#besides the paris special

[licorishh]

Replayed Modern Warfare 3 2011 on Veteran tonight and goooooooood night. Blood Brothers never gets any easier to watch no matter how many times you've done it and the ending really never misses huh

I apologize for the amount of yapping in the tags I reread it all on mobile and started giggling because it went on for so long but eh. Blessed are those who won't shut the freak up and all that

[meazalykov]

the season to (not) be jolly

barcelona femeni x esmee brugts x reader

summary: you hated christmas, and your teammates figure out why

warnings: childhood neglect, trauma, angst, financial poverty, etc

the excitement rings through the barca locker room like electricity, bouncing off the walls and between your teammates. 

the holiday break is just around the corner, only one training session and ninety minutes of football separating everyone from flights to faraway places like back home, home-cooked meals, and quality time with loved ones that only get to see them from the stands at important games. 

it is a cheerful chaos—laughter echoing, jokes being thrown back and forth, and plans being laid out like promises.

"we’ll be in norway,” mapi grins, slinging her arm around ingrid as she sits beside her. 

“ingrid’s parents already have the cabin ready. a real winter wonderland, i shall say.”

“it’ll be nice to be home,” ingrid adds softly, her smile as calm and steady as always. 

you sit at your locker, head tilted down as you lace your boots, pretending to be engrossed in the task as their words float around you. 

it feels safer to keep your eyes on your hands, watching how your fingers move—pull, tighten, tie. over and over again. anything to distract yourself from the sting in your chest.

you feel it every december. that heaviness. that punching ache in your ribs when people start talking about their families, their holiday traditions, and their childhood memories. 

you can’t relate. you never could.

to your left, keira and lucy are chatting animatedly about spending christmas in england, lucy teasing ona about the inevitable cold since ona will be going with her. to your right, patri and claudia are arguing over who will get more gifts from their loved ones, both wearing matching grins as they playfully push on each other.

but you? you just exist in the in-between, silent, invisible.  

the noise grows louder. the locker room feels smaller. your throat tightens, that familiar burn rising behind your eyes. you push it away. this is not the time to fall apart.

alexia’s voice cuts through the chatter again, light and teasing as she looks ahead at you. 

“nina, you’ve been quiet. what about you? where are you headed this christmas?”

you freeze for half a second. it’s subtle enough to go unnoticed, but the question lingers in the air like a heavy fog. you glance up, forcing your expression into something neutral—something safe.  

“nowhere special,” you say with a small shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“just staying here at home. might catch up on needed sleep without needing to wake up for training.”

“no plans with family?” mapi asks, brows furrowing slightly.

you hate that. you hate when people ask about your family. after leaving your home to live in paris, where you played for a season and a half with psg (before leaving when the barcelona offer came up in 2021), you stopped talking to your mother who wanted nothing to do with you. 

your answer has never changed, and yet, every time it feels like a fresh wound being prodded.  

“yeah,” you mutter, looking back down at your laces. 

“just after christmas though.”

thankfully, mapi doesn’t press further. her attention shifts back to ingrid as she brings up the norwegian christmas markets, and you’re left to sink back into your silence, drowning in it. 

you look over at the corner of the locker room to see esmee, your girlfriend, looking right at you. jana sits beside her, laughing about a joke sydney made while esmee notices the sadness in your eyes. 

the look in your eyes can be hidden from the team, but you can’t hide it from esmee.  

she notices—of course she does—because she knows you better than anyone, even after just eight months of being together. normally, you’re her sunshine, a steady source of warmth no matter what the day brings. 

you’re the first to crack a joke after a tough training session, the one to steal food off her plate at team dinners just to see her roll her eyes, the one who sneaks kisses when no one’s looking and holds her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. 

but now? now you’re quieter, smaller. you smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and your laughter sounds hollow when it finally comes.  

“i don’t have to go, you know,” she told you last week as you sit together on the couch, her thumb tracing gentle circles over the back of your hand. 

“i can stay here with you.”  

you shake your head almost immediately, forcing a smile as you press a kiss to her knuckles. 

“no, es, you should go. your family wants to see you. they miss you.” 

you don’t tell her the rest—that you don’t want her anywhere near the dark place that december always drags you into. she’s too bright, too good, to get caught up in the emptiness you feel during this time of year. so you push her away gently, telling her you’ll be fine, that you’ll call her every day and send pictures of maple– your cat— curled up at the foot of the bed. 

esmee doesn’t look convinced. she squeezes your hand tighter, leaning her forehead against yours.  

“you’re not fine,” she whispers, eyes searching yours. 

“i am, esmee.” you say. 

you’re just tired, you convince yourself. however, the words stick in your throat because you know she won’t believe them. this is the first december you’ve spent together, the first time she’s seen you like this, and it terrifies you—being vulnerable in front of someone you care about so much. 

you’ve always hated christmas. as a kid, it was just another reminder of everything you didn’t have. no presents waiting under a tree. no stockings hung by the fire. no warm meals shared at a crowded table.  

instead, you had an empty house, cold and quiet.  

your mom always worked. always. christmas, birthdays, weekends—it didn’t matter. “we need the money,” she’d say coldly, pulling her coat on as she hurried out the door, leaving you behind. 

sometimes, she’d forget it was even christmas until days later.  

“we’ll celebrate next year,” she’d promise. but next year never came.

you can still remember what it felt like to see the other kids at your academy, showing off their shiny new boots, their expensive kits, their gear from nike or adidas. their parents would stand proudly by the sidelines, bundled up in warm coats, smiling as they cheered.  

then there was you, wearing a pair of cleats one size too big—scuffed, worn, bought secondhand with the crumpled euro bills you’d earned from mowing lawns or shoveling snow after training each afternoon. you’d tuck your hands into the pockets of your thrift-store jacket to hide the holes in the seams.  

your academy teammates didn’t know how lucky they were.  

you hated them for it, sometimes. hated their laughter, their joy, their easy lives. mostly, you hated yourself for feeling like you didn’t belong. for being the girl who showed up every day with nothing to show for it but grit, raw talent, and determination.  

now, years later, that feeling lingers.  

you’ve worked hard—harder than anyone—to get here. to wear the barcelona crest on your chest. to play alongside some of the best players in the world. to prove to yourself, and to everyone else, that you deserve this.  

no matter how much success you achieve, no matter how many goals you score or games you win, you can’t outrun the past.  

christmas will always be a reminder of what you never had.  

you pull your boots off, methodical and slow, as the locker room continues to cheer around you. your teammates don’t notice the way your shoulders slump or how you turn away slightly, shielding your face.  

“hey,” a voice says quietly beside you. it’s aitana, sitting beside you since her locker is beside yours. her tone is softer than usual, like she’s noticed something. 

“you okay?”

you nod quickly, too quickly.

“yeah. just tired.”

she doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push. aitana never does. she just nods and goes back to her boots, letting the moment pass without making it heavier than it already is.  

you’re grateful for that.

you finish changing, moving through the motions on autopilot, your mind elsewhere. the noise in the room feels muffled, like you’re underwater, and when you finally leave the locker room, stepping out into the cold december air in your new training gear, you inhale sharply—like you’ve been holding your breath all along.  

the sun is already setting as you leave training hours later, streaks of orange and pink blending with the darkening sky. your breath comes out in clouds as you walk toward your car, hands stuffed deep into your coat pockets.  

you stare at the horizon for a moment, watching the city lights flicker to life in the distance. it’s beautiful, you think absently. and yet, it makes you feel so small.

tomorrow, the break begins. your teammates along with your girlfriend will board flights, heading off to homes filled with warmth, love, and laughter.  

and you? you’ll stay here. alone.  

you’ve grown used to loneliness over the years. it’s familiar. like an old coat you can’t bring yourself to throw away.  

that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.  

you sit in your car for a long time before starting the engine, the radio playing faintly in the background. a christmas song—cheerful and bright—fills the silence, and you quickly shut it off, gripping the steering wheel tightly.  

you hate christmas. you hate the way it makes you feel. like you’re still that little girl, watching the world through a window, longing for something you’ll never have.  

turning on the radio, you hear, “walking around the christmas tr–” before slamming your fingers on the mute button. there was no christmas tree in your apartment, nothing in your space shows that it is even december. 

not like alexia’s apartment that clearly shows that is is the holiday season. the scent of cinnamon candles and fresh pine greet esmee like a warm hug as she visits alexia. 

soft music plays from a speaker in the corner, and the living room is an organized mess of wrapping paper, ribbon spools, and tape dispensers scattered across the coffee table.  

“es!” mapi’s voice is the first to cut through the scene, grinning up from where she’s sitting on the floor, tape stuck to her sleeve. 

“about time you showed up. come help me wrap ingrid’s gift before she figures out what it is.”  

“you’re impossible,” ingrid mutters beside her, laughing as she ties a bow on someone else’s gift. maybe vicky’s since esmee saw the ipad that the younger girl asked for. 

esmee smiles at the couple teasing eachother, kicking her shoes off and settling onto the floor, careful not to disrupt the organized chaos. across the room, olga – alexia’s girlfriend – sits on the couch beside alexia, scissors in hand as she trims the edges of wrapping paper, while salma sprawls nearby, half her attention on the gift she’s wrapping and half on her phone.  

“is mine here?” esmee teases after a moment, eyes narrowing playfully at the pile of brightly wrapped boxes beside alexia.  

“it’s already done,” alexia replies without looking up, focused on folding the paper perfectly around a large box. 

“you’re not getting any sneak peeks until new year’s eve like everyone else.”  

“como no,” esmee groans dramatically, earning a laugh from salma and mapi. she leans back on her hands, soaking in the cheerful atmosphere for a moment, but the weight in her chest pulls her down before she can fully enjoy it. 

the smile fades from her face, and her gaze drops to her lap.  

“what’s wrong?” alexia asks, finally noticing the shift in her demeanor.  

esmee hesitates, chewing her bottom lip. “it’s... about y/n.”  

the room quiets slightly, everyone’s attention turning toward her. mapi raises an eyebrow, already halfway to smirking as she leans into ingrid. 

“trouble in paradise?”  

“no, no,” esmee says quickly, shaking her head. 

“it’s nothing like that.”  

olga sets down her scissors, studying esmee carefully. 

“then what’s wrong?”  

esmee swallows hard, fiddling with the corner of a ribbon. 

“i feel like... i need to stay in barcelona for the holidays. with y/n. she’s—she’s going to be alone.”  

alexia frowns slightly, confused. 

“no, she’s not. she told me she’s going to see her mom and family eventually.” 

esmee’s heart sinks, her brows furrowing as she glances up at alexia. “that’s not true,” she says softly, shaking her head. “she hasn’t spoken to her family in nearly five years.”  

silence falls over the room like a heavy blanket. alexia looks stunned, her brow creasing deeply as she processes esmee’s words. salma sets her phone down, staring in disbelief, while mapi and ingrid exchange quiet glances.  

“she told you that?” alexia asks carefully, her voice softer now.  

“yeah,” esmee nods, her voice steady but heavy with concern. 

“she doesn’t want anyone to know. i think—i think she told you that lie so you wouldn’t feel bad for her. she hates christmas. she’s always hated it. i don’t know why, but i can assume that it has to do with her family.”  

“joder,” mapi mutters under her breath, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“y/n’s gonna be alone? she didn’t tell anyone?”  

“she wouldn’t,” esmee says, guilt rising in her chest as she looks around at them. 

“she acts like everything’s fine, but it’s not.”  

ingrid exhales slowly, her face softening with quiet understanding. “we can’t just leave her like this,” she says firmly. 

“esmee’s right—she shouldn’t be alone.”  

“what do you suggest?” alexia asks, her voice sharper now, edged with determination.  

“we go to her,” mapi says immediately, pushing herself to her feet as if the decision is already made. 

“right now. if she won’t talk to us, we’ll make her.”  

“she’s going to hate me,” esmee says quietly, worry flickering across her face as she stands, too. 

“she doesn’t want anyone to know. she’s going to be so upset that i brought you all into this.”  

alexia crosses the room in a few strides, stopping in front of esmee and placing a hand on her shoulder. her expression is calm but resolute, a quiet authority in the way she looks at her.  

“she won’t be upset at you,” alexia says firmly. “i won’t let her be.”  

esmee lets out a shaky breath, nodding slowly as the others begin to gather their things. the cheerful hum of the evening is gone now, replaced by a silent determination that hangs thick in the air. alexia is the first to head for the door, already pulling on her coat, and one by one, the others follow—mapi, ingrid, olga, salma.  

as esmee pulls her own coat on, she sends up a silent hope that you will understand. she knows how fiercely you guard your heart, how much you hates people seeing the parts of yourself that are broken. 

esmee also knows that you deserve more than an empty apartment and silence on christmas day.  

back to you– the steam still lingers faintly in your bathroom, curling around the doorframe as you pad out into your apartment, feeling the lingering warmth of your everything shower settle into your skin. your matching red plaid pajamas feel soft and clean, clinging to you in that perfect way that only comes after freshly washed laundry. 

you won’t admit to anyone that the red plaid feels a little festive—that maybe, on some level, you allowed yourself to indulge in something resembling the season.  

your hair is pulled back in a loose, low braid, wisps escaping around your face, and your apartment is spotless. floors vacuumed, counters wiped down, blankets folded neatly on the couch. if you couldn’t have christmas, the least you could do was make sure the space felt fresh and ready for the new year. clean, organized, empty. just like you wanted it.  

you hum quietly as you step into the kitchen, reaching for the bowl of fruit on the counter. you’d planned to snack a little while watching a movie tonight, something non-festive—maybe a thriller like friday the 13th– anything that didn’t mention families or magic or joy.  

before your hands can reach the fruit bowl, there’s a knock at your door.  

you frown slightly, the sound cutting through the quiet apartment like an unexpected jolt. you assume it’s esmee—she’d mentioned she might come by to say goodbye before she left for the netherlands in the morning.  

“coming,” you call softly, feet shuffling toward the door.  

when you swing it open, your breath catches in your chest.  

standing in the hallway, crammed into the small space outside your apartment, are esmee, mapi, ingrid, alexia, salma, and olga. esmee stands closest to the door, just beside mapi, her expression tinged with worry that makes your stomach turn. 

everyone else has the same look—soft, cautious, and far too knowing.  

“what’s—” you start, forcing a smile to smooth over your features. 

“what are you all doing here?”  

“surprise?” mapi tries, her voice lighter than the rest, but even she falters when your eyes narrow slightly in confusion.  

“can we come in?” alexia asks softly, her tone careful.  

you nod slowly, stepping aside to let them file in one by one. salma gives you a small smile as she passes, and olga pulls you into a quick hug—her familiar warmth a brief comfort.  

“it’s good to see you,” she says, and you force another smile, nodding.  

“you too. it’s been a while.”  

as the door clicks shut and you turn back to face them, the knot in your chest tightens. their expressions don’t match their usual energy—not the teasing, playful banter you’re used to. instead, they’re quiet, gentle. worried.  

“is everything okay?” you ask, scanning the room as they settle awkwardly around your small living space. you go on sit on your grey colored sectional couch as everyone follows you. 

alexia is the first to speak.

“y/n... are you really going to see your family this year?”  

the question hits you like a punch to the gut. your heart drops, and your eyes immediately dart to esmee, who looks at you apologetically. you don’t even need to say it—your expression screams “did you tell them?” 

esmee shifts slightly, opening her mouth to speak, but mapi cuts in before she can.  

“she can’t save you from this conversation,” mapi says gently, though there’s no humor in her voice. 

“we know you lied.”  

you take a small step back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “i’m fine,” you say quickly, the words rushing out before you can think. 

“i don’t have christmas plans, and that’s okay.”  

“it’s not okay,” ingrid says firmly, her voice soft but resolute. 

“y/n, it’s clearly not fine.”  

you feel the walls closing in, your heart pounding in your chest. the room feels too small, the air too thick. flight or fight mode kicks in—you want to run, to get away from their prying eyes and gentle words that feel like they’re picking you apart piece by piece.  

“there’s nothing wrong,” you stammer, shaking your head as you back toward the couch. 

“i don’t know what you’re all talking about. i’m fine—”  

“hey,” esmee’s voice cuts through the panic, soft but steady, and when you look at her, the tension eases ever so slightly. 

“it’s okay. nobody here is judging you, okay? you’re safe. you’re not in trouble for lying to ale.”  

her words ground you enough to sit down, curling into the corner of your couch. you hug your knees to your chest, wishing you could shrink into yourself, disappear completely. 

you don’t want to be here, in this moment, with all their eyes on you.  

“i just hate how everyone gets to have a good holiday except me,” you mumble, the words spilling out before you can stop them. your voice wavers, cracking slightly as the truth seeps through the cracks in your armor.  

ingrid is the first to move, crossing the room to sit beside you. she doesn’t say anything—just wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you gently. olga comes next, kneeling on the floor beside the couch and resting a hand on your arm.  

“what do you mean by that?” olga asks softly, her voice a careful whisper.  

alexia moves to sit in front of you, dropping to her knees so she can look up into your face. her expression is open and kind, patient in the way only alexia can be.  

“what happened, y/n?”  

you close your eyes tightly, your fingers digging into your knees as you try to fight back the sting of tears. you don’t want to tell them. you don’t want anyone to know. but the words are already there, clawing their way out, demanding to be heard.  

“i never had christmas, my birthday afterwards did not seem important either..” you whisper finally, your voice so small it’s almost lost to the room. 

“i don’t even know what the happy feeling is supposed to feel like.”  

alexia’s brow furrows, and mapi leans forward, her voice quiet but gentle. 

“can you explain?”  

you take a shaky breath, the air trembling as it leaves your lungs. 

“growing up... it was just me and my mom. we didn’t have money for christmas. no tree, no presents, nothing. she worked all the time—she had to. bills came first. even with that, she was never nice to me. she made it seem like i was asking for too much.”  

your throat tightens, but you force yourself to keep going, to let it out.  

“when i was in the academy, all the other kids would come back after christmas with new cleats, new gear, new jerseys. i’d still be in hand-me-downs from thrift stores. i’d use money i got from doing yard work to buy boots that were a size too big to make sure i could fit in them for a few seasons– because it was all i could afford.”  

the room is silent as you speak, the weight of your words settling over everyone like a blanket. ingrid’s arm tightens around you, and olga gently rubs your arm as tears sting the corners of your eyes.  

“i hated it,” you admit, your voice breaking. 

“i hated watching everyone else have families, have traditions, have... love. i hated feeling like i did something wrong, like i wasn’t good enough to deserve it.”  

you bury your face in your knees, unable to look at them. your shoulders shake slightly as you try to keep yourself together, but the truth is out now, raw and ugly, and you feel exposed in a way that terrifies you.  

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” esmee says softly, sitting on the floor beside alexia now. 

“none of that was your fault, y/n.”  

you don’t respond, but the tears slip free, hot and silent against your skin. you feel alexia’s hand settle on your knee, grounding you, and ingrid presses a kiss to the side of your head.  

“it’s not fair,” you whisper. 

“it’s not fair that everyone else gets to be happy except me.”  

“but you deserve to be happy, too,” alexia says gently, her voice firm with conviction. 

“you deserve love, and joy, and traditions, just like everyone else.”  

“we can’t change your childhood,” salma adds softly. 

“but we can change this year and every year after this one.” 

you lift your head slightly, looking at her through blurry eyes.

“what do you mean?”  

“you’re not spending christmas alone,” ingrid says simply, brushing a tear from your cheek. 

“none of us are going to let that happen.”  

“you’ll come with me and olga,” alexia says. 

“we’re having dinner with her family on christmas eve, and you’re coming. no arguments.”  

“and before you say no,” olga adds quickly, smirking slightly, “it’s not a pity invite. it’s a ‘we want you there because we care about you’ invite.”  

you look around the room, at all of them—esmee, alexia, mapi, ingrid, olga, salma. their faces are open, kind, and so full of love that it makes your chest ache.  

“you don’t have to do this,” you say quietly, but esmee shakes her head.  

“we want to,” she says softly. 

“you’re not alone anymore, y/n. you have us now, you have me.”  

something shifts in your chest at her words, the weight you’ve been carrying for years lifting

you don’t know what christmas will feel like this year, but maybe, just maybe, it won’t be so bad.  

esmee shifts beside you, reaching for your hand, threading her fingers through yours as you lay your head on her chest. her touch is soft, steady, and when you glance at her, you see something unwavering in her eyes—love, determination, all of it laid bare.  

“i’m staying in barcelona,” she says quietly, her voice gentle but firm.  

your brows furrow immediately, and you sit up slightly. 

“esmee, you don’t have to—”  

“no,” she cuts you off, shaking her head with a small smile. 

“i’ve already decided. my family is coming here instead on the day after christmas. we’ll celebrate together, and you’ll be with us.”  

you open your mouth to protest again, the instinct to push her away rising, but before you can say anything, alexia’s voice chimes in, calm and final.  

“again, that’s not up for debate,” she says softly, kneeling back onto the floor to look at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“you’re family to us, y/n. esmee’s family loves you just as much as we do. and that’s final.”  

you glance back at esmee, your heart tightening, your walls cracking just a little more as her thumb rubs soothing circles over your knuckles.  

“you’re not alone anymore,” she says again, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“this year, you’ll have a real christmas. with me. with my family. with our family.”  

you stare at her for a moment, overwhelmed by the weight of her words, by the love in her gaze that feels so foreign yet so familiar all at once.  

"okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as the beginnings of a smile tug at your lips. 

“okay.”  

esmee leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as alexia gives your knee one last reassuring squeeze. the rest of the room seems to exhale in relief, the energy softening into something warm and safe, like a blanket wrapping around you.  

for the first time in years, you let yourself believe it.  

you’re not alone.  

and this year, christmas will be different.

masterlist

[sterredem]

Easter eggs

Taylor Swift x Ferrari!driver!reader

Face claim Pinterest girls

Warning hate, homophobia, not proofread, spelling mistakes

Summary Taylor always leaves Easter eggs in songs and posts, in this case the Easter eggs are about a curtain Ferrari driver…

This was a request!

Extra info: Readers number is 87

A/N Also I want to say; this is in NO WAY implying that Taylor is gay; I am just making a fan fictions. I know that she is in a relationship but this is just fiction. Also I know I use pictures of her with friends as her on dates but I am in no way implying that that is that. Again I am just making fiction and I am using the things that exist to make fiction that I and other people enjoy reading.

Its a bit long but I LOVE it!

Twitter

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Eras tour Liverpool Night 1

Instagram

Liked by blakelively and 2.735.736 others

Yourusername I had such an amazing time at the Eras tour in Paris! Thank you so much to Taylor for inviting me, for all the fans for being so nice and trading bracelets with me. Also a (again) a big thank you to Taylor for gifting me this STUNNING cardigan so that I could wear it. This may be the highlight of my year!

View all 754.725 comments

Taylorswift I’m glad you enjoyed your gifts and the show!

Yourusername I very much enjoyed it all! And thank you again for everything!🫶

User0 Whair giftS?! As in plura?!

Taylornation We were happy to have you! Liked by author

blakelively It was so nice seeing you again!

Yourusername OMG YES! It was so nice to hang out!

Theerastour Happy you enjoyed the show!

User1 OMG! WORLD COLIDING!

User2 This is perfect timing with the Twitter thread

User3 You look so good!

User4 She really is living the dream

User5 SHE GOT A FREE ORIGINAL CARDIGAN?!?!

User6 The day after the race in Canada?! This is insane!

User7 Yeah! And after an DNF That is!

User7 Folklore era fits her so well!!

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Monaco Grand Prix

Instagram

Liked by Landonorris and 286.826 others

CelebrityNews Taylor Swift seen at the Monaco formula 1 Grand Prix. This is exiting news after people did a deep dive on lyrics on Swifts new album and saw references to the sport, beside those references there are also mentions of ���she’. Could this be Taylor coming to support her new love? Or is this just making a public appearance to a sport that she has publicly said she loves, and that she is letting her fans clown (again). Read more on our website!

View all 1.654 comments

User8 Oh?! This is interesting.

User9 I wouldn’t be surprised if this is just because she likes f1 but I also wouldn’t be surprised if she really is dating someone in f1 (ether a driver or someone that works for a team)

User10 I am curious to what team she is going

User11 besides the point he she look GOOD

User12 what is Lando lurking in the likes?

User13 Maybe they are dating?

User12 HAHAHAHA Lando norizz?? Never!

User13 Hey it could be!

