#SINCE WHEN ARE TIKTOKERS INVITED TO CELEBRITY'S HOUSE

[velvetchrry]

hockey player!ghoap x smm!reader thoughts

just thinking about how you’re a social media manager for a new hockey expansion team. johnny and simon — who grew up playing hockey together — both got drafted to the pros but have never played on a team together before. they’re both selected for this new franchise — the first time they’ve played together since they were kids.

simon is a defenseman. big, hulking — he’s the guy that's going to initiate fights with the players that are picking on his teammates. you aren’t going to get away with a dirty hit when he's around — he will retaliate. he will dish out a big clean hit when they think they’re safe. especially if it’s johnny. he’s the team enforcer, but still a talented defenseman.

johnny is your center star. he’s wicked fast on the ice, and is always showing off with plays you think are near impossible. he’s surprisingly humble — giving credit where credits due, passing to his teammates when they’re open instead of taking a wild shot himself. he’s the chatty one, always talking up the press during intermission and after the games over.

(and ofc we have gaz as a winger and price as the old goaltender close to retirement, who just can’t give up the game yet)

you were hired with a batch of social media managers in order to promote this new team to the locals. you want to attract season ticket holders. you want people excited for the upcoming season. you want people to meet their players — even though most of them have a history on the ice.

you’re really good at your job. your main job is keeping up with the videos and pictures of the team and players — creating the content that gets posted. your coworkers laswell responds to the fan tweets and comments — she’s got more of a knack for that, where you have the creative eye.

part of your job is getting to know the players and getting them to open up to you on camera, especially when you’re recording. you have them follow along to the latest tiktok trends, record practice sessions and even what time everyone shows up to the arena (simon is early, price is right on time, gaz and johnny are running late). normally your job would be staying on home ice — not following the team when they’re away — but to keep up with content the owners request you specifically go along. it’s been a total hit online and tickets are selling like hotcakes.

you start to really get to know the team — you fly with them and stay in the same hotels. you’re with them at every practice. they start requesting you be the dj at practice even. it helps loosen them up. you get great content. you joke with them. you even stand at the bench during games. (content content content)

johnny of course chats you up first. he's easily to film and he’s your star. he’s the one generating the views and likes and hearts and comments. he’s the one everyone’s excited to see. he’s the first to jump on a new trend you want to film and he’ll encourage everyone to do the same. he’s the only reason that you get simon to be on camera. (and he still won’t go on camera much, rather you have to get shots of him on the ice)

they do their best to include you in everything, but especially when they’re at an away game. if the boys are going out for dinner, johnny will make simon knock on your hotel room door and convince you to join. (you don’t take a lot of convincing, however johnny has to pour simon a stiff bourbon to work up the courage to go ask you). you’re included in celebrations when the team wins. they drag you to one of the guy’s houses for a private dinner and drinks.

johnny and simon start to separately invite you to things — just the two of them. it’ll start off as johnny acting like he has a great new idea for content. he and simon did grow up together, they are best friends. they could have a great little segment together.

but it turns into more. they sit on either side of you. johnny brushes a hand against your thigh and rests it there. simon has an arm on the back of your chair, always keeping his body in the way of any potential threats. always keeping you safe. their sweet little puck slut princess. their hands are all over you by the end of the night.

they take you to a shared hotel room — after all it would be irresponsible for any of your to drive home. and johnny and simon share everything. they’re happy to share a room.

they’re happy to share you.

[kapithkanith]

Christmas day with the MacTavish Family.

Ghost gets invited by Soap who pleads with the luitenient to come knowing if he didn't that Simon would spend the Christmas day alone again.

Ghost who is hesitant to agree because he doesn't exactly want to barge into a family holiday without any of them meeting him before. Despite this Soap reassures him that the MacTavish know plenty bout Ghost and are very happy to welcome him.

So when they finally get the approval from Price to leave for the holidays they spend their first night in a hotel together on Christmas eve. Ghost hasn't really celebrated Christmas much before other than the time with Joseph so he's very..anxious.

He wouldn't call himself a grinch but Christmas brings bad memories up for Ghost, he already struggles with nightmares but they tend to get worse closer to Christmas.

But this time it's a little different, he's not alone in some run down hotel. He's with Soap. He's with someone he can trust. He's with family.

Ghost who lays in the bed whilst Soap reads out some traditional Christmas books that his mother always read to him on Christmas eve. A hand mindlessly running through Ghosts hair who is half awake relaxed in Soaps arms listening to him read.

Every so often Soap will check in on Ghost, a soft whisper asking if he's still comfy and Ghost grumbles in reply but snuggles closer. Enjoying the warmth his Johnny provides. Soap smiling in response giving a gentle kiss to Ghosts crown before continuing to read.

And when Ghost is fast asleep Soap finally places the book down and lays quietly at Ghosts side, holding him close before drifting off himself.

Christmas morning Soap takes the lead helping wake Ghost up, being gentle and slow. Soap and Ghost do their own mini gift exchange before getting in a car for the drive to the MacTavish house hold. Ghost wearing the Christmas jumper Soap knitted for him.

Once they arrive Ghost is standing behind Soap and holding his hand, trying to appear less intimidating. Not wanting anything to go off to a bad start. Soap has a big smile as the door opens revealing Soaps older sister who pulls him into a hug before beaming at Ghost. Introducing herself and her younger children.

Ghost settles in quickly, inside the living room where they are quite a few family members. Ghost is quick to pick up on the fact there's no signs of the mum or dad anywhere, not even in pictures on the wall. He doesn't bring it up especially since he can see how happy everyone is.

He gives a soft smile when Soaps nieces and Nephews come in and chat to him, they don't even question who he is. They just yap away. Just like how Soap does. It makes Ghost chuckle even if he didn't admit how adorable the lil family is.

The one taking lead of the cooking was Soaps younger sister who was chatting with her wife who was happy to give Ghost a gift too! Ghost had never felt so..loved before. He has always had Soap, who was his only family. And now he feels like he has others too.

Ghost even gets to talk with Soaps younger brother who seems more concentrated on the game he's playing, telling Ghost about the lore and the characters. He sits showing Ghost some TikToks too! Even if he seemed like a moody teenager he seemed happy to still chat with Ghost

Soap is sat with his oldest sister watching Ghost get to interact with the family, watching the bounce on Ghosts leg begin to stop as Ghost chats away.

His sister leaning to Soap

"You got a real nice guy this time.."

She says softly

Soap smiles a little nodding

"He's..different"

He explained

"Like genuinely this time. He's different."

He spoke, sounding lovesick

And this time his sister nods, smiling. Not the usual worried look or disappointment. This Ghost in her eyes seems like a genuinely good fellow for Soap. And that's all she could ask for

"I like him. I'm proud"

She ruffles Soaps mohawk before going into the kitchen to help out

And Soap smiles to himself, happy that his family has accepted Ghost and that Ghost accepted them. Staring at the little wrapped gift box under the tree, knowing he is more than happy to get onto one knee today. To push things to the next level. Just like he agreed with Ghost months ago. He is ready. This is what love is like.

[digitaldiarystuff]

Latin Grammys

note: ok so before we start since you don’t give me ideas 🥺 i’ll ask myself who would you want me to write for ferran, fermin, ruben or mason or do you just prefer the same players i write for

————

summary: you were in a sweet relationship with Joao for almost a year but given you’re a popular singer and he’s a world famous footballer you decided to keep it a secret. You were nominated for an award and wanted nothing more than taking your boyfriend with you

pairing: - Y/N

genre: angst/ fluff

————

“You won’t believe it!” you exclaimed as you entered your boyfriend Joao’s house jumping up and down.

He was laid down on the couch scrolling on tiktok as soon as he saw you his face lit up.

“I got a nomination” you ran to hip and Joao picked you up spinning you around.

“I knew you’d be.” he kissed you sweetly and you giggled together. You were nominated for Best New Artis award and couldn’t be happier. Since last year your time and mind was all on your music, you poured your heart and soul into every single line and it was finally paying off.

“I think this calls for a celebration.” Joao sweetly said as he went into kitchen to grab an expensive bottle of wine and 2 glasses. You nervously waited for him as he was telling how proud he was.

“Actually, I was hoping for a celebration on the day of the award show.” you said fidgeting with your fingers. You had been pretty private about your relationship so far, Joao had some bad experience with his past relationship and you were afraid of the backlash but even it means you’ll get hate for it you wanted him next to you as you found out if you’ve won or not.

“After the ceremony? I like where your head’s at.” he smirked clearly thinking about a more sexual celebration.

“No no, I mean I was kind of hoping maybe you wanted to go with me. Be my plus one you know for the night.”

You noticed his smile falter which made yours to disappear. You knew he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea but figured he’d want to support you that night because it was the biggest night of your career. You always went to his games, with glasses and caps not to be recognized sure but you did your best to support him.

“I… I don’t know I mean it’s like launching our relationship to everyone.”

Your heart broke more after his every word, after 10 months you hoped he was ready to show you off but it felt like he wasn’t comfortable enough in your relationship.

“Don’t worry it’s alright. It was a stupid idea anyway” you said and tried to put on a smile.

He was too distraught to even notice how fake your smile was.

After a glass of wine you made up an excuse to get out of his house, normally you’d stay over no doubt but tonight you wanted to be alone. Was he ashamed of you or was it because his past relationship affected his life so much you didn’t know. All you knew was your boyfriend not wanting to be by your side for your big night.

It was three weeks after your initial conversation about the event and Joao didn’t even say a word about it. You obviously didn’t, either. It seemed like you let it go but in the back of your mind, intrusive thoughts were eating you alive. Also, you really needed someone to be by your side that night and that’s when your agent suggested your producer, Alex. Your agent knew about your relationship and asked one day if you were bringing Joao, you shook your head not wanting to get into it so she took it upon herself to find you a date for it. Alex was her best suggestion since you were already friends and he helped you get on the right track since the beginning. You unwillingly accepted but didn’t say a word to Joao. You figured he wouldn’t care, boy were you wrong.

Joao went into your apartment the day before the event, hoping to have a talk and make sure you understood him but as he walked in with his spare key, he found the invitations sitting on the console at the entrance. He smiled to himself as the proud boyfriend that he is until he read the names under it. He could’ve had a heart attack then and there, he’ve met Alex but was only a handful of times and he always seemed too touchy with you but Joao tried his best not to come across possessive. He always noticed when Alex spoke so highly of you, how his eyes wandered around your cleavage and his hand placed on the small of your back.

When you walked in you noticed Joao’s shoes and realized he must be in the living area just passing time but actually he was pacing back and forth around the room nonstop. When you laid eyes on his distressed figure you were shocked.

“Joao, what’s wrong?” you asked fully expecting his answer to be training related.

“What’s going on is that my girlfriend has a date with his producer tomorrow night.” he said finally stopping. He didn’t mean to be so sassy but his insecurities got the best of him, you knew he had some trust issues but you both agreed to talk it out before spiraling.

“What are you talking about?” you asked but then he waved the invitation in his hands and you realized you still haven’t told him about taking Alex.

“Yes, that’s what happens when your boyfriend doesn’t want to support you.” you clapped back. You normally wouldn’t be this short with him in this state but he was being unreasonable.

“So what, you decide to take the person who’s been trying so hard to get into your pants instead of?”

“Joao you know Alex’s a friend.”

“Yes, a friend who’s secretly hoping to fuck you!” he yelled and you decided he was not even worth your explanation right now. You told him how you didn’t feel his trust and support while he went on about this detail he was fixating on.

“You know what, I think we should just take a moment to think. I have a long day ahead of me and would prefer to have a good night’s sleep.” you said and went in your room slamming the door.

You tried to understand him, you really did but it all came down to one thing: he didn’t see this relationship going forward. He didn’t want to be seen with you, he thought you’d fuck someone else if you ever hang out with them and this couldn’t be more far away from the truth. You took this relationship seriously from the jump, you loved Joao and would never glance at someone else but if he doesn’t want to believe it, there’s nothing you could do.

You fell asleep soon after, all the exhaustion and stress weighing you down. When you woke up the next morning, you heard some noises coming from the kitchen which at first freaked you out but then you thought maybe Joao spent the night. This made you even angrier because he couldn’t expect to argue with you today, he has to understand this event means so much for you.

You went in the en-suite to freshen up and opened your door storming into the kitchen fully expecting to see a distressed Joao making coffee but he’s actually in there with a bouquet of your favorite flowers putting them in a vase he found at your cabinet. He was wearing different clothes and seemed better than yesterday so you figured he came in early in the morning.

“Good morning.” he shyly smiled showing you the flowers “I got these for you.”

“They’re lovely, thank you.” you answered and he could sense the tension in your tone. As you went to sit on the bar stool next to your table you noticed a clothing bag with a suit inside sitting on it.

“What’s this?”

“Oh they’re all my best suits. I realized I didn’t even know what you’re wearing so I brought them all hoping we could decide together.”

“What?” you asked confused.

“I would like to be your plus one tonight, if you still want me.” he said and averted his gaze afraid you’ll say no. You looked up at him.

“Is this just because you’re jealous?” you asked

“It did play a factor for the decision yes, but the main reason is that I’m a selfish prick who doesn’t even show his love nearly enough to his best new artist girlfriend.” he said while scratching his neck looking down.

“I’m sorry for not being there for you, I’m sorry for not showing you how much I appreciate you and hundred percent support you. I love you so much and I’m sorry I let my insecurities get in the way of that. So about the invitation, is it still standing or should I just wallow in my misery all night?”

“Joao Felix, there will never be a time I wouldn’t choose you. You’re stuck with me forever.” you smiled wrapping your arms around his torso and he let go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding hugging you back.

[naebaetwsog]

.°first kiss w/tws*•

genre. Fluff

warning. Non

pairing. Tws x fem!reader

a/n. Enjoy

Shinyu

It was the cutest, most unexpected moment. You were at Shinyu's place playing games, and after losing another round, you flopped onto the floor, dramatically pointing at the screen. Shinyu couldn't help but find the whole thing adorable. Without even thinking, he leaned down and kissed you softly. Both of you froze in shock, wide-eyed and speechless for a moment. But when your eyes met again, he couldn't resist, so he leaned in for a second kiss-this one longer and sweeter, marking the first of many.

Dohoon

Your feelings for each other had been clear for a while, and one evening, as you two were chatting about random things, Dohoon suddenly went quiet.Without warning, he leaned in and kissed you mid-sentence. The world seemed to pause as your lips stayed pressed together, both of you processing what had just happened.Then, as if in perfect sync, you both smiled into the kiss and let it deepen, sharing a sweet, addictive moment that you didn't want to end.

Youngjae

You were the one to make the first move, and Youngjae wasn't prepared.He had just come back from the convenience store with snacks for your movie night. When you opened the door, you smiled brightly and said,"Hi, baby," leaning in to leave a quick peck on his lips. His eyes went wide, and the bag of snacks fell to the floor as he touched his lips in disbelief."Hey! I was supposed to be the one to kiss you first!" he pouted. You couldn't stop laughing as he sulked, but deep down, he was absolutely over the moon.

Hanjin

It was straight out of a romance movie. Hanjin had invited you to his home country to celebrate New Year's Eve, and the two of you stood under the sparkling night sky, watching fireworks explode. Just as the first firework lit up the sky, Hanjin turned to you, his eyes soft and full of emotion, and leaned in to kiss you. The timing, the atmosphere, everything was perfect-your first kiss became a magical, unforgettable moment that left you feeling like you were in a dream.

Jihoon

Jihoon loved teasing you, and he wasn't about to let a calm evening pass without some mischief. While you were scrolling on TikTok and he was watching TV, he suddenly grabbed your phone and bolted. You chased him around the house until you finally cornered him. When you tried to grab the phone, he held it just out of reach and pulled you close, pinning you against the wall. "Gotcha," he whispered with a smirk before leaning in to kiss you. It was playful yet passionate, and as you kissed back, you realized just how much you loved his teasing ways.

Kyungmin

You were playing truth or dare with your friends, which was always risky when it came to you and Kyungmin, since everyone knew you liked each other. When the bottle pointed to you, your best friend grinnedmischievously. "I dare you to go into a room with Kyungmin and lock the door for 20 minutes," they said. You accepted, brushing it off as no big deal since you and Kyungmin had been alone plenty of times before. But this time felt different. The air was heavier, and you both sat in silence for what felt like forever until Kyungmin finally broke it, leaning in to kiss you.

He pulled back, panicking, and started to apologize, but you shut him up with another kiss. When you both came out of the room, your faces were red, and your friends burst out laughing, knowing exactly what had happened.

[luvyuki0]

Amber ── .✦01.

✦ Summary: In which Esme and Hoseok fall in love but of course with love comes trouble especially when you're dating an idol.

Series masterlist| previous| next

"JUST SHUT UP! PLEASE!" Her cries echoed throughout the house, covering her ears as she laid on the floor. She couldn't deal with it anymore, the constant gaslighting and the mental abuse was getting to the point where it was too much. "I should've listened when they warned me, but nah I ignored them 'cause my dumbass didn't know any better, cutting the people I loved off FOR YOU! just so that you could be happy, for us to be happy!" She screamed while crying. He stood there confused as if he didn't know why she was crying, as if he wasn't the reason her mental health depleted and still is. when she finally looked up at him all that could be seen in her face was disgust. Disgust with they were he was looking and acting towards her over the years. "You know what I'm done with this bullshit." She got up wiping her tears, leaving the male's apartment ignoring all sounds and stares she received. All she could think about was why she never realized sooner......



. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Esme's POV:

        "Should I be doing this right now?" Biting my fingers anxiously as my decorated camera sat on my bed. I knew I would have to come back to making YouTube videos eventually,as it was all I knew and I would be nothing without it and my subscribers. I just never expected it to feel so foreign to me. Honestly I don't even know if I'm ready to get back but I know many of my fans miss me, and of course theres some who thought I'd be gone for good, and honestly I don't blame them for that knowing I did take a 6-month break with no heads up, not only on YouTube but on all my social media platforms, kinda like I just disappeared but if not now then  when?

I sigh grabbing my camera and turning it to start recording. "Hey guys! I know it's been a while and y'all are probably wondering where I've been, what I've been doing and more some of y'all were right and I did break up with Rome but I'm not gonna go into full details about it, cause I'm not ready yet when I am though you guys will know the full story and understand why I took a break but lemme not ruin the mood it's a time of comebacks and celebration! now I am going to get back on my routine, posting weekly and spamming my socials!" As I speak, I can just feel some of the weight I've been holding on being lifted off my chest.

I clasp my hands together before I continue talking. "To be honest with y'all I wasn't even going to start recording again this soon, but Jazmine and her Lil boo invited me and one of his friends to a trip to Hawaii!!! Like y'all don't understand how hyped I am right now! Like I may regret this later but who am I to say no to a trip to Hawaii." I shrug my shoulders jokingly.

"I didn't plan much for this video honestly, but I did want this video and the Hawaii flight video to be separate, and since I and Jaz are going tomorrow imma drop COCO off at my mom's, and hopefully jaz is gonna be home by the time I get back so we can pack together and hopefully make some cute matching fits." I explain to my viewers what I have planned for the day though it wasn't much. (A/N: coco is the name of her Pomeranian I didn't put her in the characters cus she wouldn't be mentioned much💀)

"Come here coco! Y'all why he tryna act like he dont know mee! get a hold of Coco who was trying to run away, I grab my keys, slip on my slides, and lock my door, leaving my apartment complex as I make my way to my car.

I prop my camera on my dashboard, so it won't fall, and put on Apple Music to play "Normal Girl". "As always y'all we're gonna stop by Starbucks so I can try a drink I saw going viral on TikTok then I'll head over to my mom's house to drop coco off." I look back at coco than at my camera as I speaking

"So, this is the drink I got and y'all already know I had to get my grilled cheese! Tew good." I showcase my order to my camera as I get the drink and my grilled cheese sandwich. I eat and drink my order as I make my way over to my mom's house.

