#i hope paris sinks soon
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sepangcircuit · 6 months ago
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fuck paris olympics i fucking hate every single officials who fucked up dato azizulhasni’s race yesterday AND relegating shah firdaus when it is the japanese athlete’s fault
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heartsforvin · 6 months ago
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Hi!! id love a hurt/comfort type fic. maybe reader hears Vin saying reader is too clingy or sees him flirting with someone else and they have a huge fight but make up at the end (i hope this makes sense lmao) <3
TOO CLINGY
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thank you for the request !! i hope you enjoy <33
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pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader
warnings: hurt/comfort, cussing, arguments, use of pet names, lmk if i forgot anything !!
summary: you overhear vinnie tell one of his friends that you’re too clingy, which results in an argument between the two of you
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the night was going just fine until you overheard your boyfriend say something that completely ruined your mood.
you and vinnie were out at one of your guys’ friends house for a little get together. it’d been a bit since everyone got to hang out, so you decided to all get together again.
you were standing off to the side, chatting with one of your friends while vinnie was not too far from you, talking to his.
you don’t know how this subject came up, seeing as you could only hear parts of the conversation over the music.
when you did though, your whole body shut down and you just felt like crying.
“yeah lately she’s just been extra fuckin’ clingy, i don’t know what it’s about but it’s getting old real fuckin’ fast.”
anxiety ran through you faster than ever, and all you wanted to do was go in your room and hide from absolutely everyone and everything.
the only reason you’d been so clingy lately was because vinnie’s been in paris for a few days, not being able to see him.
so yeah, you’d say you have a pretty good reason.
pushing past people in the crowded house, you make your way to the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it before going over to the sink.
you grip it harshly as you try to hold yourself together.
splashing water on your face you hear a knock come from the door behind you.
“occupied!” you shout, hoping whoever on the other side can hear through the loud noise.
when another knock came soon after you groaned and shouted again, only to be followed by an all too familiar voice calling out your name.
“let me in, sweetheart.” his voice, although a shout, sent instant serotonin through you.
you open the door just enough for vinnie to see your eyes, head barely peaking out.
“see, ‘m fine.” you say as if you didn’t just almost cry over his words.
vinnie though, knows you better than that. “let me in, please.” he says, just enough for you to hear.
opening the door wider, vinnie steps inside and shuts it behind him. you go to sit on the closed toilet seat while vinnie leans against the door.
“what’s wrong?” he asks, breaking the silence between the two of you.
sighing, your head is in your hands as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to let a tear slip.
you feel a hand on your knee and that’s when you move your hands from your face and see vinnie is now eye level with you.
“i heard you,” you say, making vinnie’s brows furrow. “heard what you were saying to adam and jett.”
vinnie sighed when he finally realized what you were talking about. he thought he was far enough out of earshot for you to hear.
“baby i— no, don’t try and excuse this, vinnie!” you shout at him.
vinnie stands and backs up, giving you space even though it’s a small space.
“i’m not gonna fuckin’ give you an excuse!” he shouts back. “maybe it’s true! maybe you have been a bit to clingy lately!”
you just sit there, taking his words in as he shouts at you. hearing it a second time is just as bad as the first.
he hasn’t been too busy lately up until he went to paris, so the two of you did spend a lot of time before then.
still didn’t excuse the fact that words hurt. clingy or not, you just loved spending time with vinnie.
“i haven’t seen you in days vinnie!” its just a screaming match at this point, hoping no one can hear your words to each other.
vinnie sighs as he rubs his hands over his face, listening to you speak. “you’ve been in europe for days, vin! sorry i’ve just wanted to spend time with my boyfriend.”
vinnie rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “you won’t leave me alone for five fucking minutes!”
his voice gets more stern which only spurs on tears faster. you want to let them spill, to let every tear that you have out, but you won’t.
he was right, you have been kind of up his ass lately, not letting him be. that’s only because he’s spent all his needed time in europe, now it was your time with him.
“all i want is five minutes to myself,” he sighs. “even when i stream, you’re standing right there, breathing over me.” he tells you.
your eyes become watery and suddenly you can’t hold them in anymore and you just let the tears fall.
with your head in your hands again, you silently cry as your body shakes, vinnie watching this all unfold.
“i’m sorry i just miss you!” you scream at him through your cries, voice straining as you do. “all it ever is, is work, work, work. i just want five minutes with you!”
vinnie gets down to your level again and places his hands on yours. he hears you, truly does, but you need to to understand one thing.
“this is my job, baby. you know this,” he says. “you think i like working, going out of the country this much?”
he does, don’t get him wrong, but he also loves to be home with you.
however, when you’re always up on him when he does come back from a five to seven day trip, that’s when he get irritated.
you shake your head at his question, he wipes your tears with the pads of his thumbs, making you smile.
you kiss his hand when he moves them to your cheeks. “there’s that pretty smile.” he says.
“i’m sorry for yelling, i just get so frustrated sometimes,” vinnie sighs. “i love you, you know that.”
you smile weakly at him. “i’m sorry too. i just miss you so much when you’re not with me, and when you finally are, i just like to be with you every second.”
vinnie caresses your cheek and smiles at you. “i know, sweetheart. you know i love our time together, but some things you do have to let me do on my own.” he chuckles.
you reciprocate with another smile, but finally leaning in to give him a proper kiss. tears are still on your cheeks, so he wipes them away as the two of you share this cute moment.
“are we good now?” he asks, pulling you up off the toilet seat.
you hug him tightly, nuzzling into his chest as his arms wrap around your waist.
“we’re good.” you smile up at him.
he kisses you once more before opening the bathroom door and the two of you join the others again.
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hi hi !! thank yo for the request again !! i hope you loved it !!
tags: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @sturnioloshacker , @khackerr , @bernelflo , @louloulemons-blog , @leqonsluv3r , @kriissy4gov , @kayleighh , @slvthrs , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @defnotayonna , @supabhad , @hallecarey1 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @khxna , @skye-44 , @jpg3 , @eddieslut69 , @miilzzy ,
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fayes-fics · 1 year ago
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When The World Is Free: Chapter 4 - Le Rideau Tombe Avant La Fin
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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.
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Warnings: none.
Word Count: 2.6k
Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is reader and Eloise's farewell to Paris. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!
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Paris, September 1939
The next three days are a blur, fleeting but at once memorable, lived on borrowed time. 
Knowing the inevitable is happening - that you will need to leave Paris soon - you give notice at work; so sad to have only been there for a matter of weeks rather than the planned months. On a brighter note, however, you are able to spend the days with Benedict, showing him all you have learned about art in the city in the short time you have had. Many a happy hour is spent in galleries. Both of you tripping over your words to share what you know about the art and the artists in a breathless, excited fashion. Kindred spirits in your appreciation of the works. Sometimes lost in a reverie as you stand in front of a canvas as large as your entire living room, the scale and complexity literally dumbfounding. 
And, of course, a little of your heart is stolen with each moment together - the first person you have ever met who truly seems as enthused as you about the subject matter. That it's all wrapped up in that handsome face adds more complexity and confusion. You can't deny the skip in your pulse when he looks at you, weighted, a touch of reverence, so focused as you speak passionately on the subject you love. And you are certain your face is a picture of devotion as he waxes lyrical, too. You know you are getting swept up into the almost cliched romance of it all - the city of love, a handsome stranger, the no doubt impending invasion giving a sense of urgency and finality to every hour- it's a powder keg that feels dangerous as it is intoxicating. 
Early evening of the second day, as you wander back from the Louvre, you pass by the offices of the cruise company you came from America with. 
“Oh! I should speak to them about swapping my return ticket,” you comment, seeing the men standing outside in the smart red livery of the company, speaking in English to crowds of people inquiring about escaping France.
“See if you can move it to the day after tomorrow,” Benedict counsels. “That is the day we are due to set sail. We can all go to the coast together on the train.”
“That would be nice,” you admit, realising it will be lovely to have someone to wave farewell to, even if there is a little stab in your chest at the idea you may never see Benedict again. Or, of course, darling Eloise.
So, a couple of hours later, after an early dinner, you are back on this same street, your ticket in hand, waiting patiently to speak to one of the young men in uniform. 
“Mademoiselle?” he beckons you forward.
“Good evening. I have a ticket to New York for eleven months, hence, 12th August 1940. I am hoping I can swap to a sailing in a few days? Ideally, the day after tomorrow?”
The men exchange glances, and there seems to be a swirl of excitement as they crowd around you.
“A real ticket?” one of them pipes up, an excitement in their tone which strikes you as rather odd.
With a nod, you hand it over, and they all seem to confer, then grab a pad of tickets and transfer some details. 
“Not a problem at all, Mademoiselle. Here, this is for a sailing two days hence. Thank you for travelling with us!”
They seem inordinately pleased as you walk away clutching your new ticket, a mix of emotions swirling. The finality of your time in Paris suddenly so real, the date on the newly issued ticket, ink still drying, sinking in.
When you push open the door to your apartment, still with a tinge of melancholy, you are taken aback by the whirlwind you encounter.
“How did I amass this many mugs?” Eloise decries, standing amidst a complete bomb of possessions scattered all over the surfaces of your apartment.
“Well, you can't take them all home,’ Benedict points out wearily, “you have your case, and that trunk there, Eloise, and that is all.”
Eloise rolls her eyes. “Well aware of that brother…” holding a blue and red mug in each hand, assessing which she likes more.
“I suppose I'm lucky I've only been here a matter of weeks,” you pipe up as they both turn to look at you, Benedict shooting you a lopsided grin as Eloise barges forward and loops your arm in hers, dragging you across the room.
“Just the person I need!” she declares. “Help me! What mug screams, ‘I had a life in Paris once, and it was amazing’?” She gestures to the array of drinking vessels she has pulled out to the cupboard.
You ponder the question with a thoughtful pout. “Why not just leave them all for the next tenant? I'm sure Solene would appreciate the ability to rent out the apartment with kitchen supplies?” you try to be diplomatic.
“Yes, I know that,” Eloise sighs, “there were mugs when I got here. That, of course, got mysteriously broken after a few days, which is a blessing as they were all hideous…”
“You broke some perfectly good mugs?” Benedict frowns disapprovingly.
“Do you live here?” she shoots back pointedly, raising an eyebrow, “I am only seeking the counsel of those who live here… not a squatter,” she sniffs.
You share a look with Benedict -  yours contrite, his bemused - as if this is just another day with Eloise. Which, to be fair, it sort of is.
“If I had to choose one…” you point to the cherry red earthenware mug that looks French in a way you can’t quantify; it just does.
“You’re right as always,” Eloise grins, seizing it. “Much better help than that one,” she adds, sticking her tongue out at Benedict as she wraps the chosen item in yesterday's newspaper.
“Packing going well?” you breeze, your eye again meeting Benedict’s as he pulls a face that makes you giggle hard.
“You try cramming nine months of freedom into a teeny trunk,” Eloise grumbles, heading towards her bedroom.
“I am just taking my clothes…” you admit. You only have a few additional items you purchased since you arrived in Paris that should all fit if you pack smart enough.
“That’s yours, by the way…” Eloise gestures to Benedict’s painting on the wall before she disappears out of sight. “I have no room for it, and it seems strange to carry a picture of a house I'm headed to…” she calls out down the corridor.
“I would love it…” you inhale, looking at the artist imploringly as if somehow you need his permission.
“Y-you want it?” Hesitant, disbelieving almost. 
“If you will permit me,” you confess, clasping a hand over your heart.
“It is yours,” he replies, his face a mixture of pleasant surprise and humble acceptance.
You rush forward and take the painting off the wall, reverentially cradling it between your hands. 
“Thank you, Benedict,” you sigh, a little fizz in your stomach at the idea he wants you to have it. Like you will always have a piece of him with you once you are apart.
“I can paint you others...” he offers quickly, in a rush of exhaled breath. “Whatever you want…”
Something in the tumbling sincerity of his words has your heart beating fast.
“I can think of nothing more appealing than a wall full of your works…” you confess while trying not to think that room would be thousands of miles away.
He blushes adorably, casting his eyes down until suddenly, his head jerks up again. “Wait I…I have something I want to give you, actually,” He scurries across the room and gathers a sketchbook. “I'm sorry it's not framed, but here…”
He carefully tears out the page from his pad. And your heart stops.
It's you from two days ago. Sitting on a bench overlooking the Seine, the Eiffel Tower over your shoulder as you read a book. You wondered what he was doing sitting a few feet away that day as you took a lunch break. Now you know. It's a perfect pencil rendering of the scene, each sketched line a wondrous recreation of that sun-soaked afternoon.
“Benedict….” all other words fail. 
“I want you to have it,” he murmurs, “your time in Paris may have been unexpectedly brief, but you deserve a memento of the happiness you found here, however fleeting it had to be.”
Tears prickle in the corner of your eyes; you want to rush to him, to throw your arms around him, thank him profusely, but you are scared to. Scared that in the moment you would get carried away, press your lips to his…
“Thank you...” is all you can struggle out, inadequate and awkward.  
“De rein…” Again, that perfect accent has you practically swaying
But the spell is broken when Eloise reappears, complaining loudly about the size of her trunk, and part of you is grateful for it. Guilt floods your being as you think how bad of a person you must be to covet your best friend’s brother when you have a fiance back home. One you will, in fact, likely see in a matter of days now… tamping down that disquiet, you excuse yourself to your room, placing your ticket on the mantel and refusing to look at it as you pick up a book to read.
Solene’s hug is so tight you feel like she is crushing your ribs. Or perhaps it's that you feel a little too fragile today.
“I shall miss you, ma cherie,” she mumbles into your hair before pulling back and seizing your jaw. “You will come back when this is all over, oui?”
“Oui,” you agree, knowing it’s more of a wish than a promise.
Once again, she pulls you in for a tight hug before turning to Eloise and clinging to her just the same, lingering longer.
“Souviens-toi, ma sœur,” she reminds Eloise, having told you the previous night that her sister lives just outside the port city of Le Havre should you need a place to stay for any reason.
It's two days later, the day of your departure, and your eyes ping around the now-tidy apartment, only furniture left where once there was a jumble of life. It looks much less like home, making handing over your key a little less painful. One final wistful glance at the Eiffel Tower out of the window is all you can manage before picking up your case and walking out, scared to look back.
Benedict is loitering in the corridor outside and shoots you a sympathetic glance as you exit, eyes glassy.
“You will return,” he offers solemnly, even as you both know it's just a platitude, before turning his attention to the apartment door. “Hurry up, Eloise, we need to get to the train…” he calls.
You start to move towards the sweeping staircase, preferring a long amble down its winding loop than the lift, your case feeling much heavier than when you arrived mere weeks ago…
You watch the puffs of steam float past the window as the train picks up pace, pulling out of Gare Saint-Lazare. Perhaps aptly, it begins raining soon after, streaks of water lashing the glass as you rest your head back into the seat.
“I can't bear to look at it,” Eloise sighs, closing her eyes so as not to see Paris slipping away.
You reach over the table between you and grasp her hand, and her eyes open to give you a nod of thanks before closing again. 
“Why do you have to be American?” she whines. “I would do anything to have you come to England. We could get a little place together in London…” She winds her feet around yours like a vine, needing the connection in your last few hours together.
“If only…” you agree, a weight akin to a heavy boulder settling in your stomach at the idea you will soon be back on Long Island, a world that seems so…. staid to you now.
Benedict shoots you a sympathetic look across from his seat next to Eloise on the aisle but says nothing, going back to reading his book as it's your turn to sigh, the city now a blur outside the window as you speed towards the end of your time in France.
Half an hour later, Eloise is sleeping, her head lolling lightly on the glass with the gentle rocking motion of the train, now following the meander of the Seine just outside Poissy.
“She didn't sleep well last night,” Benedict observes, looking up from his book and following your line of sight. “I don't think she wanted her last night in Paris to ever end.”.
His words take you back to just hours ago, a rousing evening in your favourite local bistro filled with wine, camaraderie and song. Benedict didn't accompany you and Eloise, preferring to stay home and read, he said, but part of you wishes he was there to help commiserate and toast your final night chez Paris.
“You should have come out,” you opine with a slight pout, which makes him chuckle.
“It's not me who had to have the fitting farewell,” he points out with a sympathetic smile.
“Still, it would have been nice if you were there…” The idle thought is out of your lips before you can think about how that might sound, and you know you are blushing when his mouth opens a fraction in surprise, a dot of colour on his cheeks, too.
“I'm sure you still had a wonderful time,” he placates demurely.
You smile and nod, feeling a little twinge in your ankle from all the dancing you have done.
“Are you excited?” he asks, changing the subject.
You frown. “Why would I be excited to leave Paris?”
To be reunited with your fiance?” he answers slowly, a look of puzzlement on his face that it had not occurred to you.
“Oh…” you pause, your mind recalling Stanley’s smile, although somehow it seems faded now, like an out-of-focus photograph, as if you cannot wholly remember it now.  “I… I suppose…”
His face is a picture of concern again. “You do not sound certain…” he hedges.
“I am not, to be honest,” you sigh for what seems like the hundredth time today. “These few weeks have… shown me so much of the world,” you explain, “I have had so many novel experiences, met so many wonderful new people…” you can't help but let your gaze meet his as you say it. “It makes my life before seem… small? Parochial?” you are clutching for the right words as his hazy eyes track your every facial move.
“Like an old shoe that used to be comfortable but now suddenly feels too tight?” he offers a metaphor that is so apt you can't help but nod.
“Exactly!’ you agree, enthusiastically waving your hand. 
There is a quiet moment where your eyes meet again, a tingle over your skin, a pulse of energy so enlivening.