User12 It could but she mentioned a she soo…

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Instagram

Yourusername posted a story

Taylorswift replied to your story

oh? That is an interesting reaction to meeting me…

Yourusername Shut up

What was it again? 😳🙂‍↕️🤭😦🙂😄🥰?

Yourusername Stop, you’re being mean☹️

Cute

Yourusername STOP ✋

—

Landonorris replied to your story

YOU MET TAYLOR SWIFT?!?!

Yourusername I’ve met her earlier so…

WHEN?!

Yourusername Wel at her tour… and before that… and I was invited to her birthday…

Y/N!! YOU TRAITOR!!

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Charles_Leclerc replied to your story

I’m suprised I haven’t heard you Freek out yet

Yourusername It isn’t the first time i meet her

HUH?!?!

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Twitter

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Instagram

275.725 likes

Formula1Gossip Taylor Swift once again spotten in the paddock, this time in red, she was also seen in the Ferrari garage. Is she there to support a special someone? Or is she there because she likes the sport? On our website we did a deep dive!

View all 2.735 comments

User1 Oh? Again?

User2 FERARRI LETS GOOO!!

User3 Maybe she is dating Charles?

User4 Bro have you seen the ‘she’s’ in het songs?!

User5 her hair looks so good!

User6 maybe she is dating Y/n?

User7 Yeah sure grandma, let’s get you back to bed..

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Twitter

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Instagram

Yourusername posted a story

Taylorswift replied to your story

Great job love🫶

Yourusername Thank you Tay!

See you soon?

Yourusername Yeah, I’ll come to the hotel.

Great, I’ll wait with the food

Yourusername 👍

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Instagram

254.625 liked

WAGnews Taylor Swift once again spotted at the Monaco Grand Prix. This time wearing a Y/n Y/l/n sweatshirt with her number on it. Does this mean that they are together? Or is it just friend supporting friend?

View all 9.625 comments

User8 I think they are just friends, so why is this on the WAG page?

User9 …and they where roommates…

User10 What if Y/n gave her the sweater after Taylor gave her the cardigan??

User11 She looks so happy now! I’m happy for her!

User12 I think that if her and Y/n would be dating they would be a POWER couple with Taylor dominating the music industry and Y/n dominating Formula 1

User13 As the user said on Twitter; the red is getting more and more over the weekend.

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Twitter

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Instagram

Liked by Taylorswift and 1.624.625 others

Yourusername What a great weekend was this! p1! And congratulations to Charles with P2! It was as always a very enjoyable weekend and I had some very special people with me🫶 see you in Canada!

View all 223.735 comments

Charles_Leclerc Great job Y/n👍

Taylorswift It was amazing watching this weekend🫶 and congrats on P1!! liked by author

User1 Great job!

User2 Everyone just ignoring the kiss?!?!?!!! I CALLED IT!!!

User3 YEAH!! I WAS SO SHOCKED!!!!

User4 HARD LAUNCH AT RACE!

User5 P1 LETS GOOOO

User6 I think the world just stopped after that kiss

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Instagram

Liked by Taylorswift and 2.625.736 others

Yourusername The cats out of the bag I guess…… here is my lovely girlfriend; Taylor! I think you all know who she is, but in case you don’t; she is a amazing sing and songwriter, she is one of the most famous person right now, she is very kind, very passionate about what she does (and also very talented in what she does), very generous and also very funny (she is also a cat lover (she forced me to put that in)). I hope you will all love her as much as I do because you will see us together a LOT more. This is the love of my life, forever and always.

View all 276.836 comments

Taylorswift I LOVE YOUU!!!❤️🫶🫶❤️❤️ liked by author

Taylornation Power couple!!

Y/l/n87 The cutest!

Landonorris traitor

Charles_Leclerc Happy for you!

User7 AAAHHHHHHH

User8 The caption is the SWEETEST thing EVER!!

User9 Her putting Taylor song lyrics in the caption is EVERYTHING to me!!

User10 They are adorable!!

User11 I’m speechless

User12 The compliments are just🥰🙂😊😘🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

User13 Not the cat mention😂😂

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Instagram

385.726 likes

CelebrityGossip After the recent reveal of the relationship from Taylor swift and Y/n Y/l/n, here are some pictures of them that we where sworn to keep private until their relationship as announced. A very cute couple indeed, more pictures on our website

View all 3.735 comments

User1 THEY ARE SO CUTE!

User2 I AM SO HAPPY! I CALLED IT YALL!!!

User3 This is my new Roman Empire

User4 YOU KNEW???? AN GOSSIP ACCOUNTS KNEW AND DIDNT GOSSIP?! THAT IS INSANE!

User5 I remember some of these outfits, and they are from a year ago. So they’ve been together for that long without us knowing?!

User6 Power couple, and hottest couple ever.

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[rhaenella]

CL16 | Is It Over Now? | pt.4

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

genre: social media au

summary: you and charles have been everyone's fave couple on the grid, but when you somewhat unexpectedly break up, you turn to songwriting to cope with the pain

face claim: léon

a/n: all songs mentioned are by léon and some of taylor’s from the vault. also a massive thank you to my part time french teacher @xeresmalfoy for helping out and checking my grammar ❤️

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Liked by taylorswift, selenagomez and 1,131,489 others

y/n: Your reaction to Is It Over Now? has been nothing short of incredible. I feel your love 🤍 And that’s why I decided to give some of that love back to you. Besides my new music video, we’ve been secretly rehearsing for a special little something… 

It’s been a busy couple of weeks but I’m very excited to announce that I will be playing three small, intimate “one night only” shows in London (7/11), Paris (7/12) and New York City (7/15) next week. I can’t wait to see some of you there, let’s make it a good one x

🔗 Link to tickets in my bio!

View all 22,362 comments

sophiet: Yasss girl🔥see ya next week😘

Liked by y/n

landonorris: Surely friends will get a discount, no?

y/n: Hmm… we’ll see

yourmanager: No.

user7: i can’t waittttt!!!!!! see you in new york 😍❤️

user8: y/n really said i’m gonna use my pain and turn it into a creative outlet and i think that’s so beautiful and inspiring ♥️

user9: I CANT BELIEVE I MANAGED TO GET TICKETS

user10: omggg you’re so lucky they sold out so fast

user11: yeah i was too late :(((

user10: hopefully y/n will do a bigger tour🤞🤞

y/n: Sooooonnnnn 🤫

user10: OMFG

3 July

Liked by user23, user29 and 43,119 others

wagsf1update: Pierre, Kika, Charles and Maddy attend day eight of Wimbledon!

View all 2,235 comments

user23: charles and pierre look so gooddd 😍😍😍

user24: clone is cloning

user25: the way charles was only really talking to pierre during the game

user26: maddy and charles look so happy and in love in those pictures……. NOT

user27: so far i haven’t seen either of them smile in each other’s presence 

10 July

y/n’s story

Seen by alex_albon, kellypiquet and 3,979,114 others

11 July

landonorris’ story

Seen by y/n, danielricciardo and 3,788,531 others

11 July

danielricciardo’s story

Seen by landonorris, alex_albon and 3,244,091 others

11 July

landonorris’ story

Seen by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 3,743,160 others

11 July

danielricciardo’s story

Seen by yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc and 3,028,340 others

11 July

Liked by y/n, lilymhe and 301,882 others

alex_albon: Our professional opinion: this new up an coming artist was not too bad 🧐 (and fun fact: her post-concert cravings are REAL)

View all 2,911 comments

y/n: Omg Alex…

y/n: DID YOU HAVE TO POST THAT PICTURE

alex_albon: Yes

danielricciardo: Starving performer devours a burger 🍔 by alex.jpg

lilymhe: I told alex not to do it but he never listens to me

alex_albon: I can’t help that’s what she looks like when she eats

carlossainz55: This is true, I’ve witnessed this myself

y/n: I hate all of you

maxverstappen1: But secretly you still love us

y/n: Careful champ, there’s a fine line between love and hate

landonorris: Go on, please hate them so I will get all the love since I’m the only one here taking the banger pics

Liked by y/n

12 July

Liked by kellypiquet, yourbestfriend and 998,267 others

y/n: London was an absolute dream. Thank you for an unforgettable night❣️à demain Paris 🇫🇷

View all 18,432 comments

user18: absolute dream? ABSOLUTE FIRE ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

user19: BEST. NIGHT. EVER.

user20: it was emotional but oh so fucking powerful

user21: say don’t go is my new favorite song, i love it so much 😭❤️

Liked by y/n

user21: you were spectacular!!!!! please come back soon 

user22: j'ai hâte de vous voir demain, j'attends de vous voir en live depuis des années!!🙊💕 

Liked by y/n

12 July

—

It was late. Way past midnight. Maddy had already gone to bed a few hours ago. But Charles was still up, slouched on the couch in his five-star suite, a frown edged deep into his forehead.

He silently scrolled through his social media, switching from Twitter to Instagram to Twitter and back to Instagram again. You'd just posted new photos of your show in London tonight, looking as beautiful as ever.

The stage was where Charles knew you felt most comfortable, somewhere you weren’t scared to open up your heart and be vulnerable. The atmosphere you were able to create during your concerts couldn’t be put into words. It was truly something one of a kind. The way you effortlessly connected with the audience… it always left him speechless and usually with a wide, beaming smile.

In other words, he would never tire of watching you perform.

Charles had always been proud of you. And still, as he sat there reading through the thousands of posts by your fans and even some by his colleagues, he couldn’t help but feel that same sense of pride swell inside of him. 

Though, that pride was mostly overshadowed by a feeling of intense guilt. Guilt that kept nagging at him ever since the moment you’d packed your bags and left his apartment with tears running down your cheeks. His heart clenched painfully as Charles thought back to that particular day. It was his fault. All of it. He had been stupid. No, beyond stupid. It had started out as a drunken mistake. But you can’t make a drunken mistake twice, let alone thrice. 

When you’d found out and had confronted Charles, he hadn’t denied it. And in that moment, he’d witnessed that last bit of hope you’d stubbornly clung to, shatter before his eyes. Along with your heart and your trust. 

As the reality of the situation had slowly dawned on him, he’d gone completely numb. Charles had wanted to fight for you harder, but he hadn’t. If he had, his current situation could’ve possibly been entirely different. Your new song—which he had already listened to three times—made that perfectly clear.

But he had decided on another path. A decision that resulted from losing the love of his life by his own hand. Did it make any sense? To choose to stay with the girl he’d betrayed you with? In his loneliness it had made some weird type of sense. Because if there was one thing Charles couldn’t handle well, it was being alone. And boy, he’d never felt more alone than when you’d closed that door behind you, making him believe there was no longer hope for a future together.

Now, all he wanted was to focus on moving on and stick to his decision to be with Maddy. Was he in denial about his true feelings and the pain he tried to bury deep inside of himself? Perhaps. Probably.

Charles was still mindlessly scrolling when Maddy emerged from the bedroom, leaning against the wall studiously. He hadn’t even heard her until she cleared her throat, speaking to him softly but with a tinge of annoyance. 

“Charles, are you finally coming to bed?”

“Ouais, je serai là dans une minute,” he answered absentmindedly.

Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.

She rolled her eyes. “How often do I have to tell you: speak English. I’ve no clue what you’re saying.”

“Mhm, désolé…” 

Charles paused, quickly looking up as he realised his mistake. 

“Seriously,” Maddy scoffed.

He winced at her irritated look. There was no denying Maddy had a temper, her moods changing as quick as lightning. The countless fights Charles and her had had in the past few months were enough proof of that.

“Sorry,” he tried again.

She huffed, stomping away in the direction of the suite’s bedroom, harshly closing the door behind her.

He rubbed his temple, sighing. He was just tired. And speaking in his native tongue when he was tired or upset was something he did without thinking. 

Years ago, you’d quickly figured that out as well. However, you never judged him for it. No, you were understanding, trying to acquaint yourself with his language to understand him better. To be there for him. In the end, you knew him so well that you could almost always accurately read him, the language barrier between you no longer an issue. Not that it had ever been one in the first place.

He thought back to one of the tweets he’d read before Maddy had come barging in. 

‘Charles made the biggest mistake of his life. I hope he realizes it.’

He squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head lull back against the couch’s headrest. And just like he’d done ever since that fateful day, he willed all of his doubts, guilt, and pain into a neat little box, unable to face them. Charles sighed again, pushing himself to his feet, wearily following in Maddy’s footsteps towards their shared bedroom. But as his hand hovered over the door handle, one single truth echoed through him, unwavering.

Oui, he thought. Je le comprends. 

Yes. I do realize it.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Tags: @sukisheadlights @eviethetheatrefreak @blueflorals @kiskso @dessxoxsworld @treehouse-mouse @dangeroustacoalienbiscuit @clown-fc @stopeatread @vanishingcherry @bb-swift @leclercdream @scenesofobx

[insidekatmind]

"Under the Parisian Sky"- Trent Alexander Arnold

The sun was gently setting behind the majestic silhouette of the Eiffel Tower, painting the sky with shades of pink, orange, and purple. Paris, with its timeless beauty, seemed to have stepped out of a love fairy tale. The streets were crowded with tourists and Parisians, but at that moment, everything seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you.

"Do you like it, my love?" asked Trent Alexander-Arnold, his English accent making you melt every time. His brown eyes, as deep as molten chocolate, shone with a special light as he gazed at you with infinite tenderness. His warm hand wrapped around yours with such gentleness, as if the entire world was held within that simple gesture.

"It's perfect, Trent," you replied, letting your gaze get lost in the wonder of the view. "I couldn't have imagined a better place to be with you."

"I knew you'd like it," he said with a sweet, knowing smile. "But it's not over yet, my love."

You tilted your head to the side, curious. "Oh yeah? What else do you have in mind, Mr. Alexander-Arnold?" you asked with a mischievous, playful smile.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You'll find out soon, my princess. For now, just trust me."

You continued walking along the cobblestone streets, hand in hand. Every so often, Trent would stop in front of a flower stall or a street artist, his sincere curiosity for the little things in the city on full display. That was just like him — always attentive to details, just like on the football pitch. And it was this very way of being that made you fall in love with him more each day.

"Shall we go there?" he suggested, pointing to a small pier overlooking the Seine. It was a secluded spot, away from the bustle, with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, which now glowed with thousands of golden lights like a jewel in the heart of Paris's night.

"It's beautiful," you said, stopping beside him. The cool air caressed your skin, and the scent of the Seine's water mixed with that of wildflowers. It was as if nature itself wanted to bless this moment.

"Yeah, it is," he replied, but his gaze wasn't on the Eiffel Tower. It was on you.

You turned toward him, your heart beginning to beat faster. There was something different in his eyes, a light you had never seen before. His smile was tender, but also serious.

"What's wrong?" you asked, suddenly aware of the silence between you.

"I want to tell you something," he said, taking a deep breath. His fingers fidgeted nervously with the edge of his jacket. "Actually, I want to ask you something."

You frowned, your heart now racing wildly in your chest. "Trent, are you okay?" you asked, a hint of concern in your voice.

He laughed, but there was a note of sweet nervousness in his voice. "Yeah, I'm okay. I’m just… I’m just a little emotional." Then he took a step back and slid a hand into his pocket. When his hand reemerged, he was holding a small blue velvet box. Your breath caught in your throat.

"No…" you whispered, bringing a hand to your mouth. "Trent, I don't believe it…"

He got down on one knee, pressing his knee against the cold surface of the pier. Around you, the world seemed to freeze. Every sound of the city softened, and the only thing you could hear was the frantic pounding of your heart.

"My love," he began, lifting his eyes to meet yours. His eyes glowed with emotion. "Since you came into my life, everything changed. You made every day brighter, every moment more special. I can't imagine my future without you by my side."

Your vision blurred from the tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn’t speak, your throat tight with emotion.

"I want to be there for you — in every joyful moment and every challenge. I want to be the man who makes you smile, who supports you, who loves you more and more every day." He opened the box, revealing a ring with a diamond that sparkled like the stars above you. "Will you marry me?"

A tear slid down your cheek, followed by another, and another still. A wave of overwhelming emotion swept over you. Your voice came out trembling but firm.

"Yes, Trent. Yes, I want to marry you!" you exclaimed, letting the tears stream freely down your face.

He laughed with joy, getting to his feet and pulling you into a tight embrace, spinning you around. His arms wrapped around you with such strength, and your hands clung to his shoulders as if to make sure you’d never let him go.

"I love you," he whispered against your ear, his voice full of emotion.

"I love you too, Trent. I love you more than words can explain," you replied, burying your face in his neck, the scent of his skin bringing you comfort and peace.

Paris, the city of love, had now become the symbol of your promise. And under the golden lights of the Eiffel Tower, you both vowed to love each other forever.

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

Heyyyyyyy. I love your imagines. I was wondering in honor of Kylian joining Real Madrid today, Can you make an fluff imagine where you go with him to his Real Madrid presentation with his family and friends to support him and it’s cute behind the scenes moments leading up to his presentation ? An already established relationship .

Thank Youuu ❤️

I'm so excited about Kylian joining Real Madrid. So proud of him. I wish him success in his future, and may he accomplish all his goals💛

Sorry if this one is a little wonky, wrote it on my lunch break.

Presentation Day

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — You support Kylian on his presentation day.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 3.2k

Warnings! FLUFF, supportive reader, Kylian is playing for Madrid y'all!!!

Today is the day.

The day that Kylian had been waiting for his whole life. The day that would mark a significant milestone in his career. The day that he would be presented as a Real Madrid player.

You're so proud of him. You can't even put it into words. You've seen him work so hard for this. How much he's sacrificed to get here. It's a day that he deserves to celebrate and you can't wait to do just that. By his side.

You still can't believe that you're here for this. You can't believe that he picked you to be here with him for this special day. You can't believe that you've been able to be a part of his life these past three years.

You remember the day you met him. You had just started working at a popular news company and your first assignment was to attend a Paris-Saint Germain game that he was playing at. You were doing some interviews with some of his new teammates and he walked by and you couldn't help but stare at him. He had this air about him, this confidence, this spark in his eyes that made you just want to know him.

When he walked into the room where you were doing the interviews, you almost dropped the microphone in your hands. He was so handsome up close, so charming. You introduced yourself to him and you couldn't help but stare at him. You were nervous as hell but he made you feel at ease. He made you feel so comfortable in his presence and you found yourself laughing and joking with him.

After the interview, Kylian offered to show you around the stadium. You couldn't believe it. Here you were, walking beside one of the most talented footballers in the world, chatting like old friends. He was easy to talk to and genuinely interested in your work. Though the conversation was very surface level you were surprised at how down-to-earth he was.

By the end of the tour, he asked for your number. To your delight, you exchanged numbers, not entirely sure if he would actually reach out. But he did, later that evening, and from that day on, you started texting each other regularly.

It wasn't long after that he asked you to be his girlfriend. You said yes and you two became inseparable. The chemistry was undeniable between you two. You couldn't get enough of each other.

You went to his games, you were there for him when he needed you and you were his rock. He was your everything.

You never could have imagined that three years later, you would be standing in the bathroom of your new home, getting ready for his presentation at the Santiago Bernabéu.

You're wearing a black jumpsuit with a gold belt that accentuates your waist. You've curled your hair and did your makeup. You're even wearing the gold necklace that he bought for you last week. You want to make sure that you look good for him. You want to make sure that he knows that he deserves this day. That he deserves everything that he's worked for.

You're slipping your shoes on when you feel a tap on your ass. Without even looking up you know who it is. You roll your eyes at his antics but can't help the smile that creeps onto your face.

Even after all these years together, you still get butterflies in your stomach when he touches you.

"Kylian," you scold, but the playfulness in your tone tells him you're not really mad, "do you have to do that every time?"

He grins, his touch lingering a moment longer before he steps back, hands in his pockets. "Sorry, couldn't resist," he replies, his tone light but his eyes betraying a hint of nerves. You know he's trying to keep it together, trying to stay calm for what lies ahead.

"Tu es magnifique," he says, his voice softening as he steps closer, his hands finding your waist. His French accent is as sexy as ever. Sending child down your spine as his hands continue to hold you close. His eyes raking your figure in the mirror.

You look perfect.

You blush, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you."

"I mean it," he whispers, his gaze sincere, his grip on your waist tightening. "You look so beautiful." He meets your eyes in the mirror again. "I'm so lucky to have you." He pulls you flush against his chest. "Tu es la femme de mes rêve." His lips brush against your ear. "I couldn't imagine being here without you." He finishes his words with a gentle kiss to your neck.

Your heart melts. Your heart beats faster. You've heard him say these words before. You've heard them more than once but each time still gives you butterflies. Each time makes you love him even more.

You lean back into him, wrapping your arms around his around your waist, savoring this intimate moment with him before you have to share him with the world.

"You ready?" he asks softly, breaking the peaceful silence.

You turn to face him, his hands still holding you close, your arms finding their way around his neck. You bury your face in his chest. You take a deep breath and breathe him in. You smell the cologne he's wearing.

"I should be asking you that" you whisper, your hands resting lightly on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat under your palms, steady but perhaps a beat faster than usual.

"I'm a little nervous," he admits with a small frown, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on your waist.

You know how much he's worked for this. You know how much pressure he's under. You know how much he wants this. But you also know that he's going to do great. You know that he's ready for this.

You reach up to cup his cheeks in your hands, your eyes soft and encouraging. "It's okay to be nervous," you assure him with a reassuring smile. "But you're going to do amazing. You're Kylian Mbappé You're going to rock this. I know you will. You've worked so hard for this." You tell him, your hands finding their way to his neck, your thumbs rubbing gentle circles against the skin there.

He's silent for a moment before he pulls you into a tight hug, his head burying in your neck. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close, letting him take comfort in you. You let him hold you like this for a few seconds, feeling him breathe you in.

"I love you, thank you for doing this with me. For being here." he mumbles into your skin, his voice so soft and so sweet.

You smile. Your heart racing at his words.

"I love you too," you whisper back.

He pulls back, his eyes meeting yours. "Seriously bébé," he says, his voice soft but full of conviction. "I couldn't have done this without you. Thank you for being with me every step of the way. You've sacrificed so much to move here with me. I will never be able to thank you enough for all the things you do for me. I promise to always be there for you, to support you, to make you happy. To be the best boyfriend I can be. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." His hand rests gently on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your jaw.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you look at him. You're so in love with him. You can't believe that this man is all yours, that he wants to be with you, that he loves you just as much as you love him. You can't believe that you found each other.

You want to say so much, want to reply to his little speech but you can't find the words to express how much you love him. So you kiss him instead.

A soft kiss, one full of love, one full of affection. One full of hope. Your lips linger on his for a few seconds before he pulls back. You're both smiling at each other.

"We should head downstairs," he whispers softly, breaking the silence again. "We don't want to be late"

You nod and you step back. He lets go of you, letting you walk out of the bathroom first.

When you walk into the living room downstairs, his family is there waiting for you two, chatting animatedly. They look up as you both enter, smiles lighting up their faces. His little niece and nephew are sitting on the couch with their mom when they see you come in. Without waiting a moment they stand up from their spot on the couch and run up to Kylian.

"Uncle Kylian! Y/N!" They squeal in unison.

He bends down and picks them up. One on each arm. He swings them around and they giggle in glee. You watch as his face lights up with a bright smile. His eyes meet yours over his niece and nephew's heads and he grins at you.

"I missed you guys so much," he whispers in their ears.

They're still laughing when they land back on their feet. He sets them down and gives each of them a kiss on the head before they turn to you. "Y/N!" They greet you with equal enthusiasm.

"My babies," you coo, bending down to pick them up. "I missed you two so much too!" You give each of them a hug. You give them each a kiss on the head before you set them back down. The second you set them back down they're on Kylian again, completely enamoured with their uncle.

"Be good for your mom and dad today," he tells them softly. "I want to see you after the presentation." His eyes light up with excitement.

"We will," they reply in unison, giggling.

He pulls away from them, giving each one another kiss on the head before he turns towards everyone else. Kylian's mother approaches you with open arms, pulling you both into a hug. You were in the shower earlier when they arrived so she hadn't seen you yet.

"Mes bébés," she said, tears shining in her eyes. “I'm so proud of you, Kylian. And you, my darling,” she adds, embracing you in turn, ”thank you for being here with us today." she coos, kissing both your cheeks.

Kylian's father pulls him into a tight hug next. He pats him on the back. "Fier de toi, mon garçon," he says, his eyes shining with pride. "

The other family members join you, each expressing their admiration and support for Kylian. His father squeezes your shoulder affectionately, his siblings exchange jokes with him to lighten the mood.

