#aamira

[zellk]

Forgot to share here.... old doodles of when I finally came around to finding a design I like for Qalaari's mom !!

[eldritch-something-or-other]

some guys i made for a slasher story im making currently called firestarted. i love them oh so much

[promise2001]

what an utterly bizarre post. I truly don’t understand people who get angry at people who don’t like being called slurs

[olderthannetfic]

I always roll my eyes at the "you need to write more f/f" crowd because 1. whenever people in my fandom do, it's not canon enough, it's too sexual, it's problematic, etc. 2. I personally have gotten yelled at for writing f/f despite being a man because ew gross you have a lesbian fetish your freaky freak hey everyone this guy is a freak! freaks dni and 3. there's 5 women of prominence in canon and 22 men, so the "you hate women!" argument always makes me go, "you know there's 231 possible M/M pairings, 110 M/F ones, and a whopping 10 options for F/F?" And if you're about to say, "well, you could genderbend someone and make more F/F" - no the fuck you cannot. Gen Z loathes genderbends. You might, if you're very careful to be good representation, be able to pull off a trans headcanon if you can support it with evidence from canon and you don't write her as too masculine or too feminine. You turn to them and go, "in this universe A was assigned female at birth" and they're going to call you a fetishizer, a woman hater (if you didn't hate women, you'd have used a canon one), incapable of focusing on actual women (A is still a man in their minds), and transphobic. How is "in another universe, A is Aamira and not Aamir" transphobic? Fuck you, it just is.

Years ago I used to write F/F pretty frequently. Now, if I do, I post it and then orphan it so I don't have to deal with the backlash. There's still complaints - there always is - but they can't connect it to my name and cry at me over it.

My favorite fandom story is being accused of fetishizing WLW because a woman who is a lifeguard wears a swimsuit and after coming out of the water, she adjusts it. I didn't describe what part she adjusted or say her chest breated boobily or her butt butted buttiously. I said she adjusted her swimsuit. And that was enough to be told I was fetishizing F/F.

--

[chaosheadspace]

For valentines prompts, #11 (memorizing their coffee order and surprising them with it) for the Library Boys would be delightful ❤️

Thank you for sending in a prompt! This plays out some time in June, before they get together, because I thought it would be way more fun this way. Enjoy! (betaed by the amazing @ml-nolan!)

Hob groans. He'd hoped to escape work for a few moments by going to the small but nice student café down the street. He didn't sleep well last night, and so he wanted to shove the tiredness back with a nice coffee. Hob doesn't have coffee often, and likes to indulge when he does. Point is, he certainly didn't expect Dream I-own-a-two-litre-french-press-for-work Olympiou to be in the line two people in front of him. He watches Dream, his smart trousers and coat, his unruly hair, the perpetual displeased slant of his mouth.

Hob doesn't really know what to do, so he keeps quiet. They never really encounter each other outside of work, and Hob takes advantage of the fact that Dream hasn't noticed him yet (and will not, if things go Hob's way). Dream takes a look at his phone and his frown deepens.

The barista is clearly new, taking a lot of time to fill each order. Hob's small break will have to suffice as his lunch break, he supposes. Ten minutes later, it's Dream's turn. He orders, unsurprisingly, a large black coffee in his low, smooth voice.

And then he orders another coffee, and Hob realises that this must be the reason he's here at all, probably picking up a coffee for a friend of his.

“Latte, with foam and two pumps of vanilla, please.”

Huh.

Dream pays, proceeding to walk towards the exit, and Hob lets out a breath, tension leaving his body. Dream hasn't seen him.

Just as he is almost past Hob he stops and turns, the look in his eyes indecipherable. Hob wants to flick his stupidly cute, turned up nose so badly it pains him.

“You will be late for your shift if you keep waiting,” Dream states.

“Yeah, and you will be, too, if you don't move. I'll survive, Aamira’s got the shift before me.” Hob doesn't know if Dream knows about his little shift arrangement with her, and to be frank, he doesn't really care.

“So you would rather inconvenience your coworker?”

Hob scoffs. “Our coworker. And besides—” he trails off as he notices that Dream is holding out one of the cups towards him in clear invitation. Must have been doing so for some time, in fact. “Wait, what?”

Dream's expression assumes an air of patronising amusement. “Do you want your coffee or would you rather wait for a second one?”

Your coffee. Hob feels like someone pulled the rug out from under him, and for a moment, all he can feel is astonishment. “How on earth did you know?” he asks, snatching the cup away from Dream. Latte with two pumps of vanilla. Fucking hell.

“You're welcome,” Dream deadpans, striding—strutting, Hob thinks, almost shaking his head—towards the door.

“Hey, wait, what do I owe—” the door almost slams shut in Hob's face as he goes after him, avoiding a bruised nose just out of reflex. Hob contemplates running after him. Instead, he walks out and keeps a few paces behind Dream, taking sips from his coffee and enjoying the view. He almost doesn't notice the coffee burning his tongue.

[simination]

Rita Wombo'o, Fenty hair launch - Oasis Springs - 01st of sept 2024

Continuing her promo tour as an ambassador for Fenty Hair, Rita stepped on Oasins Springs' ground to attend the black carpet of the brand, wearing @valentinamunizccs' Karen see-through dress (patreon), @jius-sims' Rhinestone Jewel Embellished Boots and @darte77's Biker Leather Jacket. The influencer styled the ensemble with Spectrum necklace by @pralinesims and @qicc's Aamira braids.