I get there and ring the doorbell repeatedly to which she opens the door. "Esme gimme the damn dog so I can go back to sleep too damn early for this shit" she speaks groggily with an attitude.

"It's actually one though...and I don't even get a hello wooow" I joke with her knowing we were on the phone last night.

"Esme quit playin' with me and give me the damn dog."

"Damn here, Bye coco bye mama." I hand her coco and walk back to my car hearing her hum bye back.

"Ok so now that I dropped Coco off imma just head back home and hopefully Jaz is back so we can pack together." I talk to my camera as I start driving back home. . . . . .

I finally get back, unlocking my door to see Jaz in the kitchen getting a snack. "Oh, hey Esme" she turns and greets me.

"Hey sweetheart, did u have fun with your Lil boo," I ask with a smirk.

"Girl yes I have to fill you in on literally everything so fir-".

I cut her off before she started ranting on about what she and Yoongi did. "Before you even start let's pack while you tell me what y'all did because I know you ain't start yet and I know you gon be talking for a good minute. "

"You right" she laughs knowing what I said was true.

We both go into my room and start packing for the trip tomorrow.

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A/N: I edited this chapter WAYY more than the second time and I'm actually happy with the beginning chapter and I made this chapter before the whole Starbucks boycott  so that's why they were mentioned I DO NOT SUPPORT them at all not even to the slightest degree

Please like and comment 🙏🏾

— 1089 words —

[music-viber]

Summary: your younger sisters boy best friend had been getting too much attention lately.

kissing booth if the genders were opposite. Pt.1

Warning: smut, mature content, language.

Your sister had a built-in best friend since the day she was born and 1. No, it wasn't you but yes 2. I, was better that way because you could only deal with so much of her for so long so you were glad to share some of the responsibility with somebody. They grew up together and partly with me because I tried to ignore them most of the time anyway but they always found a way to be around me somehow Vincent’s mom had been best friends with your mom since college or something so it made sense

Sports are your specialty which worked in your favor cause guys like girls who play sports especially when they were good at it. You got in a few of fights when you were younger making you gain popularity girls feared you knowing you could beat their asses. You did look out for your sister and her best friend when other girls would try a fast move on you guys. You liked to feel needed and important so you would always help them with bullies when you guys were younger.

You were the popular sister athletic it’s not like it was some big secret, you didn’t need to be nice to get what you wanted you had pretty privilege had it since the you pop out of your mother actually, it was like a super power. P r e t t y p r I v l I d g e something not all people are blessed with. Only time I was ever jealous of my sister was when she had a built in best friend who stuck by her side 24/7 and never got tired of her. So basically since the day she was born maybe? You can’t keep count.

Everyone put up with you tough girl act everyone except vinnie ever since you were kids he had always put you in your place when your out of line you couldn’t lie you didn’t know why you didn’t just ignore him what he tried to but it didn’t think much. People had always liked you but in a I fear her kinda so what you got went through puberty you better believe it wasn’t that way anymore. You tried to know less about Vinnie because 1. He was like a little brother to you and 2. That’s your sisters boy best friend, You didn’t wanna upset her.

School was starting up again soon your about to start senior year. No different from the other schools years but you did have to pick a college soon so that really sucked for you. Leaving home.

As you walked into your house from a workout in your sports bra and gym shorts your a variety soccer player so it was mandatory you keep up your A game. “Leeah, have you seen my soccer ball?” I asked my sister looking at the pair who can never be caught apart. She obviously gave me some snarky remark making Vinnie laugh, I smirked “hey Vincent” I say looking at him. I know he hates being called by his full name, he looks back at me “Yes Noelle?” He knows I hate being called my first name

“When did you get the abs?” I pointed out at them He looked caught off guard as he looked down at them trying to think of something to say. Leeah chimes in “When you were away at soccer camp learning how to be a bigger bitch, it was almost as if he was in human growth hormones or something.” Leeah laughed as you scoffed. Vinnie then covers himself with a towel “Rule number 2? Please.” I tell them I was throwing a party and not to invite any jackasses. Leeah makes another snarky remark as she and Vinnie celebrate it so I throw a ball at her making him fall into the pool and then walking away. Leeah gets out of the pool, “she's such an ass” Lee says looking at Vinnie, “I know.” Vinnie says looking directly at his best friends sisters ass which was quickly shut down by Lee.

The first day of school

as I got there on my motorcycle and started talking to some other girls my sister rolled up with Vinnie. “What the fuck is he wearing” his shirt was way too small for his new muscular body making his buttons left open making his whole chest and stomach exposed. Noelle sat there dumbfounded by his chiseled-like abs then looking away. Noelles sister and vinnie looked confused as to why Vinnie was getting some stares.

“Is he new?” you heard females ask around. You scoffed at their reactions. Then some horny girl grabbed his ass in front of everyone. He made a weird sound then turned to confront the person then saw it was a female. He was helpless he couldn't hit a girl, Leeah knew this and yelled at her attempting to push her then looked like she needed some help of her own so I intervened and punched her to the ground as the principal came out and sent us 3 to the office. “You guys office now.”

Vinnie had ended up asking me why I helped them so obviously I told him “It's like seeing those girls gryi g to get into my little brothers pants, which is super gross.” I continued “ You've also had 0 experience with girls you haven't even had a girlfriend. Opening your shirt like that is asking for it.” I laughed as he took offence. We kinda all git detention after that stunt we pulled this morning

As I watched Vinnie flirt with the girl who had groped him yesterday my eyebrows raised as I look between them. He looks over at me as I mouth the words “what the fuck?” he rolled his eyes and he goes back to passing notes. The teacher doses off then eventually the girl bursts in the room wearing her shirt the same way Vinnie had done that same morning as people laughed and took picture she posed as Vinnie laughed also. I'm definitely have in a chat with her after class.

After detention, I found her “hey.” I said pushing her shoulder “I don't know what you told him but your not going out with Vinnie.” she was confused and scared “if you will I will break your nose, got it?” he nodded and ran off. “Easy.” not as easy as you thought because the next morning Vinnie called you angry “You do realize you're not my mom right?” he stated while on the phone with you. I smiled “You still got a lot to learn kiddo.” he scoffed

Mumbling stuff you ignored “I could just beat you with my shoes right now” be says “she's a player” I tell him “so are you?” he yelled confused.” “and that's why I'm not letting her near you, you'll thank me one day.” Noelle says calmly “stop yelling girls not to talk to me!” Vinnie yells.

Two days later

It was time for my party which was packed with almost everyone even tho I did say invite only. I had occupied myself with the first person to throw themselves at me just to have a make-out session, and that's when Vinnie came up and tapped on Noelle's shoulder. She turns to face whoever tapped her. She stopped kissing the guy for a brief moment. “I haven't seen Lee,” she said as she went back to making out with the guy. Vinnie taps me again as I stop kissing the guy again “What?!” he says something about a kissing booth before the guy I'm missing flicks Vinny's forehead “Lonely nerds are downstairs bro.” I rolled my eyes at the random guy. “ look uh, you should probably leave he's important to my family which kinda means he's important to me.” the guy backed off and left and was sassy about it. Vinnie looks down at me “Sorry I ruined your make-out session.” you smiled “That's fine he tasted like Cheetos anyways.” he ignored the last part. “So kissing booth?” he asked hopeful. “No, go away” and so he did.

Later into the party I saw Vinnie drinking like there was no tomorrow like absolutely downing everything everyone gave him as people cheered him on. As he got up and danced on the pool table. I couldn't like he. Does look better this year and people can tell people he's getting lots of attention. He starts to fan himself “It's hot out here.” he starts to strip as everyone cheers him on. You look at him in disbelief. Then he yells “Let go skinny dipping.” that's when you know he's had too much as everyone jumps into the pool Vinnie stumbles and falls into the grass. Lee looked over at Noelle for help and so she rolled her eyes and helped carry him up the stairs. “I have to go make sure they don't break anything but you git this right?” lee leaves them. “Noelle” Vinnie mumbles as you ignore him as he gets up and walks into your room and crashes on the bed. “Great because I didn't wanna carry him” Noelle whispers as he throws up on his shirt he put back on. Noelle takes his clothes off him and immediately outs it in the washer. “This is so gross”

The next morning

Vinnie woke up groaning from his hangover he opened his eyes and looked around panicked as he checked to see if he slept inside my room. He then checked to see if he was naked which he stuff had his underwear in as he sighed in relief. He watched as Noelle walked in with nothing but a towel as Vinnie stared at her in shock. He looks at him “Oh I didn't mean to wake you just grabbing my clothes.” she said. Vinnie didn't need to ask what happened, he remembered everything. “Noelle I'm so sorry,” he said holding his head. He got out of bed and looked down and realizedtat he was basically naked and tried hiding behind her curtains embarrassed. “Can you pass me those?” he pointed at some baggy shorts on the floor. “Please can I get those” he begged. She just stood there smirking at him ignoring the request.

“Fine,” they both said heading towards the shorts as Vinnie fell into Noelle getting tangled in the fallen-down curtains. She was rolled up on top of him and he was under her complaining about how were stuck. “My arm is stuck” he yelled as they tried to get out of this his arm pushed into her core the he gasped as she moaned “I told you not to stop moving!” she yelled yelled. They untangled themselves from the curtain. Vinnie rushes to put on the shorts and then rushed for the door before he stopped “Do I owe you anything at all” he asked “Just get out dork.” she said panting.

The next day

I was playing carnival games and talking to a few guys when Vinnie came up to me. He spoke “Look I'm desperate, just stop at the booth for a little please? It would mean a lot to me.” he signed. I looked at him crossing my arms“Wow the independent Vincent Cole hacker begging someone else for help?” then he ended up giving me an I care about you so help me kinda talk making me feel bad as he walked away.

The kissing booth starts and it looks like the most successful booth at the carnival after while so I bought a ticket. I stand there thinking I wasted my money on something guys wouldve payed me for. “Wanna cut?” I looked over at some random girl confused as I tilted my head. She then opened her mouth again “like get I front of me and not wait in line?” she said nervously. “Okay.” Noelle cuts in front of her and walked up to the stand. Waiting for the kisser. She sighed and looked towards the curtains to see which guy she would be kissing. Suddenly Vinnie walked out in a blindfold looking confused. He stumbled as I helped him to his stand of the stand. He then nervously tells me his secrets about his lack of relationships and kissing

experiences as everyone else also hears him and laughs at his nervousness. I smirked and rolled my eyes as I looked over at the curtains seeing the guys Laugh at Vinnie until they saw who he was about to kiss and stopped in their tracks. Noelle cut off the geek boy rambling by pulling him down by his collar and kissing him. It went in as people around then gasped and cheered. After a while Vinnie thought, why these people be cheering over just a kiss- he then realized and took off his blindfold and looked at her dumbfounded. She didn't want it to stop so he kissed him again then people had cheered as she looked at Vinnie “okay I'll see you around?” she walked away from the booth and wentnti go flirt with some guys to take her mind off of him.

Later Noelle was on her motorcycle when she spotted Vinnie walking home on the road. The sky was lit by the thunder. “Need a ride?” Vinnie gave her a little look. Noelle rolled her eyes and crossed her arms “Look I care about you and stuff plus my mom would kill me knowing I left you in the cold. He got onto her motorcycle after a while the storm got heavy and they couldn't drive any longer. She led him to a greenhouse-like area where he gave her his jacket. Noelle was looking out through the glass at the rain “We should be fine if we wait.” she said distracted.

Vinnie had walked towards the girl towering over her. He then quickly kissed her and she kissed back. Then he backed up “We can't how would I tell Lee?” he said slowly. “We’ll figure it out” I reassure him pressing my lips into his as he melts into it, he then takes the lead by choking her a little bringing her to moan and catch her breath. She grabbed his shirt and unbuttoned it. As he gasped and pulled away, they stared at each other for a short period of time She looked at him “we don't need to-” she told him he unbuttoned her shirt. As they were both shirtless and making out. Vinnie knew he should've stopped but she felt too good to let go.

"May I?" Vinnie asked, indicating his desire to try something else. Noelle agreed, "We can do whatever you want," she said, grinning at him seductively. He then chokes Noelle gently as his leg nudges between hers, encouraging her to spread her legs for him. She gasped as his knee pressed into her core. Seizing this moment, Vinnie slipped his tongue into her mouth, asserting his dominance.

Noelle knew that her actions with Vinnie were morally questionable. She had no intention of revealing their secret, as it would earn her the label of the worst sister of the year. Yet, Vinnie was so intoxicating that she couldn't resist him. She had known about Vinnie's feelings for her since they were children, but societal rules had always been a barrier. Now, the way Vinnie made her feel had her contemplating a future with him.

She moaned as he tugged on her hair, a side of Vinnie she hadn't expected. "Vincent," she moaned softly. He paused from his activities, "Don't call me that," he replied, looking right at her as lightning illuminated the sky and the rain poured down.

She looked up at him, an innocent challenge in her eyes, "Or what?" As she reached up to touch his face, he grabbed her hand. With a gasp, she found herself turned around to face him, her back pressed against the wall. He was careful not to hurt her. Sweeping her hair aside, he whispered into her ear, "Let's find out."

He used his belt to tie her hands behind her as she was pressed against the wall, he then asked her “Can I remove your clothes?” as she nodded. He scoffed saying “Use your words, princess.” she rolled her eyes “Yes please Vinnie.” as she said this he undressed her and started to rub her heat in a circular motion as she threw her head back and moaned in pleasure as she pushes her ass against him. It wasn't long before Vinnie had also undressed "I want you to pleasure me until I reach my cum."

He teased me with the head of his arousal, causing me to shudder and my breathing to grow unsteady. He lavished attention on me, and then without warning, I felt him enter me. I was pinned and helpless, unable to do anything but accept him. His thickness filled me, causing my back to arch as he held my thigh to steady himself. My cries were quiet, shocked at the intensity of the situation. He paused, savoring my response, his lips peppering gentle kisses on my neck and chin. I tensed when he moved, the sensation overwhelming. As he withdrew slightly, my body reacted instinctively, crying out his name, "Vincent!" "Vinnie," he corrected, but I had no time to process his words as he moved again.

His touch stirred me, his hand moving from my thigh to my rear, adjusting my position. My legs wrapped around him as he quickened his rhythm, each withdrawal and thrust more intense than the last. My cries grew more urgent, the intense pleasure leaving me gasping for air. My body responded to him, my euphoria building. He grunted my name, our bodies slick with sweat. "Vincent!" I called out, but he corrected me once more, "Vinnie."

He repeated, "Say it and I'll let you go." His movements quickened, our bodies collided. My legs shook, but I kept them wrapped around him. I matched his rhythm, eliciting grunts from him. "Vinnie," I whimpered, yearning for him to release my hands so I could draw him closer. He looked into my eyes, the intensity of his gaze holding me captive. He let go of my hands, and the rhythm continued, the intensity only he could create. I clenched my muscles, matching his pace. His hands gripped my waist as he murmured into my lips.

Our bodies moved faster, and our lips parted. His head rested in the crook of my neck while he lifted my lower body and continued to thrust. I cried out, a sensation building that would soon release if he continued. "You like that, baby?" He whispered. I could only respond with a roll of my eyes as he filled me again. He was so deep, I felt him in my stomach. My toes curled, my hands clawed at his back as I tried to steady myself. But neither of us cared. We reached our climax together, and we collapsed on the floor. Breathless, I asked, "Where did you learn that?" He smiled and responded, "Porn." I nodded, understanding his solitary pastime. We sat in silence, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what just happened. I began to giggle, then burst into laughter. Vinnie watched me, chuckling softly. "I'm such a bad sister," I finally said.

"I'm such a bad sister," I admitted, my laughter subsiding into a quiet chuckle. Vinnie, however, continued to chuckle, his eyes filled with truth as he looked at me. "You're not bad, Noelle," he said, his voice soft but firm. His hand found mine, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You're human.

We sat in silence again, the gravity of our actions settling in. But there was no regret, just a strange sense of... peace. Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was right. But in that moment, we were just Vinnie and Noelle.

And as I looked at Vinnie, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath, I realized that sometimes, it's not about right or wrong. It's about the moments that take your breath away, the moments that make you feel alive. And as I lay there in Vinnie's arms, I felt more alive than I ever had. I closed my eyes, letting the silence of the room envelop us, a serene ending to an unexpected night.

[kurtsource]

A Day to Recharge and Refuel

This Saturday, I got up early and made a point of finishing all of my tasks. I started washing my clothes, blanket, and pillowcase after waiting for the water to flow. People in my house are already awake once I finish my laundry, so I put my tasks aside so I can eat first because I haven't eaten yet. I took my phone with me after eating breakfast so I could unwind and have a few minutes to myself. Browsing through various social media platforms, including Facebook, where I shared some memes, Instagram, where I updated my notes for a certain person I really admire, and Tiktok, where I watched short videos of people I find incredibly interesting. After a while, I came to the realization that I had to work hard to complete my responsibilities because I was already exhausted from performing them. This would allow me to relax for the rest of the day and take a sleep.

It was like emerging from a cocoon when I woke up on Sunday. I fixed my bed and did some stretching exercises before the day began. After then, I could feel my stomach growling like a thunderclap, so I went to look for my food in our home. Unfortunately, since my family prepares our meals and they are not yet awake, I was unable to find anything. In the end, I decided to stroll to the closest store to purchase a snack.  As I was eating, I noticed on my phone that one of my best friends had sent me an invitation to her birthday celebration that day. Running back to our house so I can prepare and not miss the occasion. The guests were dining when I got to the location, so I had to get my own plate and start eating. Both the food and the drinks that were provided to us were quite tasty. I invite my friends to go window shopping at the mall after the celebration. We had to say our goodbyes and express our gratitude for the day since it was getting dark outside.

[nhlovesadri3]

Adriana Lima Feels 'Celebrated' by Victoria's Secret After Having a Baby at 41: 'It's Uplifting' (Exclusive)

Lima, who was the longest running Victoria's Secret Angel from 2000 to 2018, tells PEOPLE that fashion right now feels hopeful for the "new models coming up"

Victoria’s Secret has entered a new era and Adriana Lima is thrilled to be along for the ride.

The iconic model, who has worked with the brand for years as one of their most famous "Angels," tells PEOPLE that she’s “celebrating” this new time for the brand not just because it’s exciting for the retailer to move into an inclusive space but also because it’s an exciting time for fashion.

“I feel that as a woman, and still being in fashion — I’m 42 years old and a mom with five kids, so I feel that I’m still being celebrated in this stage of my life,” she tells PEOPLE at an event in honor of Victoria’s Secret’s upcoming The Tour event. “It’s great to see that no matter what stage you are [in life], for my kids and the new models coming up, it’s uplifting.”

This new direction for Victoria’s Secret kicked off in 2019 when the famous Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show was canceled following complaints of a lack of body diversity on the runway. 

In 2021, the retailer launched the VS Collective, aimed to drive the brand more toward what women want. At launch time, the lingerie retailer's VS Collective featured Priyanka Chopra, Megan Rapinoe and many other "accomplished women who share a common passion to drive positive change," Victoria's Secret announced in a press release. 

Shortly after the VS Collective announcement, the brand further pushed for change by removing Angel displays from stores and moving away from the iconography. 

Starting in summer 2021, stores moved to displays of mannequins of all shapes and sizes and brighter lighting and pale pink walls that would feel "more inviting for women to enter," Victoria's Secret's EVP and head creative director, Raul Martinez, told Page Six at the time.

