A/N: So this was a request from a loyal reader and a lovely person, whose opinions I greatly respect. She knows who she is ;). Also, little shout out for my beautiful family of hardcore DSers. That's right, you know who you are! I don't think I've read something like this yet, so I thought I'd write it myself. I hope you guys like it; this is what fate has planned for another favourite real life couple, Penn and Blake. Enjoy, and REVIEW to let me know if you liked it/I should continue it. Thank you!

-xoxo-

To a complete outsider, the life of an It-Girl alumnus of a successful TV show is easy. To the slightly jealous and completely ignorant public, it must be nice to be on Karl Lagerfeld's speed dial, BFFs with Anna Wintour and Louboutin's inspiration. To have a table freed for you even when the restaurant is fully booked. To get away without a parking ticket just because your hair is blonder than the sun and your eyes sparkle like that in the light. And as much as the tabloids write 'Blake Lively – Blonde, beautiful and down to earth', everyone knows that someone, somewhere, hates the air she breathes because they assume, and not know.

Going to college after the final season of Gossip Girl finished was the failure that brought her the most distress. The most hurt. There had been so much excitement in her heart about three years away from cameras and designers, and in the vicinity of books, history and art. A degree in the History of Art. What could go wrong?

It seems members of the public don't know what it feels like to experience everyone around you thinking they know absolutely everything about your life; from who you're dating to what washing powder you use on your delicates. 'Blake Lively – an Ariel girl.' The most ridiculous thing she has read. Finding out it was your 'friends' that sold the story was a on a whole other level of painful.

It didn't take long for her to drop out; the biggest failure of her life.

-xoxo-

It turns out not every single breathing human being on this planet knows her name, the designers she prefers, and the type of car she drives. The relief of finding the tiniest of villages someone in the middle of France, somewhere where people didn't glance twice in her direction, where she actually got shouted at for letting her dog off the lead, was like a breath of fresh air. It didn't take her long to buy a small house on a hill and move there. Alone. Her boyfriend preferred a life in the city.

And it felt like heaven. Like the best thing that could have happened to her, like the cheapest and best form of luxury. There was freedom in the air, and magic in the sun, and it felt like she was establishing a new type of life; easier and calmer, cleaner, healthier, better, but at the same time harder than she could have possibly imagined. Here she could be who she wanted to be; Christina Blake Lively. She had always preferred it that way around; 'not enchanting enough,' her parents were told.

-xoxo-

'Au revoir, Christina, merci,' her most loyal customer shouts as she shuts the door to her bakery. She feels like she is living the dream; and it is a different dream as to what everyone else assumed it would be. Lovely clothes and Louboutins are a small part of it. The rest is made up of this.

She walks home just before dusk, and she listens to conversations in French on her headphones, translating them easily into French. One of her latest achievements; learning French in record time. Life was looking up for her.

Ten emails from her mother and sisters.

'Hey, Blakie, we all miss you!' She smiles at the photo of everyone that truly mattered in her life. I miss you, too.

One email from her agent.

'Blake, seriously, we're losing face here. I know you're getting these, so please answer my damned pleas. Come home. I'm trying to save your career and your money. I have Baz Luhrman and reps from Versace waiting for your call. Where are you, and what the hell is keeping you away from getting on the next flight to JFK?'

Delete. You wouldn't understand.

She has more spare time on her hands than she's had... ever, and at first it's hard to figure out what to do with it. But it doesn't take long for so many things to capture her interest, she finds herself struggling to fit it all in. She learns to ride horses, and takes an art class in a neighbouring village and she feels freer than she's had in a long time.

-xoxo-

She opens her wardrobe every morning, and it takes her exactly two minutes to decide what she's wearing that day. She cannot understand how she could waste so much time in New York. Time she'd never get back. Life is so much simpler here, and while she loved the excitement and standards of the city, she relishes in the peace of the better lifestyle. She gets compliments on her appearance every day, and one appreciation from a lovely old lady that doesn't know her top is one of the very few Chanel chemises she brought with her, is worth a lot more than a thousand 'Blake Lively wears Dior like it's meant to be worn, while Jessica Simpson should have stayed at home.' Where is the competition in this simple life? She sure as hell doesn't miss the harshness of it.

She's gained a couple of pounds, if not more. And who the hell cares? How refreshing.