Thanks to all the cc creators! Xoxo

Would love some reblog/likes to have little more visibility..Sorry for asking bc it's a drop in a ocean of better quality content

[aamiragehenna]

Loving Laika, so as I do I did some cosplay art of Aamira as her probably up there with my best works so far

[wolken-himmel]

Whose child is whose? As I was reading further into the story I started to become more and more confused as to which baby has this student as their father 😅

Referring to the 9k followers special. Maybe you'll get how I thought of these names 👀 but honestly some really don't hold much of a deep meaning haha. OKAY so—

Rook's children: Philippe, Jaques, Laure, Noelie

Malleus' children: Umbra, Solis

Leona's daughter: Aria

Ruggie's daughter: Dandelion

Jack's son: Cereus

Jade's daughter: Anemone

Floyd's son: Nemo

Azul's daughter: Ursula

Riddle's daughter: Rose

Cater's son: Anthony

Trey's daughter: Madeleine

Deuce's son: Bernard

Ace's daughter: Eris

Jamil's daughter: Zahra

Kalim's children: Malik, Fatima, Aamira, Ibrahim. I cut off after the last name, but know that there are a bunch of them

Idia's daughter: Lethe

Vil's son: Konrad

Epel's daughter: Daisy

Lilia's son: Ciaran

Silver's daughter: Chimere

Sebek's son: Adam

[eqountl]

Updated Aamira a lil,, 6 of my fav hairtstyles on herrr

[bigprettygothgf]

wait Kayla hi do you have the street fighter fuck her from behind image please

hi aamira and happy belated official street fighter fuck her from behind friday

[boobo13cambridge]

Cliché? Most definitely. | Kylian Mbappé

Chapitre Un. Rien autour n'a de sens

February 1, 2023

Aamira Majid

“This is the final boarding call for Aamira Majid booked on flight AF323 to Paris. Please proceed to gate 4 immediately. The final checks are being completed and the captain will order the doors of the aircraft to close in approximately five minutes' time. I repeat. This is the final boarding call for Aamira Majid. Thank you.”

Shit. She was going to miss her flight. Aamira knew she shouldn't have packed her bags the night before she had to leave for Paris. Unfortunately for her, she didn't really have a choice as a high-profile case had been assigned to her team a few weeks prior causing numerous sleepless nights and coffee runs. To add insult to injury, the trial was held two days before her departure to Paris. 

If her mother and father were here, she wouldn't have been in such a predicament. Sorrow pierced her heart as she thought about her deceased parents. The young woman swallowed the lump forming in her throat as her eyes moistened. It had been two years since her parents passed away in a car crash but the pain of their loss was still fresh. Aamira wished she had a time-turner so she could apologize one last time, hug them tight one last time, and kiss them tenderly one last time. A single tear slid down her cheek as she ran to gate 4.

Aamira saw the lady at the counter looking impatiently around for her. The gate was empty as everyone had already boarded the flight. 

“I’m here! Don’t close the gate, please!”, Aamira wheezed as she reached the counter. The woman was dressed in the classic Air France uniform with a black blazer emblazoned with the logo and matching trousers. She had a badge around her neck with her name written on it, Aurélie Picard.

“You are very late, mademoiselle. We were just about to close the gate,” said Aurélie sternly. “Your boarding pass and passport, s’il-vous-plaît.”

Handing the disgruntled agent her ticket and passport, Aamira profusely apologized while trying to catch her breath. She could feel the frustration and exhaustion of the past week slowly creeping up on her as she felt her watering. Life hadn’t been very kind to the aspiring law student. 

Aurélie inspected Aamira’s documents before handing them back. “Please hurry, mademoiselle. You have less than a minute to board the flight.”

Aamira grabbed her bags and sprinted towards the gate. She could see the aeroplane’s door closing and the flight attendants looking at her with a mix of annoyance and pity. She was so close. Just a few more steps and she’d make it.

As Aamira approached the gate, she could see the flight attendants standing at the door, waiting for her. They watched her run towards them with a mixture of annoyance and pity. She knew she was cutting it close, but she had to make this flight. She had a job to do, and she couldn't afford to miss it.

One of the flight attendants, a young woman with a warm smile, reached out to Aamira as she got closer. "You made it just in time," she said, taking Aamira's boarding pass and passport. "Let me show you to your seat."

Aamira followed the flight attendant down the aisle, feeling the eyes of the other passengers on her. She could hear the murmurs and whispers as she walked by, wondering why she had been so late.

As she settled into her seat, Aamira couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. She had made it on the flight, and she could finally relax. But the memories of her parents lingered in her mind, and she couldn't shake off the feeling of regret for not spending more time with them before they died. She wished she had told them how much she loved them, and how grateful she was for their guidance and support.

As the plane took off and rose higher into the sky, Aamira felt a sense of detachment from the world around her. She was going to Paris to work on a case that didn't really matter to her. It was just another job, another way to distract herself from the pain of her loss. But deep down, she knew that nothing could ever fill the void left by her parents' absence.

