a twat,” Nadya snapped back, rolling her eyes, “back to you, aren’t you suppose to meet him in the library in like 5 minutes?”

[y/n] glanced over at the clock on her nightstand and nearly feel onto the floor running to get her stuff, “Shit! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“Because you were too busy talking about what Fred smelled like,” Nadya deadpanned, taking her turn to smile smugly.

“I would wipe that stupid look off your face if I wasn’t running late,” [y/n] narrowed her eyes teasingly, grabbing her textbooks, “see you at dinner?”

“See you at dinner,” Nadya affirmed, waving goodbye.

***

“Took you long enough,” Fred lulled, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m surprised you were here on time, especially for something as boring as homework,” [y/n] replied, setting all her stuff down and sliding into the seat across from him.

Fred looked at her dumbly, wanting to snap back but not knowing how to without admitting he was just excited to see her, “Shut up. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who asked for my help?”

[y/n] leaned her cheek onto her balled up fist and exhaled deeply, “Touché. You’re a handful Weasley.”

“You love it though,” He hummed, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That I do,” [y/n] chuckled, kicking his ankles playfully under the table.

“Well, if you need my help it’s counter productive to do it across from me isn’t it? You don’t want to be swinging a book around over and over again,” Fred mentioned while flipping through his own textbook to find the lesson.

“That’s a good point,” [y/n] shrugged, pushing all her stuff to the other side of the table and switching her seat, glancing over at his book to note the page number, “Y’know, I actually really appreciate you helping me out.”

“Hey, it’s no problem, volunteer work is important after all,” Fred teased, quickly back-tracking when she stared back at him blankly, “Kidding! You know I’ll always make time for you,” he mumbled, reaching over and squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

[y/n] rolled her eyes and pretended to fish around her bag so he wouldn’t notice the embarrassed look on her face, “Thanks. Same for you.”

Fred chuckled softly, leaning his cheek onto his fist to watch her silently, admiring the way she looked out of uniform in her favorite sweater and pair of jeans. She practically glowed in the low light of the library, her hands constantly pushing a fly away of hair out of her face, her face screwing up in an adorable sort of annoyance. He was smitten, no doubt about it, and honestly- he was okay with that.

“What’re you looking at?” [y/n] muttered, catching his unwavering stare.

“Nothing, you’ve just got an eyelash on your face,” Fred played it off nonchalantly, reaching forward and brushing off the imaginary eyelash.

[y/n] tried her absolute best not to combust right then and there, thanking him quietly before redirecting his attention to the work, “So, what do you say we start here? The measurements are rather odd, wouldn’t you say?”

Fred bit back a smile and nodded, amused at the loss of her fiery attitude, his heart thumping loudly against his chest.

“Yeah, they are.”

***

“Fuck!”

Nadya glanced up from the journal sitting in her lap, the pair of eyes she was sketching seemingly following along with her as she located [y/n] standing in front of the mirror, looking ready to fall apart.

“What’s all this about then?” Nadya inquired, cocking her head to the side.

“We’re making the potions today and it didn’t seem like a big deal two days ago but the anxiety has finally caught up to me and I feel truly sick,” [y/n] shuddered, jumping up and down in place to try and shake out her prickling nerves.

“I know you’re worried, but what are the chances of anyone knowing what that smell is? By the way you described it, it’s so painfully specific that only someone who’s known him for ages would know,” Nadya reassured her panicking friend, smiling softly.

“I know, but what if-,”

“If you keep talking yourself into believing it you’re gonna be miserable. Just breath, go do your best, and have fun. Nothing will go wrong,” Nadya explained calmly, knowing just how much of a busy-brain [y/n] could get.

“Ah, you’re right, I’m only gonna make myself feel worse. I’ll stop, thanks Nadya,” [y/n] padded over and gave her a quick hug, “see you at lunch?”

“See you at lunch,” Nadya nodded, waving her goodbye.

***

“You’ve all finished brewing your amortentia I presume,” Snape spoke in that nasally tone of his, glowering at the class.

The class replied with a cacophony of “yes’s”, the anxiety of each person literally rolling off the walls in waves. People who had a fancy in that class practically had a neon sign above their heads that said so, while those who didn’t sat back and relaxed in peace as they pondered their grade.

[y/n] glanced over at Fred who caught her gaze, passing her an enthusiastic thumbs up, which she returned happily despite the knots forming in her stomach.

“Well then, if you’re done, get into your groups and test it out. Remember if you smell nothing that it doesn’t mean you failed the potion, you must reference the check list of properties before coming to a conclusion,” Snape explained, folding his hands behind his back, “is that clear?”

The class responded with “yes’s” once more and in an instant the room was bustling as the groups got to smelling their potions to test out the initial effects. [y/n]’s group agreed that they’d go clock-wise, leaving her last to test out the potion.

“It smells like honey, baked goods, and lavender,” Charlie spoke up, his cheeks tinging red as he probably registered quite who the scent was probably related to.