Silently without anyone noticing you sneak a picture of Kylian and his family gathered together in the living room. It's candid, raw, real. Capturing the support and love surrounding him on this monumental day. Kylian's smile is wide in the picture, the kind that radiates insumontable joy. You feel tears prick your eyes as you look down at it, happy to have frozen this moment for him.

As the final hugs are exchanged, Kylian’s agent steps forward, checking the time on his watch. "It's almost time," he announces, his voice calm but firm. "We should get going."

You all head outside, where a convoy of sleek black cars waits.

You would be riding with Kylian. Because today was also the day you would come out to the world as his girlfriend.

Even though everyone knew by now that Mbappé was off the market it was still a hush on who he was dating. At first, you guys had done it for the sake of your job. But now that you would be staying in Madrid with him, the both of you decided not to keep your identity a secret anymore. So this was technically your first appearance together. All the more reason to be nervous.

The plan was to arrive together at the stadium, walk in with him, then get separated to go to where his family would be sitting while he gave his speech.

You two slip into the car together. He pulls you into his side, his hands holding yours. You both sit there quietly for a second, the only sound being the driver's voice talking through the intercom.

He's fidgety, his eyes darting out the window to the passing buildings. You squeeze his hand gently, reminding him of your presence. He looks at you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since the car started moving.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You ask him softly, his hand squeezing yours in reassurance.

"I'm good, trésor," he assures you. "Just excited and a little nervous."

You nod, your hand rubbing circles into his wrist. "I'm so proud of you," you tell him sincerely, your free hand reaching up to cup his cheek. He closes his eyes briefly at your touch, breathing in deeply before turning to face you fully. His lips meet yours for a brief kiss. He smiles against your lips, his hands finding their way to your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug.

The rest of the car ride is silent.

You're pulled out of your comfortable bubble when the car stops.

The stadium.

You're here.

You both sit in stunned silence for a moment, your eyes wide as you take in the sight. The stadium is already packed with thousands of screaming fans, each holding a white Real Madrid jersey with his name on the back.

Kylian is silent beside you, his eyes wide, his hands resting on his thighs. He takes a deep breath. He looks at you, his eyes locking with yours.

"Ready?" he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, a smile on your face.

You two slip out of the car together, Kylian holding your hand tightly in his. They don't notice you at first since you're hidden behind him, out of sight, but he pulls you beside him and wraps an arm around your waist. The cheers from the crowd grow louder as the realization of who you are girlfriend sinks in.

You smile shyly, trying to hide your face in his shoulder.

He laughs, pulling you closer to him.

You both walk towards the entrance of the stadium, the screams of the fans reaching an all-time high. Kylian smiles brightly at the cameras flashing in your faces, his free hand waving at the crowd.

You both stop walking for a second, posing for pictures together. You're conscious of the cameras flashing around you, of the fans screaming his name. The whole situation is a little overwhelming but nothing you can't handle with him beside you, holding your hand.

You both pose for a few pictures, then you walk inside, the crowd quieting as you leave them behind.

You're led to a room backstage, where you'll wait with Kylian until it's time for him to go on stage. The room is buzzing with activity – staff members are rushing around, checking last-minute details, and ensuring everything is perfect.

You find a quieter corner of the room where he can take a moment to collect himself. He sits down on a plush leather chair, his eyes scanning the room but his grip on your hand never loosening. You can tell the nerves are killing him.

“Do you want some water?” you ask softly, your thumb rubbing soothing circles on his skin.

He nods, and you quickly fetch a bottle from a nearby table. When you hand it to him, he takes a long sip, then leans back, exhaling slowly. “Merci,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You sit beside him, placing your hand on his knee. “Remember, they’re all here for you. They believe in you, just like I do.”

He turns to look at you, his eyes softening. “I know. It’s just… a lot.”

You nod, understanding completely. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed. Just take it one step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes locking onto yours, drawing strength from your calm presence. The door opens, and one of the staff members steps in, clipboard in hand. “It's time miss Y/N,” he announces, waiting for you at the door.

That's your cue.

You stand up, offering Kylian your hand. He takes it, rising from the chair, his grip firm and warm. He pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you with a strength that speaks volumes about the emotions coursing through him.

“I’ll be right there in the audience,” you whisper against his ear gently stroking his back “I’ll be cheering the loudest.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “Je t'aime fort,” The tone of which he says it is the most endearing you've ever heard from him. It makes your heart swell. You wish you could go with him.

“I love you too,” you reply, placing one last peck on his lips.

With a final squeeze of your hand, he releases you and you follow the man to the section reserved for his family.

As you enter the stadium, the roar of the crowd is deafening. The energy is electric, every person present filled with anticipation. You find your seat next to Kylian’s mother, who greets you with a warm smile and a comforting squeeze of your hand.

The lights dim, and the stadium falls silent. The anticipation is palpable. The lights dim slightly, and the murmurs in the stadium grow louder. The large screens display a montage of Kylian’s best moments, a tribute to his journey and accomplishments.

Then, the announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, introducing Kylian. The crowd erupts into cheers, the noise almost overwhelming.

You're crying as you watch him walk to the stage, grateful that you get to witness this moment with him, a moment he's been waiting for a long time.

Kylian steps onto the stage, his presence commanding yet humble. He looks out at the sea of faces, his gaze searching until it finds yours. You smile at him through your tears, giving him a small nod of encouragement. He smiles back, gesturing at your crying.

The jumbotron pans to your face as you laugh at his antics and everyone in the stadium realizes who you are immediately. They start cheering even louder.

The warmth of the moment envelops you as you watch Kylian take center stage. His speech is emotional thanking his fans, his teammates, and the club for believing in him. He speaks with passion and sincerity, his words resonating with everyone in the stadium. When he finishes with his "Hala Madrid", the applause is thunderous, echoing through the massive arena.

You and Fayza hold on to each other as you cry your eyes out, Kylian's words of thanks to you echoing in your ears. You both hug each other tight, both of you overwhelmed with emotion.

It's such a powerful moment one that sends shivers down your spine. The beginning of a new era. The start of your new life together with him.

-Bianca🌻

[lnfours]

you are in love | l.n

summary: the moment where you knew he was the one.

warnings: best friends to lovers au, shitty dates, language, a little bit of innuendos, and just pure, tooth rotting fluff.

masterlist | inbox | listen

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you walked out of the restaurant, nails tapping against your screen as you walked on the sidewalk. there was a soft, warm breeze in the city of monaco as you stared down at your phone. your phone locked once you found somewhere to stand, out of the sight from the crowds, and specifically the guy you had left at the dinner table.

can you come get me?

it was almost ten. and if he wasn’t asleep, he was definitely doing better things with his time-

of course, where are you?

your heart pattered against your chest, your fingers moving to tell him the name of the street corner you were standing at. he had responded quickly after, saying he’d be there in five.

and he was, the mclaren pulling up besides you. he had the top open for the nighttime summer breeze to flow through. you stepped closer, opening the door and climbing in carefully before closing it behind you.

“you alright?” he asked, car still parked as he made sure he didn’t have to go back into the restaurant and give the guy a piece of his mind.

when you nodded, he let out a breath of relief, “i just really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

he huffed out a laugh, pulling onto the road, “we could say that,” he looked back over at you as you looked out the window, “back to mine? or yours?”

you met those stupidly beautiful green eyes and you let out a shaky breath as his eyes scanned your features, “yours is fine. blair is out of town anyway, so it’s been lonely.”

“oh, yeah? where she go this time? ibiza? france?” he joked and you snorted next to him. your roommate, blair, came from money. big money. and every other weekend, she always had somewhere new to take her father’s private jet. even if it was just to visit a louis vuitton store in paris.

her frequent trips had become an inside joke to you, max and lando. so far as to where the three of you make bets on which extravagant place shes visiting every time she leaves. this week, it’s bali.

“close,” you nod, “her family’s vacationing in bali this week.”

“damn,” he mumbled, “so close.”

you both shared a soft laugh, a comfortable silence falling over the two of you as you watched the city life out the window. he couldn’t help but take occasional glances towards you, his eyes falling to the necklace sparkling around your neck.

the one he had gotten you for your most recent birthday. you had refused to accept his gift at first, immediately shaking your head when you spotted the tiffany blue box underneath the wrapping paper.

but he insisted, and now you never took it off. a silver heart engraved with a little four. a subtle detail, but a special one. some people thought he seemed ‘full of himself’ because he got you a gift with his number on it. but, you were the one who encouraged him to chase his dreams. the one who pushed him to do better, the one who never believed for a second how the media tried to paint him out to be.

because, to you, he wasn’t ’lando norris: mclaren formula one driver with a sassy attitude who’s full of himself’, to you he was just ‘lando: the boy you’ve known your entire life, who knew everything about you, and the boy who would pick you up after a shitty date’.

at the end of the day, it was always the two of you against anything and everything. two peas in a pod, as cisca would say.

the two of you got to his apartment, his key unlocking the door and pushing it open. once you got inside, you kicked your heels off by the door as he made his way into the kitchen.

“do you still have those makeup wipes i left here?” you asked.

he nodded, reaching into one of the cupboards as he grabbed the white mug with little yellow stars on it. your mug.

“should be in the top drawer in the bathroom with your toothbrush and hairbrush,” he said, turning back to you, “want a coffee?”

you nodded, letting out a soft sigh, “please. milk and two-“

“two sugars,” he smiled softly, “i know.”

you smiled back at him before turning and walking down the hallway to his bedroom. when you entered, you took in the view of his freshly made bed and the hamper in the corner being empty. a sign that he had done his laundry and cleaned the house today.

you hummed softly, opening the closet door and thumbing through the different hoodies he had. you settled on an older mclaren one, the same one he had lent you a few years back when you were crying on his couch.

you also snagged a pair of sweatpants while you were in there, changing into them and placing your dress on his dresser. making a mental note to take it with you when he takes you home in the morning.

once you had taken your makeup off in the bathroom, you made your way back to the living room where he was sitting on the couch, phone in hand as he held his mug. you sat next to him, your mug on the table next to you. you took it into your hands, smiling over the rim.

“thank you,” you said.

“‘course,” he smiled, locking his phone and picking up the remote, “what episode were we on before we fell asleep the other night? i don’t remember,”

you looked over at the tv in front of you, now noticing he had the show the two of you had been watching pulled up. you twisted your lips in thought.

“uhm, i think six? maybe seven?” you said, he clicked on six and after a few seconds you realized the two of you had guessed correctly.

at some point during the show, your head had ended up on his shoulder. his arm had pulled you closer into him, taking in the smell of his cologne and the shampoo he used. a scent you had grown to love, to look forward to every time he wrapped his arms around you to give you a hug, or whenever you were close enough to him to pick up on it.

at some point you had zoned out, thinking to yourself. maybe the reason all these dates hadn’t worked out was because they all lacked something. something no one else had other than lando, the boy who knew you like the back of his hand.

you shifted, moving to look at the boy with curly brown hair, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the tv. you took in the beauty marks that freckled his face, the ones he used to complain about when he was younger, but you always said it was your favorite thing.

maybe it wasn’t the fact that lando knew you like the back of your hand that turned you away from all the other men who’d swipe right on you. maybe it was the fact that they weren’t him.

you didn’t know when, but somehow you had fallen in love with the boy next to you. i mean, who could blame you? he was everything you could ever dream of, the perfect man.

he turned and met your eyes, his face inches from yours now. you smiled softly, his lips turning up in return. his eyes scanned yours and you took in a nervous breath when his eyes traveled to your lips.

“i’m sorry that date didn’t work out for you,” he said softly, “these guys really don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

you shrugged, “it’s okay,” your heart was hammering against your chest, questioning silently to yourself if he could hear it.

he couldn’t, but he could tell when he scanned your face that you didn’t really seem all that upset. he wasn’t really sorry, either, to be fair. it might’ve seemed selfish, but he always anticipated your ‘can you come get me?’ texts whenever he knew you were going out. he prayed the dates would fail, so he could finally be the one to take you out and do it properly. give you that fairytale kind of love you deserve.

he blurted out before his mind could even filter it, “can i tell you something?”

you hummed. fuck, there was no going back now.

“i’m kind of glad those dates haven’t worked out.”

you furrowed your eyebrows in question, “why’s that?”

“because i want to be the one to take you out,” his voice was soft and it sent your heart right into your throat, “all the fancy dinners, the kissing goodnight at the doorstep, all of it.”

his eyes traveled back to your lips and you sucked in a breath, “can i tell you something too?”

he nodded, his face centimeters away from yours now. your warm breath fanned his face, the smell of your perfume and the hair product you had put in hours beforehand captivating him.

“i want all of that with you, too.” you smiled and he grinned back, a soft laugh leaving both of your lips. he reached up, his hand lifting your chin.

“you sure you want to be stuck with me?” he asked, “cause once i start, i don’t think i could stop.”

your nose brushed against his, “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

that was all it took until his lips were pressing against yours. you kissed him back, the hand that wasn’t holding your jaw reaching to your hip and pulling you closer, leaving no room between you as you climbed into his lap.

your hands threaded through the curls on the nape of his neck, his arms wrapping around you. a moment of complete bliss, the moment you’ve been waiting for for what felt like ages.

“lets go to bed, yeah?”

you nodded back, nose bumping his as your face wore a smile. he stood from the couch, hands supporting your thighs before letting your legs wrap around his torso. he carried you down the hallway, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

he placed you down on the mattress, the two of you entangling limbs underneath the sheets. he played with the soft strands of your hair, his lips pressing against the top of your head as you listened to his heart beat against his ribs. existing in complete contentment with each others company.

“breakfast in the morning?” he asked softly.

you thought about it for a minute, turning to look at him. it was dark, but you could still make out his face, “sure, just as long as you don’t burn the toast.”

[justagalwhowrites]

Joyeux Noël - A Lavender AU Christmas Story

Joel and your daughters plan something special for you for the holidays. A Christmas one shot set in the Lavender AU Universe.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. No outbreak AU. Fluff fluff fluff. Christmas fluff. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 3.6k

A/N: JOEL AND DOC ARE BACK FOR THE HOLIDAYS BECAUSE I MISSED THEM (and hopefully some of you did, too.) This can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that Joel and reader are a married couple with a shared biological daughter as well as Ellie and Sarah. I hope you enjoy this tooth rotting-ly sweet fic!

AO3 | Lavender Masterlist | Lavender AU Masterlist | Full Masterlist

December 24, 2024 

“You’re sure you’ve got everything?” Sarah asked, her son, Carson, squealing in the background. 

“Pretty sure,” Joel said, frowning a little. 

“Put me on FaceTime,” she said. “Show me.” 

Joel sighed and fussed with his phone until it became a video call, Sarah on the other end with a smudge of flour on her nose. 

“Busy over there, baby girl?” He teased. 

“Your grandson got me in the face when we were making sugar cookies,” she said. “I haven’t had the chance to get cleaned up yet, the kitchen is a disaster but that’s beside the point, show me Mom’s suitcase.” 

Joel fussed with the phone again - having to search for the little button that let him do it, not a fan of figuring out technology without the help of any of his girls - and got the camera to flip around. 

“So I put in some of the sweaters she wears a lot,” he said, showing Sarah the stacks. “Some of the pants she likes, too. Got this one dress she looks real good in, real good…” 

“Ew,” Sarah said. 

“Shut it, kid,” he said. She laughed. “Got the shoes she says are comfortable, some that are pretty, too…” 

“Do you have a bag for her?” She asked. 

“What do you think you’re lookin’ at?” 

“Not that kind of bag,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean a purse.”

“Wouldn’t she just bring the one she uses all the time?” He asked. 

“Dad, you’re going to be walking around Paris,” Sarah said. “Spending hours in museums and in stores and lounging at chic cafes, she’s not going to want to carry that giant thing around. In her closet, in one of the dust bags at the top is a smaller bag that Ellie, Evie and I went in on for Mother's Day, grab that one. It’s cross body so she can just wear it, she likes that when she’s walking around a lot. Also, do you have her hair stuff?” 

“Hair stuff?” Joel frowned. “Don’t they have that in the room?” 

She sighed.

“See, this is why I make you show me,” Sarah said. “Yes, there’s shampoo and stuff but she uses serums and oils and things, she needs those. Bathroom next.” 

Joel obeyed his oldest daughter’s instructions, thankful that the two of you were so close that she’d know these kinds of things. He got what she told him from the bathroom and packed it. 

“Alright,” she said. “I think you’re all good! Just let her get a book or five at the airport and you’ll be golden, old man.” 

“Thanks, kiddo,” he smiled a little. “You still good to take your sister for a while?” 

“Of course,” she smiled back. “I love Ellie and Evie can stay as long as she wants until she wants to go back to school. Plus Brandon could use someone to give him a run for his money on this new video game, he’s getting over confident.” 

“Thank you for keeping an eye on Ellie,” Joel said. “We’d like to get all you girls on a trip like this with us sometime but for the first one…” 

“It should just be the two of you,” Sarah finished for him with a smile. “She’s going to love it, Dad.” 

He sure hoped so. 

Joel had been planning this for a while. Decades, really. 

Back when the two of you were young and flat broke, a trip to Paris had been a pipe dream. You talked about it that way, the same way Ellie talked about going to the moon now, something that you dreamed about but didn’t expect to ever have. 

Then Evie came along. Then you were in med school and then you were an intern and resident and attending and Sarah got married and Ellie joined the family and life had just gotten in the way, as it always seemed to. 

But it had been a beautiful life and you’d never even come close to complaining about not getting to visit France the way you’d dreamed. As you’d always done, you put everyone else’s needs and wants before your own, constantly looking for a way to make Joel or your daughters’ lives better before thinking of yourself. 

But the Paris trip was possible now. The two of you had made more money than Joel had ever dreamed of making, Sarah and Evie were off on their own and Ellie was in a good enough place that she could spend a few weeks with her sister. Things were even calm at work for both of you - Tommy could run the business for a few weeks and Joel had coordinated with your boss to get you time off. It was the perfect time to finally give you something you’d been dreaming of as long as Joel had known you. 

Joel didn’t want to put more work on your plate, though, so he worked with Sarah, Evie and Ellie to plan everything. Sarah traveled a lot - she’d made it to Europe long before Joel ever had - and knew how to find a good hotel. Ellie told Joel about the different museums to visit, her passion for art coming in handy as he was planning. Evie - who had even taken after your knack for language - helped Joel learn a few phrases in French (though he was going to be pretty dependent on you to get around.) But that was fine. As long as you were happy, he didn’t care if everyone around him was speaking gibberish. 

“Dad!” Ellie yelled from down the hall. “Mom just texted, she’s almost home!” 

“Shit,” Joel said, zipping the suitcase quickly. “Stall her for me, will ya?” 

“Can do!” She yelled back and he heard her pounding down the stairs to intercept you. 

Joel hauled the luggage downstairs the best he could, stashing the packed bags in a room just off the garage so he could wrestle them into the trunk later. He finished just as the garage door opened and Ellie went racing past him to catch you in the car, giving him a chance to slip into the living room unnoticed. You joined him just a minute after he got there, flopping on the couch next to him. 

“Tough day?” He asked, putting his arm up so you could snuggle into him. 

“Just long,” you sighed. “That early start the day before a holiday made this shift feel like 20 hours, not 12. But at least I have Christmas off to spend with you and the girls before I’m back in on Thursday.” 

Joel tried to keep from smiling at the fact that you didn’t know that, by this time on Thursday, you’d be across the world. 

“Want to watch a movie?” He asked. “Your pick.” 

“Sure,” you snuggled closer. “But let’s see what Ellie and Evie want to watch, I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you guys.” 

He kissed your forehead and called the girls down, the two of them settling on Elf followed by Die Hard and you not even putting in a vote for your favorite because you never tried to put yourself first in anything. That’s why Joel was doing all this, to make sure it happened at least now and then. He made you a plate of Chinese food and you fell asleep against him when you finished it, still wearing the Christmas-themed sweater and earrings you’d worn that day to the hospital. 

“Alright, girls,” Joel said quietly. “Upstairs, Santa can’t come ’til you’re in bed.” 

Evie and Ellie shared a look before looking back to Joel. 

“Goodnight, Dad,” Evie said, getting up and helping Ellie to her feet, too. “I hope Santa can get Mom upstairs OK…” 

He snorted and watched the girls go to their rooms before laying you gently on the couch. He went and got the presents out of your closet and stashed the suitcases in the back of the car. He stuffed the stockings - you sleeping peacefully the whole time - and set up the living room the same way he’d done since Sarah was little before gently rousing you from your long winter’s nap. 

“C’mon, baby,” he said softly, cupping your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “Bed time.” 

“But…” you sat up, groggy. “We gotta set up Christmas and…” 

“Already done,” he smiled. “Let’s go, sleepyhead.” 

You sighed contentedly as he looped an arm around your waist and guided you groggily to your room. 

“You’re the best husband in the world, you know that?” You said as you burrowed against his chest once you were both in bed. 

He smiled. 

“Doin’ my best, baby.” 

*** 

You definitely missed having little kids on Christmas morning but having older ones had its perks. 

You woke up before Joel, your unreasonably early day - and bed time - on Christmas Eve rousing you before the sun.

Your husband was still snoring gently and you just watched him for a moment, a peaceful look on his face in the red and green glow of the lights on the eaves outside. You smiled. There was something so damn beautiful about the man you’d married more than 20 years ago, just getting to look at him while he slept made you feel unreasonably lucky, like you were getting away with something you shouldn’t. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, slow and gentle, and he stirred, smiling every so slightly before delicately catching your wrist and bringing it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your pulse. 

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered. 

He smiled broader, his eyes still closed. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

“Want one of your presents now?” You asked and he opened one eye so fast it made you giggle. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

You leaned in close and kissed him softly, almost chastely, before moving down his body and nudging him onto his back as you went. Your lips went over the firm expanse of his chest, the soft warmth of his stomach, down to the top of his pajama pants where his thick length was already hardening for you. 

You tugged the pants down enough that you could get at his cock. You licked the tip of him, tongue circling his head before you wrapped your lips around just the very end, sucking softly at his precome. 

“Goddamn baby,” he said, already breathless, his hand coming to the back of your head as you took the whole of him slowly, tantalizingly into your mouth. 

Once you swallowed him into your throat, you moaned and held him there, sucking and savoring him before starting to move over him. You pressed your tongue against the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock, making his head run along the roof of your mouth as he started to move in shallow, gentle thrusts, working himself deeper, groaning as he did. 

“Can I have that soft little pussy, too?” He asked eventually, sounding desperate, his grip tightening on your head. “Because goddamn baby if I don’t need you right now.” 

You sucked him all the way to the tip before releasing him from your mouth. 

“You can have as much of me as you want,” you said, breathless yourself. “I’m all yours.” 

Before you had the chance to start sucking him again, he tugged you back up his body, laying you beside him before rolling to face you. He gripped your thigh, tugging your leg over his hip and tucking your panties to the side before petting at your leaking entrance. 

“Good,” he whispered. “Just the way I want you.” 

The tip of his cock replaced his fingers and he thrust just the head of himself inside of you, stretching you enough that you had to press your face into his chest to muffle your moan. 

“How do you always feel so goddamn good, baby?” He asked, tugging you closer as he pushed inside. He tucked your head below his chin, one arm below you and around you, his fingers spread wide between your shoulders, his other on the small of your back holding you in just the right place. You were completely enveloped by him as he filled you to the root, everything about your husband completely surrounding you. “Don’t deserve something as good as you.” 

You just groaned in protest, not really able to form words, too overwhelmed by the way Joel was completing you. 

Instead, you rocked your hips against him and he responded in kind, the two of you moving slowly, firmly against each other. Heat drew low inside you, concentrated on where Joel was shaping you to him and you grew tighter and tighter around him, your orgasm growing sure and steady. 

“You gonna come for me?” He whispered in your ear. You moaned and nodded against him. “Good, want you to come for me, let me feel it baby, milk me dry, c’mon.” 

You let out a strangled little sob as you obeyed, your channel fluttering and rippling around him. 

“There she is,” he breathed, keeping his pace inside you, the tip of his cock pressing into the soft place within you that made your back arch and toes curl as he ground himself deep. “That’s it, baby, keep coming, come on my cock. Fuck, you take it so well, come so pretty for me, just keep… keep…” 

He squeezed you tighter, thrust impossibly deeper and you felt him come apart inside you with a needy grunt, throbbing deep and hard as he filled you, drawing your orgasm out as he did. 