Aamira closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. She knew that the road ahead was going to be long and challenging, but she was determined to keep going. For her parents, for herself, and for the future that lay ahead.

Just then, the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, announcing their imminent arrival. “Mesdames et Messieurs, ici votre capitaine qui vous parle. Nous allons atterrir sous peu à l'aéroport Charles de Gaulle. Veuillez attacher vos ceintures de sécurité et vous assurer que vos plateaux de repas sont rangés et que vos sièges sont en position verticale. Nous vous remercions d'avoir voyagé avec nous et espérons que vous apprécierez votre séjour à Paris."

(Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We will be landing shortly at Charles de Gaulle Airport. Please fasten your seatbelts and make sure your tray tables are stowed and your seatbacks are in the upright position. Thank you for flying with us, and we hope you enjoy your stay in Paris.)

Aamira's heart raced with anticipation as the plane taxied to the gate. She couldn't wait to immerse herself in the culture, try the food, and explore the city. She took a deep breath, letting go of all her worries, mentally reciting the goals she had set for herself.

Finish your thesis.

Get your master’s degree.

Find a better job.

Build your life.

Stop wallowing in grief.

As soon as the plane came to a stop, she grabbed her carry-on bag and made her way towards customs. The lines at customs were long, but Aamira tried to stay patient. She had heard horror stories of people getting stuck in customs for hours, but luckily, she made it through in a reasonable amount of time. 

Aamira handed over her passport and documents to the customs officer, a young man with a charming smile. The young customs officer had a confident and self-assured demeanour, with piercing hazel eyes that seemed to sparkle in the bright lights of the customs hall. His chiselled jawline was framed by a well-groomed beard, giving him a rugged, yet refined appearance. He had a lean and muscular physique, which was accentuated by his perfectly tailored uniform. With a flick of his wrist, he glanced over her visa and work permit, and then he looked up at her with a flirty expression. His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, his lips curving into a smirk as if he knew the effect he was having on her.

"Bonjour mademoiselle, vous êtes ici pour étudier et travailler à Paris?" he asked in a friendly tone, his voice low and smooth. (Good morning miss, are you here to study and work in Paris?)

"Oui," replied Aamira, feeling her cheeks flush as she tried to maintain eye contact with the handsome officer. "J'ai un visa étudiant et un permis de travail."

(I have a student visa and a work permit.)

"Très bien, everything is in order," he said, nodding as he stamped her passport. "Where are you studying?"

“At Panthéon-Assas," Aamira replied, trying to sound confident despite her flustered state.

"Impressive, you must be very intelligent," he said with a flirtatious smile. Handing back your passport, he grins, "Bienvenue à Paris, mademoiselle."

"Merci beaucoup," Aamira replied, returning his smile as she gathered her documents and hurriedly made her way towards the exit, her heart still racing from the encounter.

Aamira was relieved to see the carousel already spinning as she made her way to the baggage claim area. She looked around, trying to spot her luggage among the sea of suitcases, bags, and boxes. After a few anxious moments, she finally saw her two black suitcases come into view, and she quickly grabbed them, feeling a sense of relief that her belongings had arrived safely.

With her luggage in tow, Aamira made her way towards the airport's exit. She was eager to start her new life in Paris, but also a bit apprehensive about what lay ahead. She hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address of her apartment in the 5th arrondissement, near the Panthéon-Assas University where she would be studying. She hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address of her apartment. The driver, an older man with a thick French accent.

Settling down into the back seat of the taxi, she gazed out the window, taking in the bustling streets of Paris. The driver, whose name was Henri, started up a conversation.

"So, where are you from?" Henri asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

"Oh, I’m from Canada, monsieur," Aamira replied, grateful for the chance to practice her French.

"Ah, call me Henri, mademoiselle. Now, Canada you say? I’ve always wanted to visit. What’s it like over there?" Henri inquired.

Aamira smiled. "It’s very nice, we have a lot of greenery and everyone there is really nice."

Henri nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I believe Canadians are very nice. But you know, us Parisians have our own charm!" he said with a laugh.

Aamira laughed along with him, feeling her anxiety begin to dissipate. Henri continued to point out landmarks and share interesting tidbits about Paris as they made their way through the city.

"Voilà, we’re here!" Henri announced as they pulled up to Aamira's apartment building.

"Merci beaucoup, Henri," Aamira said, reaching for her wallet.

"De rien, mademoiselle. Good luck with your studies!" Henri replied with a smile, before driving off into the busy Parisian streets.

Aamira watched the taxi disappear around the corner before turning to face her new home in Paris. She felt a sense of excitement and anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead but the twinge of sadness at the thought of her parents would never leave her. God, her heart ached every time their memories fluttered around her mind leaving behind a hole that would never be filled. 

Finish your thesis.

Get your master’s degree.

Find a better job.

Build your life.

Stop wallowing in grief.

The mantra playing in her head, she took a step towards her new home for the next two years. Aamira saw a figure up ahead. Approaching closer, she recognized the kind elderly landlady she had corresponded with over email. She was dressed in a colourful floral blouse and a long, flowing skirt that swayed gently in the breeze. Her hair was pulled back into a neat bun, and her eyes sparkled with a twinkle of kindness and warmth. As Aamira approached her, she noticed the gentle lines on the woman's face, a testament to a life well lived. She exuded a sense of maternal care that made Aamira feel instantly at ease.