Since then, Victoria’s Secret has continued to move toward a more inclusive model, showing more body diversity in campaigns and working with plus-size models and consultants, including Remi Bader. The TikTok influencer partnered with VS Pink last year to help keep the brand accountable and true to size and continues to be a voice for inclusivity.

With Victoria’s Secret The Tour, which will stream on Prime Video on Sept. 26, the fashion show will make a return, but in a new format and in a new way. Many of the models who stomped the runway in years past will return, though it won’t be a live, traditional runway as we once knew it. Instead, the feature film was shot in various cities around the world and truly celebrates fashion and art.

The film will focus on 20 innovative global creatives who curated fashion collections from Bogota, Lagos, London and Tokyo.

The group, which consists of all types of creators including filmmakers, artists, fashion designers, choreographers and body artists, will "conceptualize, produce, and stage a collection that is all their own" alongside custom Victoria's Secret designs, the brand shared in a press release.

The artists will create alongside each other in different "houses" based on location and the film will follow their journeys and showcase the final results.

Lima, who is no stranger to a Victoria’s Secret runway, tells PEOPLE that this experience doesn’t even compare to her past shows — it was a whole other world. 

“The whole experience is different for everybody,” she says before a preview clip of the show was shown to the room — introduced by Naomi Campbell and Gigi Hadid. “The fashion show itself is going to be totally different form — not the usual runway as you think. There will be a runway, there will be a walk, but there will be parts where fashion designers, poets and musicians will be celebrated, and they will have a freedom of expression for whatever talents they have. So I'm excited to see that.”

[joeandoliviap]

I’ve been studying trafficking/sex work in college(it’s part of the my criminal justice program)

And I just wanted to add onto the whole “escort” and “yacht girl” thing.

To start off you don’t have to be dirt poor to be an escort/yacht girl, you can be extremely rich and come from wealth. While it may sound ridiculous and unbelievable it’s true. Many celebrities such as the Kardashians/jenners, Hailey Bieber, Paris Hilton, Zac Efron, and Lindsay Lohan are prime examples of yachting and escorts. You don’t have to have sex with someone just to get money or opportunity’s, simply being seen or being with them is enough.

So let’s go off with op since everyone thinks she’s an escort.

Prime reasons:

- in the past five months she’s only worked with 2/3 brands that only pay very little.

- she surrounds herself with other yachts girls(lily chee)

- aside from the brand deals(which I don’t think is good evidence because she’s also an influencer and brands love to send things to them) she lives in a millionaire dollar New York apartment while making very little from campaigns and her very little TikTok videos that only get up to 10k likes

Now none of this actually means she’s a yacht girl or an escort so i decided to look into her friend Lily chee.

Lily chee is a horrible person and it starts back to when she was in high school. In high school she had albums of nudes of young girls( which is child pornography) in which she used it as blackmail and would send it in group chats with other boys. At some point all of this bullying caused one girl to harm herself/get suicidal leading her parents to get involved.

Anyways lily chee started modeling when she was pretty young but nothing extraordinary. At some point her modeling picked up and she was invited to that White House party. She was seen leaving with Toby McGuire and about 9 months later she was seen with Leonardo DiCaprio.

Now Toby Maguire and Leonardo DiCaprio are a part of this little group called the “pussy posse”(dumb ass fucking name btw) involving another man who has also been brought up which is Andrei gillot. Aside from these weird ass men lily chee has surrounded herself with, men like them and have gotten her a few opportunities. Now that Op has involved herself with these kind of men she’d most likely get the same opportunities since she already knows Andrei.

I want you guys to think carefully and not be naive(but don’t be stupid) when you look at white women influencers/models and think they get money just from a 15 second video.

Unfortunately this world revolves around sex, power, and money which leads to men and woman to do things like this.



I agree with you about Lilly and you’re well informed. But this is not solid evidence. It’s possible Ponton is friends with an escort but isn’t one herself.

Ponton’s parents have money they could be giving her. She used to get more views on tiktok in her hype house days and could still be using that money. The brand deals could be paying more then you think.

All of these are possibilities just as likely as her being an escort bc we don’t have any proof. People can say they think she’s one but they’re running around confidently claiming she def is one and that’s stupid.

[mjonthetrack]

still you: the legacy of emmad

Chapter 164: “Homecoming at 1600”

The national coverage began before sunrise.

Every major outlet had a camera crew on the South Lawn. CNN, MSNBC, BET, Essence, even ESPN showed up. Helicopter drones panned the horizon. The air was thick with drums and laughter. Folks had been tailgating outside the White House gates since 4 a.m., grilling, blasting Frankie Beverly, and tuning up tubas and snares. This wasn’t a state event—it was a return.

By the time the official live broadcast began, the anchors could barely contain their awe.

“...I’m standing on the South Lawn of the White House,” said Angela Rye, adjusting her mic as a brass band erupted behind her. “And what you’re witnessing is unprecedented—no suits, no silence, no stiff podiums. This is the culture—alive and invited.”

The cameras cut to the crowd—hundreds of thousands deep and still growing. Alumni in every lettered color from Alpha to Iota, sororities lined in polished jackets and stiletto boots, D9 flags waving like battle standards in the wind. The lawn had become the yard.

Then came the gasp.

There she was.

First Lady Daisy René Emmad, dressed in her bold red Delta Sigma Theta blazer, white silk slacks, and pearls, standing tall at the center stage on the South Lawn. Her crimson stiletto boots made a statement as sharp as her voice when she opened the celebration. Her DST sash read: “President, Delta Chapter — Howard University”

The roar from the crowd was deafening.

“We didn’t come to decorate the White House,” Daisy said into the mic, voice clear and proud. “We came to redefine it.”

Not to be outdone, President Damion Rashaad Emmad stepped out next in full Omega Psi Phi regalia: gold and purple varsity jacket with the President's patch from his Omega chapter at Howard sewn on the sleeve. He dap-walked to the mic to roaring cheers and barked:

“Y’all know what time it is!”

The crowd howled with thunderous barks as his frat brothers across the lawn fell into synchronized step. But the camera stayed on Damion a beat longer—because everyone saw the tears brimming behind his aviators.

“We were bred in the belly of Howard,” he said, voice trembling. “And we never forgot who made us. This is for every Black and Brown student who was told they’d never belong. Now we run the White House. Literally.”

As if on cue, Vice President Elijah Osei Walker emerged from the side, clean-cut in Alpha Phi Alpha gold and black. His line brothers were already deep in formation, arms locked, shoulders rolling in quiet pride. His voice boomed:

“We are not tokens. We are not guests. We are the manifestation of every ancestor’s prayer. This lawn don’t belong to just them anymore. It belongs to us too.”

The crowd was still catching its breath when Press Secretary Nyla appeared in shimmering Zeta Phi Beta blue and white, her long braids flowing, arms raised.

“Zetas, y’all ready?!”

A powerful Zeta call split through the air, followed by the rhythmic step of sorors in rows, heels hitting the pavement like thunder. TikTok was already ten videos deep in real-time edits of Nyla’s strut down the White House stairs.

Then came Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, Nia Washington—her Alpha Kappa Alpha pink and green cardigan catching the wind as she waved. She blew a kiss to the crowd and lifted her hand over her heart.

“This—” she said softly, “—is what legacy looks like.”

From the stage, Daisy beamed. “This is your house now. This is your lawn. So stroll like your freedom depends on it—because in some ways, it always has.”

And with that, the Divine Nine erupted.

Band lines stormed the lawn. Step teams clapped in perfect rhythm. Fraternities strolled past the Oval Office. Sororities moved in poetry across the portico.

The media coverage was electric.

CNN ran a chyron that read: “THE YARD AT 1600: D9 CULTURE TAKES THE WHITE HOUSE”

BET titled their feature: “BLACK JOY MADE LAW: HOMECOMING AT THE PEOPLE’S HOUSE”

TikTok exploded with videos from every angle: —Grandmas stepping with their sorority lines. —Little Black boys mimicking the Omega hop. —Elder AKAs crying as they touched the gates of a house they never thought they’d be welcomed into.

Everywhere, people said the same thing:

“We’ve never seen anything like this.”

Because they hadn’t. Because it had never been allowed to happen.

And for the first time in American history, the highest office in the land felt like the Blackest block on campus.

And the world watched in awe.

Chapter 165: “The Shelter Act”

It was an unusually crisp morning in D.C., the kind that made the wind feel like truth—cold, sharp, and undeniable.

From the East Room of the White House, the cameras rolled as President Damion Rashaad Emmad stepped up to the podium, flanked by the statuesque presence of Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, Nia Washington. She wore no pearls today, no blazer—just a soft green turtleneck, a clipboard, and a face that looked like she hadn’t slept in 36 hours. She had been in the streets. Literally. And that was the point.

Damion glanced at her with brotherly pride before turning to the nation.

“We told y’all this administration wasn’t just here for the shiny stages or the applause,” he began, voice calm, steady. “We came to do what should’ve been done a long time ago—make this country liveable for everyone,not just the privileged. Not just the comfortable. But the forgotten.”

He held up a single document.

“Today, I signed into law The Shelter Act. Effective immediately, every state in this country will begin the process of reclaiming its abandoned buildings, factories, and offices—most of them in our inner cities—and reconstructing them into free, accessible housing units for homeless individuals and families.”

The room was silent.

“That’s not all. These new sites—these communities—will include on-site health clinics and daily, free food services. You won’t need ID. You won’t need to ‘qualify.�� You will not be criminalized for being poor. If you need shelter, it’s yours.”

The cameras cut to Nia. She stepped up, her tone direct, maternal, with steel beneath her words.

“This isn’t charity. This is restitution. We live in a country that let capitalism leave bodies on the sidewalk in the dead of winter. That normalized folks sleeping under train stations while condos went up empty just blocks away.”

“That ends today.”

She clicked a remote and behind them appeared a map of the U.S.—state by state, each with glowing dots where pilot cities would begin within the month: Chicago. Baltimore. Detroit. Philly. Atlanta. Houston. Oakland. New Orleans. Miami. Memphis. D.C. And many more.

One by one, the screens showed previews: —An old post office in South Side Chicago, gutted and reimagined into a warm, garden-filled complex. —A factory in Detroit with murals of Black and Brown faces and a rooftop garden. —A church-turned-clinic in Baltimore with a welcome center that read: “YOU ARE NOT A BURDEN. YOU BELONG.”

CNN flashed to anchors stunned in studio.

MSNBC’s Joy Reid leaned forward with emotion:

“This is the largest-scale government-led housing equity bill in U.S. history. They didn’t just put band-aids on homelessness. They’re dismantling it.”

Fox News—visibly scrambling—called it “dangerously radical” and “utopian,” but even their guest veterans and ex-police leaders were reluctantly admitting the cost of homelessness outweighed the cost of housing.

Back on the streets, the people had their say.

In a viral clip from Oakland, a Black elder named Miss Carol, who’d lived in a tent for three years, clutched her ID and sobbed into the camera.

“I thought I’d die cold. That I’d be forgotten. But he saw me. They saw me.”

On TikTok, thousands of youth from unhoused backgrounds began posting reactions with the hashtag: #ShelterActSavedMe #FromSidewalkToSanctuary #DamnRightWeDeserveIt

And across the country, a quiet miracle began unfolding—construction crews being met with applause. Volunteers showing up with blankets and welcome baskets. People hugging in the shadows of buildings they once feared would be their tombs.

And somewhere in a corner office of HUD, Nia Washington watched it all, misty-eyed, as Damion walked in with two cups of coffee.

“You did that, Sis,” he said, handing her one.

“We did it,” she replied. “But we’re just getting started.”

The President leaned against the wall, watching the footage on her screen.

“Let ‘em call it radical,” he said. “I call it human.”

And in every corner of the nation, the abandoned became home.

Chapter 166: “Where Is Daisy?”

It was supposed to be a celebration. A revival of womanhood and power, a thunderous kick-off to the First Lady’s historic “She Rises” Tour—a multi-state gathering of women and girls from all walks of life, meant to amplify voices, share stories, and spark liberation across generations.

The first stop was Florida. Tampa was blazing with sunshine and anticipation. Hundreds of thousands of women had flooded the city in crimson and cream, golds and greens, pinks and pearls. There were high schoolers and elders, doulas and scholars, women in hijabs, afros, box braids, and wheelchairs. It was joy incarnate. Unity incarnate.

Daisy R. Emmad had just stepped off the stage after delivering a fierce, affirming speech to an electrified crowd. She had worn an ivory power suit with shoulder pads sharp enough to slice through history and hoop earrings that kissed her jaw every time she turned her head. She was glowing, radiant with purpose.

And then—it happened.

The distraction was minor at first. A sudden surge of noise at the far end of the event plaza. Loud yelling. Two protestors had allegedly breached the perimeter, and while security was dispatched, Daisy was quietly whisked into a secondary route to her transport vehicle.

That was the last time anyone saw her.

The world didn’t even know she was missing until three hours later, when the White House confirmed that her security team had lost contact.

And then the news broke.

“FIRST LADY MISSING”

“DAISY R. EMMAD UNACCOUNTED FOR”

“PRESIDENTIAL SPOUSE POTENTIALLY ABDUCTED IN FLORIDA”

The globe flipped upside down.

Social media went nuclear.

“Where the hell is Daisy?” “You don’t just lose the First Lady—what the hell is going on?” #BringDaisyHome trended within fifteen minutes. Celebrities, world leaders, HBCUs, aunties and pastors alike were on full digital alert. The NAACP, Delta Sigma Theta, and the National Black Women’s Roundtable demanded answers in real time.

Cable news anchors’ voices trembled through emergency updates:

“There’s no video. No trail. No leads. As of right now, the First Lady of the United States has disappeared without a trace.”

The White House went into lockdown. Damion Rashaad Emmad didn’t leave the Situation Room for hours. His jaw clenched, his suit jacket flung off, tie undone, shirt soaked in sweat. Elijah stood beside him like a shadow of war, phone in one hand, mouth tight.

“We don’t speak to the public until we know what happened,” Elijah said firmly.

But Damion shook his head.

“We owe them. This ain’t a scandal—this is an attack.”

In that moment, the President of the United States looked less like a politician and more like a grieving husband in battle-mode.

He stepped out to the Press Briefing Room at 1:03 a.m., his voice low and sharp:

“My wife, the First Lady of this nation, has been taken. I won’t lie to you—we do not yet know who, or how. But I promise this: we will find her. And to those who did this… pray.”

He walked off without taking a single question.

By sunrise, cities across the country erupted into spontaneous vigils and protests. Black and Brown women, crying in groups on sidewalks, holding up candles and posters with Daisy’s face. Lines wrapped around mosques, churches, and synagogues as people gathered to pray. Children wrote letters and taped them to fences around the White House.

“Please come home, Miss Daisy. We miss you. – 7-year-old Janelle”

In Senegal, murals of Daisy Emmad went up overnight. In South Korea, candlelight vigils were organized by feminist student groups. In Palestine, women wrapped their keffiyehs around pictures of Daisy, lifting them in the streets. In London, a protest banner read:

“TO TOUCH DAISY IS TO TOUCH THE WORLD.”

Back in the States, Nyla—normally composed and cutting—was seen on MSNBC, eyes bloodshot, lips trembling.

“This isn’t just about a First Lady. It’s about the soul of this nation. If she isn’t safe, none of us are.”

The news cycle didn’t stop. The people didn’t rest.

And in every corner of the country, one question echoed louder than any prayer, protest, or plea:

“Where is Daisy?”

Chapter 167: “Proof of Life”

The world had been holding its breath for six sleepless days.

The Emmad White House, though calm in its public statements, had become a bunker of desperation behind closed doors. International agencies were flooding intel; satellites combed skies; secret backchannels with U.S. enemies were activated in the name of finding one woman—the First Lady.

But nothing. No trace. No sound. No digital footprint.

Until 2:04 a.m. EST.

It started on the dark web. Then hit encrypted foreign servers. Then, somehow, live-leaked onto Twitter, TikTok, and WhatsApp in one coordinated wave.

The video was thirty-seven seconds long.

No location. No watermark. No facial reveal of anyone except her.

The world froze.

The footage was dim and flickering—grainy, as if filmed from a hidden camera or worn device. The walls were concrete, rust-streaked and dank. There was a harsh, buzzing hum—fluorescent lights or perhaps electric voltage from a generator nearby. A cold, metal door sat to the right, locked with five chains.

And then—her.

Daisy R. Emmad.

Chained at the wrists to an exposed pipe, her arms heavy and limp. Her legs splayed awkwardly. A ragged, soiled white dress clung to her bruised frame. Duct tape covered her mouth. Her eyes, though swollen, fluttered weakly as if searching.

A smear of blood streaked from her temple to her cheek. Her lip was split.

She flinched when the camera moved—barely—but enough to send the world into collective heartbreak and fury.

Then the audio came.

Not English.

The voice was sharp. Male. With a thick accent.

Somewhere in the background, another voice spoke faintly—different accent. Some said Slavic. Some claimed Russian. Others heard garbled static or mechanical distortions.

But one sentence was clear, barely decipherable and possibly translated in post:

"She is alive. But for how long?"

The camera lingered on Daisy’s face for a final five seconds. Her chest rose and fell slowly, labored. Her eyes closed, then cracked open once more.

Then the feed cut.

Global chaos followed.

News networks shattered their programming. CNN aired the clip on loop, censoring only the worst of the injuries. Black and Brown commentators broke down crying on-air. Nyla was seen being held back from entering the press room, screaming to staffers, “LEAK IT ALL—EVERYTHING! I DON’T CARE ABOUT CLASSIFIED!”

At 4:00 a.m., President Damion Rashaad Emmad walked alone into the Oval Office, Elijah at his side.

He stared into the national camera—no podium, no teleprompter.

Just a man about to split the earth open.

“You wanted us to see her like that. To make us fear. But you done forgot—this woman walked through fire her whole damn life. My wife is not your victim. She is the heart of a nation. You should’ve killed me first.”

He inhaled, jaw tense, fingers clenched.

“To the ones who did this—you will not survive this.”

“To the American people—stand by. This ain’t the first time they tried to take our queens. But I promise you this will be the last.”

He stood.

And then turned—without a single goodbye.

Across social media, a digital tidal wave formed:

#FindDaisy #HellIsComing #OurFirstLady

Protests reignited. FBI and CIA directors were summoned for a live Senate hearing. Embassies across the globe faced citizens demanding cooperation. In Russia, state TV denied involvement, but their hackers rejoiced on underground forums. In Ukraine, officials sent a message to the U.S. promising intel sharing and underground help.

Even North Korean hackers reportedly sent an anonymous tip to an international journalist.

“She’s being held somewhere with Eastern European roots… but the deeper cell might not be nation-based. Might be rogue. Freelancers. Mercenaries.”

Meanwhile, in a candlelit vigil outside the White House, a group of elders gathered in prayer.

An older Black woman whispered through trembling lips:

“We’ve carried our daughters through slavery, war, and exile. Daisy belongs to us now. And we will get her back.”

And as the sun rose, every TV in America played one message over and over again:

“First Lady Emmad is alive.”

And that meant the fight had just begun.

Chapter 168: The Puppet Master’s Toast

Within hours of the horrifying video of Daisy Emmad’s captivity flooding the internet, another leak—this one far more sinister—shattered the fragile calm of the world.

It was raw, unfiltered, and unmistakable.

A grainy recording surfaced from an undisclosed high-security Kremlin location.

There, Vladimir Putin sat surrounded by a circle of loyalists, glasses raised high. His lips curled into a twisted, triumphant smile as he spoke in Russian, his voice dripping with menace and contempt.

“At last, the West’s jewel has been caught. The Emmad regime will crumble from within.”

He chuckled darkly, eyes glinting with the cruel satisfaction of a chess master claiming a crucial piece.