You went limp in his arms as your climax eased and his hold on you loosened just enough that he could kiss you, his lips gentle on yours as both of you came back down to earth. 

“Dunno that anything’ll top that present,” he teased lightly and you laughed. 

“One of the upsides to not having little kids running in here at six in the morning,” you smiled before kissing his chest and snuggling closer. His cock was softening inside you, the combination of his come and yours starting to drip from you. “Can we just stay like this for a while? I miss you when you’re not inside me.” 

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers trailing over your spine. 

“Course baby,” he said softly. “Think we got a bit before the girls start moving.” 

You luxuriated in the slow start to the morning, drifting in and out of consciousness with Joel’s cock nestled inside you, your husband thrusting slowly and gently now and then so he stayed deep. The sun had just started to peek through the blinds when you heard a toilet flush down the hall and you kissed Joel one last time before slipping him from you, adjusting his pants and your panties before the girls were knocking on your door. 

You loved Christmas morning with your family, loved the sense of joy and closeness as you watched your daughters open presents while you sat on the couch, snuggled up to Joel with a cup of coffee in your hands. You’d never had a holiday quite like this one growing up, always just you and your grandmother making the best of it. You treasured that, too, but it was different now, when you were surrounded by the people you loved more than anything else who loved you in return. 

Ellie was super excited about a set of really nice markers you’d asked Andrew for help in researching, Evie shrieked with glee over concert tickets for her and her girlfriend and Joel kissed you so deep when he opened the fancy coffee maker you got him the aching place between your thighs throbbed again. 

After cinnamon rolls and bacon and coffee made with Joel’s new toy, the four of you headed to Sarah’s, laughing as Carson showed you everything Santa brought him and giving Joel a look when he gave his grandson candy behind his daughter’s back. 

“Well,” Joel said, downing the last of his beer as your entire family sat around Sarah’s table after dinner and dessert, you tucked contentedly against his side. “I’m afraid we gotta hit the road.” 

You frowned, twisting to look at him. 

“What?” You asked, looking down at your watch. It was barely five. “No we don’t, I don’t need to be in until tomorrow afternoon, we can hang out and…” 

“No, Mom, you do really need to go,” Sarah said, a serious look on her face. 

“Yeah,” Ellie nodded. “Don’t wanna be late.” 

“Late for what?” You said. 

Evie looked up from her phone. 

“I just checked and everything is on time,” she said. 

You laughed, looking around at your husband and daughters. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked. “What’s on time, everything is closed. Are we going to a movie?” 

“I mean, we can when we get there if that’s what you wanna do,” Joel shrugged. “But you’d have to translate for me the whole time.”

You frowned, looking around again, all your children looking like they were about to burst with excitement. 

“Can someone clue me in?” You laughed again. “Because I’m at a loss…” 

“Oh, right,” Evie said, going into her purse, pulling out an envelope and handing it over. “Guess you’ll need that.” 

Joel was trying to hide his grin but you knew him too well for that and you just raised your brows at him as you opened the envelope. He just shrugged a little, his smile getting harder and harder to conceal. 

“What are you all up to?” You teased as you opened the envelope, unfolding the papers that were inside. 

“Guess you’ll have to look,” Joel shrugged. 

You rolled your eyes good naturedly before looking at the pages in your hands. 

It took you a second to realize what you were holding: a flight itinerary. 

You frowned. 

“Joel?” You asked looking over at him. 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Joel, this…” you looked back at the paper, your heart racing. “Joel, this is a plane ticket.” 

“Is it?” He asked, smile apparent in his voice. 

“Joel,” you looked at him again. “This is a plane ticket to Paris. And it leaves in four hours.” 

“Technically, I think it’s two plane tickets,” Joel said, sitting up to look over your shoulder. “First class, in case you wanted some room to sleep on your first overseas flight.” 

“But…” Your eyes ranged over the ticket before looking around, all your daughters grinning like the cats who ate the canaries. “I have work!” 

“Well, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Joel smirked. “Talked with your boss back in October, you’re not due back to the hospital for a few weeks.” 

“I…” you looked down and back up again. “I need to pack!” 

“Wrong again, Mom,” Sarah smiled. “Dad took care of that. And I checked his work, you’re good.” 

“We need to plan…” 

“I gave him a list of all the coolest museums,” Ellie said proudly, cutting you off.  

“And I helped Dad be a little less totally useless in French,” Evie added. 

You looked around at all of them, tears stinging at your eyes. 

“You all planned this?” You asked, a lump in your throat. “For me?” 

“Been a long time coming, baby,” Joel smiled, his large hand cradling your elbow, thumb rubbing gentle circles over you. “You deserve it. Have for a while.” 

“He’s right, Mom,” Sarah smiled, too. “After taking care of all of us over the years, it’s about damn time.” 

“You’re the best mom in the world,” Ellie agreed. “Figured it was time that you see some of it.” 

“You always do everything for all of us,” Evie said. “We really should return the favor now and then.” 

You looked back at the tickets, covering your mouth with one hand, giving up on trying to keep from crying. 

“I…” you sniffed. “I don’t know what to say!” 

“How about we just say bon voyage,” Evie said. “Because you need to get on the road or you’re going to be late for your flight!” 

You let your children usher you and Joel to the car and you gave everyone hugs as Evie and Ellie got their bags from the trunk so they could stay with Sarah. You hugged them all goodbye, having to dry your tears every time you realized exactly what was happening: You were finally going to Paris, a place you’d always wanted to go, on a trip planned by the people you loved most. 

Joel drove the two of you to the airport, you practically glowing the entire way. Joel didn’t let you carry your own bags and you were still in disbelief as you settled into your seat on the plane, a glass of champagne in your hand as you waited to take off. 

“So,” Joel smiled, watching you. “You excited?” 

“I can’t believe it,” you said, laughing a little. “I can’t… You really shouldn’t have done all this, not for me!” 

“Oh baby,” Joel reached out and cupped your cheek. “You’ve done nothin’ but take care of everyone else as long as I’ve known you. Don’t think I can ever do enough to repay you for that but you gotta let me try, at least at Christmas.” 

You smiled and leaned over to kiss him. 

“I think I can handle that.” 

He smiled. 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said. “Or should I say… joyeux noël? That right?” 

You laughed, his accent comically bad but so charming you had to love it. 

“That’s right,” you said. “Joyeux noël.”

[hard--headed--woman]

I know I spent two days without posting any lesbian pride post lol but I swear I'm gonna post two posts per day in the following days to make up for it. I am again going to talk about an artist, but from a different period this time.

Rosa Bohneur !

(I love her name by the way... Bohneur means happiness in french and that's such a pretty name to have)

Marie-Rosalie Bonheur, known as Rosa Bonheur, was born in 1822 in Bordeaux and died in 1899 in Thomery. She was a French painter and sculptor specialising in representations of animals.

She has kind of an interesting family story (mother adopted by a rich guy who found out later who was her real father, siblings all artists, father who met a lot of interesting people, links with many famous people...) but it would be too long to talk about it and I want to focus on Rosa herself. Do check it up if you're interested!

During her youth, Rosa Bonheur had a reputation for being a tomboy, a reputation that followed her throughout her life and which she made no attempt to deny, wearing her hair short and later smoking cigarettes and cigars. Her emancipated lifestyle never caused a scandal, even though she lived in an era that was very concerned with convention. Like all women of her time, Rosa Bonheur had to apply to the Prefecture of Paris for a cross-dressing permit, renewable every six months, in order to wear trousers, in particular to attend livestock fairs, travel or ride horses.

Here's one of her permits, from 1857 :

And though many historians tried to deny the fact that she was a lesbian, she always refused to marry a man, has only ever had relationships with women and literally wrote that she never felt any sort of love, attraction or tenderness for men, "besides a frank and good friendship for those who had all my esteem". After the death of the woman she loved, she also wrote "If I'd been a man, I'd have married her, and they wouldn't have made up all those silly stories..." You got it : even if she didn't shout it from the rooftops, Rosa was very probaby a homosexual woman.

Rosa Bohneur grew up in a fairly wealthy family, thanks to the financial support of her mother's adoptive father. But when her mother's father died, the family was left without any such support, and fell into dire poverty. When Rosa was 11, her mother died, which deeply traumatised her. She kept a lifelong admiration for her mother.

In 1836, at the age of 14, she met Nathalie Micas, who became her lover. Only Nathalie's death 53 years later separated them.

Her father remarried in 1842 to Marguerite Peyrol, with whom he had a last son, Germain, who would also become a painter. Rosa Bonheur did not get on well with her stepmother and when her father died in 1849, she left the family home to live with the Micas.

After her mother's death, Rosa Bonheur went to primary schools, was apprenticed as a dressmaker and then went to boarding school. Eventually her father took her into his workshop, where her artistic talents were revealed. He was her one and only teacher. Gradually, she developed a passion for animal art, which became her speciality.

She exhibited for the first time, at the age of 19, at the Salon of 1841. She won a 3rd class medal at the Salon of 1845, and a 1st class medal (gold) at the Salon of 1848. This award enabled her, at the age of 26, to obtain a commission from the State to produce an agrarian painting (paid 3,000 francs). The painting resulting from this state commission, "Labourage nivernais" was supposed to go to the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Lyon. But it was so successful at the 1849 Salon that the Beaux-Arts department decided to keep it in Paris, at the Musée du Luxembourg. After Rosa Bonheur's death, the work went to the Louvre, before being transferred to the Musée d'Orsay in 1986.

When her father died in March 1849, Rosa Bonheur replaced him as director of the École impériale gratuite de dessin pour demoiselles (or École gratuite de dessin pour jeunes filles). She remained in this position until 1860: ‘Follow my advice and I'll turn you into Leonardo da Vinci in skirts’, she often told her pupils.

In 1860, she moved to a huge house in By, where she had a huge workshop built, and ample space for her animals. One of her relatives wrote: “She had a complete menagerie in her house: a lion and a lioness, a deer, a wild sheep, a gazelle, horses, etc. One of her pets was a young lion she let run around. My mind was freer when this leonine animal died".

In June 1864, Rosa was visited by Empress Eugenie, who invited her to lunch at the Château de Fontainebleau with her husband. The following year, Eugenie returned to see her, to present her with the Legion d'honneur herself. Rosa is the ninth woman and the first artist to receive this distinction. About this, The Empress said :

“At last, you've been knighted. I am delighted to be the godmother of the first woman artist to receive this high distinction. I wanted the last act of my regency to be devoted to showing that, in my eyes, genius has no sex."

She was also the first woman to be made an officer in this order, in April 1894 (first female officer of the Legion d'honneur).

Rosa traveled extensively with her lover Nathalie, herself a painter and mechanical enthusiast (she invented and patented a railway braking system), and painted many pictures inspired by her travels.

In 1889, Nathalie died after some 50 years together. It was then that Rosa expressed her regret at not having been able to marry her.

After Nathalie's death, Rosa met Anna Klumpe, a talented American painter. The two women moved in together some time later.

Rosa Bohneur died of pulmonary congestion in 1899, without having completed her last painting, “La foulaison du blé en Camargue”, a monumental canvas she had planned to exhibit at the 1900 Universal Exhibition.

She is buried in Père Lachaise cemetery, alongside Nathalie, her parents and Anna (who died years after her). She left her entire fortune to Anna, who, in 1908, published a biography of Rosa Bonheur and created a Rosa-Bonheur prize at the Société des artistes français. The Société des Artistes français posthumously awarded her the Medal of Honor shortly after her death.

Rosa could have had military honors at her funeral, but she specified in her will that she did not wish this.

There's a lot of interesting things to say about Rosa, her art and her history, so I suggest you do some research on her! She was a very talented and strong-willed woman who had a huge impact on French art and left a considerable cultural legacy.

Here are some of her paintings :

I personally love them ! I am not a painting expert, I just find them sooo pretty.

See you tomorrow :)

[sissylittlefeather]

Bonded: Part 4

Baby What You Want Me to Do

A/N: Here is the next part to the vampire series I started last Halloween! Things are heating up as we move from 1960 to 1970 with vampire Elvis and our vampire reader. I hope you enjoy!

Need to catch up?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, but they're vampires so also blood drinking, biting, and someone with a pretty serious illness

Word count: ~3.8k

December 1970

He prays desperately that they'll find you. You're his only hope.

Elvis paces the TV room at Graceland smoking his cigar much too quickly. What will he do if the guys can't find you? He's talked to three different vampires and they all refused to help him. Surely, once he explains, you'll do what he needs.

There's also a small part of him that just wants to know where you are, wants to see you again. He's wondered where you were so many times over the last decade and he almost broke down and looked for you on several occasions. But he was never as desperate as he is now.

He sits down on the couch and stares absentmindedly at the TVs as they play three different football games. Hopefully Sonny and the guys can find you. They have to find you.

******

You leave your job at the Moulin Rouge not long after your encounter with Elvis. People start to notice that you aren't aging. But more than that, everything there reminds you of him. So you pack up and move to Rome. You bounce around Europe for the better part of the decade and then decide you'll go home to America. By the mid ‘60s there are more soldiers, but you have no interest in living in Vietnam. Besides, you’re getting a little tired of the routine that keeps you alive. Several times you consider giving up entirely and letting yourself fade, but there’s always a reason to keep going, even if it’s just that you have to go to work the next day.

You watch Elvis's career from afar, see every single one of his movies, and cry when you watch the Special in ‘68. That's when you go home, settling in Las Vegas to become a showgirl. There is a steady stream of male tourists and, if you’re being honest, the vague chance that you might run into Elvis. In a way, you’re happy, despite living alone. After Paris, you stop looking for others like you and learn to be content to live in isolation. Even after all these years, the only one you really want is him.

You get invited to one of his parties once by some guy who is trying to show off, but you bail at the last second, scared of how he might react to seeing you again. He’s married with a child, why would he want to reconnect with the woman who ruined his life? Still, his life doesn't seem ruined when you read what the papers have to say about his grand return to the stage. You're happy he’s happy and you make that be enough.

******

Elvis walks upstairs to Lisa Marie’s room and stands in the doorway for a little while just watching the scene in front of him. His little girl lays in the bed asleep as the nurse sits beside her waiting for the next coughing fit.

“How is she?” He whispers and the nurse looks up at him.

“Not any better. The doctor is worried that the whooping cough will turn to pneumonia. If that happens-”

“It won't.” He can't entertain that possibility in his mind. She's already too sick. He walks over to the bed and kneels down beside it, looking at his toddler daughter struggling to breathe on the pillow. She's not even 3 years old. “I won't let it happen.”

“Mr. Presley, I know it's hard to think about, but she's not responding to the antibiotics. You need to-” He turns to her with his eyes burning and cruel. It's easy to forget he's a vampire until he looks like this. The nurse doesn't know, of course, but she's filled with an icy cold terror anyway.

“I've already fired three nurses for talking like this. Do you want to be next?” He spits it at her and she shakes her head vehemently.

“N-no sir. I'm sorry.” She shrinks like a mouse in front of a violent predator. Elvis glares at her, nostrils flaring, and seriously considers draining her dry. He hasn't fed in days and he feels his fangs descend just thinking about it. Shaking his head a little, he turns back to face the bed and takes a deep breath to get rid of his fangs.

“You just do your job. Leave the rest to me.” He lifts Lisa Marie’s hand to his lips and kisses it gently. “My baby will be just fine.”

The nurse nods as he stands up and walks to the doorway, pausing to look back at the bed.

“She will be fine.” He has to find you before it's too late.

******

You read in the papers that Elvis is back in Vegas at the end of January 1971. Every time you find out he's there, your heart skips and you try not to pray that this is the time you run into him. You attempt to go about your business as usual and ignore the strange pull you feel to reach out to him.

It takes every amount of threatening from the Colonel to get Elvis to go back to Vegas while Lisa Marie is sick. Her whooping cough does turn into pneumonia and she just seems to get worse with each passing day. Elvis has her moved to a hospital in Vegas so he can be with her any time he's not on stage.

In the meantime, the men he's sent to search for you continue to come up empty handed. Nobody at the Moulin Rouge knows where you are and none of their other leads go anywhere. Mary hasn't spoken with you since the day Elvis was turned. And even though they find Anya back home in Russia, she doesn't know where you are either. Last she heard, you were going back to America, but she wasn't sure where you'd gone.

Elvis breaks almost every knick knack in his Vegas suite flying into fits of rage over their incompetence. He could've told them you were in America. There's a strange feeling in him that tells him you're close by, he's just not sure where.

So when he sees you one day crossing the street in front of him on his way to the hospital, he almost doesn't believe it's you. But he'd recognize you anywhere, even with his eyes closed. For some reason, his extreme senses pick up on you better than anything he's ever experienced. He can smell you and hear you despite the bustling city around him.

Without warning, he unlocks the door and hops out of the car, ignoring the pleas from his bodyguards. He's stronger than all of them combined, so they don't even attempt to hold him back as he runs across the street to you.

You feel him before you see him, his scent almost overwhelming you. Your eyes close and you stop dead in your tracks as he comes up behind you.

“Y/n…”

“Elvis.” You turn to him, opening your eyes slowly. For a second, you both just stare at each other.

“I need you.” You're not sure what you were expecting to come out of his mouth, but it wasn't that.

“You… need me?”

“Yes. Please. Come with me.” You're on your way to work, but you don't think twice.

“Okay.” He leads you back through traffic to his car where it's parked as his bodyguards wait for him to come back. Sonny stands there, not sure what to think about the kind of woman that makes Elvis Presley jump out of a moving car.

“What the hell, boss?” Elvis just shakes his head.

“I told you she was close, man.” Sonny's mouth pops open.

“Is that… she's… that's her?” Elvis nods as he opens the door for you to slide into the backseat.

“That's her.” He slides into the seat beside you and slams the car door. You can't get over how good he looks in his velvet jacket. His hair is a lot longer than the last time you saw him, but he's just as handsome as he's ever been.

“Elvis…”

“I need your help. I've been looking for you.” Your body is screaming for you to pull him close to you, but you try to ignore the instinct.

“For me? Why?”

“You'll see.” You ride in silence, not sure what to say to the man you've loved for over a decade when you haven't seen him in just as long. When the car pulls up in front of the hospital, you really start to wonder what he wants with you. “Don't say anything to the press.”

He doesn't give you time to ask any questions before getting out of the car and running to your side to help you out.

“Elvis, what-?”

“Just come with me.” He puts his hand on the small of your back, sending shivers through both of you, and leads you past the paparazzi and through the hospital to Lisa Marie's room. At the door he turns to you with a strange look of desperation on his face. His distress is almost palpable. “I need your help with this.”

He pushes the door open and guides you into the room. When you see the little girl in the bed, oxygen pumping and monitors beeping, your hand goes to your mouth.

“This is my daughter, Lisa Marie. She has pneumonia and it's not responding to the medication.” Your eyes fill with tears, his sadness overwhelming you.

“What do you need from me?” He hesitates for a second and then decides he has nothing to lose.

“I need you to help me turn her into one of us.”

His request hangs in the air like some tangible thing. It takes a second for you to really register what he's asking, before you turn to him with your eyes wide.

“Elvis, she's a child. She's a baby. I'm not-”

“She's dying, y/n. I can't lose her.” You feel the desperation roll off of him in deep waves and look back at the toddler in the bed. For a second, you consider what it would mean.

“No, Elvis! I'm not doing this!” You turn and walk out of the hospital room. In the hallway, you lean against the wall and try to catch your breath. His emotions are making it difficult to think. You don't remember being this sensitive to him before, but it's like the years apart have made your senses even more extreme. There's always a strange sort of connection between a vampire and their maker, but yours seems to be especially strong. Or maybe his feelings are just that intense.

“Y/n! Please. You're my only hope of saving her.” His blue eyes burn with desperation.

“No!” You yell at first and then lower your voice when you realize the nurses at the desk are watching the two of you. “I'm not doing this, Elvis. I can't.”

He grabs your shoulders and shakes you a little, not hard but enough to feel.

“You have to! You did this to me! You owe me this!” He's frantic now, almost hysterical with the thought that you're refusing to do what he needs. You reach up and take his face in both hands.

“Elvis. Not here. Not like this. People are watching.” He blinks a few times and lets go of your shoulders, looking around. He sniffs hard and takes his glasses off to wipe his eyes. Placing them back on his nose, he looks at you intensely.

“Okay. Come with me.” He takes your hand and drags you back through the hospital to his car, ignoring the reporters as they yell questions about who you are and why he's at the hospital. Back in the safety of the car, he breaks down. “I don't know what else to do.”

He leans over in your arms and you hold him as he cries on your chest. Tears stream down your cheeks and your body is wracked with sobs. You're not sure if it's his sadness or yours that's got you like this, but you hold him and rock with him in your arms the whole way back to his hotel.

When you pull up, he groans and sits up, wiping his face with his hands. He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to you to wipe your face with. You're not sure why he didn't use it himself, but it's like that would be admitting he had cried. Once you're both cleaned up as much as you can be, he opens the car door and leads you up to his suite. As soon as you're alone, he rounds on you. His eyes are so much on fire that they're almost red.

“Tell me again why the fuck you won’t save my daughter’s life.”

“Elvis, think about what you're asking me. You want me to help you make your baby a vampire.” He turns and kicks a table.

“I want you to SAVE HER LIFE.” He snarls at you angrily. You decide that yelling back is not going to be helpful. Instead you take a deep breath and ask quietly.

“Did I save your life?” He stares at you.

“What?”

“When I turned you, did I save your life?” You say it slowly and deliberately and watch as he puts together what you're asking.

“No, but I wasn't dying.” He seems to have softened a bit though, so you continue this line of questioning.

“And are you happy that I turned you?”

“Not really.” The bitterness in his voice cuts straight through you.

“Is this the life you want for your child?” That strikes a chord and he looks up at you with his eyes cold again.

“I didn't want this life for myself.” Now it's your turn to shake your head and get a little fired up.

“Oh no you don't. You do not get to blame this on me. You begged me to turn you.” You watch as he puffs up again and prepares for a fight.

“And you knew better!”

“I told you-”

“BUT YOU DID IT ANYWAY!” He walks close to you and towers over you. “YOU DID IT ANYWAY!”

“YOU DIDN’T GIVE ME AN OPTION!” He scares you a bit, but you refuse to back down. “YOU-”

“AND THEN YOU SENT ME AWAY!” You laugh derisively.

“I sent you away?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” You take a step towards him and look up into his face. “You left me!”

He grabs your upper arms and shakes you again.

“DO YOU THINK I WANTED TO LEAVE-” You cut him off and scream.

“DO YOU THINK I WANTED YOU TO LEAVE?! I LOVED YOU!” He lets go of your arms and his mouth pops open, but he closes it quickly and turns away from you. You whisper to his back. “I love you.”

You try to suppress your tears, dying to know what he is thinking. He doesn't give you long to wonder, though. Instead, he turns back to you with a tortured expression.

“Why the fuck didn't you say anything?”

“I knew better! I knew you didn't love me!” He shakes his head.

“You decided for me.”

“Are you telling me I was wrong?!” Your voice wavers as the tears threaten to spill over. “You know you didn't-”

And then in three steps he's wrapped around you, his mouth crashed into yours, kissing you with an unbridled passion.

You don't even think, your body just responds and you jump to wrap your legs around his waist. He catches you easily and carries you to the bedroom, his mouth never moving from yours. A decade’s worth of pent up passion is escaping you both as he lays you down on the bed and rolls his hips forward to meet yours. He stops for the smallest second and strokes the side of your face with the back of his fingers. Then he leans in and kisses you softly a few times before the heat takes over again and he tears at your clothes. In a few short minutes he's got you both stripped naked and you press your bodies together, soaking in the feeling of each other’s skin. It's been so long since he's had you like this that he almost forgot what it felt like to be this close to you, but it all comes rushing back to him as you whimper underneath him. He presses his lips to your body, leaving a trail of hot kisses in his wake as he moves down your stomach. His fangs have already descended and he grazes them against your inner thigh in the place where he bit you when you made love before he left Germany. How many nights has he thought of that day? The way you tasted and smelled and how you writhed under his body in pleasure.

You're overwhelmed with the reality of him as he worships you, having spent too many years imagining him, replaying your last time together over and over in your mind with your fingers pressed to your clit, whispering his name into the darkness like a prayer. You feel your fangs against your bottom lip and arch your back as he drags his tongue up your thigh and hovers just over your center.