"Bonjour, miss," the landlady greeted her warmly. "I'm Madame Dubois, the owner of the apartment. Bienvenue à Paris!" She offered the basket to Aamira. "I brought some fresh bread and cheese for you."

Aamira was touched by the gesture. "Thank you very much, Madame Dubois," she replied gratefully, taking the basket. "That's very kind of you."

"You're welcome, ma chère. I hope you feel at home here," Madame Dubois said, her voice filled with sincerity.

Aamira felt a sense of comfort in the woman's presence. She was reminded of her own grandmother, who was equally kind and loving. It made her feel less alone in this new city.

"Thank you, Madame Dubois. I'm sure I'll love it here," Aamira said with a smile.

Madame Dubois returned the smile, revealing a set of kind eyes that crinkled at the corners. "I hope so, my dear," she said, before gesturing for Aamira to follow her inside. "Come on, let me give you a little tour."

The apartment wasn't anything fancy, but it was cosy and clean. The walls of the apartment were painted in soft shades of beige, creating a calming atmosphere. The hardwood floors were polished to a high shine, reflecting the warm glow of the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. The living area was furnished with a comfortable couch and a small coffee table, perfect for relaxing after a long day of exploring the city. The kitchenette was compact but efficient, with a small refrigerator, a stove, and a microwave. Aamira noticed that there were some basic utensils and cookware in the cabinets, which she was glad to see. The bedroom, while small, was tastefully decorated with a cosy comforter and fluffy pillows. Overall, while it wasn't the most luxurious space, Aamira felt that it was perfect for her needs, and she was excited to make it her own.

 "Ahh, c'est parfait," Aamira said, taking in the simplicity of the space. "It's exactly what I was hoping for."

"I'm glad to hear that," Madame Dubois replied with a chuckle. "I always worry that my apartments won't be good enough for my tenants."

"Oh no, it's perfect," Aamira said with a smile. "And the location is great too. I can't wait to explore the neighbourhood."

"Yes, it's a lovely area," Madame Dubois agreed. "There are many cafes and shops nearby. And don't forget to visit the park down the street. It's beautiful in the spring."

"I will definitely check it out," Aamira said, feeling grateful for the kind landlady's advice.

"And if you need anything, ma puce, just let me know. You have my phone number," Madame Dubois said, patting Aamira's hand reassuringly. Aamira felt a sense of comfort knowing that Madame Dubois was nearby. “Allez, je te laisse. Repose-toi.”

Aamira thanked the woman again before escorting her to the door, feeling grateful and fortunate to have such a kind landlady. Locking the door, she faceplanted on the soft and inviting couch, its warm embrace enveloping her as she closed her eyes, letting out a contented sigh. She took in the quietness of the apartment, the only sound being her own breathing, and she savoured the moment of solitude. 

The past month had been long and eventful, she allowed herself a moment of respite, letting the fatigue melt away as she sank deeper into the cushions. As she lay there, the weight of her parents' absence pressed down on her, and a wave of sadness washed over her, the pain still lingered like a persistent ache. Aamira let out a deep sigh, trying to push away the melancholy thoughts and focus on the new chapter of her life in Paris.

◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇

Kylian Mbappé

Rage. Anger. Frustration. Pain.

Kylian's heart pounded relentlessly in his chest, matching the pulsating ache in his injured thigh as he limped off the pitch. His mind was racing with a barrage of thoughts, each one more harrowing than the last. The weight of disappointment and self-doubt bore down on him like a suffocating blanket, crushing his spirit and leaving him feeling utterly powerless. Kylian feels like he’s about to lose control, already envisioning the headlines and the tweets on social media describing his disaster match today.

“Kylian Mbappe misses two penalties, an open goal, is the PSG star still suffering from World Cup?”

“Shameless fraud should’ve let Messi take them”

“He probably faked his injury cuz he was embarrassed about missing two pens. What an overrated loser!”

As Kylian trudged through the tunnel, the muffled sounds of the stadium echoed around him, a constant reminder of the thousands of disappointed fans and the scathing comments that would soon flood social media. The once-familiar sounds of the cheering crowds now felt like a mocking chorus of disapproval, adding to the weight of his already heavy heart.

“Arrogant piece of shit, he needs to leave PSG”

“Haaland is miles ahead of that egotistical bastard”

The silence was only a façade, for underneath it all, the muffled sound of the stadium buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. The distant roars of the crowd, the clashing of feet and the hum of the speakers blended together to create a disorienting cacophony of sound.

“Overrated fraud in a farmers league!”

“Someone needs to get rid of Mpaypal.”

Kylian couldn't help but feel as if he was walking through a nightmare, a hellish landscape of his own making. The thudding of his footsteps echoed like a drumbeat, a march towards his inevitable downfall as his mind plummeted into an endless downward spiral of self-hatred. The weight of his disappointment seemed to grow with each passing moment, crushing him under the weight of his own failure. 