-xoxo-

'Read this:

"Blake Lively seems to have gone off everyone's radar! The blonde beauty has been MIA since Gossip Girl, the beloved drama, ended with a shortened final season. Rumour has it, eccentric director Baz Luhrman has chosen her to play the lead role in his adaptation of 'Anna Karenina', but it seems the girl whose legs seem to go on forever and ever is ignoring the man's needs. Don't you think this diva attitude needs to be toned down a notch, Blake? Charlize Theron and Scarlett Johansson are among the few others rumoured to be interested in this coveted role.

Moreover, it seems Ryan Reynolds is also fed up with Blake's mood swings. Rumours that the pair have split have been confirmed by none other than the man in question, when he was spotted holding a girl's hand in NYC last Friday. How do we know it's not Blake? She's a brunette. "

Do you think I enjoy reading things like this? Damage control needs to be done! Get your ass in the States!'

So she shuts down her laptop and zips a bag around it.

-xoxo-

'Excuse moi?' she hears from the front of her shop in the worst French accent she has witnessed in almost a year of living here, and rushes to the counter to meet the customer.

Fate has the weirdest ways of bringing people together, but she could swear that if she wrote a book about this one, no one would buy it because it is so... improbable. She doesn't need to see his eyes; she recognises the slightly wild hair, shorter than she remembers it to be, and sculpted cheekbones, evident jawbone, trademark stubble. Even his faint smell is the same; and it brings back vain memories of a life that now doesn't seem reachable.

His nose is buried in a book; 'Speak French like the French – a guide to clever conversation.' She tries to hold back a laugh as he tries again. 'Voulez vous...' he starts, and throws his head back. 'No, that sounds wrong,' he says to himself, sighs, then brings his head back to try again. In the process, he sees her, and his head does a double take to ensure he wasn't wrong.

'Blake?'

'Is that what you say to all the girls? Because I think I could finish that little sentence for you...'

Penn laughs and walks around the furniture, picking her up in his arms. 'What are you doing here?'

'I... live here.' It's the first time she's had to say it out loud, and it sounds even better than it did in her mind. He sets her down and places his hands on her shoulder, pushing her at a distance so he can take her in. 'What are you doing here? If you're looking for Brooklyn, you missed a few left turnings, give or take a thousand...'

Her hands rest on his forearms, and as their eyes meet again for the first time in a long time, she realises that he was one of the very few aspects of her old life that she actually missed.

'I'm meant to be finding myself. But in the process, I keep losing my directions. I missed the last bus from a station I wouldn't know to get back to anyway, I have barely any food in my backpack, and the only information about my whereabouts is that it's somewhere in beautiful France.'

'Well, I can't let the boy starve. Wait here a second, I'll close up early today. I have a place not far away from here, and you need somewhere to stay.' She is excited about the idea, and he can see that, and he doesn't refuse her because he remembers she wouldn't listen to him anyway.

-xoxo-

It's quite cold outside as autumn comes close to its end, so Blake lights a fire and digs out an extra duvet. They sit on the floor, legs crossed, around a wooden table, occasionally sipping tea out of their cups.

'So I think some tabloids have resorted to giving eight-figure rewards for photographic evidence of your existence and location. It changes to nine figures if there is a juicy rumour attached to it,' he comments, and bites out of the sandwich. 'This is really good, by the way, you haven't lost your touch.'

She smiles. 'Then I'm glad I left. I am much happier here. The air, the people, the tiny buildings... It's liberating.'

He looks at her. Really looks at her, and for the first time in a long while, she can feel her cheeks change colour. She hasn't blushed over a boy in... a long time. And the feeling that gives her... Something out of the pages of ancient history.

'Well, you look good, B,' he says. 'You look... healthy. Happy.'

'I am. You haven't changed, and I mean that in the best way. You still look like the dapper twenty year-old every girl fawned over. Quite popular with the ladies.'

There is a cheeky glint in her eyes, and if she knew how to look, she'd find the same ones in his.

'I didn't pay attention to it. When I was twenty, I had a very beautiful girl to look after.'

The strangest tension rises between them, and she finds herself smiling slightly at it. 'Well, it's late, and I'm tired, so I'm going to go to bed. Please promise me you won't bail before I wake up; I'd feel so cheap. Although, if you really want to find yourself, then hang around here for a bit longer. It seemed to do the trick for me.'

She winked at him, and turned off the lights, but he could still see her in the vague light of the fire. 'Good night, Penn.'

'Sleep well, B.'