“Do you feel there is perhaps something out there better for you?” his ask feels loaded, a quiet murmur that carries so much hidden meaning but is nearly lost in the rhythmic sound of the train clattering over the tracks. So much so you could likely pretend you didn't hear, but you don't. 
“I just might…” you answer softly, even as you are unable to look away. Something about this man makes you daring, unwilling to do anything but be bold.
Long, elegant fingers reach out over the table and are about to brush the back of your hand when Eloise suddenly startles awake between you. His hand disappears rapidly, pulling back as if burned. All you can concentrate on is the ashy taste of regret at your best friend’s timing.
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Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa
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msbigredmachine · 1 year ago
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Sugar & The Chief - A Roman Reigns One-Shot
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Reader is a best-selling erotic author reflecting on the success of her newest novel, which is based on her secret affair with the man who became her muse.
PAIRING: Roman Reigns x OC
Warning: A LOT of smut
Word count: 5.7k 
A/N: I started this goddamn fic in late 2021! 😭 I'm so glad it's finally out. This one is a little different and I hope you enjoy!
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It took you approximately three years to finish it. At first, you didn't want to, because through the smoke of mirrors of the raunchy literature was hands down the most personal piece you’ve ever done. But your team insisted that you go through with it. Your publicist Sheree told you it was one of the best works she’s ever read. On top of that, the dividends from your last book were starting to dry up, so you didn’t have that much of a choice.
You finally relented, and soon after it was published, the novel exploded. Your rabid readers had been waiting impatiently for your next offering and they gobbled it up. Your face and the novel were all over social media, TV, magazines and even on the huge Times Square billboard just down the road from your multi-million dollar penthouse in the Upper East Side. It wasn’t long before you were doing interviews and signing autographs in bookstores, malls and libraries all around the country. You were scheduled to be in London, Paris and Madrid next month promoting the book. It was a comeback for the ages.
And you had him to thank for that.
Sugar & the Chief was an erotic tale about an intense love affair that ended in disaster. Critics viewed it as Fifty Shades of Grey with better writing and much better sex and found the protagonist, Erica, relatable and three-dimensional. Erica was an ambitious albeit mentally unstable escort in an illicit relationship with Roman, a married Hollywood superstar she codenamed ‘the Chief’. This wasn’t your bland Mills & Boon romance tale...This was so smutty and so nasty you couldn’t read the first few paragraphs without wanting to masturbate thanks to Roman and Erica’s graphic sexual antics. It was so detailed that some theorists believed the Chief was based on a real person. When asked about who ‘Roman’ was, you played him off as a completely fictional character. No one needed to know the true identity of your muse. But you were one hundred percent sure that if he read this book, he would know it was about him. After all, you had incorporated some real-life dialogue between you in the novel. Without a doubt, he would know. You wondered, not for the first time, what his thoughts were if he had indeed read it.
Your fans did not hesitate to relay their own thoughts. Tonight, you were busy reading quite a number of them. Sheree had collated readers’ reviews, emails and feedback and sent them to you for your entertainment. Each one had you smiling from ear to ear. Women from all walks of life gushed about Erica and Roman. Housewives, attorneys, college students, septuagenarians, book club members; all of them had something to say and you felt all warm and fuzzy inside to know you still had it, that the magic hadn’t left your pen yet. Of course, they all wanted to know who the Chief was. They were so impressed with how he fucked you, dominated you and yet doted on you…They all wanted a man like him.
They all love you so much, Leati…just like I loved you…love you…
Closing your MacBook, you stood up from your desk with a smile. You stared out the ceiling-to-floor window and kept sipping from your Olivia Pope-sized glass of red wine, sinking deeper into your thoughts. 
Truth be told, you should have known better than to fall in love with Joe Anoa’i. Your first meeting all those years ago on a week-long vacation should have ended on the island between the soft rumpled sheets of his bed. What happened in Hawaii should have stayed in Hawaii. But then, you couldn’t stop gravitating to him and he couldn’t stop gravitating to you. You went running whenever he called and he came running whenever you called. It was wild, passionate, addicting, exciting…too good to last, really. And it wasn’t long before the fantasy came crumbling down. 
So many factors came into play. The demands of his job as the face of WWE. The meteoric level of his fame. And then, his discovery of your coke habit, your discovery of his wife Nicole and his three children, your increasing jealousy, his decreasing interest in you. After five tempestuous years, your relationship came to a bitter end, and the difficult healing process put an end to the writer’s block you’d been suffering from for a while. 
You missed him deeply, and wished the dull ache in your heart would go away. As morally questionable as it had all been, what you experienced with him needed to happen to every woman at least once in her lifetime - indulging in forbidden fruit and all the delicious things that came with it; the danger, the thrill of secrecy, the earth-shattering sex, the emotions of love, lust, possession, and of course, the inevitable pain and heartbreak…
You captured all of that in Sugar.
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Chapter 22
Erica pushed the button, shuddering out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. The elevator doors clunked closed and the cables began to whir. She ascended, floor by floor. Light goosebumps littered over her arms as she was filled with a morbid mix of dread and anticipation.
Their big fight from three weeks ago kept playing over and over in her head like some kind of evil loop. He didn't want to leave Gaelle for her and she'd taken her frustrations out on him. However, after what she'd just discovered, he was going to have to change his mind. Because of him, she had broken the ultimate rule in this treacherous line of work. This little game between them has been turned on its head, and tonight was the last time she would play by his rules.
The door opened before she knocked, and she felt her pussy purr involuntarily as they locked eyes. That big, sexy ass body of his leaned against the doorframe, his huge arms crossed over his equally huge chest. His dampened long hair flowed past his shoulders, and he smelled fresh, like he'd just had a shower. It didn't matter how long they'd been apart for; he always took her breath away every time she saw him.
"Well? You gon' stand there or you comin' in?" he sassed, that smooth country-boy drawl of his making her body temperature rise. Shaking it off, she walked through the door, right past him and into the open layout of his new, lavish penthouse, the night lights illuminating her brown skin through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
"Nice place," she commented, looking around with mild interest. He had found another hideaway where he could fuck around behind his wife's back. It didn't matter, because Gaelle was never going to leave him no matter what he did and he knew it. She could feel him trailing behind her, his bare feet moving catlike and silent on the cool hardwood floor. He had a prescence like no other, that was why he was the biggest movie star in the world today. And you so happened to be the mistress of the biggest movie star in the world today.
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"Champagne?" he offered.
"No, I'm fine," she answered, her crossed arms pushing up her already generous cleavage. Roman's gaze longingly raked over the A-line trench coat concealing her curves, traveling down to the sinful looking high heels adorning her feet. Her hair fell in luscious, tempting waves down her shoulders. A deliberate move, surely, as she knew he loved her hairstyles down. His dick hardened as he imagined bending her over, pulling her tresses and spanking that fat, juicy ass of hers as he pounded--
"I'm not stayin' long, so talk." Her statement yanked him out of his lurid daydream.
"You got all dressed up for me, beautiful," he asked, scanning her up and down again.
"Not everything's about you, Roman," she scoffed.
Not her giving him more lip. He would do something about that later. "I called you a buncha times last week but you didn't pick up. You left my texts on read," he accused with narrowed eyes. "You ignored me."
Erica tilted her chin, her stance defiant. "And why does that surprise you?"
He raised an eyebrow at her biting response and chuckled at her audacity. Sugar was quite the firecracker and honestly, he couldn't get enough. Walking towards her, he smirked as he caught on to her struggle to keep her eyes on him and not on his thick dick print, clear as day in his gray sweatpants. He reached out and rubbed her arm with his hand before tugging her closer to him.
"Sweetheart, don't ever ignore me again. Especially when you know that pussy belongs to me."
"Does it? Funny, I thought I was 'just another pricey whore'. Did you forget you said that to me?"
He rolled his eyes with a huff. "Sometimes I say shit I don't mean, baby girl, you know how it is."
Taken aback by his dismissive, nonchalant attitude, she yanked her arm away. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? After everything we've been through? That shit was foul as fuck!" she said incredulously.
"I know. That's why I texted you to come over so I could apologize in person, but you refused to answer me. I hate it when you shut me out, Erica."
"You shut me out, too! For weeks! And now that you're bored you summon me like I'm your fuckin' toy. I am not your toy, Roman! I don't give a damn that you're a Hollywood star, there's plenty of other A-listers out there who will take care of me and not treat me like shit."
"And yet, you come back to me every time," he pointed out, the smug curl of his lip just as panty-wetting as the rest of him. "None of your other clients take care of you like I do, make you feel the way I do. That's why you dropped 'em all, for me."
Erica started to retort but stopped herself, realizing that this was in fact, the truth. But she'd be damned if she let him have the last laugh. "Ya know what? This was a mistake. I should go. I had something to tell you but I dunno why I even bothered to come here."
She turned around but he grabbed her before she could go far, drawing her back to him. Seeing her getting worked up always seemed to fuel his desire for her. The angrier she was, the hotter the sex, and he was horny as fuck for her right now.
"Look at you, gettin' all riled up," he drawled, his tone tinged with amusement. "I love it when you're mad, that shit turns me on, baby."
This man was as infuriating as he was sexy. "Fuck you! Everything is a joke to you!"
"This feel like a joke right here?" he demanded, snatching her hand and pressing it against his throbbing length. The little whimper she let out as she cupped him sealed her fate.
"Feel that? Feel what you do to me?" His voice was rough and needy, matching the look in his eyes. "I need you, Erica. It's been weeks and I've been goin' fuckin' crazy without you."
"Go home to your wife, then," she bit back with a lot less conviction than she aimed for. The pull was much too strong, quite literally too as he wrapped both arms around her slender waist, his face nuzzling her neck and making her hiss as his soft beard tickled her skin.
"She don't make me feel like you do." His voice was needy and almost pathetic as his mouth pressed her throat. "Let me make it up to you, baby. I wanna kiss you. Can I kiss you?" His tongue was warm, his breath hot and heavy on her skin, and her arousal flared against her will.
"Roman..."
"Come on, baby, kiss me," he murmured, his lips sliding over hers. It was a slow but deliberate assault, and Erica felt her body yield as a soft gasp escaped from her. She sagged against him, gripping his shoulders for balance as their mouths smacked oh so sensually together. Fuck, she missed this, missed his delicious kisses and his assured touch as he grabbed her round, fleshy ass, kneading and caressing in his hands and pressing himself harder against her.
Roman growled softly as he released her mouth, his tongue snaking out to lick his lips as his eyes flitted down to her chest. "Take your clothes off," he commanded.
Wordlessly, Erica's hands slid over the leather belt on her waist to slowly unbuckle it. Then, she opened up her coat, eased it off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground, leaving her in nothing, absolutely nothing, but her heels. Roman's darkened orbs blazed to an onyx black as they scanned her naked body, drinking in every smooth, delicate, voluptuous curve. Grabbing her by the waist, he backed her up against the nearest wall, his hardened dick straining against her exposed center. A shiver ran through her as he crashed his mouth back to hers, his huge hand squeezing her throat briefly before tracing the valley between her breasts, and she finally let go of the groan she was holding back as his hand came in contact with the intimate spot between her thighs.
"Damn..." he smirked as he found nothing but wetness, pushing his palm against the slick mound and sliding his fingers along her slit. She moaned in response, her hands gripping his tattooed bicep as his thick finger pushed into her, her pussy quivering around the digit as he thrust it at a maddeningly steady pace.
"Mmm-hmm you like this, don't you baby?" he said, nipping at her bottom lip, coaxing yet another moan from the back of her throat as he slipped a second finger home with deep, languid thrusts. She whimpered helplessly, her vision blurring as her walls dripped and tightened around the invading digits. Her forehead dropped onto his chest, battling to hold on to her sanity. "Fuck..."
Buoyed by her whines and soft cries, he pumped his fingers more earnestly, hissing softly when her walls rippled around them again, signaling her end. "You 'boutta come already, huh? I told you this my pussy. Squeeze my fingers Erica, come for me."
Damn him and his ability to control her with just his touch. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her shout of pleasure came from somewhere inside her soul as she spasmed uncontrollably. She could hear his triumphant snicker as her juices flooded his fingers, brushing his mouth against hers as she leaned into him to regain her tenuous balance. He scooped the round, soft flesh of her breast into his eager palm, with his other hand leaving her pussy to suck her juices, humming pleasantly at the familiar sweet taste.
"Remember what I told you in my text?" he breathed, his gaze trained expectantly on her.
"Mm-hmm."
"Tell me," he insisted, now massaging both her breasts. "Tell me what I said to you. I made you a promise. What was it?"
Erica fought through the thick haze of passion to recall his exact words from the raunchy text message. "You promised to make me come at least three times before we ever make it to the bed," she recounted.
Roman smiled smugly, satisfied with her response. "Uh huh. And Daddy always keeps his promises, don't he? That was the first. Two more to go. Now, let me show you around my new crib."
He showed her around, alright. First, on the plush sectional in the living room area, with her on her back and her head hanging off the edge as he slowly thrust his dick in and out of her mouth. She let his groans wash over her as her jaw relaxed to take more of his intimidating length down her throat. Even upside down, her gag reflex was superb, so each time he thrust inside her, her tongue lapped at the base of his cock, soaking his balls with her spit. Willing to give as much as he was receiving, he leaned forward and rubbed her clit in quick circular motions, making her moan around his cock with the vibrations causing his neck to extend, looking up to the ceiling as pleasure licked his spine.
"Unnnh fuck, suck my dick, take it all down your throat, baby," he encouraged her, sliding his other hand over her breast and toying with her nipple, all while fucking her face. His knees weakened at the sight of his length bulging her throat, she always knew how to take him well. "Shit, Sugar, you look so fuckin' hot like this..."
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Erica moaned again through her stuffed throat, waves of heat washing over her as her pussy pulsated beneath the pleasure of his long thick fingers. In all her time under the bright lights and the seedy bowels of Hollywood, she had never been captivated by any one human being. Until him. Their escort-client relationship had long since grown into something more. She had given up on resisting him and let him do anything he wanted to her in bed. But tonight she craved some semblance of control, and this time, his famed charms would not stop her from getting it.
Pushing him away so he slipped out of her mouth, she sat up straight and tugged him onto the massive couch with her. Straddling his hips as he sat up, she placed one hand on his barrel-like shoulder while using the other to curl her fingers around his pulsing dick. He groaned and bucked his hips as she flicked the head of his dick along her slit just to torture him a little. Then guided him against her opening and slid down.
The moment felt heavy and tense, like a tightly twined coil as her wetness opened up for him. At the end of her slow descent, she stopped to adjust to all the emotions and sensations wracking both their bodies. Unconsciously rocking her hips into him, she gasped as the pressure immediately started to build. Their hands and mouths were all over each other. Roman ran his hands up and down her back, rubbed her tits, squeezed her ass. Erica raked her nails over his nipples, sucked on his neck, bit his shoulder. Fuck, it felt so damn good already. Ass rested comfortably on his thighs, chest to naked chest with his dick lodged inside her, it was clear they were not going to last very long.
Leaning back slightly on her other hand placed on his thigh, she began to ride him. Slow and steady at first, making him absorb every drop of her ass, every crevice, every sensation. The lust and pleasure consumed them both, their mouths colliding with hot, sloppy kisses, her moans pitching higher as the tension thickened. His own groans grew heavier and gruffer, his hands leaving her hips to slide underneath her ass and lift her up and down. Exquisite torture, with his strong grip on her making her wet pussy take every inch of him. The angles of his upward thrusts as he bounced her on his dick had her making noises like a bitch in heat. He was so snug and warm and deep inside her, it was as though she could feel him in her soul.
"Oh my fuckin' god," she half-groaned, half-cried, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his neck as he bounced her even harder. Up, down, up, down. His dick stretched her walls, his fingers deep into her ass cheeks enough to leave a bruise or two. The dizzying sensations spiraled her into another orgasm, and she sat all the way down on his dick and rolled her ass desperately, literally riding out her nut. She couldn't stop herself from biting into his sweaty, salty skin as she came, making the big man growl in reaction and smack her ass hard.
"That's your second nut," he declared.
He flipped her onto her back, still deep inside her. He looked down at her with hungry, blown pupils, letting his hands dance along the meat of her thighs and her calves. Throwing her legs onto his shoulders, he leaned forwards, folding her in two as he fucked her into the couch. Her hands clawed the back of his head only for him to grab them and pin them above her head. The sweat clung to their skins as he steeled his thighs and grinded himself into her wet heat, his face lowering to suck both of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around each peaked bud. Her groans snowballed with his groans as he drove his dick impossibly deep inside her with primal intensity. When she managed to speak, her voice was unrecognizable. "Oh fuck, I'm coming," she moaned hoarsely, her toes curling behind his head as she exploded again, "Oh my god, Roman, ohhh..."
"I'm 'bout to come too, don't fuckin' move," he panted, holding her down to piston his hips and pound into her. Erica basked in the sound of his tortured groan when his big body tensed up and she felt him pour into her warm confines, his hips stuttering as he found sweet release.
"Got you to three quicker than I expected," he said when he caught his breath, kissing her cheek. "We just gettin' started, baby. I'ma remind you why this pussy is mine."
He gave her an up close and personal view of the city's remarkable skyline, her breasts crushed against the glass window as his juicy lips ravaged her from behind. She could only imagine how she looked right now. Her legs wide, ass spread open, her battered pussy wet and swollen and pulsing for more of his oral onslaught. Nobody ate her out the way he did, with so much passion, covering all the bases, her clit, her inner lips, and even her asshole. The warmth of his breath had her walls clenching as he licked and sucked and kissed everywhere, painting her slickness with his spit. The relief she felt as he finally detached his mouth from her center and got off his knees was replaced with his heavy cock tapping her pussy lips before breaching her entrance with the thick girth. Each thrust dragged her sensitive nipples across the cool, hard surface of the glass, but Erica was so lost in the moment that she didn't care.