Despite the noise that surrounded him, Kylian felt a crushing sense of loneliness. The only company he had was his own thoughts, and they were rapidly becoming a harsh and unforgiving critic of his own performance. He knew that he couldn't avoid the inevitable, but the thought of facing public humiliation was almost too much to bear.

"I can't believe PSG paid that much for Mbappe. He's a complete flop."

"What a pathetic performance by Mbappe. He's clearly not worth the hype."

Gulping down the rising panic, Kylian makes his way to the locker room as his mind clouds with dark thoughts. God, he was so tired of everything. Sitting down on the examination table, his heart’s pounding as Dr Duprès, the team’s physician, starts to examine his injury. The room feels suffocating, and he struggles to calm down as he feels his breathing getting heavier. 

“Arrogant piece of shit, he needs to leave PSG”

“Haaland is miles ahead of that egotistical bastard”

He can feel the tension building in his muscles as Duprès continues to press and prod at his injured hamstring. His head feels heavy, the locker room starts to blur as his eyes start watering. Everything feels far away and too close at the same time. 

“Kylian, are you okay?”, says the physician looking worriedly at the footballer who seems to have gone two shades paler. But, all he can think about is how insignificant he feels and for fuck’s sake, why does his chest feel so tight? 

“Kylian, I need you to breathe for me, okay? ”

Kylian struggled to take a deep breath, feeling a tightness in his chest that made it difficult to draw in air. His heart pounded erratically, like a wild animal trying to escape its cage. The physician's words were distant, barely registering in his mind as he tried to focus on calming his racing thoughts.

But the more he tried to control his breathing, the more his body seemed to rebel against him. His lungs felt like they were being squeezed by an invisible hand, and every breath was a struggle.

"What a pathetic fucking performance by Mbappe. He's clearly not worth the hype."

“Fuck Mpaypal, he ruined the club.”

As the panic rose within him, Kylian's thoughts became a deadly cyclone, shredding and destroying him until he felt like he was going to die. Doubts and insecurities flooded his mind, eroding his confidence and leaving him feeling helpless and alone. He couldn't understand why he was here, in this moment, struggling to breathe and feeling like a failure. Maybe he wasn't meant to be a footballer? Maybe he wasn't good enough?

But just as he was about to succumb to his fears, the physician's voice broke through his racing thoughts like a beacon of hope. "Kylian!" The urgency in the physician's voice was a jolt to his system, bringing him back to the present. "Kylian! Please. Focus on my voice. You're going to be okay, just keep breathing."

Duprès’ words were a lifeline, pulling Kylian back from the brink of despair. He focused on the sound of the physician's voice, willing himself to calm down and control his breathing. Dr Duprès’ hands were a calming presence on his shoulders. As the minutes ticked by, Kylian slowly began to regain control of his breathing. The tightness in his chest began to ease, and his heart rate began to slow down. The doctor continued to monitor him, checking his pulse and blood pressure to ensure that he was stable.

Kylian felt drained and weak like all the energy had been drained from his body. His body had reached its limits as exhaustion overtook him, and he collapsed onto the examination table, His vision blurred, and the sounds around him became muffled as he slipped into unconsciousness.

When he finally came to, he found himself in his hotel room, with his mother hovering anxiously near his bed. The room was quiet and  dimly lit, with the only source of light coming from a small lamp on the bedside table. Kylian's head throbbed with pain, and his body ached from the physical and emotional strain of the day.

He tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over him, and he slumped back onto the bed. His mother rushed to his side, her eyes filled with worry and concern. "Oh, Kylian, thank God you're awake," she said, her voice laced with relief.

Kylian could see the anxiety etched on his mother's face, and it pained him to know that his struggles had affected her so deeply. "I'm sorry, maman," he whispered, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. "I don't know what happened."

His mother shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "Don't be sorry, my son. You don't have anything to apologize for. You just need to rest now. Everything else can wait."

Kylian nodded weakly, but his curiosity got the better of him. "Did PSG win?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kylian's father, Wilfrid, walked into the room, followed by his younger brother, Ethan. Wilfrid's expression was stern and serious, but there was a hint of tenderness in his eyes as he looked at his son. "PSG won, Kylian," he said, his voice steady and calm. "But that's not what's important right now. What's important is that you get better. You need to take care of yourself, and we'll take care of everything else."

Kylian felt a sense of gratitude wash over him, knowing that his family was there for him, no matter what. He could feel his body relaxing, finally able to let go of the tension and anxiety that had been building up inside him. His brother Ethan came over to the bed and squeezed his hand, offering him a reassuring smile. 

"You scared us there, frérot," Ethan said, his voice filled with concern. "But you're going to be okay. We're all here for you."

Kylian managed a weak smile in return, grateful for the support of his younger brother. Kylian's mother leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Just rest now, mon amour," she murmured softly. "We'll be here when you wake up." As she pulled away, Kylian closed his eyes and let himself drift off into a peaceful slumber, comforted by the love and support of his family.

As the young prodigy drifted off to sleep, his family gathered around his bed, their faces etched with concern. His father, Wilfrid, paced back and forth across the room, his anger simmering just below the surface.