“You really thought I didn't love you?” He whispers, just before he lowers his mouth to you, letting his tongue dart out over your sensitive bud. You moan softly as he begins to lick and suck you with the fire of a man possessed by desire. Words are beyond you as he works your clit with his mouth and then moves down to press his tongue as deep inside you as it'll go. You whimper and gasp as he fucks you with his tongue and then moves back up, sliding two long fingers into you. The feeling of his rings against your entrance is new and particularly delicious as you feel your orgasm start to gather in between your hips. His fangs press gently into your skin as he licks you hard and slides his fingers in and out. He knows you're close to a climax, remembers the way you feel like this, and is pulling out all the stops to push you over the edge. “Come on, baby. You can let go for me. I'm not goin’ anywhere.”

He's not sure why that's what he says, but it works nonetheless and you feel yourself giving in to the pleasure as it washes over you in pounding waves. He moans a little when he feels you pulse around his fingers. As your clit softens, he pulls back a bit and it takes everything in him not to sink his fangs into your thigh. His dick is so hard it almost hurts and he's dying for some kind of release. He hasn't fed in way too long and the knowledge that you're there and you taste so good is about to kill him.

You watch, confused, as he moves away from you and sits up with his back against the headboard, leaning back and sighing deeply.

“Elvis, what-?”

“I'm trying not to bite you.” You sit up and look at him, so beautiful with his eyes closed and his head thrown back, shaggy hair a little wet with sweat. His body is taut and when your eyes land on his hard cock standing at the ready, your pussy clenches around nothing.

“Why?” You whisper as you slink over to him and crawl into his lap, straddling his thighs and taking his dick in your hand. He groans as you start to pump him and then lean in and kiss his chest. “I don't mind.”

He immediately lifts his head and looks down as you move your hair out of the way and expose your neck to him. It’s been so long and he knows how good you taste. A low growl escapes him as he leans forward and licks a spot on your neck.

“You're sure, baby?”

“Just don't drain me, but yes.” He smiles a little and drags his fangs across your skin. Your hand is still pumping him, but as he moves to bite you, you lift up and sink down onto his cock while his fangs press into your neck. Both of you moan deeply with the double sensation. You roll your hips against him as he sucks the blood from your neck and the passion begins to mount again as both of his hands move to your back. He groans as you begin to bounce on him harder, pushing him so deep inside you that you dance on the edge of another orgasm.

“Fuck, Elvis!” You moan and he backs away from your neck and pulls your mouth to his, your fangs bumping into his as you taste your own blood on his tongue. He moves his hands to your hips and starts to lift and drop you faster and faster, feeling the pleasure rise in him and threaten to explode inside you. Then, he grabs the other side of your neck with his hand and presses his forehead into yours as you fuck him.

“Of course I loved you. I’ve always loved you. I still love you.” You let out a strangled moan at his words and clamp your mouth shut. The instinct to bite him is so strong that you can barely control it. And it only gets worse when he cocks his head to the side and moves his hair off his neck.

“I can't.”

“Yes you can. Please.”

“Elvis…” But it's beyond your control when he moves his thumb to your clit and he pushes you over the edge into another blinding climax. Your eyes darken and the next thing you know, you're sinking your fangs into him as he holds you in place and cums deep inside you. The sweet taste of his blood rushes over your tongue as his cock pulses inside you. The pleasure overwhelms both of you so deeply that for a second it feels like you black out. When you both come to, you're laying on the bed with your head down by his feet and his head by yours. You feel him grab your ankle and kiss it, a smile spreading across your face.

“You okay, baby?” He asks with his lips against your skin. You sit up and rearrange to be in his arms. He kisses your forehead and sighs deeply.

“I'm fine. Better than fine. Are you okay?” You look up at him but he keeps his eyes on the ceiling.

“Yeah, I'm… I love you.” You kiss his jawline.

“I love you too. What is it?” There's a pause as you watch him try to find the words to say what's on his mind. Eventually he just opens his mouth and it comes tumbling out.

“My baby girl is gonna die, isn't she?”

You lay together in silence and the thought hits him that at least he'll have you when it happens.

******

To be continued...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ The Alchemy.✦ 」

[Quidditch player Lorenzo Berkshire× famous!reader][ttpdm]

Summary:Lorenzo and Y/N shared a mischievous history during their Hogwarts days, often causing accidents and playing pranks. Years later, they crossed paths again as the most renowned figures in the wizarding world, sparking intriguing developments.

Warnings:fluff, toxic past relationship x smut.

Words:6k.

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯.

The Daily Prophet's Patronus Parchment magazine:

Sparks Fly in Paris? Y/N Y/L/N Dines with Quidditch Star Lorenzo Berkshire!: Hogwarts Reunion or Something More?

Paris, France -Love was in the air in the City of Lights last night! Our very own golden girl, Y/N L/N, was spotted enjoying a cozy dinner with none other than Quidditch heartthrob Lorenzo Berkshire at a quaint Parisian bistro.

Fans were quick to recognize that Y/N and Lorenzo were Hogwarts classmates, though their paths haven't crossed publicly since their school days. But based on the lively conversation and lingering smiles captured by our eagle-eyed correspondent, their Parisian rendezvous seemed far from a casual catch-up.

Y/N, a multi-talented powerhouse, needs no introduction. From captivating social media influencer, fashion icon and model to brilliant researcher and entrepreneur, she's an inspiration to witches and wizards worldwide. The Ministry of Magic even considers her one of the brightest minds in our time! Y/N with no doubt is the it girl of our generation

Lorenzo Berkshire, has stolen hearts on the Quidditch pitch with his dazzling plays and undeniable charm. As a Chaser for the The Montrose Magpies , he's considered one of the most exciting players of his generation. known as the "most lovable boy in the wizarding world," and it seems he might have just charmed his way into our girl Y/N's company.

A Match Made in Magical Heaven? Could this Parisian rendezvous be the start of something more? The thought of these two brilliant minds and captivating personalities joining forces has the magical world abuzz. Imagine the power couple they would be!

Neither Y/N nor Lorenzo have commented on the nature of their meeting. Were they reminiscing about Hogwarts days, or is there a spark of something new brewing? Only time will tell!

One thing's for sure:This unexpected reunion has ignited the flames of curiosity. We'll be keeping our eyes peeled for any further developments!

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯

when the magazine mentioned a special guest for the next photoshoot, but I wasn't fazed. They usually paired me with actors or other celebrities. Just when the office door swung open, revealing Lorenzo Berkshire himself standing beside the manager. My smile widened involuntarily, mirroring his own surprised delight.

"Y/L/N," he greeted with a charming smile, taking a seat across from me.

"Berkshire," I replied, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. We weren't exactly close in school, but we had a shared history – one I wouldn't soon forget. The memory of him accidentally ruining my dress and land spectacularly on top of me, readily came to mind. And who could forget the time I broke his Quidditch broom before that important match?

"Congratulations," I blurted out, remembering his recent victory. He'd just clinched the European League trophy, the most coveted prize in the magical sporting world, along with the title of Best Player in the League. World Champion and the best of his generation – it was a well-deserved title.

"Thanks," he smile, "and congratulations on… everything, honestly. Is there anything you can't do?"

My laugh echoed through the room."Probably stopping you from ruining my Yule Ball dress and dance," I teased.

"Ouch, low blow," he chuckled.

Our manager chimed in then, "Since you two already know each other, and are practically the biggest names in the wizarding world right now, we thought it would be perfect to have you do a double photoshoot together!"

Lorenzo and I exchanged glances, then simultaneously nodded. "Sure, no problem with me," I said.

"Me too, I'd actually really love that," he added, his voice surprisingly husky. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks as I stole another glance at him.

"Great! I'll iron out the details with your managers," she beamed, launching into a flurry of logistical planning. My attention, however, had become somewhat… divided. I found myself stealing glances at Lorenzo, a goofy grin plastered on my face. There was something about seeing him after all this time that made my heart skip a beat. Every time I caught his eye, he'd smile back.

As the meeting wrapped up, Lorenzo held the door open for me with a gentlemanly gesture. "Thanks," I smiled, a warmth spreading through me.

"Do you have anything to do now?" he asked.

I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips. "Not really. I have the day off."

"Great, so can I get you a coffee?" His suggestion was simple, yet the way he asked, made my heart skip a beat.

"Yes, sure," I agreed readily.

Paris, with its timeless charm, never failed to enchant me. Yet, on this particular day, the city's magic paled in comparison to the warmth radiating from Lorenzo. He led me into a quaint little coffee shop, a hidden gem tucked away from the bustling crowds. The cozy atmosphere instantly calmed my nerves.

Fame – a double-edged sword. Places like this were a luxury sometimes.

Sipping on our steaming hot chocolates, we fell into conversation easily. I congratulated him on his recent victory, the European League trophy a much-deserved achievement.

"Being on the best team now, that's huge," I said, genuinely impressed. "I mean what I want to say is you really did it, Lorenzo." The pride in my voice surprised even me.

He met my gaze for a moment, his smile softening. "You too," he replied. "I might tease my teammates about knowing you from school, but honestly?"

"No way" i smiled.

He chuckled. "Almost half of them follow your Instagram like lovesick teenagers."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously?"

"Absolutely. You're kind of a big deal, Y/N."

"Well, you're not doing so bad yourself, Mr. Champion," I countered, playfully returning the compliment. "you're quite the charmer yourself, Half the girls I work with seem to have graced the arms of a Quidditch star at some point you have a thing for models?”

His hand reaching up to brush something off my cheek. My heart skipped a beat as his fingers grazed my skin. "Just a little something..."

He held up a chocolate smudge from my hot chocolate. Relief washed over me, quickly replaced by a warmth that spread through my cheeks.

"Just a coincidence," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"We call that a 'type,'" I teased, trying to mask my fluster.

He chuckled again. "What about that actor? What was his name… Aaron?"

My smile faltered slightly. "Antonio," I corrected, a touch of bitterness creeping into my voice.

Lorenzo seemed to pick up on the shift. "Right," he said, his gaze searching mine. "He was a jerk, by the way. His movies sucks. Glad you broke up with him. You were way out of his league."

His words warmed me more than the hot chocolate. There was something about Lorenzo, something genuine and kind, that made my heart flutter in a way it never had before.

"Yeah, he was," I admitted, a genuine smile returning to my face. "Tell him that," I added playfully, "because he cheated."

Lorenzo's smile dropped. "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice sincere. "That's messed up."

"It's okay, truly," I reassured him. "I'm way over it."

The conversation flowed effortlessly from there. We reminisced about Hogwarts, teased each other about past crushes, and shared stories from our careers. Time seemed to slip away unnoticed, the afternoon sun dipping below the horizon painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

"Let me drive you back to your hotel," Lorenzo offered, his voice gentle. The warmth in his eyes sent a familiar flutter through my chest.

The ride back was filled with laughter and easy conversation.By the time we reached my hotel, a pang of disappointment settled in my stomach.

"So," Lorenzo began, his voice hesitant as he stopped the car, "I really enjoyed today. I'm glad I met you again, Y/N."

My gaze met his, and the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine, and the playful banter of the day took a more serious turn. Looking up at him, my heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A feeling bloomed within me – a warmth unlike anything I'd ever known.

"Me too," I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

"I didn't want this to end here," he murmured.

My heart soared. The butterflies returned, a swarm of them taking flight in my stomach. "Me neither," I confessed, mirroring his sentiment.

A slow smile spread across his face. "Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?" he asked, his voice husky with unspoken emotions.

The world seemed to shrink to just the two of us. A wide smile bloomed on my face. "Yes," I breathed, "I'd love that."

My smile stretched wider. For the first time in a long time, I felt a genuine connection, a spark of something real.

Tipping my toes up, I leaned in and brushed a soft kiss against his cheek. His breath hitched, and a flicker of surprise crossed his features before melting into a smile.

With a final lingering look, I stepped into the elevator, As the doors closed, I couldn't help but lean back against the cool metal.

Lorenzo Berkshire. On a date. With me. The little girl inside me would have laughed hysterically at the very notion back in school.

Today, however, was anything but a joke. Today was perfect. From the fancy Parisian restaurant with its impeccable service and breathtaking view, to Lorenzo himself, with his easy charm and genuine conversation, it was a fairytale come true. By the end of the night, I couldn't deny the giddy, lovestruck teenager bubbling beneath the surface.

As we exited the restaurant, paparazzi swarmed, cameras flashing like angry fireflies. We were caught in HD.

"I really liked you back at school, you know?" he confessed as we finally reached his car, the Eiffel Tower shimmering majestically in the distance. I perched myself leaned against his luxury .

"Wait, really?" Surprise mingled with a secret delight I hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge before.

"Really," he chuckled. "Though I wouldn't say I didn't mind ruining your Yule Ball dress a little."

My jaw dropped, then a laugh erupted from my lips. "So that wasn't an accident?"

"Maybe not entirely," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "Needed a reason to talk to you and stop you from dancing with that stupid boy. Besides you were always surrounded by your girls."

A blush crept up my cheeks. "I did that on purpose too being angry and act like running the dress was a big deal ," I confessed. "So you'd notice me." Schoolyard tactics, but it seemed they had worked.

The revelation hung between us for a moment, a shared secret from our past. Then, Lorenzo leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. "Well, it worked. And you, Y/N, have become even more beautiful than I ever remembered." His voice was a husky whisper, sending a rush of heat through me.”

His breath sent shivers down my spine. Before I could respond, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. It was a soft, hesitant touch at first, then deepened, his lips moving perfectly with mine. The world melted away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the intoxicating feeling of him.

He finally pulled away, his eyes searching mine. My heart hammered against my ribs, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

We reached my hotel in a comfortable silence, the kiss hanging heavy in the air. Stepping out of the car, I hesitated, looking up at him.

"Do you want to come in?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them, an entirely unexpected invitation.

The moment we got into the room and the door closed, we jumped into each other, he kissed me again, pushing me up against the wall. My hands found their way to his chest, feeling the heat of his body through his shirt. His lips were soft, yet insistent, and I moaned into the kiss.

My dress rode up as he lifted me, his hands gripping my bare legs. I wrapped my legs around his waist. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, and I rocked my hips, desperate for more.

He pushed my dress up, his fingers tracing a path up my bare legs. I shivered as he reached my thighs, his fingers teasing the edge of my lace panties.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his fingers tracing the outline of my pussy through the fabric. "I can't wait to taste you."

His lips trailing down my neck. I tilted my head back, giving him better access. His stubble scratching against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. He pulled my dress over my head, leaving me standing in nothing but my matching lacy black bra and panties.

Lorenzo looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and it made me feel powerful.

I reached for his shirt, undoing the buttons slowly. I wanted to savor every moment of this, to remember every touch and every kiss.

Lorenzo helped me, shrugging out of his shirt and tossing it aside, I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the muscles ripple under my fingertips.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispered, his lips finding mine again.

I moaned as he kissed me, my hands exploring his body. I could feel his hard length pressing against me, and I knew that I needed him inside of me.

"Let me show you how good I can make you feel baby."

He picked me up again, carrying me to the bed. He laid me down gently, his body covering mine. I could feel his hardness pressing against my core, and I rocked my hips, desperate for friction.

He kissed me again, his tongue exploring my mouth. I met his tongue with mine, our kiss growing more passionate.

"I want to leave marks all over your body. Can you handle it?" I nodded in response and pulled him to another kiss.

He trailed his lips down my body, his hands cupping my breasts.

"I've been thinking about this all day.“ He squeezed them gently, his thumbs brushing over my nipples. I arched my back, pressing my breasts into his hands.

He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting gently. I arched my back, moaning with pleasure. He moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention. I cried out, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

“I want to taste every inch of you. Spread your legs wider for me." He moved down my body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

He hooked his fingers into my panties, I nodded, he pulled them down slowly. I lifted my hips, helping him, exposing my wetness. He kissed my inner thighs, teasing me, working his way up to my core.

He ran his tongue along my slit, making me gasp. He teased my clit, his tongue flicking back and forth. I moaned, my hips bucking up I moaned loudly, grabbing onto the sheets.

"Don't stop, please Enzo fuck, you're so good at this," I begged.

He slipped a finger inside me, curling it up to hit my G-spot,and I exploded. I screamed his name, my orgasm washing over me.

He didn't stop, continuing to lick and suck on my clit. He added another finger, fucking me with his fingers. His tongue still teasing my clit. I could feel my orgasm building again, my body tensing up. He increased his pace, fucking me harder. I cried out, and came again, my body shaking.

He kissed his way back up my body, his lips meeting mine. I could taste myself on his lips, and it only made me want him more. He reached for his pants, pulling out a condom. I watched as he rolled it on, my body thrumming with anticipation.

He positioned himself at my entrance, his tip teasing me.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" He whispered in my ear, his voice husky with desire. I nodded, unable to speak.He thrust into me, filling me completely. I cried out, my nails digging into his back.

He started fucking me, hard and fast. I met him thrust for thrust, our bodies slapping together. He pounded into me, and I could feel another orgasm building up.

"Fuck, you feel good," he moaned, his lips finding my neck.

He sucked on my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. I moaned as he bit down, my orgasm building again.

"please Enzo," I begged, my nails digging into his back.

“ please what baby?” Lorenzo picked up the pace, his hips slamming against mine. I could feel the orgasm building, my muscles tensing.

"You're so tight around me. Do you like it when I fill you up like this?" He say , and I kept nodding at him he pushed my tears away and put kisses in there places.

He reached down, rubbing my clit. I came again, my walls clenching around his cock, and I could feel him getting closer to his release.

I screamed as I came, my body shaking with the force of the orgasm.

He thrust a few more times, and then he stilled. I could feel him cumming inside me, and I moaned. He collapsed on top of me, both of us panting heavily.

He rolled off me, and I snuggled up next to him. We lay there, our bodies entwined, as we caught our breath. I couldn't believe what had just happened. It was the hottest sex I had ever had.

“Forget about the European league, this is the best night of my fucking life,” he said, a satisfied grin on his face.

I huckled softly, resting my head on his chest while playing with his hand. “Me too,” I whispered, feeling a rush of warmth and affection for him.

He turned to me, his gaze softening as he took my hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on my palm. “I don’t want it to be just a one-night thing,” he confessed, his eyes searching mine for a reaction.

My heart skipped a beat at his words. I had to admit, the connection we shared tonight felt deeper than just physical attraction. I traced circles on his chest with my finger, pondering his statement.

"I don't want that either," I admitted, feeling a sense of vulnerability and honesty between us.

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯

The Daily Prophet's Patronus Parchment magazine:

Love in the Air: Y/N Y/L/N and Lorenzo Berkshire Spark Dating Rumors (Again!)

The rumor mill is churning once more, thanks to the undeniable chemistry between Y/N Y/L/N and Quidditch superstar Lorenzo Berkshire.

Holding Hands in London. Sharp-eyed fans spotted the pair strolling hand-in-hand through the charming streets of London. This heartwarming sight comes after their Parisian rendezvous last month and now-famous photoshoot, fueled further speculation of a blossoming romance.

Despite the growing buzz, Y/N and Lorenzo remain tight-lipped. Neither has officially confirmed their relationship status, leaving fans to decipher the undeniable sparks flying between them.

A Match Made in Magical Heaven? The pairing has the entire magical world swooning. Y/N, the multifaceted influencer, model, and researcher, and Lorenzo, the charming and talented Quidditch champion – they're a dream couple on paper and even more captivating in reality.

Is it Real? The lingering question remains. Is this a whirlwind summer fling, or the start of something truly special? Only time will tell. One thing's for sure: we'll be keeping a close eye on these two lovebirds!

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯

Lorenzo sprawled on the couch, a defeated sigh escaping his lips as he surveyed the culinary disaster in the center of the coffee table. What started out as a valiant attempt at a romantic home-cooked dinner had morphed into something resembling a misshapen, charcoal-tinged UFO.

"Don't worry about it," I chirped, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Those YouTube tutorials made it look so easy!" Maybe a dash of optimism would salvage the situation.

Lorenzo took a valiant bite, his face contorting into a grimace he tried his best to disguise. "It's...interesting," he managed, his voice thick with forced cheer. Bless him, he was trying so hard.

I snatched the offending slice from his hand before he could ingest another questionable morsel. "You're adorable, but food poisoning is not on the menu tonight." A laugh bubbled out of me, the tension easing.

He pulled me in for a kiss, flour smudging his cheek. I couldn't help but giggle as I retaliated, dusting a heart and smiley face onto his face with the rogue flour.

grabbed another wad of dough and shaped it into a heart, a playful smile adorning its surface. Flour dusted his face as I added finishing touches, my smile widening at his sheepish grin.

"Aww, look at you," I teased, pulling out my phone to capture the moment. A picture of the unknown -shaped pizza and Lorenzo, flour-dusted and grinning, filled the screen.

My finger hovered over the 'post' button. Suddenly, a wave of uncertainty washed over me. Was it too soon? Too public?

"Hey," Lorenzo murmured, his voice soft as he tilted my chin up. "What's wrong?" His gaze followed mine to the phone screen.

"I was just...thinking," I admitted.

"About posting it?" A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Is it weird?"

He shook his head, his smile widening. "Absolutely not. Post it. Put a million red hearts on it, let the world know you have a boyfriend."

The playful jab sent a blush creeping up my cheeks. "Boyfriend, huh?" I teased, a shy smile gracing my lips.

He leaned in, his eyes holding mine. "I'm whatever you want me to be, Y/N. Just know that I'm serious about you."

My heart did a little flip-flop in my chest. "Me too," I whispered, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

With newfound confidence, I hit 'post,' adding a caption: > Dinner may not have gone according to plan, but the company is definitely five stars! ❤️❤️❤️.

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯

The Daily Prophet's Patronus Parchment magazine:

Antonio Garcia's Latest Film Flops: Karma's a Witch, or Just Bad Scripting?

Box Office Blues: Antonio Garcia's highly anticipated film, "Galactic Guardians," has crash-landed at the box office, leaving critics and audiences equally unimpressed. The film, touted as a summer blockbuster, has garnered a mountain of negative reviews, with many citing a weak plot and forgettable characters.

Worse Reviews Than Revenue: The critical drubbing is compounded by the film's dismal financial performance. "Galactic Guardians" struggles to pull in viewers, with its earnings barely covering its production budget. This financial flop marks a significant setback for Garcia, who previously enjoyed a string of successful films.

Karma's Calling? The timing of this double whammy couldn't be more curious, especially considering Garcia's personal life. News of his messy breakup with Y/N Y/L/N, the wildly popular model and influencer, dominated headlines last year. Rumors of infidelity swirled around Garcia, rumors he never fully addressed. Many fans are quick to draw a line between his alleged infidelity and the film's disastrous performance, whispering of a touch of karmic justice.

Coincidence or Consequence? Whether this is a case of bad scriptwriting or cosmic payback remains to be seen. One thing is certain: Antonio Garcia's career has hit a major snag. Can he bounce back from this double blow? Only time will tell, but one thing's for sure – Y/N seems to be doing just fine. In fact, she's recently been spotted with Quidditch champion Lorenzo Berkshire, and the pair seem to be radiating pure happiness. Looks like karma might have a sweeter side.

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯

Lorenzo dimmed the living room lights, the soft glow of the TV casting flickering shadows on the walls. We were sprawled on the couch, a mountain of popcorn between us, halfway through a cheesy rom-com that neither of us were taking very seriously.

Suddenly, I hit pause, the silence thick after the movie's soundtrack abruptly cut off. Lorenzo looked at me, a questioning eyebrow raised.

"Hey," I said, taking a deep breath. "Can I tell you something?"

He scooted closer, concern etched on his face. "Of course, Y/N. What's wrong?"

The words tumbled out, a jumbled mess of emotions. I told him about Antonio, about how young and naive I was back then, how he used me for everything I had to offer: my fame, my connections, everything but me. I confessed to feeling unloved, unseen, a trophy on his arm rather than a real person. And then, the final blow – the cheating rumors that turned out to be all too true.

"You were so young," he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. "He didn't deserve you, Y/N. Not even close."

His words were like a balm to my soul, the anger and hurt momentarily soothed. He pulled me closer, and I rested my head on his shoulder, the familiar scent of his cologne grounding me.

"You know what the best part about all this is?" I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

He shook his head, his arms tightening around me.

"The best part is you," I confessed, looking up into his eyes. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Lorenzo. You make me feel seen, valued, loved – everything I never felt with him."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes filled with an emotion I couldn't decipher. Then, he leaned down, his lips brushing softly against my ear, "I love you," he murmured.