“The puppet strings are ready to be pulled. Soon, the real America will return—the one that listens to those who know power. The Trump seed will rise again. Our work is not finished.”

Around him, his inner circle erupted in raucous laughter and toasts, champagne splashing.

In the background, a large screen flickered, showing chaotic news footage from the United States: protests, heartbreak, and political turmoil.

The words echoed loud and clear across encrypted channels, leaked further to global news outlets:

“The Trump puppet government is coming back. And this time, it will dance to our tune.”

Global reaction was immediate and furious.

In Washington, D.C., senior officials gathered urgently. The leaked video of Putin’s celebration was proof of direct Kremlin involvement in the First Lady’s abduction, shattering any remaining doubt.

President Damion Emmad’s team scrambled to craft a response, the weight of war rhetoric heavy in the air.

On social media, Americans and allies worldwide erupted—anger fueling rallies and cries for swift justice.

“We will not be puppets. We will fight. For Daisy. For democracy. For truth.”

Meanwhile, behind the scenes, intelligence agencies around the world began to mobilize. Allies in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East pledged cooperation, recognizing the global stakes. Cyber operations geared up to dismantle the Kremlin’s dark networks.

The world held its breath.

Because the game had changed.

And the stakes were no longer just political.

They were deeply personal.

Chapter 168: The Kremlin’s Declaration

The world was still reeling from the brutal video of First Lady Daisy Emmad’s captivity when an even darker leak shattered the global stage.

A grainy, clandestine recording emerged, broadcast across encrypted channels and hacked news outlets worldwide. It showed the Kremlin’s heart of power—a dimly lit chamber where Vladimir Putin sat at the head of a long table, flanked by stern-faced officials and generals.

His eyes burned with a cold fury as he spoke in measured, venomous Russian.

“The First Lady of the United States—the American bitch—is merely the beginning. Her capture signals the start of a new world order, one that will dismantle the lies of democracy and replace them with order born from strength.”

He leaned forward, voice dropping into a menacing whisper that rippled through the silent room.

“America, Europe, Africa—they will all fall. This is our plan. The West’s decadence will crumble, and from its ashes, a new empire will rise—an empire of control, of discipline, of power.”

He paused, lips curling into a cruel smile.

“Daisy Emmad will be the first to fall because she represents everything we despise—a symbol of Black resistance, of justice, of a new future.”

Putin raised a glass, the reflection of cold ambition glinting in the crystal.

“Let her fate be a warning to those who would oppose us.”

Behind him, a massive digital map flickered to life, flashing ominous red zones over the United States, then sweeping over Europe, and descending onto Africa.

The room erupted in grim applause and cheers, a chilling chorus of triumph.

Global shockwaves hit immediately.

In the United States, citizens watched with horror as news outlets translated and broadcast Putin’s words. Social media exploded:

“This is a war declaration.”

“We will never bow.”

“Where is Daisy? We want her back.”

European leaders convened emergency sessions, condemning the declaration and calling for united resistance. African nations issued statements expressing solidarity with the U.S. and vowed to resist imperialist aggression.

Inside the White House, Damion Emmad sat in the Oval Office, flanked by Elijah and senior advisors. The room was heavy with tension.

“They want to start a world war,” Elijah said grimly.

“They chose the wrong country, the wrong people to threaten,” Damion replied, fists clenched.

On social media, millions voiced fear but also fierce determination. Grassroots movements and activists called for solidarity and action. International communities rallied around the Emmad administration, pledging support.

The world now stood on the brink of a new era—one where the fight was not just for a presidency or a country, but for the survival of freedom itself.

Chapter 169: The Breakout and the Bold Broadcast

Darkness clung to the cold, damp walls of the hidden chamber where Daisy had been held captive. Bruised, exhausted, but unbroken, her mind raced with one goal: escape.

Using every ounce of strength, and a moment when the guards’ shifts faltered, she slipped from her chains and navigated the labyrinthine corridors. With stolen maps and smuggled info, she pieced together the Kremlin’s secret compound.

Hours later, after evading patrols and disabling a few primitive alarms, Daisy stood at the heart of the Kremlin complex. A concealed camera flickered to life in front of her.

With fierce determination burning in her eyes, she gripped the mic and faced the world.

“Putin,” her voice rang clear and unshaken across live feeds worldwide, “your name should be Pussy, not Putin.”

A ripple of shocked gasps and then cheers exploded globally as millions tuned in.

“You have no idea the people you’ve angered. You thought you could intimidate us with violence and terror, but you only made us stronger.”

Her voice grew fiercer, filled with the strength of generations.

“We are not afraid. We will rise, we will fight, and your empire of fear will crumble.”

The feed held steady as she stepped forward, the symbol of resistance, the First Lady reclaiming her power — a beacon of hope and defiance in the face of tyranny.

Chapter 169: The Breakout and the Bold Broadcast

The cold stone beneath her fingers was rough and unforgiving. Blood crusted along her brow and dripped down her temple, mingling with the grime. Daisy clutched her injured rib, each breath sharp and burning, but her spirit was unyielding. She looked every bit the warrior she was — raw, bruised, battle-worn — and she didn’t care who saw.

In the shadow of the Kremlin’s imposing walls, her fingers trembled only briefly as she activated the hidden camera’s live feed. Then, locking eyes with the lens, she forced herself upright.

“Putin,” her voice was hoarse but fierce, slicing through the silence like a blade. “Your name should be Pussy, not Putin.”

The world paused — millions frozen before screens as her words struck like thunder.

“You have no idea the people you’ve angered.”

She leaned into the camera, the raw pain in her side momentarily forgotten.

“You thought you could intimidate us with violence and terror, but you only made us stronger.”

Her gaze burned with unyielding fire as she straightened, raw emotion pouring out in waves.

“We are not afraid. We will rise, we will fight, and your empire of fear will crumble.”

Her defiance became a rallying cry, a beacon of hope piercing the darkness of oppression.

Global Reaction

Across continents, millions watched with bated breath as Daisy’s words ignited movements, inspired protests, and fortified resistance.

In New York, a young Black woman clenched her fists watching the feed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “She’s one of us. She’s a warrior.”

In London, the BBC interrupted programming to cover the viral broadcast. Experts debated what this meant for global geopolitics — a First Lady escaped, speaking directly from the heart of her captor’s stronghold.

In Moscow, whispers of dissent began circulating through hushed conversations, citizens stirred by her courage despite the government’s iron grip.

Social media exploded. Hashtags like #DaisyUnchained and #PussyPutin trended worldwide. People posted videos of themselves repeating her words, their voices joining in solidarity.

The White House Response

In the Oval Office, Damion stared at the screen, eyes fierce but proud. Elijah stood at his side, jaw clenched, fists tight.

Daisy’s raw defiance was the message they needed — the rallying call to unify their nation and the world.

Damion turned to the cameras waiting outside, composing himself, and addressed the nation:

“My wife’s courage has shown the world the heart of our fight — resilience, strength, and unwavering hope. We will not back down. We will stand with her, with all of you, until justice and peace are restored.”

Elijah added, “This is not just their fight; it is ours. Together, we will answer this call.”

The camera’s harsh, unsteady view trembled as the Kremlin’s figure loomed over Daisy. The cold, military boots came down again and again, each kick striking like thunder against her battered body. Blood pooled beneath her, her face a mask of pain, bruises blooming dark and swollen across her skin. Yet through it all, her lips moved — whispering, steady and resolute, the ancient words of the Lord’s Prayer.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…”

Her voice was faint, fragile, yet unwavering. The world watched in horror, unable to look away.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…”

Her eyes, swollen but fiercely alive, locked with the camera, pleading, praying, commanding.

“Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…”

The brutal kicks continued, but her spirit seemed untouched — defiant to the very end.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…”

Her breathing slowed, ragged and shallow, but her prayer persisted like a flame refusing to be snuffed out.

“For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever…”

Her gaze faded, eyes dimming as the screen slowly went black.

Chapter 170: The World Holds Its Breath

The video had gone viral within minutes. No one could escape the brutal reality of what they had seen: Daisy Emmad, the First Lady of the United States, battered and bloodied, whispering the Lord’s Prayer as the Kremlin’s boots rained down on her. The footage was raw, unfiltered, haunting.

Newsrooms across the globe shattered into emergency broadcasts. Anchors, usually composed and controlled, struggled to hold back tears. On every continent, millions gathered around screens, hearts heavy with grief and rage.

In the United States

The White House issued a terse statement within hours, condemning the act as a “heinous crime against humanity and democracy.” President Damion Emmad and Vice President Elijah Walker, though devastated, stood resolute in a live address.

“We have seen the evil laid bare today,” Damion’s voice cracked, “but we will not be broken. We will bring Daisy home. We will answer this with strength, with unity, and with justice.”

On social media, hashtags #BringDaisyHome and #JusticeForDaisy exploded in trending charts. Millions posted photos and messages of solidarity, organizing vigils in cities from Harlem to Los Angeles.

The Streets

Across the nation, spontaneous demonstrations sprang up—marches, candlelight vigils, and prayers. Churches rang bells in mourning. Streets were filled with cries for peace and resilience.

“We stand with Daisy,” chanted crowds in Washington D.C., Chicago, Atlanta, San Francisco. “We stand against tyranny!”

International Reactions

In London, Paris, Berlin, and Johannesburg, world leaders voiced shock and condemnation. The United Nations held an emergency session. The Secretary-General called the attack “an affront to human dignity and an attack on the global order.”

African and Caribbean nations, many of which had longstanding cultural ties with the Emmad family through reparations and restorative justice efforts, broadcast impassioned messages.

“We mourn with America’s people,” declared the Prime Minister of Jamaica, “and stand ready to support the fight against oppression anywhere it is found.”

Asia and Europe

Japan and South Korea condemned the Kremlin’s aggression outright. South Korean news anchors tearfully highlighted Daisy’s courage and faith in the face of brutality.

Meanwhile, protests in major Russian cities, though risky, began to bubble beneath the surface. Activists used encrypted messages to organize, pushing back against the state’s narrative.

Media Platforms

Viral influencers and journalists dissected every frame of the video, urging governments to take action. Former diplomats and experts debated the geopolitical stakes on news programs that ran around the clock.

Calls for a global coalition to pressure Russia mounted quickly.

Families and Communities

Across the U.S., families gathered to pray. The Emmad campaign’s message of hope and justice fueled a new surge in activism, reminding the nation of the resilience that had carried them this far.

In churches, mosques, temples, and community centers, interfaith leaders united in calls for peace and courage.

The world was shaken, but amidst the horror, a fierce fire was kindling — a fire for justice, for freedom, and for the return of Daisy Emmad.

ChatGPT said:

Chapter 171:

The screen flickered to life again, the world holding its breath. The dim, cold room came into view—Daisy, battered and bruised, her face swollen and streaked with blood. The Kremlin loomed over her, a cruel grin spreading as he slapped her hard, laughter echoing off the walls.

But then, in a surge of unyielding defiance, Daisy spat a spray of blood directly into his face.

The laughter cut short.

She locked eyes with the camera, her voice raw but steady. “If I die alone, do not let my death be in vain. I’m not afraid of dying. I am afraid my works will not stand.”

The Kremlin snarled, roughly grabbing her chin, forcing her gaze back into the lens. “Say goodbye.”

Her jaw clenched tight, refusing to break. Then, in a whisper that shook the hearts of millions, she said, “Damion, I love you. You are the love of my life. I’m sorry if I miss our children—let them know I love them.”

Her eyes, fierce and unyielding, stayed fixed on the camera until the feed abruptly cut.

The world was left stunned — a raw, heartbreaking testament to courage in the face of cruelty.

Chapter 172:

The room inside the White House was deathly silent as the video ended. Damion stood frozen, the raw, painful words from Daisy echoing in his mind. His face tightened, eyes burning with fierce determination and heartbreak. The love of his life, the mother of their children, battered yet unbroken, had spoken directly to him—and now she was a prisoner in hostile hands.

He turned sharply to his top military advisors and security chiefs. His voice was low but icy with fury: “If they don’t bring her home, I swear, we will burn it all down. She is my wife. She is my family. No one will stand in the way.”

Within minutes, orders were issued. The best special forces, intelligence operatives, and tactical teams were mobilized. Plans for a covert extraction operation were drafted, analyzed, and approved.

Elijah stood at Damion’s side, steady and resolute. “We will bring her back,” he promised. “And we will make sure no one ever threatens our family again.”

Meanwhile, across the nation and around the world, news anchors, social media influencers, and everyday people expressed a tidal wave of emotion — shock, outrage, solidarity, and hope. Citizens rallied behind Damion and Daisy, flooding the streets with vigils, prayers, and protests demanding her immediate release.

On every platform, hashtags like #BringDaisyHome and #FreeFirstLadyEmmad trended globally. World leaders condemned the Kremlin’s actions, promising support and aid.

In the darkest hour, the country — and the world — united.

Chapter 173:

The White House press room was flooded with tension as the shocking news broke—leaked documents and intercepted communications revealed that the previous Trump administration, including his son, had betrayed the country by leaking Daisy’s whereabouts to the Kremlin. The motive was chilling: to destabilize the current administration and pave the way for their return to power as Russian puppets.

Damion’s team was blindsided by the depth of the betrayal. The leaks included encrypted messages showing collusion plans, timelines, and coded orders to compromise national security. The outrage was immediate and explosive.

News outlets exploded with breaking reports, debates, and fiery commentary. Social media ignited with hashtags like #TraitorsExposed and #NoMorePuppets. Former administration officials faced intense scrutiny and calls for immediate investigations and arrests.

Across the nation, protests surged—not just demanding Daisy’s safe return, but also justice and accountability for those who had conspired against their democracy.

Damion’s voice was steady but full of fire in a national address: “This betrayal cuts deep, but it only strengthens our resolve. We will not be divided. We will not be broken. We will bring Daisy home, and we will rebuild this nation—together.”

The political landscape shifted overnight, as moderate and independent voices condemned the treason and rallied behind Damion’s leadership.

Behind closed doors, the military and intelligence agencies accelerated their rescue plans, fueled by a renewed urgency and the burning desire to reclaim their First Lady.

Chapter 174:

The video dropped like a bombshell across global news networks and social media platforms. Grainy and dark, it showed the Kremlin in his private chambers, smirking cruelly at the camera. His voice dripped with sadistic amusement as he recounted the discovery made by one of his doctors during Daisy’s captivity.

“They found out she’s pregnant,” he sneered. “A little surprise, isn’t it? But we’ll be taking that away first—her hope, her future—before we even think about returning her to that… president.”

He chuckled, cold and hollow, then leaned closer to the lens. “And yes, we will make him watch. Every agonizing moment. Because a leader without his family is a broken man.”

The footage cut abruptly, but the message was seared into the minds of millions worldwide. Outrage exploded immediately.

In the United States, leaders across the political spectrum condemned the Kremlin’s cruelty. Activists, celebrities, and everyday citizens flooded social media with fury and prayers for Daisy’s safety and her unborn child.

Damion’s administration responded swiftly, issuing statements denouncing the act as barbaric and inhumane, vowing that the full weight of justice and military might would be brought down on those responsible.

Yet amidst the chaos, Damion sat in the Oval Office, clenched fists trembling, his jaw set hard. The thought of Daisy, beaten and pregnant, suffering in enemy hands ignited a fire of rage and desperation like never before.

He whispered to Elijah beside him, “They’ve crossed a line. If they think this breaks me, they don’t know who I am.”

The world watched and waited, hoping against hope for a miracle

Damion knew time was slipping through his fingers, and every moment Daisy remained captive tightened the knot of urgency around his heart. In a secure video call, he reached out to Volodymyr Zelenskyy, the resilient leader of Ukraine, whose country was locked in a brutal fight against the Russian invasion.

Zelenskyy answered with a grim determination that matched Damion’s own. They spoke openly about the stakes—the fragile balance between freedom and tyranny, and the unthinkable cruelty inflicted upon Daisy. Damion made a direct appeal: Ukraine’s victory against Russia was vital for global peace, but more than that, he needed help to bring his wife home alive.

Zelenskyy did not hesitate. “We will stand with you. Help us push back the aggression, and we will move heaven and earth to rescue Daisy. No price too high.”

The agreement was clear: America would escalate its support to Ukraine’s military with unprecedented aid, intelligence sharing, and strategic cooperation. In return, Ukraine committed its best special operations forces to locate and extract Daisy from her captors.

News of the alliance leaked quickly, sending waves of hope and renewed pressure on the Kremlin. The world watched as two leaders, united by a common cause and fierce resolve, prepared to strike back against tyranny—and to bring a mother and First Lady home.

Chapter 175: Homecoming

The world had waited breathlessly for news from the frontlines. The Ukrainian forces, bolstered by unprecedented international support—especially from the United States under President Damion Emmad’s bold leadership—had finally turned the tide. The Kremlin’s grip was faltering, its once iron fist loosening.

But for Damion, victory in Ukraine was only the first step. His heart was still chained to one urgent, unyielding hope: that Daisy was alive. That somewhere in the shadows of war and captivity, she was holding on.

Months of agonizing silence had stretched into an unbearable weight. Every morning, every night, Damion had stared into the abyss of uncertainty, haunted by the images of her battered body, the blood, the bruises—the cold, cruel reality of her captivity. But never once had he stopped fighting.

Now, the silence shattered.

Just before dawn, the White House grounds buzzed with the sudden, almost surreal presence of U.S. Special Forces—quiet, methodical, almost ghostlike in their efficiency. They came bearing a secret few even in the administration knew: Daisy was found. Hidden, alive, and frail beyond recognition but alive.

Inside the Oval Office, Damion waited, pacing, barely breathing, every second stretching into eternity. Elijah stood nearby, ashen-faced, silent, knowing this moment was beyond words.

Then, the doors opened. The world seemed to freeze.

Daisy stepped in—no longer the radiant, unshakable First Lady the country had known, but a shadow of that woman. Her skin was pale and marred with bruises, her eyes sunken but fierce, her hair tangled, her lips cracked and swollen. Blood crusted the edges of her brow and the corners of her mouth. She walked slowly, each movement heavy with pain, as if her body was a prison still fighting to release her spirit.

Damion’s breath caught. His eyes filled with tears that he could no longer hold back.

He rushed forward, trembling, voice breaking with disbelief and overwhelming relief. “Daisy… my love… you’re here… you’re alive…”

She looked up, eyes glassy but clear, and whispered, “I’m here… I fought… I survived… for us… for Sekou… for Imani…”

Without hesitation, she collapsed into his arms, her body fragile, her ribs aching painfully from the beatings she endured. Her breathing was shallow, and every inhale seemed to cost her.

Damion caught her, holding her as if trying to transfer all his strength into her broken frame. Tears spilled freely as he kissed the bruises on her face and ran his hands through her tangled hair. “You’re safe now. You’re home. I’m here. We’ll heal. Together.”

Around them, aides and security personnel stood silently, their faces masks of emotion restrained—some wiping tears discreetly.

Daisy clung to him fiercely, whispering broken words of prayer and hope, “God… thank you… I’m still here…”

For a long moment, the two of them existed in a bubble of pain, relief, and love that transcended everything the outside world could understand.

Then came the press—the cameras, the microphones, the live feeds as the news broke globally. Images of Daisy’s return swept across every screen: the battered but unbroken First Lady, reunited with her husband, the President of the United States, the symbol of resilience in a world that had seemed to teeter on the edge of darkness.

World leaders reacted immediately—messages of solidarity poured in from Ukraine, Europe, Africa, Asia. The victory over the Kremlin was celebrated, but it was Daisy’s survival that ignited a new wave of hope and determination.

In America, the nation held its collective breath, rallying around the Emmad family with renewed passion. Support poured in from every corner, from cities and small towns alike. Vigils were held, prayers offered, but now, celebration mingled with tears as Americans witnessed the power of endurance and love.