"We should have never extended with PSG," he said, his voice thick with frustration. "Look at the state of our son. This isn't healthy for him, He's barely holding it together"

Fayza's eyes filled with tears, and she placed a hand on her husband's arm. "Don't say that, Wilfrid," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "We had no way of knowing this would happen. And Kylian loves playing for PSG."

"But at what cost?" Wilfrid countered, his frustration mounting. "We've seen the toll this lifestyle has taken on him. The promises they made about getting him a player to support him as a number 9 were all broken. Maybe it's time to reconsider our priorities."

Fayza nodded, her expression grave. "I know," she said softly. "But we need to be careful. Kylian's happiness is important, but so is his career. We don't want to make any rash decisions."

Ethan, always the optimist, spoke up, his voice filled with determination. "We just need to support him, no matter what," he said, his eyes locked on Kylian's sleeping form. "He's going to get through this. We'll make sure of it."

The family fell into a sombre silence, each lost in their own thoughts and worries. The weight of their son's struggles hung heavy in the air, threatening to suffocate them all. As they watched him sleep, they couldn't help but wonder what the future held for him, and for their family.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

A/N: Hey, lovelies! I accidentally uploaded this first chapter without adding Kylian's entire pov in this lmao. I just wanted to add that this story is quite heavy and it comes from a personal space in the sense that it reflects some of my emotions. My stories are like an extension of myself, I convey my thoughts and feelings through these characters. It's a first for me, so I would appreciate constructive criticism. Anyways, as usual, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts, feelings and opinions 💞

[zellk]

I'm in love with Aamira ❤️❤️🙏 can you give us more info about her? Some fun and maybe not so fun facts about her?

Hi Anon ! Thank you for your kind words and for your interest \o/ Aamira's side of the family is the one that Qalaa got her "Beast Curse" from. It's a bloodline hereditary curse that boosts the strength of those in good health (like Qalaari) and eats away at those that have a weak constitution... like Aamira. "Weak" members of the family are usually cast aside or cast out. Aamira ; while still quite young, 16 or so ; ran away from all of this to try to live her life following only her will and enjoy as much of it as possible. Even without the curse Aamira would have had a weak health, but think of it as her Beast basically making her immunodeficient and weaker and weaker as the years go by.

She managed to make a little life for herself in a small unremarkable place close to one of the older forest of the region. There she developed close ties with two siblings, Temhos & Olgha. Both of them members of a tribe that lives deep deep withing the old woods who come to visit the village semi frequently to trade goods and buy things to carry back where they live. Both siblings tried to court Aamira (after months of good relationship), and, eventually, Aamira chose Temhos. For two or three years things were pretty idyllic fro all of them. But then Aamira started talking about wanting a child... Temhos tried to reason with her that with her health it was really fucking dangerous for her to try and that her chances of not making it through were too high for his tastes... Aamira pretended to listen but actually didn't and things got really bad when Temhos found out she was pregnant. They argued, Aamira's health took a downside, Temhos took care of her until she got better again (and Aamira, with her rose-tinted delusional glasses, thought it meant he'd stay). When Aamira was around 7 month pregnant Temhos ran away (very very far away). It broke her heart but not her (by now frantic) determination to see her pregnancy though. She (somehow) found her away again to Temhos' village where she was taken in by Olgha (who was very confused, then very angry (at both Aamira & Temhos), then very panicked). Qalaari was born in this village. Olgha became her surrogate parent to help Aamira raise her (she was still in love with Aamira, but knew that her heart, broken as it was, would still never be hers... I think Aamira knew Olgha's feelings too and could only just be very thankful she still helped her raise Qalaari, despite how painful it must have been for her.) Aamira was very loving with her daughter, but her (now very bad) health and broken heart left her with long dissociative episodes, on top of moments where she wouldn't even managed to get out of bed. That's when Olgha would take care of Qalaari most (frustrated and heartbroken as she was over the whole situation, Olgha genuinely loves Qalaari like her own daughter.) 12 years after, the Beast finally eroded all of what Aamira was (she was still young... probably around 32 or 34 years old ??) and she passed away. Also, how Aamira survived giving birth is nothing short of a miracle. Most likely due to her will of titanium to meet and raise her daughter... Eventually the Beast got the best of her, but she managed to hold on for 12 more years !!

[seximal]

tumblr jumpscare by making me think aamira got fucking nuked

[tangerineisms]

I had a dream me and some of my mutuals (elijah, freesia, ridley, judas (? i dont rmr if he was there or if we just mentioned him), aamira, lolita, and i think maybe justin) had all went camping or we were lost in the woods idk but we were in the woods it was dark as fuck and it was hella owls in the trees above our camp and if you know me you know im deathly afraid of owls so I kept being like um hey can we not camp here theres SO many trees with no owls in them and they kept being like NO GET OVER IT and I was in the tent and everyone was outside at the campfire but I didnt want to go outside bc of the owls!!! And then my cat kiwi was there and they let one of the owls take him I was mad as fuck and I went outside to be like whyd you let my cat get ate up by an owl and it was like

Me: Wtf guys

Ridley: Girl idk what to tell you. 🙄

Me: Fym you dont know what to tell me???? You let my cat get ate???

Freesia: Yeah he (the owl) ate that 😛

Me: WHATS YOUR PROBLEM?