"Mmmph, fuck me, baby, fuck my pussy," she exhaled another pining moan, her nails scraping against the glass where he had ordered her to place her hands. Her mouth fell open when he slapped her backside, that deliciously dangerous dick of his pounding into her in full view of the bright lights of Los Angeles. His dick slid in deeper and deeper, his hips circling each time he was buried inside her, making her knees buckle as her climax inched ever closer. She tried to speak again, but words failed her, reducing her to a whimpering, shivering mess as her pussy clenched greedily around his dick. Roman merely chuckled arrogantly, reveling in his handiwork.
"You sound so fuckin' sexy, baby girl, keep moaning for me like that," he purred, his hands clamped on her shapely hips to make her take his lethal strokes. He was a man on a mission, punishing her for assuming she had any sort of control over him. Tears sprang to her eyes as he slowed down his thrusts, his pelvis mashed up against her soft backside as his cock worked inside the sensitive walls of her pussy with a more tender rhythm. He filled her with stroke after long stroke, making them both moan as she squirted all over him this time, her orgasm breaking her into a million pieces.
He showed her the stripper pole next to his bed. He had it installed specially for her, he said, so she could show off her elite lap dancing skills for him and him alone. Watching that itty-bitty waist and all that ass bounce on his dick like her rent was due would be the end of him; He couldn't resist massaging the soft cheeks in his palm, one after the other as she gyrated back and forth on him like a professional.
"Uh huh, go off, baby, pop that pussy on my dick," he drawled from his spot on the pouf he lounged on, his sturdy thighs spread wide apart to give her all the space she needed to ride and grind while she held onto the pole for balance. He watched the streaks of his cum trickle down her gyrating ass, and it made for quite the visual, slapping against the mixture of her juices smothered over his groin. He rubbed in the remnants of his seed on her cheeks, biting his lip as the skin glistened and made her big booty look even bigger. "Mmm, damn baby, this pussy so good, I should throw a dollar at your fine ass..."
"Fuck!" Erica had the pole in a death grip as yet another orgasm rocked her body. She had to get off his dick because she was shaking so hard. The tremors had her mewling pitifully as she bent over, gifting him with the sight of her pink pussy quivering as her cum ran down her inner thighs.
"Get back down here," Roman ordered, smacking her leg and then her ass as he stroked his dick in his hand, "You ain't done. Sit your ass back down on this dick."
He'd been wanting to break in his new California king bed since it'd been installed, so it was apt that he was breaking her back in it. He had her on her stomach, her asshole stuffed with a purple-colored butt plug as he stuffed her pussy with his hard, long cock. She moaned and gasped beneath him, clutching the comforter with her fists as he fucked her like a savage, her plump ass trapped in his possessive grasp.
"Daddyyyyy..." Her moan was loud and long and desperate. It became too much. Roman's dick seemed to double in size inside her and both her holes felt too full to the point of another explosion. A sob tore from her chest.
"Why you cryin'? Huh?" He slapped her ass. "Don't cry. You wanted this dick. Ain't that why you came over? Daddy told you to come and you listened like a good bitch, Daddy's sexy ass bitch. Come here." He hiked her hips higher to force a deeper, more painful arch in her back, and rammed his dick into her sweet spot over and over, demolishing her pussy. Too spent to throw her ass back, she could only lay there and take it, and her eyes squeezed shut, certain she was about to pass out from pleasure.
A big square mirror stretched across the ceiling directly above the bed. His hand slithered into her hair, tugging her head back, almost hyperextending her neck to make her look up. Her mouth dropped open in a moan as she watched that big thick shaft glide in and out of her, the soft skin of her ass rippling against the smacks of his pelvis. Just the sight of him and her together in such an erotic moment had her leaking again, soaking the silk sheets on the bed. He was fucking her so good. She hadn't come this hard and this many times in a long, long time.
Sitting back on his heels, he brought her off the bed and flush against him, assaulting her neck with his hot mouth. "You make me so fuckin' crazy, Erica. Don't nobody else make me lose control like this," he whispered, his grip tightening around her throat as the other hand gripped her breast, making her whimper. "Love this pussy so fuckin' much. You love this dick, baby?"
"Yes Daddy, I love it, I love you," she choked out.
"Mm-hmm, I love you too, baby. You gon' make me come all up inside you, girl," he grunted, his brain growing fuzzier as his end neared. He wrapped her up in his big arms, engulfing her with his heat, lavishing her panting mouth with tongue kisses as his hips rocked upwards, teasing her g-spot. Erica found enough strength to rock with him, grinding back against him, the lovers moving together in the most intimate, sensual dance. Roman groaned with pleasure when he felt her incredibly tight pussy pulling on his cock. It was almost difficult for him to continue thrusting inside of her, but her warm slickness eased the way for him. His hand left her breast and slid down her sweat-slick body to play with her clit, dragging her weak body over the edge.
"Unnnnhhhh..." Erica moaned out, her eyes rolling in the back of her head. Roman moaned with her, his soft lips trailing wet, frenzied kisses along her throat as his balls tightened, craving fresh release. "Come, baby girl, come for Daddy," he whispered shakily.
His wish was her command. Her body went limp as she detonated one more time, creaming all over his dick in the process. Roman let his head fall forward, his groan muffled against her throat as he came hard, smearing his warm cum all up in her walls. Erica murmured incoherently as she felt him pulse inside of her, giving her everything he had like he always did. When it was all over, he grabbed hold of her hair and planted yet another searing kiss on her lips, before releasing her to collapse on the mattress. Admiring her thoroughly fucked disposition, he massaged her backside tenderly before slowly easing the plug out of her, watching her wince from the pain. Running a hand over the back of her head, he brought her face to face with his groin. "Suck all this shit off my cock," he ordered.
Erica licked her lips at the sight of his thick member, semi-erect and slathered in a milky cocktail of her juices and his semen. Grasping it obediently, she lowered her mouth onto it, moaning softly at the taste of herself on him. Roman looked on with a bite of his lip, stroking her hair as she licked him clean. Afterwards, he lay on his side and pulled her into his chest. Erica sighed happily as he kissed her gently, soothing all her pain away. This feeling right here was the reason she could never let him go. Their connection was too deep, too special. No man had ever made her feel like this and she didn't want to lose it; the high of having him, the euphoria of belonging to him. It was why she was willing to quit today, right now even, and start a new life with him. She needed him to be with her forever, and she wasn't sure she was going to take no for an answer this time.
After what she was about to tell him, she doubted he would say no...not when the life they had created together was done out of the love they shared.
"Baby?" she whispered softly to him, watching him closely.
"Hmm?" Lying flat on his back, his eyes were shut and he was in a state of complete relaxation.
"Look at me," she said, waiting for him to meet her eyes before speaking. She needed him to understand the words coming out of her mouth.
"Roman, I'm pregnant, and the baby is yours."
End of Chapter 22
--------------------
Erica's unexpected declaration spelled the beginning of the end of her relationship with Roman. His behavior took a complete 180, having security drag her out of his new apartment, denying all ties to her unborn child and cutting off all communication with her. A distraught Erica terrorized him, stalking his family, poisoning his wife Gaelle and getting him fired from a lucrative film project. It all came to a head when Erica took Gaelle hostage in Roman's vacation home where he had fled to escape her rampage. She forced him at gunpoint to have sex with her in his marital bed while his wife watched, but died when he deliberately strangled her in the middle of her orgasm. It also turned out that Erica was never pregnant, and the positive test she'd shown Roman belonged to her friend and fellow escort, Tiffany. Erica's story made headline news all around the world. It was an incredibly shocking end and it worked well with the dramatic plot of the story.
You were glad for the artistic license, and though what really happened with you was less chaotic, it was not any less heart wrenching. You never even got to break the news to Joe. In fact, he was gone from your bed before the crack of dawn, vanished like a thief in the night. Never returned your calls or messages until three days later, when you received a text message from him that put your heart in a blender.
Nicole and I have decided to work things out. For good this time. I hope you understand. Thanks for always being there for me. Take care of yourself. ❤
How you recovered from that blow, you would never know. How you dug yourself out of the hole of darkness he dumped you in was still a mystery to you sometimes. It really was a testament to your mental strength, because not many people would have survived the unimaginable pain he inflicted on you. The sinister side of you wished you had been brave enough to do exactly what Erica did, to take out your rage on him and make him hurt like he hurt you. But instead you redirected that energy to your work, pouring every second of your anguish into the book. It took a long time for you to get to this point of fulfillment and success in your life, and the book had been your therapy. Now, you were at least making good money from your pain and it softened the blow a little bit.
When you thought about Joe these days, it wasn't with as much resentment. It seemed he had a few problems of his own anyway, as his beloved Nicole was reportedly threatening to upgrade their separation to a divorce and take his kids with her. How the tables turned. Nonetheless, you wished him the best. You still had love for him. You would always miss him. He changed your life, and there was no doubt that you would forever carry him with what was left of your heart.
"Mama?"
You heard her little voice before you heard the shuffle of her tiny feet. Quickly placing the wine glass in the sink, you turned as the love of your life came into view, her favorite blanket dragging behind her as she searched the room for you.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping, little lady?" you asked, fighting back a big smile to look as serious as possible. She was in her "I wanna stay up late" phase and you couldn't afford to fold, not this time at least.
Her little dual Afro puffs jiggled as she rubbed her hand over her eyes, "Come sweep with me, Mama," she pleaded, staring up at you with her big, expressive brown eyes and a pout that was the spitting image of her famous father. She was starting to look so much like him.
Your heart swelled as she padded over to you with her arms outstretched. You lifted her up and held her small body tightly, absorbing her innocence and unconditional love. She smelled so fresh and delicate, like roses, sunshine and baby powder. Her scent has filled your life with joy and purpose since the day you brought her into this world two years ago.
And to think you had almost taken those pills to snuff out this beautiful life in a fleeting moment of weakness. Now, you would give your own life to protect hers without question. Always.
"Okay, kiddo, let's get you back to bed," you cooed softly, kissing her chubby cheek.
"Read me a stowy, Mama?"
"Of course, baby."
As you retreated to your daughter's bedroom, your phone vibrated beside your MacBook. Three letters you had not seen in years flashed on the Home Screen, cutting through the empty room and calling out to you.
❤️Joe❤️
THE END
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Alternate Sugar & The Chief book cover
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waldau-archived · 1 year ago
Text
it's just us — boo seungkwan | 1,672 words | fluff, hurt/comfort
uri boo :) title comes from his lovely cover of as it was by harry styles. sometimes you need to realize that there are people who actually want to listen to what you want to say, as i learned the hard way. also, seungkwan 💞
gender neutral reader. warnings: none.
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seungkwan's hands are almost trembling when he slots the key into the lock of his door. they are trembling, but he doesn't want to let himself believe it. because if he does, he's going to have to acknowledge the fact that he can't get through tonight without seeing you in some way or the other. he doesn't want you worrying over him because he always wants to be taking care of you, not the other way round.
with a deep inhale, he opens the door of his house and prepares to spend another lonely night by himself. maybe you'll be free just long enough to talk to him on video call for a while. that has to suffice till you get back.
seungkwan doesn't expect to see the lights on, or smell something delicious on the stove.
he doesn't even have the time to worry about an intruder in his house because you walk out into the living room from his bedroom, towelling your hair dry. you're supposed to be in paris, for work. you're not supposed to be here, in his place, looking like everything he needs right now.
"hey, kwannie," you say, dropping the towel on the back of a chair and making your way to him. "i know this is sudden, but we wrapped up the conference earlier than expected. i thought i'd come here and stay the night. i hoped you wouldn't mind."
of course it's okay. it's more than okay. but seungkwan can't believe you chose to come to his place after what must have been a tiring week. he doesn't trust himself to speak, but you're still speaking.
"...something for you, i hope you like...kwannie? you okay?"
you're there when he takes shaky steps forward, unsure of what to do with himself. he wants to hug you, kiss your face a million times till you push him away with a laugh, wrap you in his arms and just exist with you, breathing in and out.
instead all he does is kick off his shoes and collapse on the couch. he doesn't want to talk about it. can't, not when you've come back to him after a week away. surely you don't want to listen to why his day was bad. you've even made dinner, for crying out loud.
"kwannie?"
"i'm fine," he says. he thinks you know how untrue it is.
"anything i can do for you?"
"no." he wants to be held by you, but he's scared the facade he's put up is going to come crashing down the moment he's in your arms.
"you sure? are you hungry? do you want me to pick your favourite movie with dinner? run you a bath?"
"i said no."
"but—"
"please, can you not?" he snaps. he doesn't mean to. he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, given that they do little to dispel the burden in his chest. and now he's ended up hurting you, too.
you say nothing, simply walking away to the kitchen. fuck, seungkwan thinks. he shouldn't have said a word. he's wanted you all day long, and he's so lucky you're here, but the first thing he's done is snap at you?
he sinks sideways to hide from you, and before he knows it, there's tears streaming down his face. he's been holding them in for long enough that they don't stop even when you come out of the kitchen, sitting next to him and resting a hand on his thigh.
"kwan," you say softly. "come here?"
seungkwan lets himself be pulled into your embrace, his head resting on your chest while your arms pull him closer. he wants to sink into you forever.
"is this okay?" you ask, pushing his hair from his face. he can finally see you clearly. you don't look upset, or annoyed, or anything he feared you'd be.
"yeah."
one of your hands comes up to wipe the tears from his face. "bad day?"
he nods. "i'm sorry i—"
"shh. i know. want to talk about it?"
"not now."
"that's okay. do you want to hear about my day instead?"
that's what seungkwan loves about you — you always manage to find a solution. whether it's working out what to do when the lights go out, or when you run out of something you should have bought from the supermarket last week, you're level-headed, and he really needs that right now.
he settles himself more comfortably in your embrace, blinking out the rest of his tears while your fingers catch them and wipe them off, your hands still around him.
he listens to you talk about the weather in paris, your weird colleague who wouldn't stop singing during the board meeting, the food you had — it's all mundane stuff, but it helps to ground him. you're here for the night, and you're not going anywhere.
"i missed you every single day there," you sigh, your chin resting on his head. he can feel the slight drip of water from your hair, but he doesn't mind. "every time i took a picture i thought of you."
"really?" he asks, rhetorically.
"yeah. maybe we should go to paris the next time you're free. there's so many things i think you'd like. also, i got you some croissants, but they're probably rock solid by now," you say with a grimace. "maybe the oven can help."
"maybe."
there's silence for a while before you murmur his name in a questioning tone. seungkwan buries himself just a bit more into you, not wanting to have the conversation he knows is inevitable.
"i'm not...asking you to tell me what happened, but i want you to know you can, okay? you're always there to listen to me and it's kind of unfair if i can't be the same person for you."
seungkwan breaks a bit at that. you're not pushy; you just want him to be fine. he's anything but a hypocrite. he thinks of all the times he opens his arms to you, wanting to listen to everything that's bothering you till you feel better. so he shouldn't shy away from being like that with you, right?
"do you really want to hear me talk about...stuff?"
"yes." to emphasize your point, you push your leg under his and curl it towards yourself, effectively trapping him in place on top you. "i'll not let you go."
he feels a giggle come up. "then don't."
and you don't. you reach for the throw near the armrest of the sofa and drape it over the two of you. it's like time stops for seungkwan — all he's aware of is you underneath him, your breath even. he tries to match your breathing.
"have you been sleeping well?"
seungkwan could lie, say that he has, but he thinks you know the answer. "no," he says, refusing to look at you. "missed you."
you sigh, running your hand through his hair. "kwannie, you have to. you know i can't always be with you, right?"
"then move in with me," he says, before he can fully think about it. "i'm sorry, i didn't think—"
"i'd love to," you say, pressing a kiss to his head. "but i want you to say it with a clear mind, okay? i don't want this to feel like you're forced."
"i'm not...i want you to move in. but not right now."
"ask me again later?"
it's not the first time seungkwan marvels at how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. you're his, and while he's gotten used to the permanency of you in his life, topics like moving in and getting married are still there on the far horizon. he hadn't given them much thought until now, but he can see them happening with you.
he finds his words. "i will. it's just...i'm tired. i'm out there all the time, you know? always working. sometimes i feel like i work too hard to get people to really see me."
"you wish you didn't have such an active role sometimes?"
"yeah. i just want to take a break, but i can't. sometimes i feel nothing i ever do will be enough."
you don't say anything, simply rubbing his back. he feels better already, letting it out, because he knows what he's saying isn't really true — it's just that one part of him that keeps popping up from time to time.
"you know it's not true, right?" you ask when he shifts. "you've done so much you should be proud of yourself for. hell, i'm so proud of you every single day. and the fact that you're my boyfriend is possibly one of the best things that's ever happened to me. you've made me realize there's so many things i can improve about myself, and i can't thank you enough for that, kwannie. if your day's been bad you should know i'm always here for you, even if it's through a phone. i love you. always."
seungkwan nods. i love you, he means to say. thank you for everything. he presses a kiss to your neck, and then another, revelling in the warmth of your skin. you understand his silent words, like he hoped, pulling him closer. you rest like that till your stomach grumbles, which is when you push him away embarrassedly and sit up.
"let me plate dinner," seungkwan says, glad to find his voice is steady. he gets up, but you catch his hand before he leaves.
"i know you have work tomorrow, but when you're done, do you want to come to my place so we can spend the weekend together? we don't have to do anything. just...live. for two days. forget everything outside. maybe actually talk about moving in together."
he feels a smile come up. "i'd...really like that."
he knows it doesn't get easy in just a blink of an eye, but the weight on his shoulders is always less when he's with you.