Back in the Oval Office, Damion spoke briefly to the press, voice steady but charged with emotion: “My wife is a warrior. She is a survivor. This victory is not just for Ukraine—it’s for every person who has faced oppression, pain, and injustice. Daisy’s strength reminds us all that we must never give up hope.”

As night fell over Washington, Damion sat beside Daisy’s hospital bed in the White House medical suite, holding her hand, whispering promises of healing, peace, and a future rebuilt.

Sekou and Imani were brought in later, their eyes wide with innocent wonder and cautious joy. Daisy smiled weakly, tears flowing as she embraced her children, her family whole once again.

This moment—their reunion—was a turning point, a beacon of light against the lingering shadows of war and captivity. The Emmad family had been tested by fire, but their love and resilience were a testament to the unbreakable spirit of their nation.

And as the world watched, it became clear: nothing would ever be the same again. Because they had witnessed a homecoming not just of a woman, but of hope itself.

Chapter 176

The White House had never felt this silent.

Behind its high, historic walls, time felt frozen in the private medical suite. Daisy lay still in a hospital bed, her skin pale and her body limp, the echo of weeks in captivity etched into every bruise, every shallow breath. She’d fallen into a deep, medicated sleep—her final whispered words still haunting Damion’s ears: “I don’t know if they took him from me or not…”

Damion sat at her side, one hand clutching hers, the other trembling as he wiped at his face. His voice was hoarse from shouting orders, crying out to God, and demanding answers. But none of it had prepared him for this moment.

The doctor entered quietly, her expression grim but professional. “Mr. President…” she began softly, pulling up a small portable ultrasound unit. “You asked us to check for viability. We’re going to proceed as gently as possible.”

Damion just nodded, jaw clenched tight, unable to speak.

They dimmed the lights. The hum of the machine filled the silence. Cold gel touched Daisy’s bruised abdomen as the wand traced carefully across her skin.

The screen flickered with static. Everyone held their breath.

After a long pause, the doctor murmured, “We’re… seeing some signs of early pregnancy. But there’s no detectable heartbeat yet.”

Damion’s throat tightened. “What does that mean?”

She hesitated. “It could be too early. Or it could mean…” She swallowed. “It’s possible the embryo didn’t survive the trauma. The drugs, the malnourishment, the violence—her body’s been through hell, Mr. President.”

The words stabbed like glass. Damion covered his mouth with a shaking hand, the weight of helplessness pressing down harder than ever before.

“There’s still a chance,” the doctor added gently. “But right now, we just don’t know.”

Damion leaned over Daisy, kissing her forehead softly. “You’re not alone,” he whispered. “I’m right here. I never left. And if that baby’s still with us, we’re going to fight like hell to protect them. Just like I’ll protect you.”

He lowered his forehead to her temple, letting his tears fall freely now, soaking into her curls.

The machines beeped quietly. The night outside was dark and uncertain. But inside this room, love and anguish held each other in silence.

And still—hope lived, even in the smallest breath.

Chapter 176 – Continued

Hours blurred. The West Wing’s medical suite had become a command center of grief, hope, and unrelenting prayer.

Physicians rotated in and out, trying everything in their power. IVs. Oxygen. Anti-inflammatory steroids. Blood transfusions. Gentle hormone stabilizers. And still, Daisy’s body wouldn’t respond. Her vitals teetered between steady and unstable. And her womb, though showing signs of life, gave no guarantees.

Damion paced until his knees ached, hands bloodied from how tightly they gripped and shook. Elijah had to pull him aside at one point to stop him from breaking a monitor. Nyla wept in the hallway with Sekou, refusing to leave. Nia stood in prayer, her AKAs clustered around her in soft sobs.

Then came the slam of boots.

A man entered. Tall. Senegalese. Stern-browed and precise. Dr. Nasir El-Amin Secretary of Health, brilliant trauma surgeon, and longtime friend to both Daisy and Damion. He didn’t wait for questions.

“I need the room cleared,” he ordered sharply. “Everyone except one nurse and my assistant. Now.”

“But—” one physician began.

“I said now. I know her body. I know this family. You’ve done enough.”

They obeyed.

The next ninety minutes were silent hell for those outside the double doors.

Damion sat, fists pressed to his lips, praying silently, furiously, without form. Lord, please don’t let me lose her. Please don’t take my baby boy. Please— Over and over, the loop in his mind never stopped.

Then the doors opened.

Dr. Nasir stepped out in his scrubs, blood at the collar, sweat on his brow. But his expression… it wasn't defeat. He looked directly at Damion, voice calm but weighted.

“She’s alive,” he said.

Damion exhaled so hard he nearly collapsed.

“And…” Nasir paused, wiping his face. “The baby—your son—is alive. Stable. But this is a fragile moment. They’ll both need time, and she’ll need every ounce of peace you can give her. Any misstep could send her body into shock again.”

Damion stared at him, lips trembling. “I owe you everything.”

“No,” Nasir said quietly. “You owe her. She didn’t give up. That woman—your wife—is a damn warrior.”

Behind him, monitors beeped gently. Daisy lay still, her skin still pale, but her breathing stronger. And tucked within her—life. A flickering heartbeat. A son, still holding on.

Damion walked in silently and sank to his knees at her bedside. He took her hand gently and placed it against his lips.

“Thank you for fighting,” he whispered, eyes closed. “Thank you for not leaving me.”

Outside, word hadn’t yet reached the world. But in that room, among bruises and sacred breath, a family’s legacy had survived.

And the war for justice… would only burn hotter.

Chapter 177 – “She’s Alive”

The Roosevelt Room had never been so quiet.

The cabinet sat stiff and silent, each chair filled but hearts scattered. Some held hands. Others gripped their knees. Nyla’s head was bowed in silent prayer, fingers pressed together. Elijah sat at the head, flanked by Nia and Marcus. The air was so thick it felt holy.

Then the door opened.

Damion entered, eyes bloodshot, face pale but firm. His walk was slow. Measured. Grief still clung to him like a shadow—but something else flickered behind it.

Hope.

The moment he stood at the podium in the room, every eye turned to him. Cameras weren’t allowed. No press yet. Just them. His circle. His warriors.

He took a breath and spoke.

“She’s alive.”

Gasps broke from every mouth.

Elijah gripped the edge of the table, mouth wide in disbelief. Nia burst into tears so violently she had to cover her face. Nyla choked out a praise cry. One by one, cabinet members leapt to their feet.

“She made it?” Marcus asked, voice breaking.

“She made it,” Damion nodded slowly, voice heavy. “And so did our son.”

They erupted—cheers, sobs, shouts of thanks echoing across the chamber like a gospel revival. Chairs scraped. Hands clapped. Heads fell into palms. It was messy, chaotic, and sacred.

Damion raised a hand to quiet them, voice hoarse.

“She’s unconscious still. Fragile. Our son too. But she fought. And she didn’t quit.” His throat tightened. “They put her through the worst hell I could imagine—and she didn’t stop fighting.”

The room fell silent again, a different kind of silence. Reverent.

“Dr. Nasir saved them,” Damion continued, nodding to the physician standing quietly behind him, his own eyes rimmed red. “And now we protect her peace until she wakes. There is no next step—no policy—no plan—until she’s home, safe in my arms, fully healed.”

He looked around at his team. “The First Lady survived the Kremlin. Now we show the world who they tried to break.”

Then the feed opened to the nation.

Broadcasts were interrupted. Phones buzzed. News anchors broke into sobs mid-report. A voiceover narrated while stills from the White House fed live: “Breaking: President Emmad confirms that the First Lady and their unborn child are alive. She is currently in critical but stable condition.”

Crowds screamed. Cheered. Fell to their knees in the streets. Murals and prayers were painted in real time. Churches rang bells. Students marched. Neighborhoods cried.

She had survived.

She had survived.

The world had watched her suffer. Now they would witness her resurrection.

And Damion?

He stood at the gates of vengeance, flame in his chest, the love of his life barely holding on.

The war wasn’t over.

But the Emmads had just begun.

Chapter 178 The World Holds Its Breath

The news broke just before dawn.

No flashy pre-announcement. No formal briefing. Just a quiet, solemn livestream feed from the White House press room that suddenly flickered to life. A moment later, Nyla stepped behind the podium. Her Zeta blue was muted beneath a black blazer, her voice thick but steady.

“She’s alive,” she said softly.

For three long seconds, the world was quiet.

“She’s alive,” Nyla repeated, stronger this time. “The First Lady of the United States, Daisy René Emmad, and her unborn son are both alive. They are in critical condition, but stable. She is resting. She is safe. She is home.”

That was all it took.

Within minutes, the internet shattered under the weight of joy. Hashtags exploded across every platform: #DaisyIsHome, #OurFirstLady, #ThankYouAncestors. Major networks abandoned regular programming. CNN cut live to the White House gates, where hundreds—then thousands—of citizens flooded the street, sobbing, singing, raising fists to the sky.

In Paris, the Eiffel Tower lit up with digital projections of Daisy’s face. In Ghana, a candlelight vigil turned into a sunrise celebration. In Brazil, dancers poured into the streets holding pictures of her in her majorette uniform, in her Delta gear, with Sekou on her hip. The Tokyo skyline shimmered with her silhouette etched in light.

Church bells rang in cities across the U.S. and beyond. Mosques, temples, and shrines saw crowds gather not in mourning this time—but in thanksgiving.

At a street corner in Chicago, a young girl gripped her grandmother’s hand and wept. “She made it, Grandma. She made it. The baby too.”

On MSNBC, anchors cried openly as footage played of Daisy—slumped, bloodied, defiant—cut against the soft words from Dr. Nasir, aired shortly after:

“She’s fighting. And so is the child. The president and I ask the nation and the world to do one thing: give her time. Pray. Hold space. She doesn’t need pressure—she needs peace.”

That alone was enough for spontaneous vigils to begin around the clock. In Harlem. In Oakland. In Dallas. In the reservations of Oklahoma. In the barrios of L.A. and Miami. On HBCU campuses from Howard to Spelman to FAMU.

And for every tear shed, there was rage too.

Protesters marched against the remnants of the Trump dynasty, demanding arrests. Murals of Daisy went up faster than they could be documented. One read: “She rose in chains, we rise in power.” Another: “You can’t kill the revolution, it just gave birth.”

In London, a BBC anchor spoke solemnly to the camera: “This moment may be remembered not simply as the survival of a First Lady, but the rebirth of an entire people’s resolve.”

At the White House, where thousands held vigil in silence, Damion had not yet emerged. Nor had Elijah. The doors remained shut. The curtains drawn.

But the people didn’t need to see them yet.

They knew—because they felt it—that Daisy René Emmad had survived hell, and that her child—their child—was still with her.

And now, the world was waiting. Not for war. Not for vengeance.

But for her voice.

Because they knew when Daisy finally stood again, the earth would tremble.

Chapter 179 She Rises

It started in silence.

Not the fearful kind the world had known for weeks—but a sacred, expectant silence. The kind that settles before a miracle. The kind that feels like breath held in the lungs of an entire people.

Daisy René Emmad stirred.

Dr. Nasir had barely closed his eyes in the recliner next to her when the monitors began to shift. Nothing alarming—just steady, strong vitals. Her breathing deepened, no longer labored. Her body, which had endured more torment than any human should survive, began to cool from fever. Her fingers twitched beneath the blankets. One, then the other.

She was waking.

Nurses rushed in, whispering thanks as if God Himself stood watch. The room smelled of peppermint oil and lavender—Daisy’s favorites. Candles flickered behind the privacy glass. Gospel music played low on a nearby speaker, but her breathing began to sync with the rhythm. Her lips moved, soundless at first.

Then the whisper came.

“…Our Father…”

Dr. Nasir stood, tears gathering in his eyes. Her lips kept moving—cracked but mending.

“…which art in Heaven…”

The bruises across her ribs, once violent and purple, had faded to shadows. The dried blood that once caked her hairline had been gently washed away the night before, but now her skin showed no trace of the gashes beneath. The swelling in her cheek reduced by half. Her pulse—steady. Her body—restoring itself beyond medical logic.

And beneath it all, the child still held on.

Barely five weeks gestational, a life so early it had no heartbeat when she was taken—but now it pulsed gently in her womb. The baby was safe.

Damion hadn’t left the hallway. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten. Just stood—every hour on the hour—waiting for news that didn’t come until now.

When Dr. Nasir stepped into the hall, his face was wet with reverence. He didn’t speak. He just nodded.

Damion was inside the room before the next breath.

There she was.

Not slumped. Not unconscious. But blinking—groggy, but aware. Her lips trembled, not in fear, but with effort.

He dropped to his knees by her side.

“Daisy.”

She looked at him, eyes fluttering, brown and endless. A tear slid down her cheek. He caught it before it hit the pillow.

“I saw Sekou,” she whispered hoarsely. “I think I saw our baby boy… too.”

Damion let out a sound he didn’t know he was holding—a cry that broke from his chest like a damn bursting. He laid his head gently against her ribs, careful not to touch too hard. Her fingers rose, weak, but they threaded into his hair like she’d done a thousand times before.

Outside her hospital room, the nation didn’t yet know.

But around the world, people began to light candles again.

Because somewhere, in the quiet corners of faith and fire, something in the spirit had shifted.

Daisy was healing.

And so was the country.

Chapter 180 The Woman on the Balcony

The morning air rolled in soft over the capital, thick with dew and stillness. The skies above the White House glowed with that golden hue that only came after deep sorrow—the kind that stains the edges of dawn with silent prayers.

Dr. Nasir had come early. He didn’t trust anyone else to touch her—not yet. Not when she was more than just a patient. She was family. A symbol. A miracle.

He examined her in complete silence, his stethoscope pressing lightly against her back as Daisy leaned forward with the IV pole standing beside her. She winced at his touch, but there was no fear in her face. Only something more ancient. More resolved.

“Your vitals are stronger than yesterday,” he murmured. “No infection. No bleeding. No fever. The baby…” He looked up at her, his eyes filled with something sacred. “Still holding on. Stronger heartbeat now. It’s… hard to explain.”

Daisy gave him a look. “God doesn’t need explaining, Nasir,” she rasped softly.

He smiled. “No, ma’am. He doesn’t.”

The rest of the medical team came and went. Cabinet members and aides filtered in and out quietly, paying their respects with wet eyes and whispered affirmations. The First Lady’s body had been through war, but her soul was still sovereign. They saw it in the way her hands folded in prayer when no one was speaking. In how she kissed the photograph of her family on her nightstand before she fell back asleep.

By mid-afternoon, she was alone again.

And then she moved.

The surveillance camera in the corner of the room caught it first—Daisy sitting up. Her IV still hooked, her hands trembling slightly as she tugged the mobile pole forward. Her hospital gown hung loose around her form, bandages still wrapped carefully beneath. She looked fragile, but not broken.

Her bare feet touched the cold tile floor. She hissed—just once—and steadied herself.

Then she walked.

Slowly. One foot after the other. The IV pole squeaked as she guided it with her left hand, her right pressed gingerly to her ribcage. Her breath shallow, but purposeful.

She approached the tall French doors to the balcony just off her recovery suite. The private one. The one usually sealed. But she unlocked them.

The breeze hit her immediately.

She inhaled it, her eyes closing, as if the air itself was part of her healing.

Below her—streets filled with people. Hundreds of thousands. Holding signs. Lighting candles. Praying. Singing. Chanting. The world hadn’t moved since she was taken—it had gathered and waited, held together by hope, fury, and love.

A sudden stillness overtook the crowd as the doors opened.

And there she was.

Daisy René Emmad.

Hair messy. Cheekbones sunken, but glowing with defiance. Bandages visible beneath her loose sleeves. One arm clutching her side, the other raised high into the air. Her hand open. Palm out.

A wave.

The First Lady waved.

The crowd screamed. Sobbed. Fell to their knees.

Phones rose like a sea of blinking stars. The networks cut instantly into live coverage. News anchors shouted over each other as the footage flashed across every screen on earth.

“She’s alive!”

“She’s standing—she’s waving!”

“God, she made it…”

Inside, security scrambled—but Damion stopped them.

“She’s earned this,” he whispered, eyes full. “Let her be seen.”

On that balcony, with tears pouring silently down her bruised face and a child still fighting inside her, Daisy stood not as a victim—but as a warrior.

The message didn’t need words.

She had survived.

And now, the world would follow.

Chapter 181 Signs and Wonders

The silence that followed Daisy’s appearance on the balcony was unlike anything the world had ever heard. It was reverent—suspended in time—millions holding their breath as if the very Earth paused for her next move.

Her body shook as she kept her balance, but her spirit? Unshaken. Unyielding. Radiating in a strength that only came from being broken and still choosing to rise.

And then… she pointed upward.

A trembling arm raised to the clouds as her eyes flickered toward the heavens. Slowly, reverently, she tapped her own chest with her open palm—once, twice—just over her heart. Her eyes filled again. The gesture was small, barely a movement to most, but it echoed across continents.

She was saying it without a microphone. Without words.

It was God.

The same God she’d whispered to in a cold Russian prison cell. The same God she’d called on while beaten, while chained, while praying the Lord’s Prayer through bloodied lips. The God she clung to when there was no reason left to hope.

Tears slipped down her cheeks. This time, she didn’t hide them. Her hand shook as she wiped them away with her sleeve, still staring out into the world that had waited for her return.

Cameras zoomed in as her body shifted.

That’s when they saw it—when the whole world saw it.

From one of the chairs just inside her room, she’d taken a notebook. A plain, spiral-bound one meant for routine medical charts. On it, in thick black marker, she had scrawled a message—large, bold, unmistakably hers.

She lifted it with both hands over her head like a fan holding up a concert sign:

"God is a God of miracles. Praise be to the Most High.Thank you to the Ukrainian President.Thank you to everyone who prayed for me or cried for me.My ribs are a little sore… but I am still standing and ready to serve.Oh—and if someone has some Sprite, and maybe if a brother or sistercould hook a girl up with halal chicken and lamb over rice?I’d be grateful."

The crowd erupted. A wave of laughter and sobbing and shouting washed over D.C. and across every living room watching. Phones shook in trembling hands. Newscasters cried openly on air. Entire families on couches fell to their knees and whispered, "She’s back. She’s really back."

In Ukraine, President Zelensky stood from a war room table, eyes misted as his team watched the feed. In the Bronx, someone yelled out of a fourth-floor window, “That’s my First Lady!” And across mosque steps in Chicago, Black, Arab, and Desi elders clapped with open palms, repeating her words with joy and tears.

Inside the White House, Damion couldn’t speak.

He just fell into the nearest chair, dropped his head into his hands, and let the wave of relief collapse him.

His wife—the mother of his children, the woman the world had tried to steal—was not only alive.

She was still Daisy.

And God help whoever tried to take her again.

Chapter 182 Still Daisy

The wind teased the hem of her hospital gown as Daisy steadied herself against the IV pole, eyes scanning the ocean of faces below. The cheers still rippled, though now many were standing in stunned silence, tears streaking cheeks, hearts clenched in gratitude.

But Daisy wasn’t done.

With the same breathless fire that had never once let her die, she lowered her first message and carefully flipped the notebook page over. Her hand shook—still sore, still healing—but her pen strokes were unmistakably her: bold, loopy, and just a little dramatic.

She raised it again, grinning softly through exhaustion.

"Nah but for real,that halal food is always bussinand I got mean cotton mouth in here…Oh and to the aunties out there,hook ya girl up with some sweets—Dr. Nasir don’t gotta know!"

The crowd roared. It was a joyful, full-bellied eruption, the kind that came after mourning had overstayed its welcome and laughter finally broke through. It echoed through the marble buildings of D.C., across radios, through car speakers, through tears and dancing in the streets.