“That’s a lovely combination,” Dina nodded, leaning forward and taking a whiff of their own brew, “truly I can’t smell much but there is a faint note of citrus,” they shrugged.

[y/n] and Timothy exchanged knowing glances, a fancy probably developing in Dina’s life that they hadn’t quite registered yet.

“My turn,” Timothy exhaled, nodding stiffly as if to reassure himself as he smelled the potion. His eyes nearly popped out his head as he took a step back fanning his face slightly, “that has got to be the strongest smell of herbs I’ve ever smelled- he’s probably been spending extra time in the Green Room, that twat.”

The group broke into laughter as he gracefully excused himself to go stand outside to let the smell filter out of his nose. As soon as he’d left, the group look at [y/n] expectantly, all excited to hear what she smelled.

[y/n] swallowed thickly and leaned over her pot, her nerves finally spiking as she took a whiff of the brew. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest when she finally registered the smell, her face growing hot, as an embarrassed expression pulled itself onto her features- of course it was him.

“So, what did you smell?” Dina chirped enthusiastically, leaning against the table.

“Yeah [y/n], what did you smell?”

[y/n] felt her heart drop to her feet, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets and into the pot in front of her. Of course he was going to ask.

“You did promise you’d tell me,” Fred smirked, leaning against the table, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“That I did,” [y/n] chuckled awkwardly.

“I’ll cut you a deal this time. You tell me what you smelled and I’ll tell you what I did,” Fred offered, raising his brows to emphasize his tantalizing offer.

“Deal,” [y/n] nodded, rolling her shoulder a few times, “I smelled a camp fire, caramel, and fire whiskey.”

Charlie and Dina exchanged wide eyed glances, quietly agreeing that the smell was certainly unique and equally lovely before excusing themselves to go get a final grade from Snape.

“What a unique smell,” Fred hummed, eyeing her groupmates oddly “Guess I have to hold up my end of the bargain then. I couldn’t really tell you the specifics, but definitely berries, daisies, and driftwood.”

“That’s even more unique than mine, whoever you smelled sure does have a refined palette,” [y/n] giggled, calming down as she realized Fred had no clue who she was talking about with her own smell.

“She sure does. I think it’s her perfume or something, she wears it everyday so I recognized it almost immediately,” Fred chuckled, shrugging, “But fire whiskey, I truly wonder who that could be, you wouldn’t happen to be willing to tell me? Would you?” he bat his eyelashes innocently.

“In your dreams Weasley,” [y/n] huffed, shoving him playfully.

“Ouch, tough crowd,” Fred pouted, turning so his elbows were leaned onto the table behind him.

“You know I’m only keeping it from you for my own sanity,” [y/n] chuckled, reaching over and shaking his shoulder softly.

Fred chewed his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing in the opposite direction from her, his mind clouded with doubt, wondering who this mystery person could possibly be- praying to everything holy that there was even a possibility of it being him.

Unbeknownst to him, [y/n]’s internal dialogue was practically doing the same thing trying desperately to put a person to the smell he describe but coming up empty, her heart sinking slightly while she admonished herself for getting her hopes up too fast.

“Well, you know I’m not gonna give up until I find out. I’ll sniff everyone in our year if it means getting my answer,” Fred teased, winking at her.

“That’s so creepy, you’ll be lucky if you can even get close enough to smell your own brother,” [y/n] laughed, letting her head roll forward slightly.

“Whatever you say,” Fred hummed, shimmying his shoulders to a silent tune, “better go get that grade of yours then, we didn’t do all that studying for nothing.”

“We might’ve since you couldn’t tell who I smelled,” [y/n] bit back a laugh when Fred glared back at her.

“You’re a twat.”

“I know.”

***

“Nadya! My dearest darling companion to ever to walk this planet, do you happen to know anyone who smells like caramel and fire whiskey?” Fred asked, throwing his arms around the two girls.

Nadya nearly spilled her drink at Fred’s sudden appearance, which didn’t particularly go down well with her, “Fred if you scare us like that again I’m going to hex you so severely you’ll be stuck in the infirmary trying to figure out how to get your wand out of your arse.”

Fred’s face drained of all it’s color (if that was even possible, being as pale as he already was), “Sorry Nadya, my bad.”

[y/n] stifled a laugh, continuing to munch on her piece of chicken, ignoring Nadya’s side eye that practically screamed “handle your own boyfriend”.

“But back to your question, I can’t say that I do, who do you have in mind so far?” Nadya humored him, trying her best to give leeway to both her best friend and her best friend’s crush.

“Well, as [y/n] so wisely said, it’s too creepy to go around and sniff people, so I’m just going off of hunches. Oliver seems like a likely candidate and so does Casper, but I’m still not sure,” Fred sighed, obviously already impatient in his search.

Nadya glanced over at [y/n] who was all to comfortable pretending she wasn’t a part of the conversation, happily sipping at her cider.