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blue-sky336 · 18 days ago
Text
Origin || Part 1
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3?
Morning light crept through the circular window that led to your empty balcony. Still struggling to get used to the drastic time difference, you covered your face with the duvet, sinking in the warmth that your bed offered. It wasn't until your alarm went off that you finally pried yourself from the comfortable mattress. 
The heat of the morning sunlight kept your joints warm as you began to get ready, undressing from your pyjamas only to pull on some comfier but more respectable clothes. Your outfits usually consisted of some shorts and a baggy t-shirt, but on this day, you settled for some jeans and a sweater. You had recognised easily that Paris would most likely never be as warm as your home country, so the outfit was deemed wearable, while a comfy shirt was still placed inside of your bag as a backup. It rested in the front pocket of your school bag alongside your pain medication, which you were probably due to take soon, and the few other hygiene accessories that you wouldn't dare to leave the house without unless it was a true emergency. 
"Hurry up or you will be late!" A stern, yet loving voice called. A smile that was beginning to turn down evident on your face as you finally made your way down the stairs. It took some energy, but you felt good.
Today would be good.
"Sorry, dad." You shrugged slightly, "I'm going to walk to walk to school today. I'll be extra careful, I promise." You smile and take an apple from the bowl resting on the kitchen bench, gently punching the older man's shoulder before walking towards the door, bag on your back. You noticed the way he frowned, going to speak but not saying anything. It wasn't unusual for him to be so quiet; you'd grown accustomed to it after quite some time of living with him. Your father was silenced by his own worry and concern for you. He waved as you stepped out of the front door, yet you never noticed it.
Taking your first steps out of the house, you couldn't help but breathe in the somewhat fresh air that the streets of Paris gifted you with. While it wasn't something you were used to, the scent of a sweet pastry was certainly something you enjoyed. Living close by to a two-story bakery was certainly going to burn a hole in your pocket, but who could deny themself a sweet little treat every once in a while? 
Taking enough time to distract yourself with your thoughts, you finally made it to the street across from your school. It wasn't too often anymore where you found yourself not distracted by your own thoughts. Toady was no different than any other, until you heard a small commotion just in front of you. The traffic was bustling along. The sounds of honking and tires screeching pulling your attention to the situation. An old man was struggling to cross the road, overwhelmed by the amount of people honking at him despite how it could be seen as a reasonable reaction to any bystander. Without thinking your legs began to move, pulling you towards the situation with no hesitation. "Sir!" you called out, glancing across the road to make sure no cars were coming in your direction in the moment. When you had a free chance, you bolted towards the older man, placing your hand on his back and quickly pulling him out of the way of any oncoming traffic. Of course, that wasn't the end of it as you crouched down the slightest bit to reach his slouched height. He was shaking, although appreciative as he clasped your cold hands in his warm ones. 
"Thank you so much, young one," The man spoke, bowing his head over and over again in gratitude. Gently taking your hands away from his and softly placing them on his shoulders, you shook your head. "No, don't thank me. I was doing what any humane person would, sir." Your words of pure genuine and empathetic smile seemed to strike a chord with the man. 
"You are a wonderful being," He hummed, flashing a small smile before simply turning, "I hope one day we will meet again in less dire circumstances." You stood dumbfounded as the man began to walk away. How could he act so calm after seeming so overwhelmed by such a drastic scene. He could have been hit by a car and yet here he was walking away from you, the only thing left in his place being a black box with intricate gold carvings. You leant down and picked up the box, it was small, much like a box holding a piece of jewellery. You figured it might be important to the man, however before you could finally call out to him, he was gone. Once again he had left you staring after him dumbfounded. After examining the box in your hands, you decided to place it within the front pocket of your bag in hopes that you might see the man again just as he said.  
With that interaction playing over in the back of your mind, you quickly walked up the steps of the school. Although you transferred to College Françoise Dupont due to the advertised accessibility and financial support that it provided students with disabilities alongside chronic illnesses, you were beginning to notice just how many stairs were truly in this place. You frowned. 
No one necessarily paid much attention to you, even as you struggled to climb the multiple levels of stairs within the large foyer. After climbing up the front steps, you groaned at the thought of climbing up the second set of large stairs that led to the upper level of the school. While it wasn't as long, it was steep, and after your almost run in with oncoming traffic, you were already feeling rather exhausted. You figured it was just a horrid perk of your own chronic illness.
At the age of thirteen you faced symptoms of constant exhaustion, shakiness and burning pain within your joints. After an incident when moving houses, the pain began to focus more within your knees and lower back, a mishap from carrying a box that was too heavy for your young stature. There was no true name for what occurred to you, doctors were confused or chose not to believe you and many close people began to pity you. At first you enjoyed the attention, but now you were happy to simply be left alone.
Now at the ripe age of seventeen you could hardly pull yourself from bed without dousing yourself in icy-hot and Panadol. You always managed, trying your best to come across as a normal teenager, no matter how sore or exhausted you truly were. You began to think of it as your own little secret, wanting to hide it from your new classmates to lessen the pity you faced.
When you finally reached the top of the stairs, you sighed in relief. Both glad that it was finally over, and happy that you remembered your knee brace you closed your eyes momentarily, not expecting a certain bluenette to run straight into you on her way to class.
You landed on your butt, wincing quietly at the harsh landing. You peeled your eyes opened to see a girl who looked around your age, frantic as she crouched next to you.
"Oh my gosh! I'm so so so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going and—" her words were rushed and the flush on her face made you feel almost sorry for the girl. Gently pushing her outstretched palm away, you shook your head. "Don't sweat it. You're good." You smiled sweetly, taking a moment to collect your bag before getting back up on your feet.
The poor girl looked guilty, taking in your appearance to make sure she hadn't caused too much damage, which it was lucky that she didn't. You cringed slightly as you leaned on your left leg, swapping weight between your legs every so often to balance out the sharp sting in them. She seemed to notice, but didn't mention it.
"You're new here, right? I don't think I've ever seen you before. Do you have your timetable?" She asked, her eyes widening momentarily behind her blue bangs. "I completely forgot to introduce myself— I'm Marinette, what's your name?" Marinette asked, sheepishly pulling her hand back and rubbing her arm when she realized you weren't going to shake her hand.
You laughed and mentioned your name with that gentle smile of yours. Pulling out your phone, you logged into your electronic timetable. "I'm in P7?" You spoke, "Do you think you could show me around a bit?"
You swore her smile grew twice it's size as she linked her arm with yours. "That's my class actually! I'll take you there, I'm sure Alya wouldn't mind swapping seats if you'd like to sit next to me?" Her offer was sweet, but you already had an assigned seat. It was simply due to the amount of distinguishable akuma attacks. It was hard for you to run, so the teachers and your parents deemed it safer for you to sit in the front left of the classroom in case there was ever a need to escape.
"No, it's okay. I already know my seat." You smiled, using your linked arms as a way to steady yourself as you both walked towards your classroom. Unlike your hometown, they shared the same classroom for each of their respective classes, with the teachers moving to them instead of the students. It made things much easier for you and was also one of the high selling points for your enrolment.
You swore you saw Marinette's smile grow dim at your words before lighting back up as if nothing happened. She shrugged it off and led you to the classroom, often smiling at any friends she passed. It was clear to you that she was an outgoing and kid young woman, one that you would be grateful to call your friend if you could get to that point, but for now she would be your acquaintance and school guide.
You spoke the whole time you walked to class, learning that Marinette's parents were the owners of that bakery you could smell on the way to school and that she was an aspiring fashion designer. You also learnt that if her head wasn't stuck to her shoulders, she would have easily lost it by now.
"So, what about you? What's so good about Paris that you moved here?" The girl asked, her blue bell eyes looking at you with a curious spark. You simply shrugged in response and flashed a nonchalant smile. "My parents have better jobs here than in our home country, and this school gives me better opportunities." You explained, although it wasn't entirely true it was still close enough to the truth that you didn't feel bad about your little white lies.
Marinette nodded at your words and opened the door for you. The class was practically full already. It surprise you how many teenagers were actually eager to come to school. It certainly wasn't like this at home.
The teacher, who you'd met with much earlier when you were discussing going to the school with your parents, offered a sweet smile and gestured to your designated seat. You regretted walking in, multiple eyes staring you down. You were fresh meat after all.
Exhaling, you walked to your seat at the front, a blonde boy with emerald eyes sat just next to you. He seemed somewhat disappointed to see you, as if someone else had previously sat here. He shook his head and flashed a friendly smile.
"Hi."
You registered the word rather slowly, a little distracted by those mysterious eyes. He was hiding something. You didn't bother questioning and returned the smile. "Hi."
His cheeks flushed but he said nothing more as the lesson began, turning his attention to your history and English teacher. Your brows furrowed but you couldn't help the silly smile that forced it's way upon your face. Something about that boy made you feel warm, although you suspected that it was just the friendly introduction that caused it.
~~~
The end of the day came by faster than expected. You'd exchanged numbers with Marinette and her best friend Alya, you had also learnt that the boy sitting next to you was Adrien. It wasn't hard for you to decipher that Marinette had a rather hefty crush on the blonde boy, but you paid no mind to it. It wasn't like you to crush on anyone anyway, so there was nothing to truly worry about.
You walked down the front steps of the school with them, waving goodbye and smiling. "Call us later!" Marinette called out as she waved goodbye, almost running into a poll as she walked backwards. Embarrassed, she quickly turned around, head in her palms as Alya poked fun at her.
"Will do." You spoke, knowing neither would hear you as you laughed quietly to yourself. What an odd pair. You found them endearing, no matter how silly they were.
A soft voice called your name, causing your brows to furrow deeply. "Hi—" you turned around to see the blonde boy speaking to you, "Do you need a ride home?" He asked with a kind smile.
Your eyes widened momentarily and a smile graced your face. "Hi. That would be nice. Are you sure? I've heard your quiet the busy guy." You teased, winking at him playfully. He looked shocked before letting out a small laugh.
Adrien was still getting used to the idea of friends, considering his father was a control freak over where and who he hung out with. "Ha, ha. Very funny." He playfully rolled his eyes, "I'm sure I could clear my schedule for the next ten minutes. Come on." He gestured for you to follow him towards the black limousine that had pulled up at the front of the school.
You couldn't deny such an offer, following along behind him. He opened the door for you, flashing a charming grin that made your heart lurch into your throat. It was your turn to roll your eyes as you stepped into the vehicle, thanking the driver and his bodyguard for taking you home. They didn't speak, but you hoped your gratitude came through to them.
The drive was silent other than Adrien exchanging numbers with you, sheepishly claiming it was in case you ever needed a ride home again. You suspected it was something else, but you never pushed for an answer, politely smiling and putting his name in your phone as 'Adrien 💚'.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Adrien." You smiled as you stepped out of the car, reaching for your bag that was on the floor. He nodded in response and waved, "See you tomorrow."
Adrien sunk into his seat after you left, looking down at his phone with a small smile. Something about you just drew him in, he wasn't sure what it was, but it felt important.
~~~
When the boy arrived at his house, his father nowhere to be seen, he decided to go straight to his room. Although he quite literally lived in a lavish mansion, there wasn't actually much for Adrien to do. So, he pulled his bag off of his shoulders and placed it next to the bed, paying no attention to the feline kwami who was ever so desperately trying to search for cheese in his shallow pocket. Finally falling back into his pocket, once again ignoring the cry of anguish that his kwami let out, Adrien sighed. 
"Plagg..." He started, "Nevermind." 
Plagg looked confused before simply flying off in search of more cheese. 
Adrien reached for his phone within his pocket, unlocking it with the simple press of his thumb and smiling as it opened to the contacts page. Your name stood at the very top under favourites. While your name was plain on his screen, the picture was one that he'd captured of you staring out the window, simple and perfect.
Plagg flew over once again. "Woah, I thought you were in love with Ladybug!" He exclaimed, staring into the blonde's phone to see your picture. Adrien locked his phone almost immediately, his eyes widened. "I am!" He stammered momentarily, "They're just a friend." He hummed, placing his phone screen down on the blanket.
Word count: 2749
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touteslespetiteschosess · 1 year ago
Text
Love To Hate Me || Kylian Mbappé
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GIF by kykygif
Chapter 3 : Unfortunate Circumstances
Chapter 2
Plot: Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, y/n's car breaks down and only Kylian is on hand to help.
Word Count: 1771
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"Shit, shit, shit!" y/n yelled, slamming her palm into the steering wheel several times.
No matter how many times she twisted the key, her car's engine refused to start. It kept revving up, giving her a snippet of hope, before the rumbling noise died out again.
For a little while, she sat, her forehead against the wheel. It was dark outside, which since it was July, was saying something. After Kylian's backhanded Instagram story yesterday, she'd been dying at the office and had only managed to escape her ever-mounting workload at this late hour.
Now, thanks to her stupid, ten-year-old car, her entire night was ruined as well as her evening and her day. Besides the night security team, nobody else was at the facility. She'd have to order an Uber, which would take forever to come, given that the facility was miles from the city. Plus, paying for an Uber would bankrupt her, on top of the mechanic fees she was going to have to pay.
One final time, she placed her hand on the key, "Come on, baby, you can do this."
No, it couldn't.
For the second day in a row, she sat alone and let out a loud yell, a roar really, except this time she received a response. There was a loud knock on her window and she glanced up, a frown immediately descending on her features.
Right outside her window, Kylian Mbappé stood, a self-satisfied grin on his face. When she just glared at him, he raised his hand and waved condescendingly.
Mortified, she wound down her window, the fact that her window was manually rolled down only adding to her embarrassment. Inch by inch, it slowly squeaked down, while she twisted the handle, and she glanced back up at him, sucking on her teeth awkwardly.
"You okay in there?" he asked peering down at her.
"Peachy." she declared, "Can I help you?"
"Car trouble?"
"No. I just like sitting in here, don't worry."
Unimpressed, he frowned, "Do you need a lift?"
"No, thank you." she cleared her throat, "I'll just... be fine, thanks."
"Get out of the car; I'm giving you a lift. Which arrondissement do you live in?"
"I don't need a lift, thank you, Kylian."
He frowned, folding his arms over his chest, "Get out of the car."
Sinking down in her seat, she stared straight ahead, out the windshield, arms folded over her chest, "I'm perfectly happy here."
"You can't sit in your car all night to spite me. You need to get home."
"I'll be fine." she declared, getting back to work winding the window up, "Goodnight."
As soon as she finished the window, he swung her door open, "Come on." he declared, sternly.
"Do you always demand random women get into your car?" she asked, refusing to stare anywhere but out of her windshield.
Grabbing her arm and pulling her out himself, he murmured, "Seulement les jolies."
A scowl rested on her face but she followed him to his car, well aware that he was right, she really did need a lift home- not that she'd ever tell him that. His car was nice, a large, blacked-out Mercedes, the kind of car a soccer mom would drive, which she found quite amusing. Hesitantly, she climbed into the passenger seat, relaxing into the comfortable leather.
As he started the engine, she mumbled, "Thank you."
He glanced out the window at her beat-up little car, as he drove past it in the parking lot, "Why do you drive a toaster?" he asked, not looking over at her, "Enrique been skimping on your paycheque?"
"I'm yet to get my first paycheque. Besides, I just moved to Paris, do you know how expensive that is?"
As much as she had a point; his car made hers look like a horse and cart. Besides, her lump of metal on wheels probably should've been scrapped before she was even born. She settled into his heated seat, watching the GPS on the screen.
"What, did you waste all your money on pantsuits?" he asked.
"I'm wearing a skirt."
Why did she say that as though he hadn't noticed?
They both settled into awkward silence, as he pulled out of the facility. After a few minutes, he quietly said, "Where am I taking you?"
She leant forward, typing her address into the car's GPS. He watched her and commented, "You live in the 18th?" At first, he looked a little puzzled, maybe concerned, though she highly doubted that as she wasn't too sure he experienced emotions besides horny and amused. However, when his face morphed into a smirk (an amused smirk), she already knew what was coming, "Are you a-"
"No, I'm not a fucking prostitute." she finished for him.
He grinned widely as she scowled furiously, "I was joking, jeez. That's a rough neighbourhood."
"Unfortunately, not everyone in this city can afford to live ten metres from the Eiffel Tower in a twenty-bedroom penthouse."
"You're the head of PR at PSG, I don't think you're exactly on minimum wage."
"Well, until two weeks ago I was just some PR junior at Chelsea." she paused, "This was a big promotion but I know how temporary these can be. I'm living below my means because I know my means can change like the wind."
He puffed out air, "Do you never wanna treat yourself though?"
"Easier to treat yourself when you make 2 million euros a week."
"Only if you round up." he muttered, "What were you doing at the office that late anyway?"
Flatly, she asked, "Do you really want me to say it?"
"Dealing with me?"
"You know, I relaxed for all of five seconds last night. It was so blissful until I saw your Instagram."
He contemplated apologising for maybe five seconds before remembering that it was a she-devil trapped in a supermodel's body, who sat in his passenger seat. "You follow my Instagram?"
"Literally my job."
"I'm not going to follow you back."
"Didn't ask you to."
"But you want me to, secretly. I mean, how cool would your little brother think you are?"
"I don't have a little brother." she shook her head, "Every time I think you have any redeeming qualities or you seem the least bit likeable, you just wreck it all."
"I can be very likeable." he shrugged.
"That doesn't mean you're likeable or nice. Anyone can lie."
"But I am likeable and I am very nice." he declared.
"I see, so it's just me who gets this side of you?"
"Yep." he popped his 'p'. She didn't reply.