Elijah: Can you relax? 🤨

Me: NO NIGGA. MY CAT DIED

Lolita: Get a new one oh my god ✋🏽😒

And Im laughing about it rn as I type this but in the dream I was like in a cold damn sweat duisbxbskxnnd and I woke up mad ashit I didnt even wanna check my discord Im irked at everybody involved

[aamirastories]

This is my first time writing, and I will probably go back and rewrite this once I have posted it all. I already have every Chapter lined up, so there will be regular content on this for anyone who is interested. Although this chapter does contain sexual content, it has intent that will be clear later. This is not erotica - it has adult themes throughout the story but few will be sexual in nature.

This will make a lot more sense as you read more into this!

Part 1

Ammy

May 3rd, 2033

A car hurtles past me, driving straight through the large pool of water that had gathered by the kerb. I stepped back but it was too late.

“Asshole!” I shouted after them. My feet were soaked. I sighed.

I went back to staring into the puddle, showing me a shimmering and swirling view of the Dubai skyline. The city was beautiful, there was no doubting it. Architecture of all shapes, lights of all colours, mesmerising to look at and I never got tired of it. One of the few beautiful things left in the world.

“Hi.” I hear a male voice say. I snap out of my trance and look at him, showing a polite smile.

“Are you Aamira?”, he adds.

“Yes”, I reply, nodding in response.

Aamira was the name my parents used. Everyone else called me Ammy, and I preferred it.

“My house isn’t far from here.”, he says, pointing down the street.

As we leave the cover of the bridge, rain pours down onto us both.

“So, is $200 okay?”, he asks me. I had no such thing as a ‘going-rate’, but I needed to pay rent and no-one was hiring me. Not even for the most mundane of tasks. It used to bother me doing this kind of work, but I had to lock that thought deep in my mind in hopes of never retrieving it.

“Sure, that’s fine” I reply, as we walk briskly towards his house, I hope he is right and it isn’t too far – I already feel a bead of cold water slowly moving down my back, causing my breath to quicken.

Around 300 metres later, I guessed, we arrived at his house. A terraced, 2-floor house, typical of the area and not in any ways extravagant but a ways more than functional. He opens the door and I follow him inside.

He shuts the door as I finish stepping through, and I am grateful for the shelter, and the warmth. He hangs his coat up and leaves me, and I hang mine up in an empty hook near to it, before taking off my shoes and stepping through. My socks squelched slightly, full of water from the idiot who decided to soak me, but I shrugged this off quickly.

As I step into the room, he is seated on a large couch next to another woman. In this light, I catch a better look at them both. Him, dark haired, slim build with an abundance of facial hair, I had guessed around 6’ from our walk to his apartment. The woman sitting next to him was a pretty brunette girl, shorter, and they were both dressed simply – him in a shirt and trousers, her in a skirt and simple blouse.

“Take a seat” he said, directing me to a chair near them both. “Would you like a glass of water?”

“I’m good, thank you” I replied. I’d had enough water for the night. And he was clearly stalling.

He turned to look at the woman next to him.

“This is my wife, she’s pretty isn’t she?”, he said, looking her up and down, and I nodded in agreement.

“She is” I replied, hoping he would cut to the chase real soon. This small talk always made things more awkward.

“Strip for her, honey” he said to her, and she leaned over and whispered something in his ear, looking somewhat nervous.

“It’s okay” he replied softly to her. “We need this, we know this is the only way.”

After another look at him, she looked at me and unbuttoned her blouse. She had a black bra on, a simple number, matching the rest of her outfit, nothing too extravagant. She sat up slightly and pulled down her skirt, before she was sat on the couch next to him, looking more nervous than she had done before.

I had seen this, seemingly a hundred times. It always went a similar way.

“I told you she was pretty, I bet you really want her don’t you?” he asked me.

“She is pretty, indeed. Does she want this though?” I replied.

“She does, yes. Now, can we see more of you?” he replied.

I was dressed in a turtle neck sweater, it being colder this winter than I had typically remembered. I pulled it off of me to reveal a white bra, nothing fancy. I briefly took a comparison of my breasts to hers and had figured mine were bigger. Although my body felt more of a tool than something I could enjoy these past years, I was proud of it, as much as I could be.

“Look honey, she’s really attractive.” The man said, looking me up and down. He liked the look of this tool it seems. It didn’t matter.

Accompanying my sweater was a set of simple blue jeans – I’d had these a few years and honestly they needed replacing, but they more than did the job and were comfortable after all the time I had them. I pulled them down, until I was dressed as much as his partner.

“And she looks big too, right?” he said, looking at my crotch. Now I felt shamed. An object. I had transitioned 10 years ago and had come to regret it as the years had gone on. Wishing I could go back and tell my past self of what would happen.

He stood up, and gestured for me to sit beside her. I took the cue and joined her. She did smell good. Her perfume caught my nose softly and I enjoyed the scent, and it actually brought a genuine soft smile to my face as I looked at her. She looked at me back and for a moment I felt we had a connection, albeit a small one. It was crushed when he said,

“Okay, might as well begin?”

I looked at her with a soft expression.

“Do you want this?”

He snapped at me, “Of course she wants this! Now begin!”