“I’m not gonna say anything, you can search for as long as you’d like, I’m not budging,” [y/n] shook her head, smiling all too amused, patting Fred’s head patronizingly.

“You’re no fun,” Fred pouted, huffing and standing back straight, dusting off the invisible dust on his robes, “Well since I’m not gonna get an answer out of either you, I’ll take my search elsewhere, see you around.”

“Bye Freddie,” [y/n] chirped, waving goodbye to him, “So you were right.”

Nadya broke into laughter, elbowing [y/n] playfully, “I told you! You got so worked up and he hasn’t even gotten close to an answer.”

“Casper, he really thinks I’d like Casper? He’s lovely and all but imagine having to sit through him telling you about how handsome he is? That sounds absolutely awful,” [y/n] shook her head, giggling at the thought.

“I truly think he’s just lying to himself at this point, there’s no way he’d be that dumb,” Nadya claimed, refiling her cup.

“I think so too, you know Fred though, he love’s a good challenge,” [y/n] shrugged, taking another bite of her chicken, “well have to see.”

***

“Okay, I think I’ve figured it out!”

[y/n] groaned and pressed her palms into her eyes, sinking as far as she could into the couch that she thought was tucked at the very back corner of the library, “please, it’s been nearly two days! You haven’t given it up yet?”

“Not at all, it’s fun, irritating, but fun,” Fred beamed, skipping over and plopping down next to her on the couch, “See I think I’ve narrowed the search down to these three guys.”

[y/n] glanced down at the small sheet of paper he held out to her and then back at him, a tired sag in her eyes as she felt guilt start to push against her chest. Maybe she was in the wrong for letting him run around and play a fruitless guessing game that she knew he would probably never get the answer to.

“I’m thinking if you give me another clue, I could zero it down to-,”

“It’s not them Fred.”

Fred fell quiet as [y/n] pushed his hand down, taking the paper and tossing it on the small table to her side, pushing his fingers into a small fist that she held gingerly, “It’s not anyone you’ve guessed.”

[y/n] sighed and swallowed her nerves, deciding it was now or never, that if she didn’t say something now she would be tormented by regret and Fred’s relentless guesses for the rest of her life.

“It’s no one you know because,” [y/n] looked away, literally incapable of meeting the wide inviting look he was giving her right then, “it’s you Fred. I like you.”

When she was met with silence, the rock finally started to settle at the pit of her stomach, her brows knitting together as she bit back her bubbling emotions. She tried to pull her hand back but had it quickly snatched back by Fred who had threaded their fingers together.

“I knew it,” He grinned, cupping her face with one hand and pulling her to him, his lips pressing against hers extremely gentle for how abrupt the kiss had been.

[y/n]’s eyes went wide before sinking shut, her free hand wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. They sat like that for a while, the quite chatter of the other students background noise to the gentle kisses they passed between one another, the pent up impatience and nervousness draining out of them with each and every kiss.

The two of them finally pulled away, a red hue fanned over Fred’s face, his freckles even more noticeable now that she was up this close.

“Shit, I didn’t ask permission to kiss you, did I?” Fred mumbled bumping his forehead against hers, squeezing their still intertwined hands.

“It’s okay, at least I kissed back, yeah?” [y/n] whispered, thumbing over the small scar on his cheek, probably from a quidditch match.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be better about it though,” Fred promised, tilting his head to the side to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Me too,” [y/n] smiled, adoration practically rolling off of her in waves, “wait- what did you mean you knew it?”

Fred pulled back and sat up straight, his lips pressed together so tightly he was practically forcing all the blood out of them, “Well, I kind of already knew from the time your tablemates sort of left us alone in potions. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

[y/n] felt her face fall, her mouth getting stuck open in an o shape, as she stared at him dumbly, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately no,” Fred giggled, placing both of his hands on the sides of her face, “don’t be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, just disappointed in myself, that shit’s embarrassing for me!” [y/n] groaned, placing her hands on top of his.

“Well it all worked out in the end didn’t it?” Fred chimed, his lips stretching out into a grin.

“I suppose it did,” [y/n] hummed thoughtfully.

“Now the real question is how you didn’t know what your own perfume smelled like,” Fred quipped, immediately bouncing back to teasing her.

“Oh for god’s sake, do I look like I research perfume scents in my free time?” [y/n] scoffed.

“A little bit,” Fred muttered.

“You know what never mind, don’t you ever try to kiss me again,” [y/n] shoved him off her playfully, scooting all the way to the opposite end of the couch.

“Now don’t be like that,” Fred groaned, crawling over to her.

“Nuh uh, nope,” [y/n] shook her head, sticking out her legs in a feeble attempt to stop his advance.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, too late, come here.”

“I said no- fine! Fine, goodness gracious.”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought, now give me another kiss before you have to go back to doing boring homework.”

“Fine.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x [y/n]#[y/n]#hogwarts #harry potter #fred weasley imagines #mar writes

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