After a while, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. She turned, casting a glare in his direction. Her eyes dragged down to his biceps, bulging out of his tight t-shirt and- No. She wasn't drooling over his muscles, no matter how big they were or how much she wanted to touch them. No! Sure, he was handsome, but he was a complete ass! He'd just admitted that!
She sighed, "I don't hate you."
"Well, hate is a very strong word." he conceded.
"Okay. But I don't hate you."
"Apology accepted."
"It wasn't an apology."
"Well, if it was I would accept it."
She shook her head, turning to look out of the window to hide the slight smile creeping onto her face, "I have nothing to apologise for."
"You ruined my reputation."
"You brought it on yourself, really. Besides, you'll recover."
He hesitated, "The old head of PR never cancelled me."
"The old head of PR got fired for a reason, and you're not cancelled."
"I feel pretty cancelled."
She rolled her eyes, as they approached the city, leaning her head on the cold window. They cruised through Paris, the street narrowing more and more the further into the urban landscape they grew.
As they neared Montmartre, she quietly said, "You can just drop me here if you want, you don't need to go out of your way."
Dryly, he laughed, "No." he softened his tone, "You shouldn't be alone at night here, it's not safe."
"It's fine. I'm a black belt in kung fu."
"What, really?"
"No. But I'm fine."
"What, have you got someone waiting to protect you at home?"
"Nope, but it's not the 18 hundreds, I don't need a chaperone."
"So there's no boyfriend in the picture or-"
"Are you seriously trying to flirt with me after lecturing me for cancelling you?"
"No, I just thought you would. You know, a good-looking woman like yourself, who knows the Kylian Mbappé. What guy wouldn't be interested?"
"Well, I don't officially know you. You don't follow me back on Instagram, after all."
Without even thinking about it, he laughed, leaning back into his seat He shrugged, "Hey, if you release a statement displaying PSG's adoration of me, maybe I'll consider liking a couple of your posts."
"Have you ever spoken to a woman before?" she asked.
"I'm not flirting." he huffed.
"So you're just asking me if I have a boyfriend because I'm good-looking and you're curious?"
"Yeah. I'm just being friendly and sociable." he hesitated before adding, "And nice and likeable. Your name is y/n... something, you don't have a brother, you don't have a boyfriend, you're not very good at kung fu, you're wearing a skirt, you make less than 2 million euros a week, you used to work at Chelsea, and you now live but don't work in the red light district."
She was a little taken aback but she didn't let it show on her face. After a moment or two, she declared, "I have a brother."
"You said you didn't?"
"I said I didn't have a little brother. He's two years older than me."
"And he's a big Kylian Mbappé fan?"
"Nah, he thinks you're-" she cut herself off, clearing her throat, "No, not really."
"He thinks I'm what?" he asked, glancing at her.
She hesitated before admitting, "A conceited prick who causes his sister week-long stomach aches."
"Oh."
"You asked," she mumbled.
"Maybe he has a point. But I can be very nice."
"You keep saying that. I'm still waiting on the evidence."
He pulled the car over, "You'll see."
She glanced out the window, up at her apartment block, then turned back to him, "Thank you for the lift, Kylian."
"You're welcome, y/n."
She opened the door and climbed out of the car, a satisfied grin on her face as her back was to him. Then, she headed inside, unaware that his eyes were fixed on her until her front door closed. He watched her leave the car and cross the street, just to make sure the freaks that hung around in her dodgy neighbourhood didn't try anything with her. Then, even once the door had closed, he watched for a couple more minutes, just to be sure.
Not because he cared about her of course. Because he didn't. He made that very clear in his mind. Just because he was a nice person. He'd do the same for anyone. Even y/n.
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ladylooch · 2 years ago
Note
a fic where the reader face rides nico?
A/N: Babe, say less.
Part of What My World Spins Around AU because I really needed some Nico fluff. Hope you don’t mind!
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content
I’m in the kitchen on a random Thursday night in the middle of the season. Nico is with Lucie in her room, feeding her a bottle while I load the remaining dishes from dinner into the dishwasher. I can hear my husband on the monitor, soothing Lucie’s distressed noises. 
“Baby.” Nico sighs to her, exasperation beginning to lace his voice. He’s been trying to feed her for the last fifteen minutes but she’s fighting tooth and nail between eating and falling asleep. “Do you just want to sleep then?” Nico asks. I pop a detergent tab into the dishwasher, then press the start button. I move to watch as Nico sets her bottle on the dresser to his right, then pulls Lucie tight against his chest. His feet begin to sway the rocker a bit faster, rubbing at her back and placing his lips against her forehead. “I get it, Lu. I’d rather have mama’s boobs too.”
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An amused smile pulls at my lips.
He looks so sexy being a dad to our daughter. Has since day one when he held her against his bare chest.
I begin to wipe down the kitchen counters, listening to Nico quietly whisper to our daughter. Most of the time, he relay hockey plays to her from his pervious games, but tonight is different. Nico will leave on his longest road trip of the year tomorrow afternoon and his girls are more than a little sad about it. It’s been awhile since he was gone for more than a few days at a time. This ten day trip will feel like a lifetime due to the number of miles and time zones between us.
A heavy sigh falls from my lips as I imagine our goodbye tomorrow. 
“Oof. That was a big one.” Nico murmurs, coming behind me, guiding me into the front of his body.
“Yeah.”
“What’s up?”
“You know what’s up. You feel the same way I do about tomorrow.”
His fingers come around my waist, pressing into the faded stretch marks. He stokes across them, leaving thrilling waves rolling in my stomach. What used to be an insecurity, Nico has turned into foreplay.
“I already miss you. You know that, no?”
“I do.” I respond, turning the light off above the gas range.
“Can I help?”
“Yeah, if you could put the leftovers from dinner away that would be great.”
“Sure. I’ll switch the laundry too.” He murmurs, reaching into the cabinet to pull out a stemless wine glass. He grabs the bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge, pouring me a large glass. After he puts it in my hand, he turns my hips towards the hallway. “Now go to our room. I’ll be in soon.”
“I still need to wash the bottles that wouldn’t fit.”
“I will. Go. Do all the skincare.” He waves his hand at me, heading to the sink to begin filling it with hot water. I take a few steps out of the kitchen, then turn, leaning against the wall. I cross my arms over my chest, watching as the muscles of his back and arms work on cleaning our daughter’s bottles. This is when I love Nico the most- doing small things for our little family. “Baby, go.” He calls back to me after a few moments.
“How do you know I’m still here?” I ask, pushing off from the wall.
“I just do.” He still doesn’t turn, just keeps scrubbing bottle pieces.
I roll my eyes teasingly at the back of his head then make my way down to our bedroom. I do the full skincare like Nico suggests, taking the time to do a calming mask and smear all my creams and serums on. My skin is glowing and happy as I pull on one of Nico’s shirts for my pajamas in our large closet. I flip the light off, pausing in the doorway when I see Nico sitting on the end of our bed, staring at me.
“Hi?” I question, holding the trim in the doorway, looking at him with cautious eyes.
“Hi.” 
“What’s up?” I ask as I walk towards him. 
“Remember when we were on vacation in Paris?” He starts as I step between his wide-set thighs. 
“Which time?”
“Media tour time.” 
“Ah, yes.” My eyes widen a bit at him.
“What did you immediately think of?” 
“Our hotel room.”
“Where we were doing what?”
“Nico.”
“Babe.” He smirks up at me, fingers brushing along the backs of my thighs. He grabs two large handfuls of my ass, squeezing. I fall forward and his lips press against my abdomen.
“When I sat on your face.”
“Yeah. I was thinking… we should do that tonight.” My eyes close as he removes one of his hands from my ass to lift his t-shirt on me. “Wanna taste you before I go on the road.” I was honestly exhausted before I came in here, but his touch and words are awakening a need in me. His fingers move up to the waistband of my panties, hooking through and nudging them off my hips. They pool on the floor at my feet. Nico encourages my right leg up, then my left until I’m straddling his lap.
I slowly lower my face to his, pressing our lips together in a soft kiss. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth. His hands go to my hips, rolling them into where he is hard against my inner thigh.
“Maybe I want that instead?” I whisper against his mouth.
“Maybe you’ll get it later.” 
“If I’m good?” Nico smiles into our next kiss. Then he breaks it by laying on his back. I move to take my shirt off but he pauses my hands, shaking his head.
“No. I want that on you.” It’s a shirt I wore all the time when I started staying over early in our relationship. Back when we didn’t have a baby or a million responsibilities and we forgot the world in Nico’s apartment. Some things have changed, but how much we want each other really hasn’t. It just takes a little more planning these days, except tonight.
Tonight, it’s spontaneous combustion.
Nico guides my hips up his body until I’m over his face. He grins up at me as he moves the shirt to bunch around my hips. I grab a fistful of the fabric to keep it up. I admire the view of him. He looks so good down there- an NHL captain ready to feast on his last night in town. I think of the women who wait in his hotel lobbies across North America, hoping for a piece of him. His tongue comes out, connecting with my clit and I exhale in pure joy. They’ll never have him like this. He’ll never worship the ground they walk on like me. Because I gave him his whole world four months ago.
My confidence is high. I moan loudly, letting my head fall back, hair dancing down my back. It’s long enough that it brushes Nico’s hand on my right hip. He release it, giving the ends of my hair a gentle tug. His tongue swirls into a steady circle, putting the right kind of pressure to build. 
“Mmm.” I hum appreciatively. I lick my lips, looking back down at him. His brown eyes are liquid goo. I rake my right hand through his locks, holding his scalp for balance as I gently roll my hips into his mouth. His cheeks tighten as he encloses his mouth over my clit and begins a light suction. Our eyes stay connected, making everything hotter. “I love you.” I moan as his tongue separates my folds again, swiping along my clit in the right way. “Damn, Neeks.”
His hands on my hips encourage them to roll along his face. I do so, moaning at the delectable pressure of it all. My muscles clench around the emptiness. A whine comes out of my lips as Nico notices then works two fingers into my entrance. I roll my hips again, fucking his fingers and his face. Nico groans encouragingly as I lean back, groping at his hard erection. 
“Fuck baby. You’re so wet.” He tells me, then attaches his lips back onto my bundle. I rotate again and again, working myself to the ultimate release. I come loudly against Nico’s face, shuttering and shaking while wetness glides down his fingers, dripping onto his bare chest. Nico places open mouthed kisses on my folds, gently working me down from my high. Eventually, he releases my hips to let me sit on his chest. His fingers trail gently over my butt and up my spine to my mid-back then down again.
“That was better than Paris.” I admit with a satisfied smile on my face.
“Way better.” I put my hand in the bottom of my t-shirt, then wipe it across Nico’s mouth to take me off of him. We both laugh, then separately bite our lips.
“Wish you could come on the road with me. Have you this way after every game…” He trails off, fingerprints perusing the top of my thigh.
“Me too. Room service every night… Waking up to your face every morning.” I work my butt off his chest so I can lay next to him instead. He rolls onto his side, guiding our legs to tangle together. His lips come to mine, pressing feathery, tender kisses there until my eyes close and I sigh into his mouth. I reach down to his shorts to give his erection a squeeze.
“I’m good tonight.” He says. “Only about you.” These nights are rare, but I accept his choice, moving my hand to his hip instead. “I can’t imagine living without this.” He repeats what he has consistently told me since the early days of our relationship. “Every day it gets better with you, babe.”
I nod in agreement, pressing my cheek to his chest so we can settle into a bit more quiet. His fingers weave lines along my back, bunching up his shirt on me as he does. Nico is falling asleep quickly. His hand stops moving against my lower back as soft breaths fill the space above my head.
I stay up longer, listening to the slow thumping of his heartbeat knowing everything is perfect.
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ghostsbimbo · 10 months ago
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Labour - Simon Ghost Riley x OC
A/N: This is extremely short because it's actually a story - specifically flash fiction unit - for my Creative Writing class. I haven't even done anything with this OC that much tbh. I just decided to write fanfic for this thing. Painfully obvious that it's inspired by Labour by Paris Paloma. Word count: 752. Angst to Fluff. Limited on word count for what it is [ could only go up to 750 ] so it's not the best.
Maisie let out a soft huff, closing her eyes. She flexed her fingers before gripping the edge of the sink, taking a deep breath as she tried to relax. She knew something like this was going to happen. It always did when he returned from deployment. She turned around, looking up at him as she did. The 6’4” man in the skull mask should’ve scared her, should’ve made her tremble in fear especially with all his tactical gear and being covered in head to toe, but after working with him for years and dating for only three with a child, she wasn’t phased by his persona anymore. She was quite sick of it really - how he hid behind the tough guy exterior and more walls than a castle to keep people out. 
She wanted out of the relationship. She should’ve listened to everyone’s warnings prior to getting in a relationship. She should’ve listened to her brother when he told her it was a bad idea to get involved, but here she was years later, retired from being a medic for the task force and living in Manchester. She dried her hands with the kitchen rag before shoving past him, even though she knew he’d just grab at her, stopping her from leaving his presence. 
As if she called it, his gloved hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder, turning her around. 
“Don’t leave when I’m talking to you.” He demanded, looking down at his smaller partner. She quickly tore herself from his grip. She couldn’t believe the audacity he had, but considering he was used to people bending to his every whim and being afraid of his size, she understood why. “Don’t be an asshole every time you come home from deployments or whatever fuckin else the task force has you do now.” She stated bluntly, glaring up at him as she did so. Simon immediately rolled his eyes, removing his mask, his eyes being covered in the god forsaken eyeblack he always wore under his mask. He tossed his mask onto the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Maybe if you weren’t so lazy while I was gone I wouldn’t be.” Simon stated bluntly. Maisie immediately looked up at him, and he was sure if looks would kill, he’d most likely be dead in that moment. It was safe for him to assume he fucked up. 
“Lazy? I’m Lazy?” Maisie questioned, before chuckling darkly. “I’m raising our daughter, Simon, and with that, every time you come home, you get to come home to a spotless house, hot meal, and whatever fuckin’ else!” She yelled. “You come home to me, ready to bandage you up and wait on you hand and foot, but god forbid I don’t wanna have sex with you as soon as you get home though.” She walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t follow. Of course, the thud of the man’s boots are quick to follow after her. God she was thankful her daughter was at a friend’s house. 
“Honestly, I’m your therapist, maid, a baby factory even though I can’t get pregnant, nurse, servant..You name it Simon Riley and all those roles are filled by me, including taking on a fatherly role for our daughter because you’re never here like you promised you be.” Maisie stated, venom dripping from each word.  She couldn’t hold it in anymore, she had been keeping it bottled up with the exception of her weekly therapy appointments. Thankfully, her therapist was a saint who helped her build up this courage to talk back to him. 
Simon just glared at her. He wasn’t used to her snapping at him, or really standing up for herself against him. Usually, she was pliant. He easily molded her into what he wanted in a spouse, despite the fact that he was barely home to even benefit from all the work he put into making her what he wanted. Sure, they didn’t start out that way, but the little ideas in his head had fully bloomed to turn him into an even shittier man than he already was, and it was too late to change that - he knew he’ll probably just get more shitty anyways. 
Simon let out a soft huff, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t one to express his emotions much, but this certainly made him realize he had to stop being emotionally constipated all the time. “Let's talk about this, yeah?” He questioned.
“Fine” Maisie agreed, knowing she would regret this.
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jujutsubaby · 11 months ago
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Hello my dear! Congrats for your achievment!✨
I’d like to play and I say:
Cafè Heaven and Hell.
I’d like to order a white mocha and take away a Macha Latte.
I’ll eat a mochi donut!🍩
Thank you very much! 🤗🌸
a/n: thanks for your ask 💓 yours was super fun to write and i hope you enjoy it hehe~ also guys i swear i don't hate gojo he’s just a male thot to me. also btw when i went to paris last year there was a male thot that served me at a cafe and so he’s just all i think about when i think of gojo and cafe au’s
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✨ WELCOME TO CAFE HEAVEN & EARTH ! ✨
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🤍 PAIRING. gojo
🤍 WORD COUNT. 1.3k (sorry i just love writing about male thots)
you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as you enter your favorite cafe. work today had been complete hell, and you need a caffeine and sugar fix to give you the will to live this evening.
the cozy ambience of cafe heaven and earth instantly soothes you - the romantic low lighting, the smell of eucalyptus and coffee beans, and the low jazz music playing in the background settles over you. 
after ordering your white mocha (as well as a mochi donut as an extra treat — you really deserve it today), you wander to your usual counter seat by the window and lean back with a relaxed sigh. 
you had been so excited to start work at the prestigious zenin law firm, but just three months in, you were already feeling the first signs of burnout.
you usually like to go over documents from work during your coffee runs, but today, you just need to savor the moment. as soon as you sit back down, you close your eyes and take your long awaited sip of white mocha. as the sweet, rich liquid hits your tongue, you can’t help but almost moan in satisfaction. 
your moment of calm is immediately ruined by an unfamiliar voice. “wow, that good, huh?”
you crack one eye open in annoyance to see a tall and muscular white haired man sitting a couple seats away from you. you’re taken aback by just how blue his eyes are - one glance and you find yourself sinking into its ocean blue. the next thing you notice (and you do feel a bit embarrassed about it but c’mon, you had a long day at work!) is how muscular and lean his arms are, his fingers playing his phone on the counter absentmindedly. it’s a wonder you didn’t notice him as soon as you got here. 
remembering that he just interrupted your peace and quiet to ask a question, you respond, “the white mochas here are always the best.” in spite of how astoundingly handsome the stranger sitting near you is, you’re not really in the mood for a conversation, so you hope your tone dissuades him from continuing.
“yeah? can i get a sip?” he asks, a bit too fast for your liking.  