Black aunties started pulling out their family dessert recipes.

Arab and Desi women called their daughters from the kitchen.

HBCU students in Howard group chats were already debating what flavor of halal platters to bring first.

And on TikTok, videos exploded under the tag #StillDaisy, showing people holding up their own signs: “We got the Sprite, First Lady.” “Halal on the way, sis!” “We hid the sweets from Dr. Nasir!” “You asked…we delivered.”

In her hospital room, Daisy leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the balcony door, heart thudding softly in her chest. She was tired. She was fragile. But she was alive. And her people? They had never left her.

Inside the White House, the cabinet and family crowded around Damion’s phone, rewatching the moment.

He clutched the device to his chest, his voice thick, eyes glassy. “She’s still her,” he whispered, half laughing, half crying. “She’s still… Daisy.”

And across the nation—and the world—people realized something powerful:

Even in the face of hell, joy had survived.

And so had she.

Chapter 183 Still Daisy: Part II

The wind kissed her cheeks like an old friend as Daisy once again stepped out onto the private White House medical balcony, her steps still wobbly but determined. The IV pole clacked softly at her side as she guided it with care, her other hand pressing lightly against her ribs. The applause hadn't even stopped from the first round. But she had more to say—more to give.

She smiled bashfully at the crowd below, then rubbed the back of her neck like a girl who knew she was doing too much—and doing it anyway.

With another flourish of her notebook, she lifted a new message over her head, scribbled in big, uneven letters, but every word pure Daisy Emmad:

"I ain’t forget about my girls now!Since Dr. Nasir says I gotta rest (he doin' the most)...But I’m a multitasker!My women’s meetings aren’t canceled.Tell a friend, bring a friend,give me like two daysand come here—we can meet, laugh, cry, talk, eat!"

The crowd gasped, then erupted—again. The women especially. Black women. Brown women. Women from all faiths and backgrounds. Women who saw themselves in her—who had wept when she disappeared, prayed when she was beaten, and now cheered because their sister had survived.

Inside, the cameras captured everything. The moment wasn’t polished, wasn’t poised.

It was powerful.

Social media immediately surged. #DaisysGirls began trending. “We’ll be there in two days.” “She’s holding her ribs but still holding space for us.” “Name a stronger woman. I’ll wait.”

White House staff began fielding thousands of RSVPs from women's organizations, sister circles, young girls' mentoring programs, doulas, lawyers, shelter workers, nurses, grandmothers, students.

Daisy Emmad had barely returned, but already, she was gathering the women.

From her balcony, she exhaled slowly and waved again, eyes misty. Then she mouthed what the crowd couldn’t hear—but instinctively understood:

“I love y’all.”

She turned, tugged her IV stand behind her, and slipped back into the room where healing still waited.

And every woman watching knew—without question—

Their First Lady was back.

Chapter 184 Return to His Arms

He was already on the move before the crowd finished screaming.

Damion Rashaad Emmad had been watching the live feed with the rest of the cabinet, standing at the back of the medical suite, arms folded, jaw tight. The second she stepped out onto that balcony—IV stand and all—he didn’t ask permission.

He ran.

Secret Service knew better than to block him. A few peeled off to escort him, the rest parted like the sea. His strides were long, heart pounding like a war drum inside his chest. That was his wife. His everything. After nights of sleepless grief, rage, prayer, and military fire, she had walked herself to the balcony and waved to the nation like a queen holding court.

And still thinking about her girls?

Yeah, he wasn’t wasting another damn second.

When he burst into her room, the IV stand had just clicked into place by the bed again. She was slowly settling back under the sheets, her hair a little wild from the wind, cheeks flushed. She looked up—eyes tired but bright—and before she could say a word, Damion was on his knees beside the bed.

His hands cradled her face like it was spun glass. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her fingers, his own eyes wet now.

“You stubborn, beautiful, brave-ass woman,” he whispered thickly. “Do you know what you just did out there? You almost killed me again.”

She tried to smile, but her lower lip quivered. “Had to let them know I’m still here.”

He brushed his thumb along the bandage near her temple, his breath catching. “Don’t ever do that again without me. If you gotta walk through hell—I’m going with you. Always.”

“I missed you,” she choked softly, and her voice broke on the last syllable.

He pressed his forehead to hers, holding her so gently it was almost reverent. “Baby, you are my soul. I missed you every hour. I was ready to tear the whole damn world apart to find you.”

Her hand curled weakly around the collar of his suit. “You did. You brought me home.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “And I’ll do it again. A hundred times. A thousand. I don’t care how many devils I gotta fight—no one takes you from me and lives to brag about it.”

Then, with a quiet sigh of awe, he placed his hand on her belly. Their future—still uncertain, still fragile—rested there.

“I need you both,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You and this little warrior. So please… rest now. Let me protect you.”

She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I love you, Damion. I needed you so bad.”

“I’m here,” he whispered, climbing into the bed beside her, his arms wrapping around her gently. “You’ll never need me again without me being right here. Always.”

And for the first time in weeks, Daisy Emmad slept—not from exhaustion, or pain, or medication—

—but safe, wrapped in the arms of the man who would burn the world down before ever letting her be taken again.

Chapter 185 Sanctuary

The room had finally emptied. Guards posted quietly outside. Monitors dimmed. Only the steady hush of machines and the soft hum of the White House night surrounded them.

Damion had drawn the curtains and dimmed the lights to a soft golden hue. Not because she needed darkness, but because she deserved peace. The kind of sacred peace only intimacy could restore.

Daisy lay propped against the pillows, IV still attached, eyes fluttering open as she felt his hand trail slowly across her cheek, then down to the pulse point at her throat—where her life beat steady and warm beneath his fingertips.

“I almost didn’t make it,” she whispered.

“You did,” he said, voice a low growl as he pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. “Because you’re mine. And I felt you. Every second. I felt you fighting to come back to me.”

Her eyes shined. “I needed you, Damion. I needed your hands. Your voice. Your weight. Your arms. Your... presence.”

He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “You got all of me, baby. Right now. Ain’t nobody here but us.”

He kissed her carefully, tender at first—until her hand found the back of his neck and held him there, trembling but hungry, full of longing carved deep into her bones.

He groaned against her mouth, easing himself gently beside her, arms bracketing her body without pressure. His hands moved slowly across the fabric of her hospital gown, reverent, as if reacquainting himself with every inch stolen from his protection.

“Did they hurt you here?” he whispered against her ribs, his palm cupping the delicate space just beneath her bruised side.

She nodded faintly.

His mouth met the skin there, slow, warm. “Then I’m kissing it better.”

“And here?” he asked, fingertips brushing her thigh.

Her breath hitched. Another nod.

He kissed it next. “This too.”

He moved with patience. Not to seduce, not to consume—but to restore. Every gentle touch of his lips was a reclaiming, every whispered word a balm to her body and soul.

“Daisy René Emmad,” he murmured, “you’re my wife. My queen. And nobody—nobody—will ever make you feel unsafe again. Not while I breathe.”

Her fingers slid through his curls as she held him close, eyes full of tears. “You don’t know what it did to me… being without your arms. Without your weight. I needed your dominance. Your presence. I needed to feel like I was yoursagain.”

“You never stopped being mine,” he growled softly, lips trailing along her collarbone. “But I’ll remind your body every damn day if I have to.”

And when she nodded—aching but willing—he climbed fully into bed with her, careful not to jar the IV or her healing body. He tucked her beneath him, chest to chest, his warmth surrounding her like armor. Their lips found each other again, a different kind of hunger stirring—not rushed, not rough—but deep and affirming.

Daisy clung to her husband like he was breath itself, whispering against his lips: “Stay right here. Make me feel safe again.”

And Damion, eyes fierce, hand on her belly and heart both, whispered back:

“I got you, Mrs. Emmad. For life. And when you’re ready—I’ll remind the world you were never broken. Just reborn.”

That night wasn’t about lust. It was about healing. About two warriors—one stolen, one raging—reuniting in sacred softness. And beneath the weight of his love, Daisy finally slept in peace, her body cradled, her soul safe.

He laid her gently on the plush king-sized bed, gazing down at her with reverence and adoration. Daisy's beautiful caramel skin seemed to glow in the candlelight, her almond-shaped eyes shimmering with emotion as she reached up to cup his cheek.

"Damion," she whispered softly, "I missed you so much. I thought I'd never see you again."

His heart clenched at the vulnerability in her voice. "I missed you too, baby. More than words can express. But you're safe now. I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

Damion leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. Their breath mingled as they savored this intimate moment of connection. Slowly, he trailed tender kisses along her jawline, down the column of her neck. Daisy shivered, arching into his touch.

He worshipped her body with reverent caresses, mapping every curve and hollow he knew so well. His hands slid beneath the silken fabric of her nightgown, pushing it up to bare her smooth thighs. He kissed along them, relishing the feeling of her skin against his lips.

Daisy's fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. "Damion...I need you," she breathed. "I need to feel alive again."

His answer was a low growl as he rose up to claim her mouth in a searing kiss. Tongues entwined, dancing a passionate dance of desire. Damion's hand slid higher, cupping the heat between her legs. She was already wet for him, ready.

He pulled back, looking into her eyes. "Tell me what you need, baby. I'll give you anything."

Daisy nipped at his bottom lip. "I need you to make me yours again. Claim me, body and soul. Show me how much you love me."

With a feral grin, Damion captured her lips once more as he positioned himself at her entrance. Slowly, reverently, he slid inside her welcoming warmth. They both moaned at the exquisite sensation of joining.

He took her with long, deep strokes, each one a declaration of his devotion. His hands roamed her body, touching, caressing, stoking the flames of their passion higher. Daisy met him thrust for thrust, nails raking down his back as she urged him on.

Tension coiled in Damion's core, the need to possess her, to fill her with his seed almost overwhelming. But he held back, determined to give Daisy the pleasure she craved first. His fingers found her sensitive pearl, circling and teasing until she was writhing beneath him.

"Cum for me, baby," he commanded. "Let me feel you come undone."

Daisy shattered with a keening cry, her inner muscles clamping down around him like a vise. The feel of her pulsing around his length sent Damion over the edge and he followed her into ecstasy with a guttural groan.

They collapsed together in a tangle of sweat-slick limbs, hearts pounding as one. Damion held Daisy close, murmuring soothing words against her skin as she trembled in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

"I love you so much," he whispered fervently. "You're my everything."

Daisy smiled up at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. "And you're mine. Forever."

Sealed with a tender kiss, they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, safe in the knowledge that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead together - because they had already conquered the impossible. Their love was unbreakable.

"Good morning, beautiful," he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck. She could feel his breath, warm and steady, against her skin. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened into tight buds. She arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Damion's hands slid down her body, his touch lingering on her hips, her thighs. He rolled her onto her back, his body covering hers. She could feel his hardness, hot and insistent, against her stomach. She reached for him, her hand wrapping around his length, but he batted it away. "Not yet, sweetheart," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "Today is about you."

He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth, claiming her. She melted into the kiss, her body softening under his touch. His hands roamed her body, teasing, taunting, driving her wild. She could feel her desire building, her body aching for his touch.

Damion's mouth trailed down her body, his tongue licking, his teeth nipping. He lavished attention on her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. He kissed the insides of her thighs, his breath hot against her skin. She could feel her desire pooling between her legs, her body begging for his touch. He didn't make her wait long. His tongue found her clit, his touch gentle but insistent. He licked, he sucked, he nibbled, driving her wild. She could feel her orgasm building, her body tensing as he worked her expertly. His hands gripped her thighs, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he held her open for him. And then she was cuming, her body convulsing, her cries filling the room. Damion didn't stop, his tongue and fingers working her through her orgasm, drawing out her pleasure. He kissed her inner thighs, her stomach, her breasts, his touch soft and loving.

She could feel his pride, his satisfaction in pleasing her. She was his, and he was hers, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. He moved up her body, his lips capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, her desire mingling with his. She reached for him again, her hand wrapping around his length, but he didn't stop her this time. Instead, he groaned, his hips thrusting into her touch. "Damion," she panted, her voice breathless. "I need you inside me." He growled, his body covering hers. She could feel his hardness, hot and insistent, against her entrance.

She wrapped her legs around him, urging him on. He thrust into her, his body filling hers, completing her. She cried out, her body arching to meet his. He began to move, his hips thrusting, his body taking hers. Her nails dug into his back, her body meeting his thrust for thrust. She could feel her orgasm building again, her body coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. "Damion," she panted, her voice a breathless whisper. "I'm close."

He groaned, his body moving faster, his thrusts harder. She could feel him hitting that spot inside her, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. And then she was coming, her body convulsing, her cries filling the room. Damion followed her over the edge, his body tensing, his dick pulsing as he spilled into her. He collapsed onto her, his body boneless, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

She wrapped her arms around him, her body holding him close as their combined releases dripped out of her body. She could feel his love, his protection, his possession. She was safe, she was home, she was his. And in that moment, she knew, she was finally truly home.

Chapter 186 Mine

The White House afternoon sun filtered softly through the long windows, casting a golden warmth over their suite. The medical equipment had been quietly rolled back, IV line disconnected for brief hours of supervised rest. And within those hours… they’d taken each other slow. Then hard. Then soft again.

It was now past noon.

Damion lay on his side, one hand tucked behind his head, the other trailing down the gentle curve of Daisy’s hip, his fingers drawing slow, idle circles on her bare skin beneath the sheets.

Her body, still healing but resilient, rested with a soft, steady breath. She had fallen asleep for a moment against his chest, but now she stirred—her legs stretching, sighing at the ache of pleasure and the weight of everything else that had come with it.

Damion’s grip tightened just a little around her waist. He bent his head to kiss her shoulder, then whispered, voice low and still heavy with emotion:

“You don’t know how close I was to burning the world down for you.”

Daisy, eyes still half-closed, gave a soft hum. “I know, baby… I felt it. I dreamed of your voice when I couldn’t hear anything else.”

He lifted himself onto his elbow, gazing down at her. “I’m feelin’ better now. But I still…” He exhaled. “I still need to feel like you’re mine again. Not because I doubt you. But because that bastard tried to take something that was never his. And I need you to remind me…”

Her lashes fluttered open. She looked at him—deeply, fully—and reached to cradle his jaw. “You want your René?”

“I need her,” he growled, hand tightening just slightly at her hip. “Not just your body. Your mouth. That little roll of your eyes when I say something slick. The way you whisper my name when I press you against the wall. I need all of it. All of you.”

Daisy sat up slowly, bare and glowing despite the bruises that were already fading. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him, careful but commanding. Her fingers slid into his curls, her forehead resting against his.

“You never lost me, baby,” she whispered. “I’m right here. I’m yours. And the only person that gets to touch me like this, claim me like this, is the man whose last name I wear like armor.”

His eyes burned. She could feel his hunger thrumming again. His hands slid up her thighs, anchoring her, needing her like breath.

“You gonna remind me, René?”

She nodded slowly, lips brushing his. “I’m gonna make you feel so close to me you’ll forget there was ever distance. I’ll remind you you’re the only one who’s ever touched me this way. The only one who ever will.”

And when their mouths met again, the kiss wasn’t frantic this time—it was deep, desperate in the way only lovers who had nearly lost each other could understand.

Damion didn’t just take her. He worshipped her. And Daisy didn’t just give herself—she offered him back every piece of herself that had been hidden, trembling, stolen.

For the first time since her return, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered something that broke him wide open:

“I’m safe now. You make me safe.”

And in that moment, all of Damion Rashaad Emmad’s rage melted into devotion. She was his. And now the whole damn world would be reminded.

Chapter 187 Cabinet Confidential

The White House had finally begun to exhale. The tension that had gripped the air for days had loosened just slightly, now replaced with the stillness of recovery—and for the Emmads, a kind of love that refused to break under fire.

In the private living quarters, the light was dim and golden, curtains parted just enough to let the afternoon in. Daisy lay curled in between Damion’s legs, her cheek pressed to his bare chest, fast asleep. A thick blanket covered most of her body, though her messy curls and faint bruises told a story of both pain and passion.

Damion leaned back against the headboard, shirtless, quiet, his arms cradling her like she was glass he refused to let slip again. His eyes were on the balcony where she’d waved to the world. Where she’d stood like a miracle.

The door opened with a soft knock that wasn’t really a knock at all. Elijah’s familiar voice carried in:

“Aye… y’all decent?”

Damion didn’t move. “Not especially. But we covered.”

Elijah stepped in, his Alpha lapel still pinned to his jacket, though his sleeves were rolled and his expression was halfway between worry and dry amusement. Nyla followed behind, in a cobalt Zeta hoodie, eyes scanning the room.

And then Elijah stopped short.

Daisy was still sleeping peacefully between Damion’s thighs, one arm draped possessively over his waist, her breathing slow and steady.

Elijah raised an eyebrow as he folded his arms. “Damn, mate. You really couldn’t help yourself? Girl just got back from captivity and you got her sleepin’ like she ran a marathon.”

Damion’s mouth curled, lazy and unapologetic. “She wanted to be reminded she was home. And I’m her home.”

Nyla snorted, dropping into a nearby armchair. “Mmhmm. You stay hunching the girl, Damion. She barely gets breaks between pregnancies!”

Damion chuckled low. “Ain’t my fault she fine, loyal, and knows how to arch that back like a blessing from heaven.”

Elijah turned to Nyla with mock offense. “Why are you letting him be like this? Man got the First Lady lookin’ like she fought the Devil and then got put in the backseat of a Monte Carlo.”

Nyla shrugged, grinning. “Because it’s kinda beautiful. She looked like she died in that footage. Now look at her. Peaceful. Loved. Safe.”

Damion looked down at Daisy, his palm gently smoothing over her curls. “That’s all I ever wanted for her.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The four of them, the true core of the Emmad administration, stood or sat in quiet reverence.

Elijah broke the silence, his voice softer now. “World still shakin’, bruv. But this room right here? This the center. This what they tried to destroy. And failed.”

Damion nodded, eyes never leaving Daisy. “Let ‘em all watch. Let ‘em see what love looks like when it survives war.”

Nyla added gently, “And what leadership looks like… when it still bleeds and still stands.”

The room stayed still, save for Daisy’s breathing.

And though none of them said it aloud—each one of them knew: the war wasn’t over. But their Queen had survived.

And love had held the throne.

Chapter 188 His Always

The room was still cloaked in that hazy intimacy, the kind that only settles in after too much grief has been survived and too much love has been poured. The late afternoon sun dappled across Daisy’s skin as she stirred, a soft groan in her throat, delicate and nearly inaudible.

Damion felt her shift before he heard her voice. Her fingers gently curled against his chest, her lips barely brushing the shell of his ear as she whispered, so quiet, so his,

“Dame… have them leave. I’m ready for the next round.”

He didn’t react at first. Not out of hesitation, but reverence. That voice—the one only he ever heard like that—soft, placid, needy in the most sacred way. She sounded like surrender. Not the broken kind. The kind that was love.

“Elijah. Nyla,” Damion said low and even, his hand smoothing over Daisy’s hip as he held her tighter. “Give us the room.”

Elijah blinked. “You serious? Again?”

Nyla stood, smiling knowingly as she motioned for Elijah to follow. “Let the man have his wife. You saw what he went through. She just got her life back, let ‘em live.”

Elijah threw up his hands but didn’t argue. “Fine, fine. But you’re gonna wear her out before the inauguration parade.”

Nyla rolled her eyes. “That girl’ll be walking with a glow, not a limp. Let’s go.”

They slipped out, the door clicking closed behind them.

The moment they were alone again, Daisy pressed her face into Damion’s neck, inhaling him, clutching him.

“I missed your weight,” she whispered. “Your warmth… the way you look at me like I’m everything.”