The words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. My breath hitched, surprise flickering across my face. Love? Here, now, with Lorenzo? It felt like a beautiful dream, too perfect to be real.

"Enzo…" I stammered, completely thrown off guard.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away stray tears. "Don't say anything," he pleaded, his eyes searching mine. "Just know that I do. I have for a while now."

Taking a deep breath, I met his gaze, my voice trembling slightly. "I… I love you too, Enzo."

A wide smile bloomed on his face, a smile that mirrored the warmth blossoming in my chest. The cheesy rom-com on the screen suddenly seemed unimportant.

One night, while he was staying over at my apartment, we found ourselves in a candid conversation.

I admitted that the first orgasm I had ever experienced was with him, after our first date. The confession seemed to shock him. After all, I had dated Antonio for three long years, so it was a significant revelation for both of us.

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯

The Daily Prophet's Patronus Parchment magazine:

Antonio Garcia's Sour Grapes: Y/N Y/L/N Responds with Class

A Case of Ex-xcuses? In a recent interview promoting his (commercially challenged) new film, Antonio Garcia took a not-so-subtle jab at his ex-girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N. When asked about his ideal partner, Garcia launched into a rambling diatribe about needing someone "grounded" and "focused," seemingly throwing shade at Y/N's multifaceted career as a model, influencer, researcher, and all-around powerhouse. Sources close to the actor claim he's been making negative comments about her to anyone who will listen. Considering their public breakup last year, fueled by rumors of Antonio's infidelity (which he never fully denied), this behavior comes as no surprise.

Lorenzo Berkshire Sings Y/N's Praises: When asked about Y/N during a recent interview, Lorenzo's face lit up with a genuine smile. " She's the kind of person who makes everyone around her better." His words paint a picture of a strong, supportive woman – the complete opposite of the image Antonio is trying to portray.

Fans Rally Behind Y/N: Needless to say, the internet erupted in support of Y/N. Fans flooded her comments with messages of empowerment and praise, applauding her success and her dignified response. Many pointed out that while Antonio struggles with box office flops, Y/N continues to excel in every aspect of her life.

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯

Today was the day. The Montrose Magpies, Lorenzo's team, were facing off against their fiercest rivals, Puddlemere United. It was always a tense match, but this year, the stakes felt even higher. The crowd crackled with energy, a mix of nervous anticipation and Magpies pride.

I knew Lorenzo would be incredible. He exuded a quiet confidence that was contagious. Before he stepped onto the field, I leaned in and kissed him softly. "Good luck," I whispered, my voice barely above a murmur. He smiled, a hint of nerves flickering in his usually calm eyes.

"I don't need luck with you cheering me on," he replied, squeezing my hand before disappearing into the tunnel.

The match was a whirlwind. Both teams played with an intensity that bordered on aggression. Cheering and groans filled the stadium as players soared and cursed, the Quaffle whizzing through the air at lightning speed. Penalties were called, tempers flared, and the score remained stubbornly tied.

Just when it seemed like the game might go into overtime, Lorenzo pulled off a move that defied gravity. He weaved through a sea of Puddlemere Chasers with the grace of a dancer, dodging Bludgers left and right. Finally, with a powerful flick of his wrist, the Quaffle soared through the goalposts.

The crowd erupted in a frenzy. Fans screamed, flags waved, and the stadium pulsed with pure joy. The Magpies had won! Lorenzo, the hero of the day, was hoisted onto his teammates' shoulders, the golden trophy gleaming in the afternoon sun.

He spotted me in the VIP section and winked, a playful glint in his eyes. As the celebrations on the pitch unfolded, Lorenzo made his way over, a wide grin plastered on his face. He scooped me up in a hug, the trophy still clutched in his hand, and planted a celebratory kiss on my lips. The taste of victory and the warmth of his touch sent shivers down my spine.

Moments later, I received a text from Lorenzo. Just two words: "Come over, baby." My heart skipped a beat. It wasn't unusual for us to meet up later, but the changing room? That felt… different. A knot of worry formed in my stomach. Was everything okay? Had he gotten injured?

With a mixture of apprehension and excitement, I excused myself and headed for the changing room . My mind raced with possibilities as I knocked on the door, a nervous flutter in my chest. The door creaked open, revealing Lorenzo, his hair damp from the shower.

Before I could question the unorthodox location, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. "There you are," he whispered, his voice husky with something that wasn't just exertion.

fingers tangling in my hair as he deepened the kiss. I could feel his desire, hard against my thigh, and I couldn't help but respond. My own hands found their way to his shoulders, then up to tangle in his damp hair.

"Lorenzo," I murmured, breaking the kiss for a moment. "What about your teammates?"

He smiled, a wicked glint in his eye. "They all left. It's just you and me here, babe."

My heart skipped a beat at his words. I had never been with him in such a public place before, and the thrill of the possibility was intoxicating. Before I could protest, his lips were on mine once more, his hands working their way under my shirt, caressing my skin.

I moaned softly as his fingers found my nipples, teasing them to hard points through the lace of my bra. His other hand was busy undoing my jeans, pulling them down just enough to free me from the constraints of my underwear. I could feel the cool metal of the locker against my back as he pressed me against it, his hips grinding against mine.

His mouth moved from my lips, down my neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. I gasped as his teeth grazed my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. "You like that?" he murmured, his voice low and husky.

I could only nod, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps. His fingers continued to tease my nipples, his thumb brushing against them in slow circles. I could feel the heat building between my legs, my body aching for him.

My breath hitched, and I nodded, my hands gripping his shoulders. "Yes, Enzo, don't stop."

He didn't need any further encouragement. His fingers left my nipples, tracing a path down my stomach, then lower still. I gasped as he found my clit, his fingers circling it in slow, teasing movements.

"You're dripping wet for me," he murmured, his voice full of satisfaction “You're my favorite addiction. I can't get enough of you."

His fingers slid lower, parting my folds, then entering me in one swift movement. I cried out, my back arching off the locker as he began to thrust them in and out, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through me.

"Yes, just like that," I I moaned, my hips bucking against his hand.

He continued to fuck me with his fingers, his thumb still teasing my clit. I could feel myself growing closer and closer to the edge, my body tensing with each thrust.

"The way you look at me when I touch you drives me wild. Keep those eyes on me,"

His words sent me over the edge. I cried out, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave. I could feel myself clenching around his fingers, my body shaking with the force of my release.

Lorenzo didn't give me a chance to catch my breath. He pulled his fingers out of me, his lips curling into a wicked smile as he brought them to his mouth, tasting my release.

“ I love how you moan when I do this. You're mine, all mine." he murmured.

Before I could recover, he was pushing me back against the locker, his hips grinding against mine. I could feel his cock, hard and hot, pressed against my entrance.

"Do you want me to take you right here, right now?"he asked, his voice low and husky.

I could only nod, my breath coming in short gasps. I was more than ready. I needed him inside me, filling me up, claiming me as his own.

He didn't make me wait any longer. With one swift thrust, he was inside me, his cock filling me up completely. I cried out, my back arching off the locker as he began to thrust in and out, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through me.

I could feel myself growing closer and closer to another orgasm, my body tensing with each thrust.

He didn't hold back. His thrusts grew harder, faster, his cock hitting that spot inside me that drove me wild. I could feel myself teetering on the edge, my body begging for release.

“I want you to say my name when you come. Let me hear how good I make you feel."

I cried out, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave. I could feel myself clenching around his cock, my body shaking with the force of my release.

Lorenzo followed me over the edge, his own orgasm ripping through him. I could feel him pulse inside me, filling me up with his release.

He collapsed against me, his breathing ragged. I could feel his heart racing, matching my own.

His lips finding mine once more.

My body still trembling with the aftershocks of my orgasm. I had never experienced anything like that before, and I knew that I would never forget it.

"I never knew public places could be this thrilling," I whispered, still caught in the haze of pleasure.

Lorenzo smiled, his eyes full of affection. "Don’t worry I have a lot of in my mind for you " he promised, his lips claiming mine in another searing kiss.

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯

[goblinontour]

Paint You With My Love

it’s not a life sentence but a death dream

series masterlist

warnings: fluff, tiny bit of angst (maybe), smut, piv, public(ish) sex

word count: 10k

London to Paris, 2022

The quiet of the room was suffocating, the only sounds being his deep, even breaths as he slept soundly next to you. Meanwhile, your heart was racing. Tomorrow was hanging over you like a storm cloud, and you were terrified. You didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of him leaving, of possibly losing what you had, was gnawing at your insides.

It was the last day before he had to leave for tour, and as much as you tried to push away the fear gnawing at the edges of your mind, it lingered. For the past few weeks, everything with him had felt almost perfect. He was so present, so different. Like living in some fairytale he’d wrapped the two of you in, where time didn’t exist, where all that mattered was the two of you, making you feel like nothing could break this bubble. But the more perfect it seemed, the more you doubted it. You couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe it was too good to be true. Was this just temporary for him? Was it his way of clinging to something real before he had to leave again? The uncertainty clawed at you. You hated it. God, you hated it. And you hated yourself for doubting him. If he knew what you were thinking, it would shatter him, wouldn’t it?

You turned to your side, lying on the bed fully now. You glanced over at him, watching him sleep beside you. His face, half-buried in the pillow, was peaceful, his hair a mess of dark waves. It was soft and messy. He hadn’t cut it since he arrived. He used to keep it neat, almost as if his life needed that kind of control. But now it seemed like he was letting go, loosening his grip on some part of himself. He hadn’t mentioned cutting it, and part of you wondered if it had become some kind of symbolic thing for him, like letting go of his hair was tied to letting go of something bigger. Maybe cutting it again would mean something was ending, and he didn’t want to risk that. He had mused, almost superstitiously, that maybe cutting his hair would change something. Risk whatever magic had bloomed between you both.

You were wide awake, the clock ticking closer to dawn. He’d insisted on taking you on one last date before he left, something special. You hadn’t expected it to mean catching the first train to Paris, but that’s exactly what he’d planned. “So we don’t waste time.” he’d said with a playful grin. And how could you say no? He was so damn earnest about it, so certain that you needed to squeeze every last second out of this day together. But the anxiety inside you was growing, because after today, he’d be gone. The future felt like a foggy, uncertain thing, and you couldn’t bear the thought of waking up tomorrow without him next to you.

You shifted in bed, trying not to wake him, but of course, he noticed. He always noticed. 

“Mhmm…go to sleep, baby.” he murmured, voice muffled against the pillow, his face still buried in its soft folds. His arm reached out, sheepishly searching for you, a quiet, sleepy sound of effort escaping him as he stretched. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him with a lazy, half-conscious urgency. His body was warm, comfortable in the quiet of the late night.

“I can’t sleep.” you whispered, turning to face him. You rested your hands under your cheek, watching him through the dim light. His eyes were still closed, his brow furrowed in the slightest bit of frustration, clearly not ready to lose the precious sleep he had left. He tightened his arm around you a little more.

He murmured something, his voice muffled and still thick with sleep. He didn’t even open his eyes, his face smushed into the pillow. “You have to.” he mumbled, voice heavy with drowsiness. You couldn’t help but smile, though the weight of tomorrow still hung over you. How could he be so calm? So peaceful? 

“Please.” His fingers brushed your side, a soft plea in his touch. He made a small sound of complaint, not wanting to fully wake up but not wanting to lose this moment either. “Please…” he added again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What?” you asked softly, your fingers brushing his hair away from his face. You could see the faint twitch in his eyes from how the strands tickled his lashes. 

“Hug me back.” he whispered, his tone more vulnerable than you expected. 

You did. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly, and he nestled into you like he never wanted to let go. You felt his breath slow as he relaxed into you. He was so different now. So much softer. Smaller, in a way. 

You couldn’t remember when this shift had happened, but there it was. You remembered when his presence used to feel so much larger than life. The man who once held you with such intensity, with arms that could crush you, now felt fragile in your embrace. His body fit perfectly against yours, no longer the overwhelming force you had once known, but something smaller, more tender. Like he needed you to hold him just as much as you needed him.

Time ticked by slowly, but you stayed awake, listening to the rhythm of his breathing. Your fingers traced his back, and for a moment, it felt like everything would be okay. But you couldn’t help but wonder if this tenderness would last after tomorrow. The fear lingered, unspoken between the two of you. Could you trust this? Could you trust him? He had said it so casually, “No time to waste.” But you knew there was more behind those words. Neither of you wanted to waste the time you had left.

His breathing evened out again as he drifted back into sleep, his arm still draped over your waist, pulling you close. You closed your eyes, trying to will yourself to sleep too, but it didn’t come. Not tonight.

The shrill sound of the alarm yanked you out of your spiralling thoughts. 3:50 AM. You hadn’t even realised how long you’d been lying there, wide awake. You didn’t feel relief. More like resignation. You hadn’t been bored, just anxious, waiting for this very moment.

“Uhhh…” he groaned, shifting, not to silence the alarm, but to push himself closer into your chest, his head nuzzling against you. “Turn it off.” he mumbled, voice muffled by your skin.

“Okay.” you replied, trying to stretch over him, but he wasn’t making it easy, refusing to move enough for you to reach. You barely managed to hit the snooze button, and just as you did, he rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him. His arms wrapped around you like a second skin, holding you so tight it felt like he was trying to keep you from slipping away.

He didn’t let go. He held you there, chest to chest, warmth seeping through the tension you felt building inside. His hands scratched softly at your back, lazy but comforting, and for a second, you almost forgot the knot in your stomach.

“Are you okay?” he asked, the grogginess in his voice replaced by concern. His grip tightened a little, his eyes still heavy but more focused now, searching your face.

“Why?” you whispered, trying to sound casual, but failing.

“You didn’t sleep.” he said simply, his hands still trailing along your back.

“I did.” you lied. “A little.”

“No, you didn’t.” he said, his voice firmer this time. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, your face pressed against the warmth of his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat making you wish you could stay like this forever. You didn’t want to say it, to admit what was eating away at you, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The words came out before you could hold them back.

“I just don’t want you to leave.” you murmured, your voice quieter than you intended. Not just the tour, not just for a few weeks. It was the idea of him leaving. “Leave leave.”

He shifted slightly, pushing your hair out of your face, his fingers threading gently through it. His legs stretched beneath you, and he pulled you back enough to look into your eyes. “I have to leave.” 

“I know.” you said quickly, feeling your throat tighten. He had to go. There was no changing that.

“But I’m staying staying.” he added, a hint of a smile on his lips as he brushed your hair back again. His fingers traced along your temple. “I promise.” 

The warmth of his hands on your skin, the way he looked at you, like he meant every word, made it a little easier to breathe, if only for a moment.

He kissed you, slowly, his lips warm and soft against yours. Just as he was starting to sink into the moment, the alarm rang again. “Shut up.” he groaned, fumbling to silence it without breaking the kiss. His fingers grazed the screen until the noise stopped, and he pressed his lips back to yours for a few more seconds before pulling away.

“We gotta get ready.” he murmured, smiling against your mouth.

“I know.” you replied.

“We’re going to Paris.” he added, his smile growing.

“Yeah.” you said, unable to resist smiling back.

You both climbed out of bed reluctantly, the comfort of your shared warmth replaced by the chilly air of early morning. He started darting around the room, jittery and flustered, trying to gather everything he needed for the day. He grabbed his bag and began tossing things in haphazardly. He should’ve probably taken care of that the night before. 

“What do you need, baby?” you asked, watching him in amusement as he scrambled.

“My film.” he mumbled distractedly, already halfway down the stairs.

“Your what?” you called after him, unable to hear him clearly.

“MY FILM!” he yelled again, his voice echoing from downstairs.

You followed him, trailing behind as he rummaged through drawers and shelves. “FOUND IT!” he shouted triumphantly, unaware that you were standing right behind him.

You laughed softly. “So what, you got into photography while you were busy ignoring me?” It came out with more edge than you meant, but it hung in the air regardless.

He paused for a second and his smile faltered, a shadow passing over his face. “I wasn’t ignoring you…” he said quietly, the words hanging between you. He shifted uncomfortably but added, “Film. I got into film.” He changed the subject before the conversation could go any deeper.

It was a sensitive subject. Two years of distance, and no real explanation. It was the closest either of you had come to addressing the gap in time when things between you were, well, not quite right. If they were ever right. 

Sensing the shift in mood, you changed the topic. “Film?” you asked. “Fine arts, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I’m diving into all the fine arts now.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at how endearing he looked. Nervous, excited, and messy all at once. “Of course you are.” you teased, watching as he stuffed the film into his bag, his energy infectious.

He turned you around swiftly, giving your ass a playful slap, smirking with that grin. “Go get dressed.” he ordered, the laughter in his voice unmistakable.

You crossed your arms and raised a brow. “What about you?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming…in a sec.” he muttered, already distracted. You could tell he was still looking for something. He had realised between finding his film and now that he needed batteries, but he didn’t dare admit it out loud, knowing you’d absolutely roast him for being so forgetful. It was adorable, honestly, how scattered he could get, even though the day was supposed to be meticulously planned out. As you went to change, you could still hear him shuffling around downstairs, mumbling under his breath. 

Once you were dressed and ready, you walked downstairs, fully prepared for more delays, but to your surprise, he was by the door. He was fiddling with the strap of his bag, clearly satisfied with his choice of shoes. “Finally settled on those, huh?”

“I don’t want my feet to hurt.” he said, defensive but soft, glancing at you with a small grin as if that explained everything.

“Baby, baby, baby.” you teased, reaching for the keys he was holding. “Let’s go.”

Of course, you were late, running just a few minutes behind schedule. He always managed to make things take longer with his indecision, but you couldn’t really be mad about it, especially with how excited he was. As you both piled into the waiting car, you caught his excitement. 

He checked his phone, reading off the itinerary for the day. “We’ll get to Paris just after sunrise, have coffee at this little place I found…Then we’ll walk by the Seine, maybe visit a gallery or two. I’ve got my camera, so…”

When you finally pulled up to the train station, you noticed how jittery he was, practically bouncing on his feet. “Are you always like this before a trip?”

“No, not always.” he replied, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the entrance, “Just…when it’s with you.” 

There was something in the way he said it that made your stomach flutter, the moment charged with more than just excitement for Paris. He was trying, in his own way, to show you that this meant something. That he wanted more, not just this day or this trip. 

Hand-in-hand, the two of you rushed to catch the train, both of you smiling. No traffic, no more delays, just the two of you, heading to Paris. 

You both settled into your seats, and something about the motion of the train made it feel like the world was just the two of you, even in the quiet hustle around you. He was calmer now, but you could still feel a little tension radiating from him. He wasn’t trying to be low-key in the “don’t recognize me” way, but more in the sense of not wanting to disturb the people around him. That nervous energy was still part of him.

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close enough to feel his warmth seeping through your body, his hand rubbing gently at your shoulder. “Try and get some sleep, yeah?” he whispered, nudging you just enough for your head to rest against his shoulder.

You hadn’t thought sleep was possible, not with everything on your mind, but something about his presence was calming. Maybe it was the warmth, or maybe just the fact that he was holding you. Maybe you were just too tired. Whatever it was, it wasn’t so hard to close your eyes anymore. In just a few minutes, you melted into him, your body softening against his as exhaustion won over.

Feeling you relax, he quietly pulled out his earbuds, settling into his own head for a while, letting some music fill the space. His thumb traced small circles on your side absentmindedly, grounding himself in the simple reality of having you so close. His thoughts, however, drifted elsewhere. Away to the time he’d have to spend without you, the distance that would separate you soon. It made his chest feel tight. He hated this part, the missing you before he’d even left. He’d felt it before, many times, but now it was even worse because it was rightful for him to feel like that. He had you. 

He glanced down at you, your face nestled into his shoulder, your breath warm against his neck. He couldn’t help the small, bittersweet smile that tugged at his lips. “You okay?” he whispered, not expecting an answer, knowing you were already asleep. His words were more for himself, as if asking you would somehow quiet his own worry. He shifted slightly, pulling you closer still, and rested his chin on top of your head.

For a few moments, he just held you like that, his heart thudding slowly in his chest. The music was nothing more than background noise now, his thoughts louder. “I’m gonna miss you.” he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the hum of the train. He exhaled deeply, leaning his head back against the seat. He wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet. 

A few minutes later, you stirred slightly in his arms, your body shifting just enough to press closer to him. Your hand grazed his stomach lightly, your touch enough to make his breath hitch. He smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head before leaning back again.

He tried to focus on the present, to appreciate these moments with you before everything changed for a while. But it wasn’t easy. He’d already started counting the days in his mind, anticipating how much he’d miss holding you like this, waking up next to you, sharing these quiet moments. He sighed softly, running his hand gently down your back. He’d miss everything.

He didn’t know when he’d dozed off, but the slow halt of the train woke him. As the realisation hit him that you’d arrived, he cursed himself for falling asleep. He could’ve spent that time with you, watching your face as you rested. But instead, he’d wasted precious minutes. Still, the scent of you lingered on his coat, and he smiled softly at that. 

He glanced down at you, still tucked into his side, your cheek pressed against his chest. The peaceful rise and fall of your breathing made him pause for a moment, reluctant to wake you. He ran his hand gently over your back before leaning down and whispering, “Hey, we’re here.”

You didn’t move at first, just stirred slightly, your face scrunching up as you tried to stay in the warmth of sleep. He kissed the top of your head, chuckling softly. “Come on, sleepyhead.” he coaxed. “We’re in Paris.”

Your eyes blinked open groggily, unfocused at first. “Already?” you murmured, still half-asleep, your voice muffled against him.

“Yeah, already.” he replied, smiling down at you. “Come on, let’s get moving before they kick us off the train.” He gently moved out from under you and stood, stretching with a low groan. Grabbing his bag from the overhead compartment, he offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet.

“Ugh, I hate waking up like this.” you grumbled, running a hand through your hair.

“I know, I know.” he teased, pulling his coat tighter around himself as you stepped off the train. “But look. It’s waiting for us.”

The cool morning air hit both of you, making you shiver slightly, but he pulled you into his side again, rubbing your shoulder with one hand. His other hand fidgeted nervously with the strap of his bag, but his gaze kept drifting back to you, as if to reassure himself you were still there, that he wasn’t dreaming.

“You look perfect.” he said, leaning in to kiss your forehead. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and there was something in the way he said it. “Paris still suits you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, both at the compliment and the implication of the last time you were here together. “I probably look like I just rolled out of bed.”

“You did.” he smirked, his hand slipping to your waist as you started walking toward the exit. “And still, you’re perfect.”

He was quieter than usual, his movements more deliberate as you walked. It wasn’t the typical anxiety that sometimes made him jittery in public places. No, this was different. He was savouring the quiet between you, soaking in the last few moments he had before leaving. He didn’t want to rush, didn’t want to waste even a second of this last day with you.

As you made your way through the station, he stopped at a small kiosk to grab some coffee, handing you a cup with a smile. “One last sunrise with you for a while.” he said softly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to memorise every detail.

The reality of him leaving hadn’t fully set in yet, not for you. But for him, every minute felt like a countdown. Every touch, every glance. It all mattered. You were his tether. 

The warmth from the cup seeped into your fingers as you brought it closer. His words made you smile. “I think this is probably our first sunrise together.” you said. “You always sleep in late.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s true. But I like this. I like seeing it with you.”

You both walked through the station, your breath visible in the cold air. He fumbled with his phone, squinting at the screen as he tried to figure out the map. “I swear I saved this café…” he muttered, zooming in and out on the app.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” you teased, taking a sip from your coffee.

He grinned sheepishly, still focused on the map. “Of course, I do. Just…give me a sec.”

After a few minutes of wandering, you finally reached the café. It was a small, cosy spot tucked away on a quiet street. The smell of fresh bread and coffee wafted out as you stepped inside. He approached the counter, confidently rattling off, “Deux cafés, s’il vous plaît.” with his somewhat stilted but earnest attempt at French.

“Just coffee?” you whispered, a smirk tugging at your lips.

He shrugged, leaning closer to you. “I panicked. Never enough caffeine anyways.”

You chuckled, settling into a small table outside, right by the window. He placed the coffees on the table and sat across from you.

“So, do I get points for trying?” he asked, stirring his coffee and watching you over the rim of his cup.

“You get points for effort.” you teased. “Your accent still needs work, though.”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, but at least I didn’t ask for something weird. Like, I don’t know, a baguette in a cup.”