 “what??” you’re taken aback by his forward question and brash manner. how old is this guy, anyway? this is the kind of behavior you expect out of your ten year old nephew yuji, not a grown ass adult!
the man pouts in response. what was his deal?! model-worthy good looks or not, he was starting to wear on your already limited patience. 
“maybe you could get your own drink?” you ask, trying to remain polite. “i’m kind of a germaphobe,” you lie. you don’t really care too much about sharing cups, but you really want this guy off your back. your precious relaxation time is limited!
“pleeease!!!!” he starts begging loudly, earning looks from surrounding cafe patrons. he notices you looking around self-consciously, and scrambles to the seat next to you so he can talk more quietly. 
“please!” he repeats at a more socially acceptable volume. “i’ll drink from the other side, promise! you won’t even know my mouth was there!” god, was he irritating! (it certainly didn’t help that he was making you think about his mouth now, too.) 
 desperate for this stranger to leave you be, you decide to let him have what he wants. then he’d leave you alone, right? you kind of doubt it, but it’s worth a try anyway.
“ok, ok! fine.” you slide the ceramic mug towards him, and he has the audacity to look smug as he clasps the mug between his hands. you absolutely do not notice how long and elegant his fingers look curled around the drink. 
“down the hatch!” he chirps as he lifts the mug to his lips.
you soon find out that the two of you have radically different definitions of the word “sip”. to him, a sip means gulping down half the mug, apparently. you watch wistfully as the drink you had so been looking forward to begins to disappear before your eyes. 
 when he puts the mug back down, his smug expression is replaced with an exaggerated grimace. “ewww, how do you drink that stuff?? it’s so bitter!” 
as you seethe to yourself, he darts his tongue out to swipe away at some foam left on his lips (which you are pointedly not paying attention to), before continuing. “i’m gojo, by the way.”
“it’s not bitter,” you say through gritted teeth. “it’s the best espresso in town, and one of the sweetest drinks they offer. besides, couldn’t you have decided that you hated it before you drank half the damn thing? what’s your problem, man?” 
“i told you, my name’s gojo!” the man starts to whine again, but seeing your animosity, he changes his tune quickly. “ok, sorry, sorry! i didn’t mean to annoy you! listen, why don’t you get yourself another drink on me?” he reaches into his pocket and pulls a shiny credit card from his wallet, handing it to you with an air of penitence. 
“really? thanks, gojo. that’s surprisingly decent of you,” you reply. you start to feel a little guilty for almost losing it at this complete stranger. his guilelessness, while annoying, is maybe almost even starting to charm you. 
“uh, maybe while you’re up there, you could also pick me up a drink that’s not a complete pukefest too?” he asks, fluttering his fluffy white eyelashes at you. upsettingly, your stomach does giddy somersaults at the sight, which you studiously ignore.
you sigh and roll your eyes. “all right, pretty boy, what’s your drink?” 
“oh, they’ll know,” he replies with a wink. “the gojo special — hot cocoa with strawberry milk mixed in. best drink on the planet.” 
you wrinkle your nose. “that sounds disgusting, but sure.” you head to the order counter for a second time, looking down at the card he entrusted you with as you wait in line. 
damn, a black card? he’s annoying AND rich? pick a struggle. nonetheless, you weren’t one to pass off another drink, especially at his expense. you go up to the counter and decide on ordering matcha latte and his wretched drink order. the barista looks at you with distaste after ordering it, before sighing and ringing you up. great, now you can never come to this place ever again. 
it doesn’t take long for your drinks to come out carefully make your way to the seat. you notice he’s dusting his hands on his thighs.
“alright, you weirdo, here’s your-” you stop mid sentence as you place the drinks on the table and notice there’s a huge bite taken out of your mochi donut. your precious mochi donut. you glance at gojo, then back at the donut, and then back his hands which still had remnants of frosting on top. 
“did you…did you just take a bite out of my donut while i was gone?” you say incredulously. 
“what?”
“i know you heard me.” your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance. “do you just always take bites out of random people’s food? who raised you?!” you’re in awe of someone who has social skills like this.
“don’t worry about it, kitten,” he purrs, and you hate that your heart beats faster at his nickname for you. “i’ll just buy you another one. i’ll buy you a dozen right now.” 
you sigh. “okay, fine.” you end up ordering a box of mochi donuts against your better judgment. even worse is that you…actually had a good time with him? you can’t remember the last time you were this annoyed but laughed this much. 
“by the way, you gonna be here tomorrow?” he asks with his mouth full of the last mochi donut. ugh, you shouldn’t find this attractive, but you do. 
“yeah.” you say, before you have time to change your mind. you take out a pen from your tote and quickly scribble your number on a napkin. common sense be damned, you think to yourself on the bus as you find yourself yearning to see that color blue again.
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stereksecretsanta · 1 month ago
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Merry Christmas, @violetfairydust!
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: Just a little look in on the pack over the holidays, past and present, and a touch of romance in the air (though that could just be the pine sap).
Tags: canon!AU, fluff, pining, Hale Pack 2.0, Alpha Derek Hale, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Christmas, Sheriff Stilinski’s name is John, rebuilt Hale house, friends to lovers, domestic fluff
AN: Violetfairydust, greetings for a final time as your secret tumblr holiday stalker! I hope the holidays treat you well with visions of Sterek dancing in your head- or you know, standard sugar plum fairies, but Sterek sounds more fun.
Fair warning, this has got to be one of the fluffiest things I’ve ever written. I mean, this is fluffy with a bit of fluff, a smidge of pining, and more fluff, sprinkled with a finely ground powder of fluff. It’s like the written equivalent of a spool of fresh cotton candy. I hope it at least gives you a smile (and maybe some warm fuzzies). Happy Holidays! 
*****
Pine Needles and Pretty Thoughts
Stiles was exhausted. Travelling east to west always seemed harder than west to east, regardless of what his circadian rhythms were supposed to be telling him. He was so ready to be home, it was an itch, a thrum just below the surface, like when you ran your hand between powerful magnets and you could feel the push-pull of the energy against your skin. He wondered if it was his pack bonds, he might not be a were, but he was a spark who ran with wolves, their unofficial Emissary- Derek refused to officially name him as Emissary until he finished college. It was a continual bone of contention between them, especially since the land and the Nematon had already accepted him. It didn’t matter right now, he was just so ready to be home, but he still had the drive from the airport to Beacon Hills. Thankfully, there was a familiar and welcome figure waiting outside the baggage carousel cordon. Derek. As soon as Stiles crossed the barrier, he dropped his suitcase and jumped full force at the wolf, trusting strong arms to catch him.
“Good to see you, too,” Derek snickered at the rom-com greeting.
“Shut up, you need this as much as I do.” Stiles nuzzled against Derek’s close-cropped beard.
Feeling like a bit of a heel sinking into a contacted he wished meant more, Derek’s only acknowledgement was to nuzzle back. God, he missed Stiles. It was worse with him than the others, for one he was at school in D.C., the literal other side of the country. Admittedly, Lydia and Jackson were farther away in Boston, but at least they were together, and neither of them were Derek’s emissary or the man he was head over heels for. A fact the pack that stayed in or near Beacon Hills for college had all worked out.
After suffering through months of their alpha pining and moping, they had collectively demanded that Derek tell him before Stiles had to go back to D.C. at the end of Winter Break; that still gave him a good three weeks, and Stiles had just arrived and was aggressively scenting him, so he was just going to put that crisis on the back burner and for now he would soak up Stiles’ attention and let his presence calm his wolf.
“You going to let me go anytime soon?” Derek chuckled, rubbing his cheek against the exposed bit of Stiles’ neck unintentionally presented to him.
“Nope. Scenting. Deal.”
“Stiles, you do remember <i>I’m</i> the wolf.”
Finally pulling back, sliding off the werewolf carefully, “Yeah, but I still missed you. I missed my pack,” he said, pressing against his alpha for a quick moment.
Wrapping an arm around the young man, Derek grabbed Stiles’ bags and guided them towards the car, while Stiles launched into a tale about one of his professors and old school plaster of Paris.
------
The drive to the Hale house passed in a blur of anecdotes and random facts that Derek happily let wash over him.
It didn’t matter that Stiles had helped with designing and warding the Hale homestead, it was still always an impressive sight to see. It wasn’t just the Hale house, or the pack house; it was everything they had survived to get to this place. Not exactly the halls of Valhalla or fields of Elysia, but it was theirs. The drive up was made of solid packed earth, allowing for a natural path without rocks or pebbles kicking up, or clouds of dirt billowing out everywhere. Willows, pines, maples, all mixed in a kaleidoscope of colour and foliage. The wild hodgepodge reminding Stiles (and Derek) of the pack.
Derek was quiet as they approached the house. This was the first time Stiles would see the house fully decorated and he was anxious for Stiles’ reaction. Slowly the house peaked out from behind the trees. Flickering electric candles lit every window, a soft glow pouring out into the night. Multi-coloured fairy lights ran along the edges of the house. Even the railings of the wide wrap-around porch were covered in a deep green garland.
“Is it real?” Stiles asked as they pulled up.
Derek wanted to wallow in the giddy pleasure coming off his friend, confirming, “The garland is.”
Smiling cheekily, “Bet the ants love you- I always knew you were a secret sap,” he snickered softly at his, admittedly, lame joke.
“Stiles, you’ve pestered me about putting garland out ever since the house was finished. Stop being a little shit and get inside before Erica bowls the door down.”
“Aw, Catwoman, I’m coming,” he spoke conversationally as if she was standing with them and not waiting inside the house. Pulling his carry-on out of the SUV, Stiles turned to see Derek glaring at the house, emitting an almost subvocal growl. 
“Der, I don’t think Erica is really going to take the door off or come through the windows at least while they’re closed,” Stiles teased, complete misinterpreting the cause of Derek’s distress. It did, however, serve the purpose of snapping the wolf out of his quiet growl-a-thon.
“It’s Erica you never know <i>what</i> trouble she’s getting into,” Derek grumbled.
“I heard that, Alpha!” Erica yelled back for Stiles’ benefit.
Beside him, Stiles was letting out the happiest laugh. Derek had missed the sound. Hell, he just missed Stiles. Therein lay the problem. Apparently, according to his annoyingly observant and uninhibited beta, Derek wandered around like a lovesick puppy if he didn’t talk to Stiles every day, even just a simple text. It wasn’t like he could help it; Stiles brought that out in him. Even when he’d first returned to Beacon Hills Stiles was just there. Always, infuriatingly <i>there</i>. And damn-it all to hell, his wolf loved it. Derek tried to be aloof, untouchable, gruff, and downright mean. It was enough to cow his betas, whether he meant to or not. He even managed to bring Peter to heel with it. But not Stiles. Stiles just pushed back, even when he was afraid. What’s more, Stiles didn’t so much break his walls, as simply ignored them to offer their alpha comfort- no one else would dare come near him on the anniversary of Laura’s death, but there was Stiles storming in, making himself at home, reading or quietly watching mundane sitcoms, just letting Derek know he wasn’t alone.
Out of his betas, Erica was surprisingly the one who could read him best, even better than Cora, if only just. The vibrant young woman had spent so much of her life watching the world go on around her, she learnt to read the world she couldn’t be part of. Now, she put those skills to good use, at least she would call it good use; Derek called it being a meddling pain in his ass.
“Erica, since you’re hovering, can you get the door?”
A beat later, Derek shook his head and cracked a smile.
“She ‘as you wish’-ed you, didn’t she?”
“You bet I did,” the blonde affirmed, leaning against the doorframe.
Dropping his bag, Stiles grabbed Erica and lifted her off the ground in a swirling hug.
“Welcome home, Batman.”
“It’s good to be ho- oof,” he was cut off by a familiar head of dark hair barrelling into him. “Scotty, ribs!”
The wolf pulled back a little, “Sorry,” he offered bashfully.
“I missed you, too, bud.”
Walking past, Erica hip-checked their resident human, knocking him practically into Derek’s arms.
“Erica!” the both snapped- one in warning, the other indignation.
“Oops, ‘don’t know my own strength’,” the she-wolf attempting a Bullwinkle voice.
“You okay?” Derek checked with Stiles, just to be sure.
“Yeah, I know you always got me, big guy.”
Derek was <i>not</i> blushing. He was just still a little pink from what Erica made sure he heard while he and Stiles were outside, even though he knew that was much better.
“Come on, everybody wants to see you,” Scott bounced into the living room tugging his friend with him.
“Scotty, can I at least put my bags in my room?”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take them up,” Derek offered.
“You sure?”
“Go see them before they riot.”
“You’re the best,” Stiles told him, relenting to Scott’s gentle tugging.
As soon as Scott got Stiles into the living room he was nearly knocked over by a blonde bullet.
“Uh, Erica?” Stiles looked worriedly between the wolf nuzzling and petting him and the others in the room. “I don’t think I lost that much scent between the hall and here.”
“I missed you- deal.”
A large dark-skinned hand pat Erica’s shoulder, “Babe, save some for the rest of us,” Boyd chided.
Pouting, Erica loosened her hold, allowing Boyd to slip a hand down Stiles’ arm. That seemed to break whatever damn of hesitation had held the others back. In a flash, Stiles was buried under a pile of bodies as the pack all tried to scent the man and welcome him home.
A soft chuckle from the entry pulled everyone’s attention. Derek had gotten progressively more open and ‘human’ in the last couple years, but it still startled them when the man laughed so fondly.
From the depths of the pile, Stiles grumbled playfully, “Get down here or get your puppies off me.”
Moving into the room, Derek watched as the others not-so-subtly made space for the alpha, so he’d have to practically lay on top of Stiles. Settling down to nuzzle at Stiles’ neck, he muttered against his skin, “They’re your puppies, too, <i>Emissary</i> Stilinski.” He emphasized the ‘emissary’ more for his own solace than to remind Stiles of his position in the pack.
“You like saying that way too much,” Stiles worked an arm out from under Isaac, at least he thought it was Isaac, to run his fingers through the hair at the back of Derek’s head.
The wolf merely hummed contentedly, not bothering to argue.
And that’s how John and Peter found them. Stiles waving his hand above the bodies with a plaintive, “Save me.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Red, looks like you’re exactly where you should be. Don’t you agree, Derek?”
A barely audible growl from the alpha sent the older wolf cackling into the kitchen.
With a fond smile, John moved towards the chair closest to his son’s flailing hand. “I hate to say it, but your uncle has a point. Never-the-less, I would like to hug my son, who I haven’t seen in almost five months.”
That got the pack moving, untangling themselves from each other and Stiles, until Derek was the only one left.
“Der? Can I hug my dad?”
Shaking himself, Derek looked around at the others having obviously extracted themselves minutes before. “Missed you,” he mumbled as he got up, ears suddenly tipped in pink.
“‘Missed you’ he says,” Isaac scoffed from the kitchen, where the pack had gravitated to. “Just tell him for crying out loud,” voice pitched for werewolf ears.
“Now, now, let our alpha continue his campaign of procrastination like the mature leader he is,” Peter rebuked, simultaneously throwing sass at his nephew at the same time.
“Shut up,” Derek whispered from the living room, just loud enough for werewolf hearing, but too soft for the humans with him. Putting on what he hoped was an innocent smile, Derek greeted the sheriff.
“You gotta tell him, kid,” John smirked, offering the wolf a fatherly pat to his shoulder as he passed to join the others in the kitchen- sure he would be getting much worse from his troublesome pack.
As soon as the wolf passed, John found himself pulled in and wrapped up one of his son’s tight ‘Stilinski’ hugs, which he matched happily. “Welcome home, kiddo.” When they pulled away, John looked over Stiles cataloguing what changes he could see in his son. “College agrees with you,” he said with a smile. “Come on, let’s see what trouble the rest of the pack has gotten into. You know Peter and Derek are the only ones I trust in the kitchen.”
“What about me?” Stiles asked indignantly.
“Like I said, Peter and Derek.”
“Dad!”
---------
The next two weeks flew by. Christmas was split between the pack’s families and the Hale house, save for Stiles and his father, who simply spent Christmas together with the Hales. A new tradition Stiles had foist upon them three years ago with a <i>“Dad, I know he’s a sourwolf, but we can’t leave him alone with uncle creeper for Christmas!” to his father. Using a huff to hide his smile, John agreed on the condition that he passed the <u>Die Hard</u> test. Stiles practically beamed.</i>And a <i>“Derek, I know you like to be all stoic McBoody-wolf, but,” Stiles got right up in the wolf’s face, “I also know that you are not an emotionless robot <b>and</b> wouldn’t dare disappoint my father. And don’t even try and play the Peter card. I’ll just tell you to bring the zombiewolf with you- no brains! Turkey only!” It took half a beat for Stiles to realize what he’d said and by that point he was witnessing a true Christmas miracle- Derek Hale laughing a pure free laugh.</i>
The next year the pack was finally coming together, learning each other; no longer a group of strangers thrown together by chance or fate, but a pack that would soon be a family.
Stiles still didn’t want risk Derek being alone with Peter. That was another thing, Peter had mellowed with every step forward the pack made- finding Cora alive had triggered so much progress in him as well. Stiles still taunted the older wolf, but it had become a game of sass between them, not barbs of wolfsbane and steel. It had been hard on all of them when Cora decided to spend Christmas with her pack in South America; they all understood, Cora would be leaving the pack to rejoin the Hales, and that pack had been her family for years after the fire, neither Peter nor Derek could begrudge her this last Christmas with them as pack. They all knew Christmas with two could be worse than Christmas with one- at least when you’re alone you can pretend it’s just another day. Taking it all into consideration, the Stilinskis decreed that Derek and Peter were to spend Christmas with them.