I closed my eyes and sighed internally. When I opened them, she had locked lips with mine, and I sunk into her kiss. Her tongue teased my lips and I grabbed her shoulders softly, her resting her hands on my hips. Her touch was ever so gentle. My hands on her were gentle too, I’d have hoped, and my thumb brushed her skin, which felt warm to the touch and her soft skin only served to make her feel more gentle.

I opened my mouth, and our tongues danced as my chest began to heave, my breath deepening, becoming lost in her. She moved her hands down to my thighs and I felt a tingle run from my abdomen down to my crotch, it beginning to stir as a result of it. I could smell her perfume more strongly now, only adding to the arousal and encouraging my hands to move down her shoulders and onto her waist. She moaned softly, her hands squeezing my thighs and the stirring only hastened. She had me in this moment.

I felt her shift slightly and opened my eyes, to see him behind her, unclasping her bra and letting it loose. I leant back from the kiss to take her in, for a moment. Her breasts were small but perky, her nipples clearly showing how aroused she was and I only guessed mine were the same. He moved behind me.

“No, she can do it.” I almost snapped at him. I moved back into kiss her.

As we resumed our dance, I felt her hands softly move behind my back, deftly removing it in one swift moment as I felt it move to my thighs. I discarded it and shuffled in closer to her. I felt a cold but gentle hand on my breast, and moaned softly.

“Ooh,” and giggled softly. It was like I had forgotten what I was here for, and I did not mind that in the slightest.

As she tweaked my nipple softly in her fingers, and kneading my breast slowly, I moved my hand up in response. Our movements were almost symmetrical, our hands wandering as we explored each other, before I felt my arousal almost disappear entirely.

“Yea, baby, feel her up good.” He said, and I didn’t even bother to look. I mentally shut him out and continued my exploration of her.

“Okay, underwear off girls” he added, and I almost told him to leave right there and then, then I remembered what happened the last time I did that. The bruises and black eyes meant I almost didn’t pay my rent for 2 straight months. It was only the kindness of strangers that even got me through, so I held myself short.

I pulled my underwear off and I was already fully erect. She followed me and we both looked down and back up at each other. She bit her lip and we resumed our kissing. I could hear him saying things but my mind had now become fully able to shut him out and focus entirely on her. She grasped my member softly and it twitched in response. I paused kissing her as I felt so sensitive to her touch that I could almost feel her fingerprint on it. We resumed our oral exploration and she began to stroke me every so slowly. I squirmed

slightly then sunk entirely into it. Her breath quickened as her arousal built quickly, I could almost feel her heart pounding through her entire body.

She sat on my lap.

“Now. I want you now” she said. I was right, she had me. I was completely lost in her. I grabbed her hips and slid her towards me and she, in one motion, sat up and then sat on me. I felt her warm, wet and tight around me. I had been blessed by being larger than average, and although I was not proud of what I had to do, I was proud, once again, with what I had. Blessed with a tool that I did not want to use this way.

She began to bounce on me, and I was unable to shut him out any more. He was sat behind me, and I did not even want to look at him. I looked into her eyes, her face squinted, mouth agape, clearly and genuinely enjoying the experience, as I was too. She was clenching around me, her breasts hypnotically bouncing. She grabbed mine and kissed me deeply. She kissed my cheek, my neck and then bit my earlobe lightly before softly whispering into my ear, away from him,

“You’re so fucking hot.”, leaning back again and locking eyes with me as she continued.

She kissed me again, her tongue dancing with mine, her squeezing my breast with one hand, my arm with the other and I felt my climax build. Way more rapidly than I had expected.

“I’m close” I said to her.

“Yes yes YES!” The male voice said next to me, and I held her hips now, quickening my movements as it built more and more rapidly before my vision darkened, leaning back and feeling the release inside her. Once. Twice. Three times.

My heart was racing, I couldn’t focus. I opened my eyes to look at her, her expression was not one of ecstasy, but one of worry.

All of a sudden, my head lurched to one side and I felt a shooting pain across my scalp. This man, this asshole was dragging me by my hair and threw me into the street. I would have fought back but weighing only 45kg, I was easy to shift around.

I landed into the street with a shooting pain in my hip, instantly feeling the cold water on my body as my clothes were thrown at me. I looked at the door. His partner was there, trying to run out to me but he pulled her back, yelled something incomprehensible at her, and then shut the door.

I gathered my clothes, looked around and saw the street was dead, thankfully. I could tell it was late and I was grateful for it, putting my clothes back on, soaked from the street and sitting on a neighbouring step as I composed myself. Tears came quickly. Anger came even quicker. I looked back at his door and wondered what I could do. What I wanted to do. I stood up, and then realised what could happen. He had probably expected me to come in anyways, and was ready for me. I turned, looked down the street to get my bearings and began walking.

If it had not been for the rain, my face would be soaked in tears. My scalp hurt, he had probably pulled hairs right out of it with the aggression he used. My hip was sore but I could tell the cold rain was numbing it somewhat – I knew later that wouldn’t be the case.

About a kilometre later, I arrived at my apartment. I opened the door, threw my jacket onto the couch, fell onto my bed and cried. I don’t think I stopped crying even as I slept.

[aamiragehenna]

doing an outfit design for Aamira styled after what i'd think she'd wear on Gehenna