You smiled at him, shaking your head slightly. “You’ll get there eventually.”

His gaze softened as he looked at you. “I’m just glad we’re here. Together. Even if it’s just…this.”

He plucked a cigarette from the pack, lighting it with a flick of his lighter. You watched as he inhaled deeply, the smoke curling from his lips. 

“Can I have a drag?” you asked casually.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You don’t smoke.”

You shrugged with a grin. “We’re in Paris. Gotta get with the people.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, Parisian lady.” he leaned over the small table, holding the cigarette out to you. His fingers brushed your lips as you wrapped them around the filter. The moment felt strangely intimate, like something out of an old film. He watched, eyes flicking from your mouth to the way your cheeks hollowed slightly as you took in the smoke. He swallowed hard, a blush creeping up his neck.

You exhaled slowly, watching his expression. “Don’t blush now, it’s too cute.”

“Shut up.” he mumbled, trying to hide his embarrassment. He took the cigarette back, leaning back in his chair. “I just didn’t expect you to smoke. Ever.”

“I don’t.” you said with a laugh. “But…when in Rome. Or Paris, I guess.”

He blew out a cloud of smoke, smirking. “Next thing you know, you’ll be drinking wine with breakfast.”

“Maybe.” you teased. “How else am I supposed to fully embrace the experience?”

His eyes softened, watching you, as he absentmindedly tapped the ash off the cigarette. 

“You know we’ve smoked together before.” you said, taking another sip of your coffee.

He squinted, tilting his head. “When?”

“A couple of times.” you replied, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“That was weed.” he said with a dismissive wave. “Not the same.”

“It’s still smoking.” you countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Nuh uh.” he shook his head, lips quirking up into a grin. “Doesn’t count.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Alright, fine, weed doesn’t count. But technically, I still smoked.”

He watched you, and the memory of earlier lingered in his mind. His fingers fumbled with the cigarette between them, and suddenly, he felt the urge to say it. Now or never. 

“I was ignoring you.” he blurted out, voice softer than usual. “I lied earlier.”

You looked at him, surprised. “What?”

He exhaled, rubbing the top of his coffee cup in slow circles. “The last couple of years…I was trying to ignore you. I wasn’t ready for this-” he motioned between you two, “and I didn’t want to hurt you more…so cutting you off…”

His words hung between you, fragile and loaded. He continued, eyes dropping to the smoke curling from his cigarette. “It wasn’t fair. I just- every time I thought about you, I knew it wasn’t casual anymore, and I panicked. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You sat there, taking it in, your expression shifting, but you didn’t interrupt him. His thumb rubbed the side of the coffee cup again. “I thought staying away was better, that maybe you’d move on, maybe it wouldn’t matter as much. But…” He sighed, eyes flickering up to meet yours, filled with regret. “It mattered to me.”

His confession lingered in the air, heavy and vulnerable, the kind of weight you couldn’t just shake off. You weren’t sure how to respond, not immediately. His words had come out like a dam finally breaking, spilling out all at once, leaving both of you exposed. 

“Why are you telling me this now?” you asked, your voice steady but laced with the confusion you felt. His eyes, usually so guarded, were wide open now, filled with something like regret. Or maybe it was fear. It was hard to tell.

“Because…” he said, rubbing his thumb along the rim of the coffee cup again, the cigarette now nearly forgotten between his fingers. “I don’t want to keep anything from you anymore. I didn’t want to lie. Not to you.”

You exhaled slowly, processing the weight of his admission. You hadn’t expected this. Not today, not in the middle of Paris with your coffee in hand and the sunrise still fresh in the sky. His words felt out of place, but at the same time, maybe they were exactly where they needed to be. After all, wasn’t this what you had been afraid of? That you weren’t on the same page, that he wasn’t as invested as you? And now, here he was, confirming it in his own messy way.

“I just-” He paused, finally setting the cigarette down and running a hand through his hair, something he always did when he was nervous. “I wasn’t ready for…us. And I thought staying away was the right thing to do. Maybe it wasn’t. I realise that now."

You watched him closely, feeling the tension in the lines of his body, the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat like he was bracing himself for impact.

He looked at you, and the sincerity in his eyes almost took your breath away. He wasn’t used to being this vulnerable, you could tell. 

“And now?” you asked, your own voice softer, trying to understand where he was going with this. “What now?”

He let out a small, shaky laugh, almost as if he didn’t know the answer himself. “Now…I don’t know. I just know I don’t want to screw this up again.”

There was something in the way he said it, the way his hand trembled slightly as he reached for his coffee, that made you realise just how much this moment meant to him. He wasn’t just trying to make things right. He was terrified of losing you.

“I don’t want you to leave again.” you admitted, the words coming out before you could stop them. “Not like that. Not without a reason.”

He swallowed, the vulnerability in his eyes intensifying. “I’m not going anywhere. Not like that. Not again.”

And as he said it, you felt something in your chest shift, just slightly. It wasn’t a resolution, not yet, but it was a start. You weren’t sure what the future held, or if either of you was truly ready for what was coming next, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like you were both standing on the same side. 

He reached out, his hand brushing against yours, and in that moment, everything felt a little less complicated.

“I’m sorry for saying it now, I just…” he trailed off, his eyes searching yours like he was unsure if he should’ve even brought it up. 

“No, no. It’s fine.” you reassured him, and you meant it. 

He nodded, a little more settled, and without needing to ask, he held out the cigarette again, offering it to you. You took another drag, the smoke filling your lungs, but before you could exhale, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. It was sudden but not hurried, the kiss soft and tasting of coffee and tobacco. As your lips parted, the smoke left your mouth, lingering in the air between you two.

The day seemed to fly by in a blur, each place you visited going by faster than the last. You were halfway through the itinerary he’d meticulously planned, yet it felt like only minutes had passed. He never stopped talking, rambling on about the art, the architecture, or even the little details no one else would notice. He always had something to say. Whether about the intricate details of some statue you’d barely noticed or a stray thought about the cobblestones beneath your feet. 

It wasn’t always cohesive. Sometimes he’d start on one subject and then veer off into another, as if his brain couldn’t process everything fast enough. “Wait- what was I saying? Oh yeah- so this place, right?” And yet, you understood. You always did. You loved listening to him, even when his sentences veered off in 100 different directions, because somehow, you always understood him. There was no need for him to find the perfect words, because just the sound of his voice, the energy behind it, was enough to tell you everything you needed to know.

There was something effortless in the way you both communicated, even when it seemed like he didn’t quite know what he wanted to say. His hand would find yours as you walked through the narrow streets, pausing to point out something in the distance or gesture wildly as he tried to explain a thought that clearly mattered to him, even if the words didn’t always come out right.

“I know I’m rambling.” he said at one point, chuckling softly as he glanced your way. “You probably don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

You squeezed his hand and smiled, shaking your head. “I get it.” you said simply, and he looked at you like you’d just solved a puzzle that had been plaguing him for years. 

The two of you moved from place to place, each moment blending into the next, each filled with the quiet understanding that this day was fleeting, but it was also something that would linger in the back of your minds for a long time.

It felt like it was slipping through your fingers. You could hardly keep track of where you’d been, moving so quickly through the list of places he’d planned for you. But it didn’t matter. 

As you walked, he kept one hand wrapped around yours, the other gesturing as he spoke, fingers brushing the air with excitement. His enthusiasm was infectious, making you smile even when you were exhausted from all the walking. You loved it. Loved how he cared about everything, how he saw the world in a way you didn’t always catch on your own. He was the filter through which you experienced life whenever you were with him, a lens that made everything more vivid, more real.

At one point, you both stopped in front of a small fountain tucked away in some side street, where the noise of the city felt muted, distant. He stood there, catching his breath for a second, before launching into another thought about the history of the neighbourhood. “I read something about this place once…” he trailed off, but the details didn’t matter. What mattered was him, the way his words filled the space between you, the way you could feel his affection in every sentence, even the ones that didn’t quite land.

“Are you bored yet?” he asked after a while, noticing your silence.

You shook your head, squeezing his hand. “I love hearing you talk.”

He gave you a look, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe you, but the corners of his mouth turned up in that soft, almost shy smile you’d come to know so well. He looked down, running a hand through his hair. “Alright.” he murmured. “Because I’ve got a lot more to say…Like the fact that I wanna fuck you right now.” he said, his voice low and serious. 

His eyes stayed locked on yours, searching for any hint of reaction, but it wasn’t in the playful, teasing way you might’ve expected. It was a confession, raw and sudden, and it hit you harder than you anticipated.

You blinked, feeling a heat rising in your chest and spreading through your whole body. It took a second to process. Your lips parted in surprise, and you could feel the flicker of a smile on your face, but you weren’t sure whether to laugh or be serious back. “Right now?” you asked, eyebrows lifting slightly, the teasing lilt creeping into your voice despite yourself.

“Yeah.” he said, his tone unwavering, his face staying serious as his gaze drilled into you. The bluntness of it, the way he didn’t try to soften it, made your heart stutter. 

You exhaled a quiet laugh, glancing around for a moment like the absurdity of the situation was catching up to you. “So you wanna have sex…now? Like, here?”

He shifted his weight a bit, glancing around too, as if suddenly realising how bizarre it all sounded. “No, not here.” he mumbled, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge if he was serious or just caught up in some impulsive rush. But the way he looked at you, that intensity in his eyes. It made your stomach flip. And for a second, neither of you spoke, the air thick between you, buzzing with a kind of tension that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

He scratched the back of his head, laughing softly at himself, but it didn’t break the intensity. “I have to go straight to the airport when we get back to London.” he added quietly, his words almost catching on something unsaid. His eyes dipped, like he was already regretting bringing it up, but there was an urgency in his voice now, a need to get everything out before he lost the chance.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head, trying to understand what he was getting at. “So you want to do this now, before you leave?” you asked, your voice soft, but there was a playful edge there too. You couldn’t help it, the way he was fumbling through the moment was kind of endearing. 

He let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head slightly, his lips quirking up at the corner like he was laughing at himself. “Not here.” he repeated, his voice almost frustrated now, but not in a bad way. “I don’t know. I just don’t wanna waste any more time.” He said it like it was something that had been eating at him, something he’d been holding onto for a while, and now it was spilling out all at once.

There was a pause, and you could feel the weight of everything he wasn’t saying hanging between you. The way he fumbled with his words, his hands, his expressions. It all screamed that he was still processing it too, not knowing exactly how to navigate this. But he was trying, and you could see the urgency in his eyes, the need to make these last moments count.

You couldn’t help but smile, something soft curling in your chest. “You’re ridiculous.” you said, moving a little closer, your hand brushing lightly against his arm.

He gave you a small, sheepish grin. “Maybe.” He glanced around, then pointed to a narrow, slightly abandoned-looking alley nearby. “We could go over there.” he said, his voice low and playful, clearly testing the waters.

You blinked at him, surprised. “On the street?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged casually, but his grin was unmistakable. “Yeah?”

You gave him a look, part incredulous, part amused. He held your gaze for a moment before his expression softened. “Okay, no.” he admitted, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Maybe not.”

You gave him a teasing look. “I mean, I could suck you off in an alley if you really want, but I’m not getting naked on the street.”

His eyes widened slightly, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Really?” 

You laughed lightly, shaking your head at him. “Only because you’re so impatient.” you shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He laughed. “I might have to take you up on that.”

He looked ahead, his eyes darting toward the abandoned alley he’d spotted earlier. For a split second, you thought he might actually be considering it, but then he shook his head with a chuckle. “Okay, okay, no. You’re right. I’m just messing with you. You don’t have to. I just-” He paused, his hand still resting on your waist. “I’ll just miss you. That’s all.”

“I know.” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you rested your head against his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lingering just a little too long, letting you feel the warmth of his lips through your hair.

Then, after a beat of silence, he spoke again, quieter this time. “I’ll miss you a lot.”

Hearing him say it out loud like that made your chest tighten. It was like the reality of his leaving was sneaking up on you in the middle of this moment, hitting you in a way it hadn’t before.

You smiled softly, turning your face up to him. “I’ll miss you too.”

You’d both forgotten about that moment about the alley until now. The late lunch, early dinner was meant to be a quiet, bittersweet goodbye before you had to head back, something simple. You were sitting across from each other in the quiet restaurant, trying to make the most of the time left, talking about anything except what was coming next. It was supposed to be a nice meal, a chance to slow down, to enjoy each other’s company. But when his hand grazed your leg, it wasn’t even intentional. He was mid-sentence, saying something about his flight, but the moment his fingers made contact, it was like a spark went off in your chest. It just an absentminded gesture while he was talking, but the jolt it sent through you was instant. The air between you thickened, your pulse quickening.

You knew he hadn’t meant it like that, but now? It felt like that.

You stopped listening. Your eyes flicked to his, and you saw it there, the same realisation crossing his face. His words trailed off. 

You parted your lips to say something, anything to diffuse the tension, but all that came out was a shallow breath. His hand hesitated, lingering for a second, and you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched like he was trying to stay in control. 

“I didn’t mean-” he started, his voice low, almost apologetic, but you didn’t let him finish.

“I know.” you whispered, but the way your knee pressed back against his hand said otherwise.

He swallowed hard, eyes darkening as they flicked down to where his hand rested. His thumb traced a slow circle against your leg, and suddenly, whatever restraint you’d both been trying to hold onto was gone.

Within minutes, you were on your feet, heading for the bathroom, and he was right behind you. The door clicked shut behind you, and before you could even take a breath, his hands were on you, pulling you to him, his mouth crashing against yours. It was desperate, messy, full of all the things you hadn’t said, all the things you didn’t have time to say. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, his body pressing you back against the cool tiles of the wall. 

The rush of it all made your head spin, your body already humming with anticipation. It had to be fast. Too fast for his liking, too rushed for yours. But you couldn’t stop. Neither of you could.

His hands fumbled at the waistband of your pants as he kissed you, hurried and desperate, like he couldn’t get close enough. You could feel the tension in him, the way his fingers trembled slightly as they skimmed over your skin and pushed them down. “I hate this.” he muttered, voice rough against your ear, breath hot as his lips ghosted over your neck. “I hate that it has to be like this.”

“I know, baby.” you whispered back, but your hands betrayed you, already tugging at his belt, already fumbling with the button of his trousers. “But we don’t have time.”

“But I wanna take my time with you.” His eyes fluttered and he let out a groan that sent a shiver down your spine. “You deserve better than this.” he breathed, his hands sliding under your shirt, fingers splayed across your bare skin. “Not a quick shag in a bathroom.” 

“I know.” you whispered back, your own hands sliding down to cup him over his trousers, feeling how hard he already was, how ready. “But I’m not complaining.” 

He groaned, the sound vibrating through your body, and you pressed harder, your palm stroking over the thick length of him. His hips jerked forward on instinct, and for a moment, all the frustration and regret in his voice melted away.

All those thoughts, the guilt of rushing, the fleeting nature of this moment, vanished from his mind. There was only the heat of your body against his, the way your touch made everything else disappear.

“Fuck.” he groaned, his forehead pressing harder against yours, his breath coming out in ragged bursts. For a moment, he seemed frozen, like he was trying to hold back, trying to keep some semblance of control. But the moment you applied a little more pressure, his restraint snapped. His hands slid down to your hips, and with a quick, deft motion, he was hiking you up against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist.

He was kissing you again, harder this time, his hands sliding up your ass, desperate to feel you. His fingers dug into your flesh, his body pressing close to yours, his breathing uneven. You felt the urgency in every movement, the way he tugged at your clothes, as if time itself were slipping away faster than he could keep up. 

The heat of his body against yours, the way he was kissing you like he couldn’t get enough, had already wiped any coherent thought from your mind. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth moved down to your collarbone, sucking lightly at the skin there, just enough to make you gasp.

He paused for a second, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, filled with something that went beyond the urgency of the moment. “I’m sorry.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was apologising for more than just the rushed pace.

You shook your head, cupping his face with one hand, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Don’t.” you whispered, your voice catching slightly. “Don’t apologise.”

And then, before either of you could say anything else, your hand slipped between you again, brushing against the hardness straining against his trousers. He groaned, low and guttural, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hips jerked forward again, pushing into your hand. 

“Fuck.” he muttered again, his voice hoarse. The second your fingers worked the zipper down and you touched him, bare skin against bare skin, all of his resolve crumbled. 

He cursed under his breath, hands gripping your hips tighter as he guided himself to you, his movements almost frantic. “I hate this.” he whispered again, but his words were lost as he pushed into you, a ragged moan tearing from his throat. 

You gasped, clinging to him as he filled you, the feeling overwhelming, intense. Your legs tightened around him, pulling him closer, deeper, and he groaned again, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

For a moment, neither of you moved, just holding each other, breathing hard, feeling the heat of each other’s bodies. Then, slowly, his hips began to move, the rhythm fast, desperate. He couldn’t help himself. His hands roamed your body, one slipping under your shirt, the other tangling in your hair as he kissed you, swallowing your moans.

His breath was hot against your neck, ragged and uneven, and he wouldn’t stop breathing you in, like he needed the scent of you to keep him from falling apart. His lips grazed the skin just below your ear, his breath hitching every time he pushed into you, deeper, harder. The heat of his body, the desperation in his movements, it was all-consuming, and you felt like you were drowning in him. 

Your fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling harder than you realised, and you could feel him wince slightly, feel the strands giving way, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The tension was too thick, the urgency too sharp, and he didn’t stop you either. He wouldn’t have cared if you ripped every last hair from his head. He could feel the sharp pain from your grip, but it was nothing compared to the way your body clenched around him, pulling him deeper every time he thrust. He let out a low, strangled moan, his hand gripping your hip so tightly you were sure it would leave marks.

“God…” he muttered, his breath warm against your neck as his hips snapped forward again. His voice was rough, barely controlled. “I’ll miss your cunt.” The words were raw, his lips brushing against your skin as he said it, like it was the most honest thing he’d ever spoken.

You gasped, your nails digging into his scalp, tugging harder, feeling the tension in his body as you arched against him, pressing yourself closer, deeper, matching his rhythm. “I’ll miss your cock.” you whispered back, the words slipping out in a breathless gasp.

His reaction was immediate. He thrust into you hard, making your back hit the wall, his breath catching as a guttural moan tore from his throat. You could feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest, in sync with the rough, erratic rhythm of his hips.

“You better.” he growled, his voice dark and dripping with possessiveness, each thrust harder than the last, like he was making a point with every movement. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes wild and dark and filled with something primal. “You fucking better.”

You didn’t need to say anything. The way your body responded to his, the way you pulled him closer, harder, said it all. His fingers dug into your waist, lifting you higher, angling himself deeper, and all you could do was hold onto him, your breaths coming in short gasps as he buried himself inside you over and over again.

He wouldn’t stop breathing into your neck, couldn’t stop. His lips hovered over your pulse, feeling it race beneath your skin, tasting the salt of your sweat as he kissed and nipped at your throat. His breath was hot, shaky, every exhale a mix of groans and whispered curses as he fought to keep control. But the way your legs tightened around him with every thrust was driving him to the edge faster than he wanted to admit.

“I don’t want this to be over.” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper, almost lost in the sound of your breathless moans. 

The pressure building inside you was too much, too fast, and every time he pushed into you, every time his hips slammed against yours, it sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you. Your body was trembling, your grip on his hair tightening even more as you felt yourself slipping closer to the edge.

“Say it.” he growled, his voice rough and commanding as his hand slid down to grip your thigh, pulling you closer, deeper. “Say you’ll miss me.”

“I will.” you gasped, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts as the heat between your bodies reached its peak. “Fuck, I will.”

And that was all he needed. His thrusts became erratic, his breath hitching with every movement as he chased his release, groaning your name under his breath like it was a prayer. The sound of your voice was too much and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

With one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his head dropping to your shoulder as he came, his body trembling against yours, his grip on your waist tightening. He groaned low and deep into your neck, his breath hot against your skin, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. There was only the feeling of him inside you, the way your bodies moved together, the way you held onto each other. 

He stayed there for a moment, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his breath coming in slow, heavy pants as he tried to catch his breath. His hands slid up your back, his touch softer now, more tender, like he was afraid to let go.

“I love you.” he muttered again, quieter this time, his lips brushing against your collarbone. 

“I love you too.” you whispered, your fingers still tangled in his hair, gently now, stroking the back of his neck as you held him close. You could feel the tension in him, the way his body was still trembling slightly against yours. 

He pulled out slowly, his breath still heavy, and you could feel the sudden emptiness, the way his release dripped out of you almost instantly. A soft groan escaped your lips at the sensation, and for a moment, you almost didn’t care. You’d let it drip all it wanted if it meant holding onto the moment just a little longer, letting the feeling of him linger with you. But the practical part of your brain kicked in, the part that remembered you still had to take the train back, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you couldn’t sit there like this. 

He seemed to sense it too, his hand brushing your thigh as he stepped back, his expression softening, more tender than it had been a few moments ago. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a crumpled napkin he must’ve grabbed from the table earlier, and gently, carefully, wiped between your legs. His movements slow. He didn’t want to rush this part. He didn’t say anything, but the way he did it said everything.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” he murmured quietly, his voice still thick, a little husky from the exertion. He glanced up at you, his eyes searching yours as he finished, and you could see the flicker of concern in them, like he was still holding onto some of the guilt about how fast it had all happened.

“I’m fine.” you whispered, but the warmth in your voice wasn’t lost on him. 

He gave you a small, almost reluctant smile as he helped you adjust your pants, his fingers brushing lightly against your hips as he tugged them back into place. His touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze dropping to your waist as he zipped you up. 

“Thanks.” you murmured, your voice a little softer now, a little more vulnerable as you stood there, still catching your breath. You watched him for a moment, his fingers fumbling with your clothes like he was elongating these last few moments of closeness before reality set back in.

“Don’t mention it.” he replied with a quick smirk, though the playful glint in his eyes had dulled just slightly, replaced by something deeper, more reflective. He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to smooth it out, but the way you’d pulled at it left it untamed, and you had to bite back a smile at the sight of him trying to regain some sense of normalcy.

Once he was sure you were taken care of, he turned his attention to himself. It was easy for him, his movements fluid. Just a quick tuck and zip. Within seconds, he was back to looking like the man who’d walked into that restaurant. Sharp. Like nothing had happened. But the way he avoided meeting your gaze for a second, the way he ran his hand down his face, told you it was anything but simple for him.

“Good as new.” he muttered, flashing you a lopsided grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You chuckled softly. You knew this was just a temporary reprieve, a fleeting bit of closeness. He was still standing so close, his hand resting lightly on your hip, but the impending goodbye hung between you like a heavy fog, impossible to ignore.

“We should head back.” you said after a beat. 

“Yeah.” he agreed, his voice equally soft. But he didn’t move, didn’t pull away just yet. Instead, he let his hand linger on your waist, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. 

The ride back was somehow quicker than the one there, the city blurring past the train windows, and with each passing minute, it felt like the goodbye loomed closer and closer, stealing away what little time you had left. You’d both gone quiet, not for lack of things to say, but because the weight of what was coming next pressed down on the air between you. Just a few more stops and you’d have to bid him “adieu” as he’d joked earlier, messing with his butchered French in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

You stared out the window, the reflection of his face in the glass catching your attention more than the scenery outside. He sat beside you, legs spread comfortably, his hand resting lightly on your knee, but it was a different kind of touch now. Softer, more absentminded, like he was holding on out of habit. 

You cleared your throat, desperate to fill the silence. “So...where are you headed now?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer. Anything to keep the conversation going, anything to avoid the reality waiting at the next stop.

“Germany. Berlin.” he replied, glancing over at you with a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll get the photographs developed and send them to you as soon as I get there. I’m already waiting to see them.”

You nodded, the familiar feeling of deflection settling between you. You didn’t care about the photographs right now, but it was easier to focus on that than the fact that in just a few minutes, he’d be gone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, there’s this studio there.” he explained, his voice taking on that familiar, casual tone, as if the topic of his travels could somehow smooth over the tension. “They know me. It’ll be quick.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “You’ve always got a place, don’t you?”

He grinned at that, his hand squeezing your knee a little tighter. “What can I say? I’m a man of many connections.” He leaned back in his seat, trying to appear nonchalant, but there was something in his eyes, something that betrayed the cool exterior he was putting on for your sake.

“Guess I’ll be looking at your pictures for the next few weeks.” you said lightly, though the thought made your chest tighten. “Months.” The idea of only seeing him through photographs, of him being so far away, felt too real, too sharp, and you quickly added, “Maybe I’ll frame one, put it next to my bed.”