It had been strange, yet not, as the pack slowly trickled into the Stilinski house. First Scott and his mom, who were obviously expected. Then a hesitant knock heralded Isaac, followed by Erica and Boyd. Even Lydia and Jackson showed up. But probably the most surprising was Allison. She stood on the porch, shy in a way she seldom was. Stiles merely stepped aside to let the huntress in. They’d all been through a lot and been through it together, so it was only Allison who was caught off guard when Derek walked by offering a gentle squeeze to the back of her neck, an alpha claiming one of his own.
Which brought him to this year and the sword of Damocles that was his feelings for Stiles. The man was headed back to D.C. in a matter of days and the pack were growing anxious and impatient- he didn’t want to be reminded of the ‘talk’ Lydia had <b>at</b> him the night before.
Currently, Stiles was out in the Preserve checking the wards around the Nematon. He really loved it out in the Preserve at least when he wasn’t running for his life or fighting the MotW. Since he’d embraced his spark and agreed to become Derek’s emissary the land felt different, like it physically wanted him there. It wasn’t some mystical pull or tether. It was more the way a house became a home based on the people who lived there. A warmth and welcome that got stronger the more he was there. He was just finishing his circuit, when he felt another, but every bit as warm and welcoming aura, for lack of a better word, and smiled. “You taking up your creeper ways again?”
Derek grunted in acknowledgement.
“Monosyllabic, too? Should I be worried?” the young man teased. 
“No.”
A sharp, happy laugh filtered through the air as Stiles moved to meet Derek, where he was leaned un against a large redwood.
Derek took a moment to watch his emissary as he walked towards him, tall and proud, oozing magic and power to anyone who saw him. It was the same Stiles who’d dive into research, the determined, focused man that people ignored for his more spastic, frenetic self. Too many only saw that side of him. Derek was fairly certain Lydia and Peter were the only others that recognized that part of him- his father might, but he wasn’t going to guess.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Stiles playful words interrupted Derek’s musings.
“You’re beautiful,” he found himself saying.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Stiles started pressing a hand to the wolf’s forehead as if checking for a fever and looking Derek’s face and eyes over for any odd sheens or suspicious discharge.
Batting the hands away, Derek scowled. “I’m fine, Stiles,” he growled.
Stiles’ look turned to one of confusion as he seemed to deflate, losing a chunk of that quiet power from a moment ago. “Why’d you say that then? It’s a little early for April Fool’s.”
Pushing off the tree, Derek pressed into Stiles personal space.
It had been years since Stiles had been intimidated by any of Derek’s posturing, even when he was, he never backed down; this time was no different. “What’s going on, Big Guy?” he asked softly.
Reaching out, Derek brushed an escaped lock of Stiles’ dark chocolate hair back into place.
“Der,” Stiles’ throat worked hard to keep his mouth from drying up and making him choke on his words. “You know I’m usually really good at speaking Hale, probably better than my Spanish, definitely better than my Polish, but I’m… I’m not at all sure I’m translating right.”
“You are.” Derek let out a little huff of a laugh. “You always are. You know me better than anyone outside my dad and Laura.” Derek’s eyes darted from Stiles’ to his lips and back again- God, he wanted to taste them and know what they felt like against his own- they always seemed so soft compared to the vitriol that could come out of them. Just one of the many, ever-growing questions he had about the man before him.
“Don’t tease. I can’t take it if you’re not serious or it’s some sort of pity, one-off thing.”
“Stiles.” It was more than just a name. It was denial that this could ever be pity or only one time. It was incredulousness and disbelief that Stiles truly didn’t realize Derek’s feelings. It was fascination and awe. It was a promise. It was love. “Never.” He looked down as he admitted, “Ask the others, they all know. They threatened to lace my sheets with wolfsbane if I didn’t tell you before you went back to D.C.”
Stiles fell forward, pressing their foreheads together as he snickered at their pack, their family.
Derek couldn’t help the chuckle that came out to match Stiles’. “If it wasn’t clear, I’m kinda in love with you.” A sliver of fear shot through him as Stiles pulled back. 
He needn’t have worried; Stiles smiled, a gentle curve of lips and a blinding sparkle in his eyes, before leaning back in for a soft, yet indulgent kiss. “I’m kinda in love with you, too.”
---
It was nearing midnight when Derek heard, first Boyd, then Cora closing in on he and Stiles. Derek knew he should’ve answered one of the calls from the pack, but that would’ve meant his lips leaving Stiles’ skin or Stiles’ lips leaving him- neither was acceptable. At least now they were almost kissed out. And no longer fighting the urge to strip each other then and there.
Stiles had his back against the same tree Derek had been leaning on earlier, Derek was settled between the v of Stiles’ legs, fingers intertwined, trading lazy kisses between smiles.
“Oh, god, my eyes!”
The pair laughed at the loud outburst. “Was that Cora?”
Nodding, Derek called back, “Get used to it!” as he stood graceful as ever, offering Stiles a hand up.
As soon as Stiles was up the wolf ducked his head with a soft snicker.
“Do I want to know?”
“Boyd just called the others.”
“Okay?” his eyebrows raised in question, though not as expressive as Derek’s, they got the point across.
“Erica just screamed “Fucking finally” from somewhere over to the east.”
Shaking his head, Boyd turned to follow Cora back to the house.
“Can’t we stay here?” Derek almost pouted.
Taking his hand, Stiles tugged the alpha after him, “Come on, Big Bad, we have a pack waiting for us.”
Grumbling, “That’s the problem.”
Shrugging, Stiles offered a rather enjoyable solution, “We’ll just make out until they get disgusted and leave.”
“Good plan,” the wolf agreed with a smirk.
Snapping indignantly, “My plans are always good.”
Derek playfully gave the expected answer, “Shut up; let’s get back and implement your ingenious plan.”
With sad resignation, Stiles bemoaned, “The romance never lasts.”
“You want romance?” the wolf asked with a playful smirk, before sweeping Stiles up bridal style and taking off to the Hale house- he had a lover to romance; the pack would just have to deal.
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sequinsmile-x · 11 months ago
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Movie Night
Emily doesn't remember the last time they watched a film that wasn't their daughter's favourite, so Aaron hatches a plan.
-x-
Hi friends,
This is some nice family fluff for you all on this Friday evening <3 this all came from a conversation with @eobangingwhen, so I'm dedicating this to her.
I promise I will write something more than pure fluff very soon haha
Hope you all enjoy this, and as always let me know what you think <3
-x-
Warnings: vague spoilers for Frozen and Star Wars VI I guess??
Words: 3k
Read over on Ao3, or below the cut
There were moments when she found it hard to believe this was her life. 
It was strange to think that only six years ago she was in Paris, convinced she’d never feel safe again. That her penance for her actions which had led to a gravestone with her name carved into it was the loneliness she’d felt there. The fear she would have once believed would never fade a punishment from a God she wasn’t entirely sure she had ever believed in. She wished she could go back and talk to that version of herself, that she could assure her that life would get better than it ever had been before, that she’d end up with a family of her own. 
The idea of it always made her smile, because she knew even if it was possible she’d never believe herself anyway, especially when she would reveal her husband was Aaron. 
She’d had a crush on him for as long as she could remember, a flipping in her gut whenever he was near that had morphed into something more powerful as time went on. A feeling she knew was love the moment he was missing after Foyet had attacked him. Their timing had never been right, feelings she now knew he’d had for her growing at the same rate as hers that had to be ignored because of circumstance. For a long time, it felt like they’d never get a chance, so she’d convinced herself it would never happen. An attempt to protect herself from any more pain, sure that if she attempted something that wasn’t reciprocated would leave her with a brand on her heart more painful than the one Ian had left on her skin. 
It made her grateful for this, made the difficult moments of parenthood and marriage easier to swallow when she reminded herself she could have missed out on him, on them. Her life a quilt made of ordinary moments, memories stitched together and laid over her like a comfort blanket that she relied on in her worst moments, when her monsters snuck out of the shadows and convinced her she would somehow lose all of this. 
She smiles as her daughter presses herself in the small space between her and Aaron, the three-year-old insistent on being as close to them as possible at all times. Alice smiles at them both as she rests her head on Aaron’s arm, sinking into his embrace when he wraps his arm around her, his hand coming to rest on his wife’s thigh. He smiles at Emily and winks before he looks at their son, Elliot, curled up on his mother’s chest, his hand tangled in her hair as he tries to fight off sleep. The 18-month-old always wanted to be involved in everything, his focus always on his older siblings, and very often Emily and Aaron had to hoist him up into their arms, lifting him off his feet so he didn’t follow them to the roundabout at the local park and get too involved with the bigger kids rougher games. 
“Mommy, can we watch Frozen?” Alice asks, her sweet voice drawing her attention to her and Emily has to suppress a sigh. 
Alice loved Frozen. She wanted to watch it all the time, the movie one of the few things that would hold her focus. They’d watched it so often that Emily was sure she could recite it word for word, her disdain for Olaf the snowman enough that she’d planned his death in more than one way. 
She never thought she’d loved Aaron more when she quietly admitted that to him one evening, shame dripping from every syllable as she told him just how much she hated their daughter’s favourite character, and his only response was to say he’d done the same thing. 
“Sweetie,” Emily says, taking one hand off of Elliot’s back and tucking some of Alice’s hair behind her ear, “Maybe Jack wants to pick the movie for once.”
Alice pouts a little, and frowns at her, but any comment from the little girl is cut off by Jack from Emily’s other side.
“It’s okay, Mom,” he says, smiling at her when she turns to look at him, “I don’t mind if we watch it again.” 
She reaches out and ruffles his hair, smiling when he dives out of the way, the pre-teen on the cusp of being constantly embarrassed by his parents. 
“Are you sure honey?” 
He nods, smiling as his little sister beams at him, and he shrugs as if it’s no big deal, “She loves it.” 
Aaron squeezes Alice closer to him. He looks back and forth between Jack who was sitting at the other end of the couch and then at his watch. Jack was endlessly patient with his younger siblings. He loved being a big brother and always went with the flow, but he could see the flash of horror going through his son's eyes as he thinks about spending another evening watching the animated movie. 
“How about we watch it now,” Aaron suggests, looking up at Jack, “And Jack can play his game whilst we do,” he smiles when his eldest smiles and nods, already walking over to the Nintendo Switch they’d bought him and turning it into handheld mode, “And then when you go to bed Mommy and I will watch something Jack wants to watch.” 
Alice nods enthusiastically and Aaron grabs the remote, well aware the Frozen DVD would already be in the player, and he starts the movie. Alice is enraptured for the start, her eyes fixed on the screen as she sings along.
“I don’t remember the last time we watched a movie that wasn’t made for children,” Aaron eventually says quietly so only Emily can hear, Alice too lost in the movie, as if it was the first time she’d ever seen it, and Jack in his handheld video game to hear their parent’s quiet discussion.
She hums and raises her eyebrow at him, running her fingers through Elliot’s hair, the toddler now fast asleep against her, “I don’t remember the last time we watched a movie that wasn’t Frozen.” 
He smiles at his wife and leans in to kiss her cheek, only to be immediately chastised by Alice, who turns to look at him, a glare Emily would say was all him on her face from where she’s sitting between them.
“Daddy - watch Frozen!” 
“Yeah, Daddy,” Emily says, winking at him over Alice’s head, a promise for later hiding in the action that makes his stomach swoop, just as enamoured with his wife as he was on their first date. “Watch the movie.” 
Time alone was rare these days, even rarer than it always had been and all of a sudden he found himself desperate to just spend time with his wife. To watch a movie that they picked and snuggle on the couch the same way they did when they were first dating and Jack had gone to bed. 
He watches the movie but doesn’t pay any attention, his focus instead on planning a date night as soon as possible. 
___
Emily sighs to herself as she shakes her head, unable to focus on the paperwork in front of her. It had been a rough night. Elliot had barely slept, his shift from two naps a day to one having an impact it hadn’t had with Alice. He’d been fussy all night, crying out for Mama even when Aaron went in to try to settle him. Eventually, he’d woken up Alice and she’d crawled into their bed and fell asleep in between them. 
She blinks blearily, massaging her fingers into her temples as she desperately tries to pay attention to her work, and she smothers a yawn. She smiles tightly at Spencer as they catch each other's gaze over the divider between their desks and then she looks back at the paperwork, determined to get at least some done today. 
“Emily, do you wanna-”
Later, she’d blame her exhaustion for how she replies to Specner, her brain automatically taking over her mouth because they’d yet again watched Frozen that morning, the movie on in the background to keep Alice and Elliot happy as she and Aaron desperately sucked down coffee and half-cold oatmeal.  
“Honey, Mommy really doesn’t have the energy to build a snowman right now.”
Her eyes go wide as soon as she says it, her brain finally catching up with her surroundings and she groans when the moment of shocked silence is filled with laughter, Derek’s the loudest. She covers her eyes with her hands and curses under her breath.
“I think somebody should go get Mommy a cup of coffee,” Derek says, and she looks up and narrows her eyes at him, her glare doing nothing to stop his smirk. 
“That’s actually what I was going to ask,” Spencer asks, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he stands up, “I’ll go get you one.” 
“Alice still obsessed with Frozen, huh?” JJ asks, turning to look at them and Emily nods, groaning again as she thinks about it. 
“It’s all she ever wants to watch. I never thought it was possible to hate an animated snowman as much as I do,” she narrows her eyes, “I’d melt the son of a bitch if I could.” 
JJ chuckles sympathetically, “For Henry it was Cars,” she says, shaking her head as she crosses her arms over her chest, “I actually once dreamt that I cut Lightening McQueen’s break line.” 
Emily laughs, any guilt she may have felt for disliking her daughter’s favourite movie as much as she did fading, “You have no idea how much better that makes me feel.” 
Derek clears his throat, his smile getting wider as he gets her attention, and he leans back in his chair, his hands on the back of his head, “So, Mommy what are your and Hotch’s evening plans?” 
She rolls her eyes and actively ignores the use of the moniker, “The usual.” 
Spencer walks back over and places the coffee down on her desk, smiling at her before he returns to his own desk. The smell of it alone is enough to reinvigorate her and she picks it up and immediately takes a sip.
“Thanks, Spence,” she says, smiling gratefully at him, “I appreciate it.”
He shrugs nonchalantly, “No problem.” 
“Yeah,” Derek says, “We’ve got to be nice to our Momm-”
“Derek Morgan if you call me Mommy one more time I will make sure you never have kids of your own,” she says, cutting over him. She purposely holds her glare, suppressing her need to laugh, when his eyes go comically wide, clearly very aware that she’s serious. 
“Why are you threatening Morgan, sweetheart?” Aaron asks, and she looks up, smiling softly when she sees him standing on the walkway, leaning on the railing above their desks. 
She knows he’s tired too for two reasons. Firstly, because he used a nickname for her in the office, a tiny piece of their personal life slipping free, the sharp line between the two parts of their lives slowly getting blurrier. Secondly, he had an Elsa sticker on the lapel of his jacket.
It was something Alice frequently did. She would carefully select a sticker and place it diligently on his jacket, she did the same for Emily too, claiming it would protect them as they fought the bad guys. She knew that usually, Aaron would remove it the second he got to the office and shrugged off his coat. He would place it on a photo frame on his desk, the picture inside of it one of Emily and the kids, a collection of brightly coloured cartoon characters surrounding a photo of his family. A much needed contrast to the usual horror that crossed his desk in their case files, a reminder of all the good there was in the world. 
She had a similar collection too, although she placed her stickers on the inside of one of her drawers, safe and protected from any unsub that might be brought through the bullpen, not wanting to give them any access to something they might consider a weakness. 
She smiles at her husband and taps her own lapel, “Honey…” 
He looks down and clears his throat, pulling the sticker off of his jacket with more tenderness than his hands should be capable of. A smile flashes across his face that she knows he can’t control, and he nods briefly at them all.
“I’d better go put this away,” he says as he turns and walks back into his office. 
“You guys are so cute-”
She turns and looks sharply at her friend, “Derek, I swear to God.” 
The rest of the day drags by, minutes feeling like hours as her exhaustion slowly returns. When it’s time to go home she immediately jumps up, smiling at her husband as he exits his office exactly on time. He takes her bag from her the moment he makes it to her side, ignoring her playful eye roll. 
“Ready to go home, sweetheart?” 
She hums, “God yes,” she says, checking her watch and hissing, knowing if they didn’t leave immediately they’d hit traffic. “We have to go get the kids.” 
“Actually,” he says, waving goodbye to the team as they step out through the glass doors and towards the elevators, “Jess went to get them. And right now they will all be very excited to have a sleepover at hers.” 
She smiles, narrowing her eyes at him as he reaches for her hand, linking their fingers together, “What are you up to Mr Hotchner?” 
He winks at her and squeezes her hand again, a silent promise pressed into her skin, “That’s for me to know and you to find out Mrs Hotchner.” 
___
He takes her home via their favourite pizza place, refusing to tell her anything else about his plans for the evening as they drive home. 
It’s only once they’ve eaten, talking softly over slices of pizza, the house so much quieter than usual it makes her ache a little, that he tells her they are going to watch a movie together just the two of them. They call the kids and talk to them over FaceTime to say goodnight, and Emily can’t help but smile at the sight of all three of them squished together as they fight to get their faces in the frame, each of them desperate to see their parents despite their excitement to be at Jessica’s. 
Once they are done speaking to the kids, she smiles widely at Aaron as he tells her to settle on the couch and that he’ll go get them some wine as he clears the pizza boxes, an instruction he signs off with a gentle kiss stamped against her lips. She chuckles when he brings in the wine. He’d served it in plastic Death Star shaped cups they’d got at DisneyWorld the year before. He waggles his brows at her as he hands her one and she laughs again, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips as he settles on the couch next to her. 