“You are everything,” Damion murmured, shifting to hover over her with gentle command. “And I’m gonna remind you just how much you still belong to me. Not just your body, baby… your soul. Your strength. Your softness. All mine.”

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes even as her thighs shifted beneath him. “Take it, Dame. I need to feel safe in you.”

He kissed her forehead first, then her lips, and then lower—worshiping every inch like a vow. Every touch was careful but firm, every sigh she gave him was soaked in both love and aching release.

Daisy had nearly died.

But now, she was alive.

And in Damion’s arms, moaning his name like prayer, she knew she was finally home again.

Chapter 189 Praise Her Back to Life

She was already crying before he even touched her again. Not from fear—but from feeling. The kind that split a woman open, stripped her down to everything raw and real. Daisy lay beneath him with her eyes glassy and red-rimmed, fingers clutching his wrist as Damion hovered over her, lips brushing her temple.

“You with me, mama?” he asked gently, thumb stroking along her trembling jaw.

She nodded through a choked sob, breath catching in her throat. “I—I’m trying,” she whispered. “I feel too much… and not enough.”

Damion kissed the corner of her mouth. “That’s alright. I got you. Let me bring you home slow.” His voice—rich, husky, reverent—melted over her skin like honey warmed on fire. His weight settled into her slowly, grounding, commanding, but never harsh. His hands moved across her like prayers, like promises.

���Look at me,” he breathed, cupping her cheek. “You been through hell, but baby… you’re still mine. Ain’t no pain, no enemy, no devil alive that can take you from me.”

Her tears slipped out in slow rivulets, but she didn’t turn away. She let him see her. And he praised every bit of it. Every tremble. Every sob.

“That’s it,” he murmured, sliding inside her like truth, slow and deep. “You feel that? That’s me. That’s love, girl. That’s safety. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known, and still the sweetest thing I’ve ever touched.”

A hiccuped cry slipped from her throat.

“That’s right, let it out. Let me feel those tears, I’ll take ‘em all. You’re a miracle walkin’, Daisy René. My miracle. Still so soft. Still so powerful. And damn, you’re still mine.”

His strokes were measured—filthy and reverent all at once, the kind of intimacy that blurred lines between worship and want.

“You’re the mother of my babies. The woman that turned the White House into a home. You make power look gentle, and gentleness look invincible.”

She clutched him tighter, sobbing into his neck, legs wrapped around his waist like her whole body was pleading for him to never let go again.

And he didn’t.

He kissed her through her unraveling. Worked her through every tear with groans of love, deep praise echoing in her ears as her body shook and shattered beneath his.

“You’re so beautiful when you cry for me,” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he held her in his arms, both of them breathless and undone. “Even broken, you’re everything. And I’ll keep loving you like this every damn day… until you believe it again.”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

Her body melted against him, heart pounding as she let herself finally fall—completely, entirely—into the arms of the man who never stopped loving her.

Even when the world tried to rip her away.

Chapter 190 His Perspective – A Holy Return

Damion couldn’t sleep.

Not because he was restless—but because for the first time in weeks, maybe months, he felt peace. Real, bone-deep, soul-quieting peace.

His wife was asleep beside him. No—on him. Draped across his chest like she always used to be, like her rightful place had always been pressed against his heartbeat. Daisy’s hand rested over his ribcage, fingers curled gently, like her body still needed proof he was there. Her breath was soft. Calm. No more gasping in sleep. No more flinching at shadows. Just rest.

And Lord… she’d earned it.

Damion exhaled, brushing his lips to the top of her head. His arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand resting protectively over the slight swell of her belly. Barely there. Just a whisper of new life. His son. Their son. Still alive. Still fighting.

They all made it.

He closed his eyes and whispered thanks to whoever had listened—God, the ancestors, maybe even the quiet strength of his wife’s own spirit—but he wouldn’t forget this gift. This grace.

Ten times.

That’s how many times he’d had her since they were reunited—soft and begging, pliant and praising, trembling and whispering his name like it was the only word she still trusted. Ten times he’d held her like she was the most fragile and precious thing on earth. And ten times she gave herself to him like only she ever could.

Only to him.

It wasn’t about the sex. It never was.

It was about having her back. Her breath, her surrender, her tears—yes, even her tears—because they were his now. Just like her joy. Just like that gentle, silken side of her that she reserved for no one else.

Daisy Emmad, the First Lady of the United States, beloved by the world… was still his woman. And when she was beneath him, soft and needy, whispering “Dame, please” in that broken voice full of trust—it was sacred.

She’d always been a warrior. A queen. A force. But when she melted in his arms? That was the part of her the world would never understand. That pure, vulnerable submission she offered only to him—it was more precious than gold.

Damion kissed her temple again and tightened his hold. “I got you, mama,” he whispered. “Ain’t nobody ever takin’ you again.”

He still remembered the screams in his throat the moment he thought she was gone forever. The nights he raged in silence. The deal he made with God or the devil—whoever would listen. He’d tear down the earth brick by brick to get her back.

But now? She was here. Alive. Healing. Still trusting him with the softest parts of her.

His heart ached just thinking about it.

He looked down at her, at the slight movement of her lips as she dreamed. One of her legs curled between his, her whole body wrapped around him like she knew she’d found safety again.

And he vowed—right there, holding his entire world in his arms—that he’d never take her softness for granted again. Never take her light. Her sweetness. Her submission. Because to him, it wasn’t weakness. It was holy.

A gift only she could give.

And he’d spend the rest of his life proving he was worthy of it.

[musicarenagh]

‎Tally Koren’s Empowering Journey Unveiled In Latest Album ‘Do You Believe In Me?Get ready for a musical experience that is bound to touch your soul as Tally Koren’s highly anticipated third album, 'Do You Believe In Me?’, is set to make its debut during Mental Health Awareness Month. Tally’s career has flourished, showcasing her remarkable talent and gaining recognition since the remix of her hit single “Watch Your Thoughts” climbed to an impressive No. 13 on the Commercial Pop Chart, alongside acclaimed artists like Pink, Taylor Swift, and Ellie Goulding. Behind the captivating melodies and heartfelt lyrics lies a personal story of triumph over adversity. Tally found herself in a foreign land, devoid of love, employment, and the support of her family. In her own words, the mental noise became overwhelming, pushing her to the brink. But here’s the fascinating part: Tally actually wrote this song 23 years ago, at a time when she hit rock bottom in the year 2000. It’s a reminder that great songs often arise from the depths of our darkest moments, capturing raw emotions and transforming them into powerful expressions of self-belief and growth. Renowned for her highly regarded single 'Beauty of the Duty’, which earned airplay on BBC Radio 2 and garnered her the prestigious Fringe Award for Best Singer-Songwriter in 2011, Tally Koren has built an impressive repertoire of live performances. From enchanting audiences at esteemed venues such as the Royal Albert Hall, The National Arboretum, and The Belgrade Theatre (Coventry), to lending her mesmerizing vocals to the start of a match at the MK Dons Stadium, Tally has left an indelible mark on stages across the country. Notably, she also hosted the remarkable 'Music for Peace’ concert in the Middle East, where Palestinians and Israelis shared the same stage, earning her the esteemed 'Ambassador for Peace’ award at the House of Commons. With 'Do You Believe In Me?’, Tally Koren invites us to embark on a musical journey that celebrates resilience, self-belief, and the power of hope. This album is more than just a collection of transformative songs—it’s an expression of Tally’s unwavering spirit and her ability to rise above life’s challenges. Brace yourself for a melodic experience that will leave you inspired and uplifted. Listen to Do You Believe In Me https://open.spotify.com/album/4QrXymbLsUrpXGfyZNWehz   Facebook Twitter Spotify Soundcloud Youtube Instagram Songkick Tiktok  

[mostardently]

.

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Masterlist

** - Smut & ^ - Angst

Pieces with these emojis have content with these holidays/events: 🎄- Christmas, 🦃- Thanksgiving, 🎃 - Halloween, 🪩 - New Years, 🫶- touring/ LOT/concerts

All smut will have a "mature" community label from here on out to avoid any issues in the future. You will need to adjust your account settings to view those posts! (11/19/22)

Preacher’s Daughter ** , Part II ** 🎄- Y/N is the preacher’s daughter and Harry isn’t exactly an angel.

Be My Mistake ** ^, Part II ^ - Y/N is the other woman & Harry lets her take all the blame.

The MET ** - Harry wants Y/N to know just how much she means to him.

CEO Harry ^** - Harry hires Y/N and as it turns out, she's everything he's ever wanted.

Guardian Angel**^ - Y/N is Harry’s guardian angel.

Roomies^** - When Harry’s living arrangement falls through Y/N lets him live with her...she’s kinda growing tired of him. But the more they get to know each other the more she wants him to stay around.

Golden Trunks** - “So in response to what you whispered in my ear, I’ll be upfront. Sometimes, I fantasize about you too.” Inspired by Golden Trunks by Arctic Monkeys

The Calm Story - Harry’s colab with Calm elicits an unexpected reaction from his friend, Y/N.

A Keeper** - Y/N and Harry are seeing each other for the first time since the pandemic and he has a full-grown mustache.

Falling ^ - Harry falls in love with someone else and leaves  Y/N.

No Coincidence** - Y/N & Harry happen to vacation in Italy at the same time and it seems that one way or another, their paths were meant to cross.

Eros!Harry - A cute and fluffy oneshot about Eros (cupid) falling in love with a human girl.  BLURB** for Harryween 2020

Strawberry Fields Forever** - In which Harry’s had a BAD day and ends up where he feels the happiest, which is at his best friend’s house (Non-famous AU).

Sometime Around Midnight^ , Part II ^**- Harry & Y/N have been broken up and run into each other at a bar. Y/N seems to be over it, but truthfully, Harry is more in love with her now.

A Perfect Christmas 🎄- Harry and Y/N are coworkers and he can’t go home for the holidays. Y/N’s family believes she is dating someone, so she hesitantly invites Harry to spend the next few days with her family. + A Perfect Start** 🪩

Overheard** - Y/N & Harry are friends and there’s always been some tension.+ Happy Birthday** - Y/N wants to wish Harry a happy birthday

Come So Far^ - Y/N and Harry try to piece their lives together after he cheats on her.

Flash Warning**- Y/N sees a trend on TikTok and needs to try it on Harry.

Knowing Me, Knowing You^ - Where Y/N realizes that she needs to make a tough decision.

Don’t Forget ^** - Y/N is dealing with the stresses of life all while trying to navigate past her break up with Harry. However, after a drunken night out she finds herself in front of Harry’s home.

Twin Souls^ - (TW: some physical abuse) A period piece. Harry has just sailed back to England from America and Y/N has just returned from university, both just in time for the debutante season. Where this time around, they were expected to find their lifelong partner. Part 2^** (TW: some physical abuse) 

The Electric Ballroom** - Seeing Harry rapping with Stormzy does things to Y/N. 🫶

Someone Else^ - Y/N moves on and Harry isn’t taking it all that well.

Baby Fever** - The one where Harry has baby fever and he can’t wait to start a family with Y/N.

Starry-eyed ** - Harry & Y/N are friends with benefits and he’s been thinking about going down on her all day.

Boyfriends** - Harry & Y/N grew up together and he's always had to watch her fall in love with others and get hurt from the sidelines until he writes her a song that makes her come around.

The Nearness of You - A short fluffy pice that was an anon request inspired by the DWD trailer back in May.

Keep Driving , Part II^** + this blurb^ -  Harry & Y/N meet on the celebrity dating app Raya in the middle of the pandemic and start getting to know each other better.

Wasted Time^ - Harry has a girlfriend after telling Y/N he's not ready for a relationship.

Night XV - After 15 consecutive shows at MSG Harry's girlfriend tells him how proud of him she is. 🫶

Friends Share** , Part 2 ^** - Harry & Y/N have been practically perfect roommates for several years but the appearance of a hot new neighbor creates an unexpected shift in their relationship.

Just A Taste** - A Harryween one shot about an unlucky man and an unfortunate curse. 🎃

Halftime** - Y/N is very horny for her Harry, but Harry is really wrapped up in the Brazil vs. South Korea match. 🫶

My Superstar, fuss-pot - Harry get's a little cold after deciding to sing in the rain and Y/N is taking care of him and his medicine makes him drowsy and he just starts confessing too many lovey-dovey things. 🫶

The First Time** - A soft and sweet one where Y/N asks Harry to be her first (requested)

Birthday Kiss - Y/N and Harry are friends who finally get to see each other at one of his birthday shows and as much as they like each other, they're both terrified of making the first move. 🫶

No Kids** - After their second baby comes Harry & Y/N have been so busy that they've had a 6 month dry spell and Harry's looking to fix that. ASAP.

The Divine Feminine** - Amidst his sadness after his wife leaves the Underworld, Hades (Harry) encounters a human woman who brings him to his knees.

A Good Fit** - Harry is best friend's with Y/N's older brother and she comes over because her BF cheated on her he ends up helping her out in an unexpected way (or just an excuse to write smut).

Champion of the World **^ - Part 2 of this blurb. Or Harry is producing Y/N's album's band and they initially don't get along and what happens with them after he realizes he likes her.

LVRS Club** - Y/N is going through a rough patch in life and her friends drag her to a sex club to shock her out of her rut. Her night takes a very unexpected turn when Harry Styles approaches her.

Make It Better** - Harry is Y/N's professor and he really, really needs his best girl after the long and bad day he's had.

Wake n' Bake** - Y/N decides to give "wake n' bake" a try only to get all riled up. So she goes and finds her man to take care of it for her.

A Surprise^** - While Harry and Y/N are broken up she ends up dating a man who is not what she thought he was. His irrational behavior ends up bringing her and Harry back together. Things are going well until they receive a big surprise - Y/N is pregnant.

Magnetic** , Part 2^** - After Y/N and Harry hooked up after his Love On Tour show in Portugal, he has not been able to forget it. Even though he has a girlfriend now. No matter how they both try, they keep getting pulled back together.

Trying** , Part 2** - After a few years of marriage and a new free-use kink, Y/N is finally ready to start trying for a baby with Harry.

Ménage À Trois** - Y/N's work has led her to neglect her boyfriends, Harry and Rowan, for a bit and they decide to remind her what she's been missing out on.

The Divorce - After several years of marriage and two children Y/N’s worried that Harry’s not been himself. Then, Y/N sees something she clearly wasn’t supposed to.

One Week - Harry & Y/N  are exes who haven’t seen each other or spoken in years. Now, they both happen to go on a weeklong holiday for Nick’s birthday.

Fine Line - Harry and Y/N are best friends who are in love with each other. When they discover each other’s feelings will it be too late? 🦃🎄 🪩

Wolves - Harry is a werewolf and Y/N seems to be an inconvenience he can’t get rid of.

Threat of Joy - Harry has a big crush on the hair & makeup girl from the Don’t Worry Darling set. The only problem is that she has a boyfriend.

Roxy's Record Store - Harry and Y/N don’t get along despite their tight knit friend group. Amidst the fights and make-ups some lines get blurred and they just need to figure out what they want and where they stand. 🦃🎄🪩

Unavailable** , Part II^ , Part III** - Y/N has a very specific preference for unavailable/inappropriate people and Harry is her therapist who is supposed to help her work through this.

The Assistant - Y/N gets hired as Harry’s assistant and as much as they don’t want to be some romance novel trope, it’s kind of hard to not fall for each other when they just get along so well. 🦃🎄

With Discretion - Y/N discovers that her husband of 7 years, Caleb is cheating on her. One night out with her friends leads to an affair of her own but with Caleb's boss, Mr. Styles, and they promise to never do it again...but some promises are just meant to be broken.

A Twist of Fate - Harry and Y/N are exes who unexpectedly run into each other. And while they have both moved on, being with each other unearths the feelings they had buried for each other when they had to end their relationship. So they make a promise to do something about the next time they run into each other if they're both single.

A Chance - Y/N and Harry are coworkers with a less than friendly relationship, especially after a misunderstanding occurs at the office. However, a fateful run in at a bar exposes Y/N to a side of him that makes her realize that she's had him all wrong since the start. But will she give him a chance to keep surprising her?

Twelve Days - After Y/N’s engagement falls through she’s been having a very rough time of it. Y/N is dreading to go on her family’s Christmas holiday knowing the scrutinization she might be subjecting herself to. But her time there goes better than expected when she and her brother-in-law, Harry, forge an even deeper connection than before through an exchange of struggles, secrets, and attraction and it seems like it won't end there.

Meet Me in the Hallway (complete)- Lucy and Harry are soulmates, but something seems to always be in the way. However, they’re both willing to wait for each other and they’re both willing to make it better.

Compromised (complete)- Harry is involved in a branch of the European mafia called the B.F. Clan. Y/N is an American spy who has been trying to dismantle them for years. Her objective now, get close to Harry and burn it all through him.

Young American (complete) - Y/N get’s offered the opportunity of a lifetime, an apprenticeship at English Graffiti, world renowned tattoo artist, Eddie Chan’s first American shop. However, an unnerving rivalry brews between her and one of Eddie’s old apprentices and best artists, Harry Styles. 🎃

(On Hold) Wonderful World - Harry is a psychiatrist who starts to see a young girl named Celeste. As time goes on he starts to find himself developing feelings for Celeste's mother, Diana. Despite his many accomplishments, once they come into his life he realizes that his life is a bit empty. But there is no way he can pursue the woman he wants, it's unethical and it could put his entire career in jeopardy.

Blurbs from requests/asks - Categorized by topic.

Picture Prompt Blurbs

Challenge no.1

Challenge no.2

Fic Rec Masterlist

Please let me know if there are any incorrect or dead links! Thank you so much for reading! All interactions are appreciated 😊❤️

[sanosimp]

Friday Night Heat (18+)

It's my first work in a while so it's not much. Inspired by the tiktok I posted about wanting to do the pocket rocket trend with Wakasa Imaushi. (all characters are 18+. NSFW themes, read with caution)

It started with a simple invite.

From one friend to another. She had to go to Akashi's party, promising a crowd of people who’ll be celebrating graduation along with everyone else. Shinichiro begged you to come, and he volunteered to bring you since the two of you had been close friends, and at first, you were hesitant but with the promise of seeing a certain blonde, your ears reddened and all of a sudden Friday couldn't come sooner.

This is how your friendship worked with Shinichiro, he dragged you to places you wouldn’t go to just for the fun of it, much rather wanting to go home or next door to his house to watch movies. But the two of you were best friends and this is how things worked between you, and although you would never admit it to his face, you were grateful for it. He would go to you for girl advice or for help with babysitting and he gave you friends and a home and a family.

The promise of Wakasa showing up was a surprise but you knew Sano had no reason to lie to you about such matters. Typically Wakasa Imaushi avoids parties and social gatherings, much rather preferring small hangouts with a few close friends. But another rare occurrence at parties was seeing the face of his best friend and he knew well if Sano was going, the other might as well follow. You were a regular amongst the boys since you fit in with them and usually made the vibe of the group better, but at some point, he started quietly longing to get to know you and get closer to you. Shinichiro had picked up on it quickly, catching Waka on the occasion when his shoulders would tense at the mention of your name or the side glances he would sneak when you hung out with the boys on Fridays in the shop where you all would frequent after hours to destress and just hang out with friends. Shinichiro was eager to act as a wingman in any way possible knowing the other would need it with his quiet and reserved tendencies.

Eventually, the night was in full swing and when you and Shinichiro arrived, the house was packed and the music was blasting out the windows. It looked like a typical high school graduation party, red solo cups all over the place, people on top of each other and dancing freely, stress far away after hitting an important milestone in your lives. Sano led you down the stairs to the basement saying the others were hanging downstairs away from the majority but still involved in the scene. You saw all the familiar delinquents that frequented the Black Dragons and all the current members were tucked away in the corner by one of the couches.