”Months, yeah…” He chuckled, but there was a hint of something bittersweet in the sound. “I’ll make sure it’s a good one, then. Don’t want you waking up to a bad angle of me every morning.”

“I don’t think you have a bad angle.” you teased, nudging him gently with your elbow. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” he replied with a grin, his eyes flicking to yours for a moment before settling back on the train floor, as if he was trying to keep the mood from dipping too low.

There was a pause, the kind that stretched a little too long, and you felt that familiar tightness creeping into your throat. “When do you think you’ll be back?” you asked, keeping your voice as steady as you could.

He hesitated for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly against your knee. “Not sure.” he admitted quietly. “Could be a while. Depends on the schedule...how things go.”

You nodded, swallowing against the knot in your chest. “I’ll wait.”

His hand slid from your knee to your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “I know you will.” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “That’s why this is so hard.”

The words hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for, and you turned your face toward him, searching his eyes. “Then why didn’t you want me to come to the airport?”

He exhaled slowly, looking down at your hands. “Because if you did…I don’t think I’d be able to get on the plane.” His voice was low, almost a whisper. “If you were there...it’d make it too real. And I’d rather leave like this, just you and me...without it being a big, dramatic thing.”

He looked up at you, his expression softening as he studied your face. “I’m gonna miss you.” he said, the weight of the words hanging between you, undeniable now.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” you whispered, squeezing his hand a little tighter, like maybe if you held on long enough, you could stop time, keep him here for just a little longer.

The train slowed to a stop, the doors hissing open, and you both stayed seated for a moment, neither of you ready to move.

“This is it.” he said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

You took a deep breath. “Yeah.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stood first, pulling you up with him, and for a second, you just stood there, face to face, hands still entwined. 

“I’ll write.” he promised quietly, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. “I’ll call. Whenever I can.”

You nodded, managing a small smile despite the ache in your chest. “You better.”

He grinned, that familiar, cocky smile breaking through for a moment. “Wouldn’t want you to forget me.”

“Not a chance.” you replied, though the words felt heavier than they should have.

With one last squeeze of your hand, he turned, stepping off the train, and you watched him disappear into the crowd. And just like that, the moment was over, and you were left standing there, the weight of the goodbye settling in.

The doors closed, the train started moving again, and as the distance between you grew, all you could do was hold onto the promise he’d made. That, somehow, this wasn’t really the end again. 

a/n: it’s a bit boring sorry

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[san-fics]

Happily Married

Felinette, 18+

(upcoming on Ao3, chapters 10-11 are published on Patreon)

Art credit @aspenaspid, original Tumblr post.

_______________

“Y-you did what…?” gasped Adrien, looking at her slightly dumbfounded, disbelief written all over his face. “You can't have Ladybug join you in bed, Marinette!” There was some special sort of desperation in his voice, as if Adrien was mostly trying to convince himself, and not her. “Besides, she would never agree to this!”

“Adrien, you don’t have to worry about us so much,” she smiled softly, doing her best to calm him down a little, although she had no intention of trying to soften the blow for him too much. The threesome with Ladybug story she came up with yesterday solved too many problems at once for her to abandon it.

“But you can’t… She can’t…” It seems he wanted to formulate something and couldn't find the right words for it. “How could Felix... with both of you... I don't understand...”

Marinette knew that his confusion was about something else, but she decided to pretend that she understood him differently in order to voice what was beneficial to her. “I mean, it's Ladybug, right? She's as safe as it can be, and she's the heroine of Paris. And I'm sure she won't do anything to hurt either of  us.” She turned to her friend and asked a question, the answer to which she already knew, unfortunately. “Judge for yourself, Adrien, if you were in my place—well, or in Felix’s place, anyways—would you refuse?”

The model stared at her with his mouth open, looking confused, and flustered, and stunned, and defeated. “You’re right…” he finally muttered, staring at the floor. “I… Felix is ​​a lucky man…”

“And I am a lucky woman,” she reminded him quietly, probably looking at him a little harsher than she was supposed to look at her good friend.

Perhaps now she wasn’t looking at her friend at all, but at a man who had never opened his eyes, hadn’t noticed her, or had noticed her in the wrong place, or too late. She looked at the man who didn’t want her once and whom she no longer wanted either. And maybe in this whole conversation, behind all her reasons and benefits from the result, there was still a hint of a small but sharp feminine revenge…

Ladybug jumped into her open window so suddenly, Marinette instantly took a fighting stance, taken by surprise. Fortunately Adrien was no less startled than she was and didn’t notice her trained reaction.

“Oh, hi, Adrien, didn’t know you were here,” the heroine of Paris said to the model, walking through Marinette's studio (with her standing right there!!) as if nothing special had happened. She glanced at the designer and smiled. “I won’t be long,” she promised as she winked at Adrien who watched her in bewilderment, “I just wanted to give a quick kiss to my new girlfriend.”

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[wishful-thinking-is-dumb]

Can you please write romantic yandere John wick x civilian reader headcanons? Thanks ❤️

Yandere John Wick with Civilian Reader Headcanons

Let’s say this takes place after the events of all four John Wick films, he takes his time to grieve his wife and move on from his rough past. Then he finally starts to date again, he feels a little guilty at first, but he knows that Helen would want him to be happy.

He first notices you when he takes his dog out for exercise in the early morning, and he would catch the little glances you would shoot at him as the two of you pass each other in the park.

You look back at him as he passes by, it’s no secret to him that you have a little crush on him. He smiles to himself as he catches you looking back at him and how quickly you look away. It makes his heart flutter.

It’s his dog that eventually gives him an opening to talk to you. His dog had run over to you as you sit on the park bench that’s on his usually dog walking route. You may or may not do that on purpose so that you can smile at him every morning.

You ask if you can pet his dog, and he nods. He smiles as you give his dog some affection. (why can’t you give him any?)

He asks you if you want to go to the cafe down the street with him, and he almost grins at the way you look up at him. Like you were hearing things. You quickly agree, a bit flustered.

The two of you walk to the cafe together, his dog obediently following right beside him. The two of you introduce yourselves, and exchange contact information. He casually holds your hand the rest of the way to the cafe.

He orders the both of you a coffee, and you sit out on the patio as the two of you talk for what feels like forever. He hasn’t felt this way since Helen.

He will do extensive research on all of your friends, family and coworkers to make sure they aren’t anybody that will hurt you to get to him. He takes his retirement seriously after what happened in Paris.

He puts a tracker on your car and on your phone, and you never find out. He knows how to hide stuff like that due to his past as a high profile hitman. But he won’t tell you that. <33

He gets rid of any grace of his past, all of his weapons are out of his house and kept somewhere only he knows about. He doesn’t want to scare you off.

He spends most of his money on you, and he loves how flustered you get when he gives you an expensive custom piece of jewelry.

He loves to cook for you, he makes you homemade meals as often as he can. He also loves it when you bring over baked goods that you made, just for him. It makes him feel special when you make his favourite pastries from scratch. It makes all the more delicious knowing you made them while thinking of him.

He loves how domestic being with you is, it makes him happy k owing that he is deserving of a normal life after all of the crimes he has committed.

He will kill for you if he has to, and he will cover it up as well. He has the experience to make it look like an accident. All to make you happy <33

[yoon-kooks]

playboys & pancakes | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When your fuckboy model friend Park Jimin returns from Paris, Jungkook can't help but feel a little jealous and protective over you even though the two of you aren't technically dating yet.

⛓️word count: 2.6k

⛓️warnings: catdilf!jk, dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, oc is a lil brat, boy gets jealous🤭, soft cuddling, jimin is a tattooed fuckboy, no explicit smut in this drabble

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: this was a cute lil drabble request for jealous!jjk!! if you make it all the way to the end, there ✨might✨ be a special teaser... lmk if yall would be interested👀

In the middle of class, Jungkook stares at the seat next time him where you’re busy giggling and texting away for some unknown reason. He’s dying to know the context so he can use it against you later to see that pretty smile once more.

“Hey you,” you whisper, leaning over in his direction. It’s rare for the two of you to talk in the classroom since you both agreed it was best to lay low about whatever the fuck this is between you and him. It must be something urgent. “Do you know any cute girls who are single right now?”

Jungkook just blinks at you in utter disbelief. You’re already sick of him, aren’t you? You’d rather fool around with some cute girl than fuck some loser who makes her finish her homework a week before it’s due. Well shit. It was fun while it lasted.

“Asking for a friend,” you add. Not helping, by the way. Could you make it any more obvious that you’re trying to break off this… arrangement between you and him? “My friend said he’s down bad.”

Wait.

You flash your phone screen in Jungkook’s face for him to read what you were presumably giggling about earlier.

Jimin🍄 [10:46AM] “A what tattoo?!🥵🍆”

Jimin🍄 [10:46AM] “Btw please tell me you know a cute girl who is as down bad as I am”

Jimin🍄 [10:47AM] “Paris was not as romantic as they make it out to be”

Y/N✨ [10:48AM] “hold on lemme ask the dilf”

The dilf has a lot of questions. The first being, “You have friends?” He’s mostly just teasing you for lacking genuine friendships despite being so popular, but this is the first time he’s heard you talk about a friend that wasn’t him.

“He’s a friend from high school,” you explain. “He’s been studying abroad for the past few years and just got back yesterday. I’m letting him crash at my place this weekend so we can catch up.”

Hmm. Jungkook wasn’t planning on sharing you with anyone this weekend, but this is a much better scenario than you outright abandoning him for someone else. In fact, he might even know just the right person to satisfy your friend’s needs.

“And why are you calling me a dilf—” 

He never gets an answer because the professor calls on you to answer a question on the board. You glance up and give the correct answer with no hesitation despite the distractions next to you and on your phone. Your nerdy side is just as attractive as your bubbly personality. 

He’s so lucky to have a girl like you.

“Jimin wants to have brunch with you tomorrow, by the way,” you say on Friday night as you snuggle closer to Jungkook on the couch. It’s one of those rare wholesome nights at his place where you aren’t dripping in pleasure, moaning your little heart out with him inside you. “I told him you’d hook him up with a baddie and now he wants to interrogate you to make sure you have good taste.”

“I think I have pretty good taste.” He looks right at your cute naked face with no makeup on. You’re also borrowing one of his oversized tees and using it as a nightshirt. Obviously, he has amazing taste.

“So you’ll come?” Your smile is so bright. How could he ever say no to that? “We can meet up with him there and go to my place after.”

“Sure,” he says. Besides, he’d like to see this Jimin guy for himself. From what you’ve said about him, he seems like a cool dude studying fashion design. But it’s also kind of fucked up that your closest friend abandoned you here without anyone else to rely on for all those years apart. It’s shitty to think how alone you must’ve felt until the two of you started talking barely a month ago.

“Cool, I think you’ll get along with him,” you yawn into his chest while twirling his hair around your finger. Thank god he decided to let his hair grow out so you could play with it as much as you want. “He’s like you but friendlier and fuckboy-ish.”

“If he’s friendly and fuckboy-ish, how is that like me?” Jungkook isn’t picking up what you’re putting down. He doesn’t like the sound of the fuckboy part, either.

“He has a lot of tattoos and a cute face, but he’s kind of mean in a teasing way. Just like you.” The twirling is slowing down. “A lot of people say he’s super attractive too.”

You reach for your phone that somehow ended up on the other side of the boy and pull up Jimin’s Instagram. Jungkook studies the page and clicks on a pic of your friend all suited up in Dior. Damn. Not only is he handsome, but he also knows how to pose and look good in photos. You kind of left out the part about him being an actual model.

Of course you have another attractive guy friend who enjoys teasing you. Of course this guy happens to be staying with you while he’s “down bad.” And of course Jeon Jungkook is not going to let himself feel a certain way about it.

The next morning, Jungkook wakes up to your arms wrapped around his waist as you’re still snoozing away on the couch. Very carefully, he peels your arms away one at a time, hops out of the blanket, and gives you his sleepy kitten to hold onto in place of him. You make this cute little whiny sound as you cuddle the cat.

Successful in leaving you undisturbed, the boy heads to his room and opens his sorry excuse of a closet. The majority of his wardrobe is just basic shit like hoodies, plain tees, ripped jeans, and sweats for the gym. He’s never really put a whole lot of thought into his fashion, but he woke up this morning with an urge to look somewhat good for brunch. It totally has nothing to do with that fashion model friend of yours.

After a good ten minutes of contemplation, he eventually goes with a nice crewneck and one of the few pairs of black jeans that aren’t all torn up. It’s just brunch anyway.

By then, you’ve woken up and thrown on that pretty beige sundress you left behind a few weeks ago. He’d conveniently washed it for you when he was doing a light load. Now you smell like his lavender laundry soap.

When the two of you get to the brunch place, you claim a booth and wait for Jimin to arrive. Your arm brushes against his as you flap through the menu. The booth is pretty spacious, and yet you’re sitting that close to him. He doesn’t mind, of course.

“I’m gonna get the pink strawberry waffles… but the chocolate banana pancakes look really good, too.” You point at the pictures like a child. “What about you?”

“Chocolate banana pancakes.” He didn’t have his mind made up until that very moment. You’re always stealing his food off his plate these days anyway. He might as well pick something you’ll enjoy.

“Ooh, good, now I can try it too,” you sing. Called it.

“Never said I was sharing,” Jungkook shakes his head. You both know he’s bluffing.

“What do I have to do for a taste?” you ask so innocently while leaning your soft tits against his arm. “Do you want me to get down on my hands and knees and suck dad—”

“Hi Y/N, hey Jungkook.” Your handsome model friend slides into the other side of the booth and interrupts your enticing proposal. Your eyes light up in a way Jungkook has never seen before.

“Jimin!” you smile.

“Hey,” Jungkook adds, a lot less enthusiastic than you. Of course Jimin is even better looking in person.

After ordering, you ask Jimin to spill the deets on his Paris adventures. In addition to an internship, he also did in fact spend some time modeling for a few luxury brands. Now that he’s back home, he’s planning on taking it easy for a bit before moving forward with fashion design. 

So that’s why he’s asking for a baddie to kill time with. He can have anyone he wants as long as it’s not you.

As the two friends catch up, Jungkook notices the way you lean forward toward the other boy and laugh at nearly everything he says—although to be fair, he is a pretty funny and charming guy. That’s the kind of guy that would complement your playful personality so well.

The food comes shortly after, and you stare intensely at Jimin’s French toast even though you have a pretty pink waffle right in front of you and Jungkook’s pancakes right beside you.

“Really? The guy who just got back from France ordered French toast?” you snicker, turning to Jungkook to get him on your side. He chuckles, but only because you’re cute when you’re being mischievous.

“Would you like some, Y/N?” Jimin waves off your silliness. He must be used to it because it hardly affects him the way it affected Jungkook.

“Yes, please.” You cut off a small piece of French toast and go in for a taste. It gets not one but two thumbs up from you.

“Still a foodie, I see,” Jimin observes. You nod. He must’ve been the one you were dragging around to different food places back in high school. But now that’s Jungkook’s job, and he’d like to keep it that way.

So Jungkook waits. He waits patiently for you to ask for a taste of his food. After all, he ordered the chocolate banana pancakes with you in mind.

But instead, you’re minding your own business and digging into your pink waffle. Weren’t you offering a whole blowjob for a taste of his pancakes a little while ago? Now you suddenly don’t want it because he’d joked about not sharing it? This is stressing him out more than it should. 

You turn and catch the boy next to you aggressively sawing through his pile of pancakes with his butter knife. Hopefully you don’t pick up on his distress.

“Are the pancakes goo—” Before you can finish your question, a few freshly cut pancake pieces are plopped onto your plate beside the pink waffle.

“You said you wanted to try it, didn’t you?” Jungkook tries his best to sound nonchalant about the whole ordeal. 

Your Surprised Pikachu face quickly turns into a smug look. “Thought you weren’t sharing,” you hum as you indulge in the moist chocolatey delight. At the same time, your free hand casually runs along the boy’s inner thigh and gives it a squeeze under the table. Playing innocent might be part of your personality, but you know exactly what you’re doing to him. “The pancakes are yummy, by the way.”

Still, your touch is as much of a comfort as it is a turn-on.

“So, are you still interested in the hot girl Jungkook knows?” you ask Jimin. Jungkook hasn’t even shown you a pic of the girl, and yet you’re already hyping her up. You also aren’t aware that it’s someone he’s slept with in the past, but he’ll address that another time.

“Listen, when I said I was down bad,” Jimin lowers his voice, “I meant I need to get laid as soon as possible.”

“Damn, what happened in Paris? Who hurt you?” you frown as you take a big sip of coffee.

“I’ll spill the tea later,” he sighs. Looks like it’s still a touchy subject.

To lift the other boy’s spirit a little, Jungkook pulls up an Instagram page filled with a ton of colorful floral tattoos. If you scroll down enough, you might even find a few pics of his tattoos there too.

“She’s a tattoo artist.” He rolls up his sleeve and points out a few floral pieces that match the style from the Instagram page. “She doesn’t really post pics of herself, but she probably has more tattoos and piercings than me.”

“And she’s hot,” you add in even though that’s already been established.

“I’ll ask if she’s free.” Jungkook pulls up her contact info and shoots her a message. She responds right away.

Jungkook🐍 [11:39AM] “Do you have time for a walk-in today?”

Jungkook🐍 [11:39AM] “I know a guy who’s interested in you”

???🌼 [11:40AM] “😳”

Jungkook🐍 [11:40AM] “interested in your tattoos**”

???🌼 [11:40AM] “😔”

???🌼 [11:41AM] “todays been slow pls send him my way thx”

???🌼 [11:41AM] “tell him he gets a discount if hes cute”

???🌼 [11:41AM] “IM KIDDING PLS DONT TELL HIM THAT ILL GET CANCELED”

“Yeah she’s free right now,” Jungkook says, trying to keep a straight face. “I’ll give you the address to her studio.”

“Ooh, perfect,” you squeak at Jimin who still doesn’t look completely sold on the whole thing. “You can scout it out as soon as we’re done here.”

“Wait, are you sure it’s okay? I know I said I needed this asap, but I’m mostly here to visit you,” he says.

“Well, now that you’re back from overseas, we can hang out anytime. I’m not going anywhere,” you assure him, downing the rest of your coffee. You’re such a good friend. “And besides, it could be life-changing sex waiting for you at the tattoo shop.”

Jimin nods at your encouragement. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll go.”

“Good.” You slide your ass right over Jungkook’s lap to get out of the booth. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t lean into it a little. “Be right back. I drank too much liquid.”

With you off to the bathroom, Jungkook sits alone across from the other boy. It always gets awkward when the mutual friend disappears. What are they supposed to talk about now that you’re gone?

“So… are you two, like, dating…?” Jimin wastes no time in addressing the elephant in the room. “Y/N always avoids the question whenever I ask.”

“What makes you ask?” The question is mostly to stall time until you get back, but Jungkook is also curious to know what you’ve said about him.

“The way she talks about you makes it seem like you guys are married,” he chuckles. Wow, he has a charming eye smile too. Jungkook would’ve been threatened by that level of charm, but he seems to have already let go of that feeling. “She told me you’re raising a kitten together and that you’re always scolding or spoiling it like a true dilf—her words, not mine. She won’t shut up about how you’ll make a good dad one day.”

At least he knows where the dilf propaganda comes from now. He’ll admit it’s a lot more wholesome than he thought. You really do just gush about him to your best friend. Maybe you feel the same way he does when it comes to this unestablished relationship between you and him. 

Maybe you also want something more.

When you return, you finish up your food, split the bill, and send Jimin on his way to the tattoo studio. Hopefully, it goes well for him. Not because Jungkook is worried the other boy might turn around and try something funny on you, but because he wants any friend of yours to experience the same type of feelings he feels when he’s with you. Damn. He wasn’t expecting to get all gushy this weekend, but he’s not going to fight it either.

“What’d you guys talk about while I was in the bathroom?” you ask on the way back to the car.

“Not much,” Jungkook shrugs. “Just about you calling me a dilf.”

“Oh no, I feel so exposed,” you whine in your favorite sarcastic tone. Then you turn to him and bat your lashes. Brat. “Am I wrong, though?”

a/n: okay i dont normally put notes like this at the end of my fics, but im gonna tease a potential jimin spinoff💖 lmk what you guys think!

⛓️pairing: model!jimin x tattooartist!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, fwb2l, possible angst (??)

⛓️summary: After breaking up with your on-and-off boyfriend for hopefully the last time, an old fling sends his handsome model friend to your tattoo studio. And apparently, he’s as done with love as you are.

⛓️warnings: jimin & oc are both heartbroken and starved for sex (as you might have noticed from this drabble lol), oc is an actual baddie with tattoos everywhere and a belly piercing, there will be a lot more warnings if i decide to go through with this!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

May I request jealous!Claude Frollo x a gorgeous!fem!reader?

You are my fire

warning : fluff, obsession, implied dark themes, jealousy

Summary : A glimse into the jealousy of a man driven by love and obsession. His heart and love a beauty that just wants to be amused but who doesn't?

Info : Of course you can request such a thing dear anon I hope you like this little thing have fun reading ;) And everyone have fun reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She is the most beautiful thing this city had, no it's not true she was the most beautiful creature on the whole world. She was the light of this desolate world, this wondrously beautiful creature, she was simply everything.

She was like an angel with her beauty, her statues scattered all over the city on the churches, the town hall, the wooden signs of the dirty poops scattered everywhere.

But not one of them even came close to doing her justice. Because in the end only he saw it, he was allowed to see her beauty, her body under the most expensive clothes. Ever since they met, it had lit a fire in both of them.

A fire that would burn forever. The fire of his eagerness that everyone wanted to hurt her and the fire of her beauty. He was the judge who would burn down the city he would give her.

His gaze lifted from the book and the room his study, which was only true for him, was quickly transformed into a room of luxury and beauty. The mirrors on the walls, the paintings she made, she watched every brushstroke and her beloved.

The lender of her things, the man who owned them. ,,If you don't wish to be banished or lose your head, you will disappear," he had said as her eyes settled on the diamond necklace, a special creation made of pure diamonds to commemorate the new city archibve and the summer feast for the guardians where she had appeared on the other side of the man.

The magistrate next to her had his face twisted into a grimace, but everyone could see that his golden rings lay on top of hers. That she walked beside him chopped up like a piece of jewelry for show she was his in every possible way.

That when they walked together his touch was gentle and yet possessive as when he ran his fingers over her soft skin after getting up in the morning.

Tracing the marks that had easily formed on his handsome statue. ,,My goddess" as he called her in praise when she gave him further inspiration for the works he made her.

Gifts and works of a value that transcended everything. She always had to hold back a grin, she knew that he was a man full of jealousy, that he threatened anyone who came too close to her, who looked at her too closely, who even touched her.

It was something she knew and perhaps used. But despite everything, she had to admit that even if the gifts were pretty…his inner being…his carefree attitude…this monster was quite amusing. ,,You know I love being entertained," she had once told him when they went on a carriage ride out of Paris.

Her fingers closed the curtain again and she felt his piercing gaze. ,,And you know that there is only you for me," he had replied, his fingers on hers as he kissed his way up the back of her hand, slowly, as if it would break. ,,Even nature pales no god's work pales before you" he cajoled her and became confident when he saw her own smirk which she hid slightly behind a fan due to the heat of the summer.

Perhaps it was true. That she felt subjugated by him, that he loved her as one had done, the obsession in the mix with recognition.

For the first time she was recognized and not just seen as something to be had in the most perverse way. He recognized her as a beautiful butterfly as something to watch, to entertain, to love, to cherish. It was a connection between the two.

They both cherished each other as they sat on the jewelry table with the tea service on the small table and chairs. ,,And you'll always compliment me…I know you will," she told him, winking at him and taking a sip of tea as she saw him turn his upturned gaze to her, a smirk meeting the wink.

What she had in charm, beauty and unendingness that people loved about her, he had in return. He was the evil of the city, he had no charm, no beauty and no infinity. He was the devil who had the beautiful woman at his side, the first woman who ever was and ever would be.

It was on his jealousy that their amusement was taff and maybe just maybe they would make each other worse. Maybe the devil and the demoness Lilith would begin to rule over Prais after a while.

Because anyone who did not respect his words and did not recognize her beauty would burn in eternal fire. A fire that would burn forever like her love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ria-coolgirl , @cedric-my-beloved , @aliensthegreat