You made your way down the stairs, following closely behind Shinichiro. You had made eye contact with Wakasa as he sent a smirk your way and raised his cup towards you in greeting. You smiled back and nodded you head in his direction before falling behind Sano again in attempt to keep up. Akashi was the first to greet them, a smile on his face and a beer in his hand, slugging an arm over Shinichiros shoulder and announcing your arrival to the rest. The others raised their glasses and let out a cheer as you let out a laugh as you all settled in. Benki had passed you a cup filled with something you weren't sure what as you thanked him. Shinichiro switched cups with you, trading whatever cup it was with a cup filled specifically only soda knowing it was your prefered choice in this type of setting.

The music was typical party anthems and you recognized a few, slowly falling into the vibe and getting comfortable. The atmosphere was a regular high school party you would imagine after graduation, but being downstairs surrounded by familiar faces felt comfortable in its own way. While you may not have known everyone's names or acquaintances, you did see many of these faces since it was common for delinquents in your area to crowd around Shinichiro and the Black Dragons.

You hadn't realized Shinichiro had snuck up behind you due to you observing the on-going scene. He pulled you close which caused you to jump and smack his shoulder as he let out a laugh and an apology in response. He got close to your ear in an attempt to let you hear him over the commotion of the party. "So, are you planning on making any moves or are you sulking like usual?" He knew the tension that surrounded you and one of his most trusted captains, after all he had been encouraging you for weeks on end to just go for it already, tired of you being the one to help him with his relationship issues and attempting to help you for once.

You let out a sigh and turned more to face him properly only to find that his focus wasn’t on you but rather on something, or someone, behind you. "No. You know how I am. I'd rather be shown..." "Interest before making any attempts blah blah blah. Yeah I know already." He finished your sentence with you after hearing your complaints many times before in the bike shop. "Well I don't know about you, but I'm trying to score tonight so if you'll excuse me." He lets go of you and sends a wink in your direction causing you to shove him and call him gross before he sauntered over to some girl you do not personally recognize.

Some time had passed as you had fallen into conversation with some of the boys about plans for the future now that you all had graduated high school. You weren't really paying attention, just listening and tuning into the overall surrounding atmosphere , which is probably why you hadn't felt someone grab your cup, placing it on a nearby table. You had turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of blonde hair before he had grasped your hips and turned you around completely, forcing you to come face to face with him.

"Relax, it's just me. I wont bite." You let out a sigh in relief, glad it was Imaushi and not some creep you didn't know. "You're the second person tonight to just come up and grab at me so sorry if I'm a little jumpy." His smile falters and he looks past you to where Shinichiro is currently leaning against the wall, towering over the petite female he is currently trying to win over. "Mmm, yeah I saw earlier." He looked back down to you and his hand that was resting on your shoulder now moved down towards your wrist as he grabbed you once again. "Come on, I wanna dance."

Giving you no time to respond he drags you behind him into the swarm of bodies not before hearing Akashi snicker under his breath. He finds a spot where he deems fit and spins you until your back is pressed upon his front. "Do you trust me?" His breath tickles your ear as you nod in confirmation. He takes the lead, placing his left hand on your waist. He guides you to fall into the tempo of the recently changed song as you gradually fall into it with him. He notices your demeanor faltering into a more relaxed and free version of yourself which he rarely sees.

He intertwines your right hand with his and raises your hands above your heads. He guides your hips into a forward backward pattern with his left hand that squeezes your side every so often in an attempt to set the pace. Every little touch had your senses in overload, hyper aware of every placement of his fingertips as you let him take complete control over the both of you. At some point, he feels confident enough to let go of your hip, still holding onto the intertwined one as you continue the pace he set for you. You continue to move until he brings his right arm around your waist as yours follows and settles on top of his as he pulls you closer with no space left in-between you now.

He pushes some hair from one side of your shoulder onto the other, exposing the soft skin of your neck where your dainty chain rests comfortably. He tugs on it lightly enough for you to feel then leans in to unexpectedly kiss the skin below your ear, eliciting a gasp from you as he blows the area he just came into contact with. Involuntarily, this causes you to lean more into him that you already were closing all remaining space till you share body temperature. Suddenly, the song changes and Wakasa lets go of you til you face him again completely. He smiles at you but his eyes are glossy and his pupils are wider despite knowing he's had nothing to drink.

He looks, to put it quite simply, pretty. His light blonde hair falls in whisps and there's a slight mist of sweat forming on his forehead from sharing contact with you surrounded by the many others in the house. He's always looked pretty handsome to you from afar but you've never had the opportunity to appreciate him up close and personal before.

"I wanna take you home with me. I have the apartment tonight. Only if you want to of course. I just..." and he stops mid-sentence, licking his lips in concentration. You meet his eyes and share a light smile with him, squeezing his wrist for silent encouragement. No words are spoken as he understands and leads u up the stairs and out of the house into the cool breeze which is much welcomed considering both of you needed the temperature change. He leads you to where he has his bike parked by the house and prompts you to sit behind him, guiding your arms to wrap around his waist in security.

To test the waters, you tighten your grip around him which causes him to sharply gasp for breath before starting the bike and taking off. You let out a giggle before leaning your forehead on his shoulder, this childlike attitude falling over the both of you. You easily recognize the route he's taking towards the apartment he shared with Arashi considering you have been there to hangout with the boys before. But this felt different, much different than the planned study sessions you all shared despite there hardly being any studying due to the constant bickering and toddler-like arguments that would take place. This time there was a mutual understanding between you and the boy you had longed for from a distance.

He had parked in the front and led you up the stairs all childlike and foolish. He opened the door as you both took off your shoes as courtesy. "Arashi told me most likely he was planning on crashing at Akashis place, meaning we have the apartment to ourselves til maybe about tomorrow morning." It sinks in suddenly that this is really happening, you're really with him right now, standing in his apartment, and fully placing your trust within him to do what he wants with you. He leads you to his room but you falter and stumble your steps when the realization hits, his grip on your wrist tightening to ensure you don't fall. He completely stops in his tracks and turns to face you now the most serious he's been all night. Your eyes meet his and neither of you are smiling anymore, the tension building as the tone is set differently for the moment. "Please tell me you want this. I don't wanna do anything you don't want to. We can stop right here and I'll take you home and nothing will have to change..."

His sentence is cut off when you place your hands on his face to center him on you only, cutting off him rambling. "Wakasa, I want this. I want you." There's a brief pause shared between the both of you before he smiles again as you caress your thumbs on his cheeks. He continues the pursuit to his room and lets you in first, guiding you inside before turning around and locking the door. In a moment, he's in front of you, hand cusping your neck towards him as he guides your lips to his with no hesitation. Lips meeting yours unexpectedly in a crushing kiss, kidnapping all the air in your lungs within seconds. It was unmistakably him as you reached up, fingertips meeting the soft long strands of his hair on his neck.

He was a good kisser that was for sure, knowing that this certainly wasn't his first as he led you through the familiar room. His previous experience might've intimidated you if he wasn't distracting you at the moment, so intent on running his hands down your body. With one hand on your waist to guide you and the other in the back pocket of your jeans to keep you close, hands reached around his neck and gently tugged on a strand of hair which prompted him to groan. You committed this noise to memory due to the chill that ran down your back after hearing it. You became intent on hearing this noise again as he decided to progress towards his bed, walking backwards until the back of his knees hit the frame.

He pulled back to take in your disheveled state, ponytail a mess and lips swollen. The childlike atmosphere came back, the both of you sharing a smile before fingers gripped the edge of your shirt as you pulled it over your head as he did the same. He seemed distracted so you took the opportunity to establish the lead with a welcomed boost of confidence. Letting out a brief laugh, you proceeded to shove him into the bed until he was laying flat down on the mattress. You straddle him as you sit upon his lap, taking a moment to appreciate his appearance from under you. He reached up and tugged the hair-tie setting your hair free, placing the hair-tie around his own wrist as your eyes traveled from his wrist to the rest of his skin.

You noticed the few bruises that were on his arms and neck and chest which were temporary trophies from his well fought battles with the rest of the gang. You traced over a few with the light graze of your fingers, a soft smile on your face as you sat upon his lap, running your thumbs over his collarbones. "One night of you to myself huh?" He huffed in response and his eyes met yours. "Well it depends. If you blow my mind, one might turn to two then three. The ultimate goal here is to have you under my arm as my girlfriend if you'll have me" He looked up at you and teasingly dug his fingers into your sides which caused you to giggle and squirm under his touch, giggles escaping with pleas for mercy.

He then sat up and kissed you much softer this time and bites your bottom lip, sitting chest to chest. You had often imagined a scenario somewhat close to this before considering how long you've admired him from a distance, afraid to ruin a friendship that you've come to  actually enjoy. He flipped you both over to take the lead as his lips began to wander and explore the expanse of your skin, teeth grazing the skin of your neck, causing you gasp. Rising your body off the soft comforter to meet with his but was cut short as his hands pin your hips to the bed. He took his time biting and marking and teasing, paying special attention to any part that would make you involuntary moan or sigh. You knew tomorrow you might have issues with your shared circle of friends since they would notice the marks. You then made it a promise to return the favor by giving him a few marks of your own, evidence to your own testimonial of truth.

You never would've thought to see yourself in this position. He drew you out of any thoughts you were having as his lips began to wander down more, lips touching skin of collar bones, chest, lowering down to where the button of your jeans rested. You sat up on your elbows, resting to take in the view below you and pushed some of his hair out of the way of his eyes. He looked up at you with a childish look in his eyes, eyelashes playfully fluttering against the skin of your tummy. He laid his cheek on the denim of the jeans as his fingers played with the button, looking up silently waiting for what he wanted. He waited to hear from you directly what you wanted, teasing you as the seconds passed, wanting words, pleas, whimpers, anything from you that would set him ablaze.

You let out a whine of his name which prompted him to finally pull at the button, fully exposing you to him by taking off everything left at once. After shimmying your hips in assistance, he runs his hands on the outer parts of the soft skin of your thighs, guiding you to lock your ankles behind him. He continues his adventure with your skin, placing frequent kisses along the inside of your thighs sitting comfortably on both sides of his head. You completely fall back into the bed, collapsing amongst the pillows and attempting to catch your breath as you throw an arm over your eyes and place your other hand back into his hair.

He gets to work and finally has a taste and your hips rise from the bed towards him. He guides you to rest against the bed once again, and the hand in his hair gently tugs, eliciting a groan from him which shoots straight through you as you gasp at his reactions. He pulls back and looks at you again, peaking at you and licking his lips.

"You taste amazing. You're doing so good for me tonight princess."

His words almost send you over the edge as you drag him up once again to kiss him, moaning into the kiss and overwhelmed with everything happening all at once. Your hands wander down his spine, teasing your nails into his skin every so often which causes him to grind into reminding you that he hasn't fully shed his clothing. You make quick work of fixing that as he helps you and pulls away when you both have fully been exposed to the other. He smiles gently again and your hand caresses his check. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Ahhhh!!! I had to write this TWICE cause Tumblr deleted everything the first time. The ending was ehh but let me know if you liked it <3

[minimalismdiary]

Quitting social media | digital minimalism

I deleted facebook 8 years ago, snapchat 5 years ago, instagram 3 years ago, twitter 2 years ago and gladly never made tiktok

Shopaholic

I was influenced by beauty bloggers very badly which led me to have multiple identity crisis's and change my style many times. Shopping was a lifestyle and hobby for me since I never made space for saving any money. As a result my wardrobe was exploding in clothes that I wore once or twice or never even had the opportunity to wear. This was the pivotal moment that started minimalism because I had no choice but to get rid of my clothes and start decluttering.

Inconsistent style

Changing styles and experimenting with appearance was difficult to portray online due to fear of judgements. Through the years I had many different phases and would completely erase my feed and start from scratch for every new era. This made me worry about what others will think about my inconsistency

Going broke to look rich

Funding for the lifestyle for a perfect feed was expensive due to outings, diners, and mainly outfits. It seemed on the surface that I was wealthy but the truth was that every penny was spent on the image with nothing being saved or spent wisely. I would see a photo of a blogger and try to replicate it by buying a similar outfit and going to the same location

Insecurities

I was constantly comparing my appearance to that of others even though they have gone through plastic surgeries. I would spend hours contemplating going through these surgeries to feel as beautiful as them.

Makeup

My makeup obsession stemmed from my insecurities however social media encouraged me to be dependent on makeup. The perfect image meant I felt the need to wear a full face of makeup every time I left the house in order to be picture perfect every second. This made me feel worse about my true self and more insecure when bare faced. Now I only wear makeup a few times a year for occasions and I can confidently be natural outdoors. There's no more pressure for selfies.

Aesthetic lifestyle

Maintaining a certain style or aesthetic became exhausting and was draining my energy because I felt like I trapped myself in to one aesthetically pleasing box

False portrayal

I no longer wanted to deceive everyone by only sharing best moments when my reality was the complete opposite in every way from my appearance and makeup to what was really happening behind close doors. My life was far from perfect so I felt fake by presenting it as if it was

Jealousy and envy

Posting regularly and so perfectly invited jealousy and envy which negatively effected my life. A private life has become a much happier life. I don't trust that everyone wants the best for me and is happy for my successes so I keep everything to myself.

Poor time management

Every minute of the day was about taking pictures to share online in order to seem interesting or aesthetically pleasing. This wasted a lot of time and cause problems by missing things or running late. Especially getting a daily selfie before leaving the house.

Productivity

The lack of productivity was terrible. I never achieved anything for several years until I quit social media and focussed on improving myself. I now fill boredom and spare time for good habits. As a result I've studied 3 courses, joined 3 classes, read 15 books within 6 months, and take morning jogs a few times a week

Celebrity culture

It was part of my routine to check the pages of my favourite celebrities and show them some love. This love turned into idolisation and consumed me with their lives and drama. I would passionately speak about celebrity gossip in majority of my conversations. Now I'm oblivious and focus on my life and better it.

Conversations

I was having less conversations by being more focussed on taking the perfect photo instead of talking with the friend infront of me which made the quality of our time together worse on my behalf. I view this as inconsiderate behaviour now and give my full attention to everyone.

Socialising

Since I don't know what my few friends are up to and they don't know anything about me either I'm required to reach out and directly make plans together. This has made for better real life experiences that no one needs to know about through posting it online. I'm in the present moment.

Sleep routine

The addiction to blu light exposure was apparent in my tendency to mindlessly scroll until the sun would rise. Scrolling had no time limit which made sleep very challenging. Getting out of bed and getting tasks done also took a lot of effort due to scrolling on apps. Now I fall asleep quicker and get out bed faster.

[clouds-rambles]

Cloud dearest,

Around about a year ago, I came to you and gushed about my crush. I then said he was dating someone and kind of disappeared.

Well let me give you a little update.

It turns out, my guy and his boyfriend broke up sometime around April/May-ish because they realised they really weren't more than just friends.

We vibed. We vibed for the rest of that school year, with him sitting with me, talking, sending eachother all sorts of tiktoks and getting into heated philosophical debates about this and that.

Summer. We talked all through that. He sent me a tiktok involving chess one time and I told him I actually didn't know how to play chess. He was shocked because "I seem like someone who would be great at chess". I was feeling bold so I said he should teach me, and he took it seriously! We met up in a coffee shop, he bought a chessboard, and he thought me how to chess, in a way that my late grandad would be proud of (he also tried to teach me and I simply could not remember each piece, and then he died so I never got the chance to try to learn again). We've played chess many times since and I've even won a few matches!

After summer, school started again. He stole my phone many times, took bunches of the goofiest selfies on it. We started talking more, about just this and that, just random things. He started asking me more about myself and my personal preferences. We started going out to play chess, just because, more. And somehow the flirting got so intense (?), I guess, because the whole philosophy class started asking if we were dating, or if we were friends with benefits, because "there is absolutely no way you two are just friends!"

December rolled around. Now, let me tell you, both him and I are Christmas fanatics. He asked me out to town because he wanted to pick out outfits for eachother, because that's apparently something we just do nowadays. Unfortunately, the weekend coincided with plans I had with my family - we were dressing up the tree - so I just invited him over to that. He attended, met my family, loved them, they loved him, it was a very nice little Christmas moment.

He had invited me to the German Christmas market before I got him to dress my Christmas tree with my family. We linked arms, "to not get lost", then started holding hands. "Because I like you," he said to me at that. I asked in what way, and he said I'll find out later. I told him I like him too, and when he asked in what way, I said I think he already knows.

I went to his house, met his family, and watched The Polar Express with them. We chilled, cuddled in eachothers arms in his room. I pet all of his cats and his dog, they all loved me! Let me tell you, we basically were dating then. He said I looked uncomfortable, ducking my head in his attic bedroom, so he invited me to the bed and I lay between his legs, staring at the ceiling for two hours before we headed downstairs to watch the film. His family are very nice, by the way, and I think they like me.

He kept being like "wish I was cuddling someone right now" and so I spontaneously asked him to come over for new years eve, because the plan was that I was supposed to stay alone with the dog (because she's terrified of fireworks) while the rest of my family went out to a party. He agreed! And we were going to cuddle and watch movies and then celebrate midnight and it was going to be nice.

Unfortunately, I got ill at Christmas and then infected my mom and so they all stayed home and didn't go to the party. I told him this and he still decided to come (because my family are nice apparently)! So he came over! And we cuddled in my room! And he somewhat kissed my neck (bestie let me tell you, embarrassingly, neither of us have had our first kisses yet and neither of us know what we are doing or how to kiss because there is a very complex theory to all of this and is just really goddamn hard!) and it was all nice and great until my mom decided to fry fish. The smell of fried fish made him feel really sick. And so he went to my toilet and threw up and spent a good while in there and I was concerned and my mom was really sorry and felt bad but my crush felt really bad too because he 'ruined' the night which I really don't think is true. Anyway. I ended up giving him his phone so he could call someone to pick him up and take him home. I sat on the bathroom floor, he was sitting on my toilet. He was really embarrassed and upset but ended up laughing anyway because "it's always the things you really want to go right that end up going wrong!" He wanted to officially ask me out and kiss me at midnight. He was sick, and he believed it was so unromantic and gross, but he was dead set on asking me today so "if everything went to plan, would you-" "YES!"

So, today, on new year's eve, on the bathroom floor, I got asked to be my two year crush's girlfriend officially! And holy shit does it feel good! We didn't kiss because he threw up and that's just gross. But I did spend half an hour comforting him and telling him he didn't ruin anything and that it's not his fault. I love him. I love him holy shit I love him so much! He went home at 9, didn't last till midnight, didn't carry out his midnight plans. But we are dating! Officially!!!

Apologies, I got progressively drunk while writing this because ✨champagne✨ because ✨happy new year✨!

My boyfriend (I can officially say that and it feels absolutely great!!!) has left before 12 so now it's just me and my parents drinking two bottles of champagne and I am absolutely drunk off my ass. Anyway I am very very very happy! Holy shit. Two years. Two years of pinning, mutual pinning from a certain point, and finally here we are, after the single funniest (most embarrassing for him) asking out story ever, we are dating!

Cloud I am so happy! Cloud I am turning into my friend who got drunk and started talking exclusively about their girlfriend. Cloudddddd!! I have a boyfriend! I have a BEEEEE EFFFFF! (I will absolutely call him my BEEF at some point because I saw a meme one time and it's all I think about). I have a boyfrienddddd. My crush. My crush actually liked me back and now we're dating and that is absolutely insane and I am very happy!!!!!!!!!!!

Love, joy and understanding,

Me, drunk off my ass on champagne and love <33333

nonny i think this is the single most wholesome way for your crush to end up, i’m so happy for you <333

happy new year to you and your new boyfriend :)