“I don’t need many guesses to know what film we’re watching,” she says, kissing him again before she pulls back to take a sip of her wine, “You thought of everything.” 
He shrugs as if it’s nothing, as if the gentle way he loves her wasn’t the thing that kept her afloat, and he places his cup of wine down on the table, “I just thought it’s been a while since we did this just the two of us.” 
She hums and nods, putting her wine down next to his before she snuggles into his side, sighing contently as his warmth immediately starts to leach into her. He reaches for the remote and starts the DVD player and she smiles when she sees the menu for A New Hope already on the screen, and she idly wonders when he got the chance to put the DVD in the player, a small part of her hopeful he’d somehow lost the Frozen one in the process. 
“Are you sure you want to watch Star Wars, honey?” She asks, tilting her head to look up at him. She rakes her fingers through his hair, love for him threatening to burst out of her chest, “We could watch something more grown up, who knows when we’ll next have the chance?” 
“It’s your favourite movie, Em,” he says simply, stamping his lips against her forehead as he presses play, “I wouldn’t want to watch anything else.” 
She shakes her head at him and kisses him, her hand on his cheek to hold him in place as she sighs into his mouth. When she pulls back she rubs her nose briefly against his, unable to stop her smile even if she wanted to, “I love you.” 
“I know,” he replies, his voice deadpan and she playfully glares at him. He laughs and leans in to kiss her again, “I love you too,” he says, kissing her once more before the scrolling text appears on the screen, “Now pay attention.” 
She chuckles and rests her head on his shoulder, content and relaxed as she snuggles further into him as he lays a blanket over their laps. She wraps both of her arms around one of his and hugs it, safe and happier than she ever thought possible as she sits next to her husband. Snuggled up on their couch in their home, watching a movie she probably knew by heart. It was achingly ordinary, and she would never stop being grateful that this was her life. 
He notices she’s quieter than she usually is when they watch this. She’d normally whisper lines half a second before the characters said them or tell him a fact about the behind the scenes, not embarrassed about her self-declared nerdiness around him, but she’s silent. He looks down and chuckles to himself when he sees her eyes drifting closed and he kisses her forehead, shifting her gently so her head is resting on a cushion in his lap. He runs his fingers through her hair, scratching gently at her scalp as he does so, and she hums contentedly. 
She’s asleep before Princess Leia is captured. 
-x-
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1waveshortofashipwreck · 9 months ago
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hi! i’m here again for the love letter haha.
my name is lara and i would really LOVE a letter from dick winters or joe liebgott, whichever boy you feel like writing for! :))
i don’t have any huge ideas of what i want in the letter, whatever you write i’m sure i’ll enjoy! maybe i’d like us to be married, and i could even have a kid or two! i think that would be kinda cute. if you do decide to add that in, some children’s names i like are
-jesse or robin (for a boy)
- maeve or eloise (for a girl)
anyways other than that i have no ideas, i’m just super excited to read whatever u come up with!! thank you! 🩷🫶🏼
LARA MY LOVE!!!! Here's your letter from a certain lovely ginger!!! Thank you so much for your patience lmao 🫠 also this wound up longer than I had anticipated 😂 I love you and I hope you enjoy it!!
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30 November 1944
My lovely Lara,
I’m writing to you from Paris. Apparently, Colonel Sink and the rest of the higher-ups decided I needed a “little dose of civilization.” It’s so quiet here - even with the buzz of the busy streets and crowded cafes, all I hear is your absence. All I hear is the lack of Robin and Muave’s little feet running around the house. How can I relax when I’m constantly reminded I am not with my family? I would give anything to be back in the States with you and the twins.
How is everything going for you? Is school going okay? I’m so proud of you and all the effort you’ve put into your studies - I still remember Robin looking at your textbooks and trying to help you! He is such a sweet boy. Do you remember when he tried to make you breakfast for Mother’s Day last year? I can’t believe he woke up before both of us! It was absolutely worth the cheerios and milk all over the bed. Robin will do anything to see you smile, he is such a sweetheart.
What about Muave? Is she doing okay? I still remember needing to pry her off of my leg before shipping off to Toccoa. That’s how she’s always been though, hasn’t she? Even when I was in bed with the flu, she was convinced that if she kept hugging me I would feel better. Our girl has one of the kindest souls I’ve ever seen.
The only thing getting me through this war is knowing that, when all this is over, I will be coming back to you and the twins. We can finally have our hectic mornings, you getting the kids dressed while I cook us breakfast (and they beg for chocolate chip cookies for breakfast!). We can go to the park again and finally teach the twins how to ride a bike. We can have our quiet nights after the twins go to bed, and it’s just you and me. You always calm every storm in my head, no matter how violent. You make me feel more loved and safe than I ever have felt before.
You are in my thoughts every minute of every day. Your focused expression when you’re doing your art, the way you tilt your head back when you’re laughing, the loving look in your eyes when you’re with Robin and Muave. I have never met anyone so loving, compassionate, and gentle. Thank you for being my wife - I promise when I return home, I will spend every day doing everything I can to make you happy.
Please tell Robin and Muave I love them and can’t wait to see them. I love you more than anything, Lara. I will be home as soon as I can.
All my love,
Dick
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aalissy · 7 months ago
Text
Break Down
Andddd here's the second chapter for today :). I hope that you liked both of them today <3. Lemme know what you thought of either. I'll see you tomorrow w/ another chapter :)
AO3
Ladybug's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she swung through the streets of Paris. The night was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside her mind. Monarch had struck again, and this time, it had been too close for comfort. 
She had always known that had the kwamis been stolen, she needed a plan. And though she had hoped, prayed even, that that day would never come, it had. She had lost them. All of them. But, even still, she had devised a way to get them back since she just knew Monarch would use their ability to tell the truth against them. 
And yet, her plan hadn’t worked. She hadn’t managed to save any of the kwamis. And the worst part of all was that she had been close. So close. Close enough to have touched them. 
But Monarch had done something that she hadn’t expected. He had pulled Chat’s hand towards him, purposefully cataclysming himself which Ladybug had never imagined anyone would willingly do. And, the saddest part was that she had no remorse over the fact that he had been cataclysmed. She had only focused on the fact that all of her kwamis had disappeared back into a portal.
And so, like always, Ladybug swung in the hopes of quieting her deafening mind. Unsurprisingly, she realized that she was slowly heading over to the exact place she would probably always end up. Adrien’s house. He had been the only one to console her when she had first lost the kwamis, and she desperately hoped he’d be able to do the same now.
Hovering by his bedroom, she hesitated before tapping lightly on the glass window. A moment later, Adrien Agreste opened it, his green eyes widening in surprise.
"Ladybug?" he asked, concern etching his features. "Is everything okay?"
She shook her head, unable to speak, and Adrien stepped aside to let her in. As soon as she crossed the threshold, her composure shattered. Sinking to her knees, Ladybug buried her face in her hands, her body trembling.
Adrien knelt beside her, his hand hovering uncertainly over her shoulder before gently resting on it. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured softly. "You're safe here."
She took a shuddering breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "It's Monarch," she managed to say between gasps. "I... I lost them all. Again. I had them, Adrien, and I-I just lost them all over again. I-I don’t know what to do!”
Adrien’s grip tightened on her shoulder and she leaned into the comfort of his touch. "Ladybug, look at me," he said gently. She lifted her tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. "You did everything you could. You're the strongest person I know. Just because things didn't go as planned doesn't mean you've failed."
"But I did fail," she choked out. "The kwamis... they're all gone. And Monarch... he was willing to hurt himself to stop me. I don't know how to fight someone like that."
Adrien shook his head. "Monarch is desperate," he said, his voice firm. "He's willing to go to any lengths because he knows how close you are to defeating him. That means you're doing something right. You can't give up now."
Her eyes searched his, desperately seeking reassurance. "But what if I'm not strong enough? What if I can't save them?"
Adrien cupped her face gently, his touch grounding her in the moment. "You are strong enough," he said, his voice unwavering. "I've seen you overcome impossible odds time and time again. You're Ladybug. You always find a way."
His words began to pierce through the fog of panic and self-doubt clouding her mind. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I just... I feel so helpless, Adrien. Every time I think I'm getting closer, Monarch finds a way to push me back."
"Then you’ll just have to push back harder," he replied with a determined smile. "You’ll find a way, Ladybug. I know you will. You’ve always been able to do anything you set your mind to."
The conviction in his voice, the certainty in his eyes, it was enough to reignite a flicker of hope within her. She took another deep breath, feeling the tension in her body begin to ease. Adrien's presence, his unwavering support, it was like a lifeline pulling her back from the brink.
"Thank you, Adrien," she said softly, her voice steadier now. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Adrien smiled, his hand still resting on her cheek. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just glad I can be here for you."
Ladybug felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. She leaned into his touch for a moment longer, drawing strength from his presence. Finally, she pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze with renewed determination.
"Chat Noir and I will get them back," she said firmly. "We'll stop Monarch, once and for all."
He nodded, his eyes shining with support. "I know you will."
As she prepared to leave, Ladybug gave him one last, grateful look. "Thank you, Adrien. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. You’re the only one who seems to know how to cheer me up.” Her lips lifted slightly as she scrubbed the last traces of tears from her red face.
He watched as she stepped out onto the balcony, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. "Be careful, Ladybug," he called after her. "And remember, you're never alone."
With a final nod, Ladybug swung back into the night, her resolve fortified by the boy who unknowingly held her heart. She knew the road ahead would be difficult, but with Adrien's unwavering support, she felt like she could conquer anything.
No matter what challenges lay ahead, Ladybug knew she could face them with Adrien by her side. And as she soared through the Parisian skyline, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. She would save the kwamis. She would stop Monarch. No matter what.
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little-miss-understood · 2 years ago
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Dame Violette, Part One
This may look familiar! The old versions of this story will be taken down soon. I feel comfortable enough now to restart it, especially in light of that Season 5 finale.
-
Hi, my name is Marinette! I'm just a normal girl who lives with her two baker parents in Paris. There's nothing special about me, nope, nosiree.
...Unless you count the weird psychic visions I get. I mean that has to be normal, right?
They're like “mental shocks”. To be honest I'm not really sure why they happen or how they come to me, or even if I'm the only one who gets them. Maybe others do as well and no one wants to share it with the world? But that seems unlikely. The shocks seem to be steering me in life, hopefully away from bad things though I never know for sure. Like a shock I got when considering fashion as a career choice, which led to some weird visions of a blonde-haired woman yelling about how something wasn't exceptional and about a man who looked old and stern, how the world of fashion seemed very competitive and not easy to get to the top of, at least not without losing parts of yourself along the way. Because of that I figured maybe engineering would be better for me, I seem to have a knack for designing neat things, like diaries with unique locks. I still make clothes occasionally! But they're more for myself or my close friends.
Another shock came when the first class representative elections came up. I thought about running, but memories of a girl who seemed to be overrun with responsibilities for her classmates filled my mind, along with a figure who took advantage who looked very, very similar to Madame Bustier, my homeroom teacher. Because of that it led me to always sit at the back of the class rather than anywhere near the front, not wanting to be noticed. Someone else can take that particular burden. There are only two other people who knows about me having such thoughts...having met them both through shocks, I figured they'd understand it if I explained the whole thing outright. Considering how well read one of them is I had hoped maybe she could have had a rational explanation but she just laughed and said it was probably some kind of “gut magic”. The other simply said it was “Awesome”. I might have been offended but they both wholeheartedly believed me. I don't know why a person believing in me feels so...important, but it does. Like I know my parents do but having someone else besides them is great. I have just this small group of two best friends, and that's more than enough for me. Having too many would be spreading myself thin and my downtime is important; I hate being run off my feet. Plus quality is better over quantity, and both of these girls are quality without a doubt. We might as well be sisters now for how entangled our lives have become.
- In a schoolyard, a five-year old Marinette looks around anxiously. It's a brand-new school to her, what with the move her mama and papa had done to a new and larger bakery, and she had to leave behind the friends she made in the previous year. Her papa however had done what he always did, and set her up with a box of macarons for her first day. “Just be yourself, offer one to a classmate. You're going to be fine, my sweet.” But there was a sinking feeling in her stomach. Marinette was expecting something to come her way, something horrible. Something brash. But little did she know, that on the other side of Paris, a decision was made to send a blonde girl of similar age to a private school, along with a boy of a prominent fashion mogul. It was over the objections of her father, a councilman who was hoping to rise to the position of mayor. “It's out of the question, Andre!”, shouted the mother. “She needs to learn what it takes with the right kind of teachers! Besides, this might seal the deal between ourselves and the Agrestes for marriage!” So, one fate was avoided. It was at this point Marinette felt the mental shock. A view into another universe, one were the blonde terror came to the school and immediately started to berate her as low-class, that her macarons were tasteless, and screaming for a young bespectacled red-haired girl to follow her during recess. It was said girl that Marinette saw near the entrance of the school, looking just as lost. The vision of the other universe fresh in her head, she walked over and opened up the box her father had provided. “Hi, my name is Marinette! Would you like a macaron?” The girl seemed to hesitate for a moment, almost as if she was questioning Marinette's motives and if this was, in fact, real. But then she looked down into the box, back towards her, and smiled. “I'm...Sabrina. It's nice to meet you! Um, do you have any strawberry ones?”
- We were inseparable from that day forward, best friends forevermore. Where would I be without Sabrina? Probably some stuttering mess. We each seemed to calm different parts of ourselves; her stopping my anxious “spirals” before they even start, and me encouraging her to stand up for herself. There's a strong mutual respect and understanding between us both; she's smart in the areas I'm not, and in turn I make up where she may falter. While I'm thankful for a lot of the “shocks” and their guidance, that one in particular has a special place in my heart as it gave two souls support and friendship. And two we were, until five years later a shock gave us our “missing” sister. -
Friendship Day. An annual scavenger hunt across all of Paris. Usually Sabrina and I don't participate, but a shock a few days ago convinced me to have us both take part this year. The celebrity we were supposed to try and find was Jagged Stone, and that's kind of cool, but at the same time we couldn't work together to try and do it. The rules of the day meant that a new “friend” would be assigned to us at random.
Which is a shame, because Sabrina and I probably could have made short work this whole thing.
My phone buzzed with the first clue, “With one turn of a handle, I can raise the level.” That was easy enough, the Canal Saint-Martin. That wasn't even very far away, maybe a few blocks. I thought back to what was shown to me in the shock while walking towards the canal lock. It was of a girl with black and purple hair and a boy with teal hair. Both of them had their backs turned, so I had no idea what they looked like, but...
...it seemed I was going to meet one of them today. The girl on the bridge looked almost the same as the one in my vision, though shorter somehow? But the hair was a dead giveaway, along with the fact that her clothing also seemed similar.
And that she had her back to me. I guess the best approach would be direct?
“Um, hello!”
That seemed to startle her more than anything, though she slowly turned around. Her face was covered by her hair, and her expression was one of fear. But we briefly locked eyes, and something in her seemed to calm right away. Enough for her to haltingly mumble something out. I barely caught it.
“Hello. I'm Juleka.”
-
In the end, it turned out she was more scared about searching for Jagged Stone than meeting me; apparently her mother had something against him and she didn't really want Juleka to take part, but was free to do so anyways. Though we kept following the clues, we both eventually gave up the hunt and started to talk more about our lives. It turned out we had a few similar interests, and by the end of the day when we met up with Sabrina I had grown used to Juleka's unique way of speaking French.
It took Sabrina more time to get there, though.
-
“I couldn't believe it Nettie, all she kept going on about was how “utterly ridiculous” I was! Everything from what I was wearing to if I couldn't get one of the clues right on the first try! I guess I drew the short straw on this whole thing.”
“It's alright Brina, you don't ever have to see her again at least.” I said, putting a supportive arm around her at the same time.
“I hope not. You know how I feel about bullies. But...” She turned her attention to the raven-haired girl sitting on the other side of me. “At least it looks like things were brighter on your end?”
“They were for sure! Juleka, this is Sabrina!”
Juleka's eyes darted up and down Sabrina, as if looking for some kind of hidden intention. After a moment, she breathed a small sigh of relief before letting out a mumble that was similar to what I had heard earlier in the day. Judging from the look on Sabrina's face, she hadn't quite caught what the other girl had said, so I served as a translator.
“She said it's nice to meet you.”
-
From then on, we were a trio. Three Musketeers, all for one and one for all. I wasn't sure how Juleka would influence us at first, it was only later I realized that her tastes ended up seeping into Sabrina and I unnoticed, enough that all of us were wearing darker clothing by the time we hit our teens, not to mention a nose piercing (for Sabrina) and hair dye (for myself, which more than surprised my parents the day I showed up at home from a sleepover with pink highlights in my black hair). But none of that was a bad thing, if anything we embraced it all. We understood Juleka when very few would bother trying; her accented French could come out sounding low or in mumbles to others, but we knew what she saying. Juleka could be as chaotic as her mother around the right people, and it seemed as though we were her people.
The three of us were together enough that a language was taking form among ourselves; an unholy mix of French, Scottish Gaelic, English, and some Mandarin. Every weekend a sleepover, either at my place, Juleka's houseboat or Sabrina's apartment. Sabrina had in fact been over more times than I could count, largely because her father, Roger, trusted my parents and knew she was in good hands. He worked long hours as a police officer but took a step back from front-line duties as Sabrina got older, not wanting to be in danger and leave Sabrina without a parent. It took Roger...longer to get used to both Juleka and Anarka, her mother, but in the end was won over by a weird shared taste in rock music. Sabrina had told me when he was younger that Roger upheld the law to the letter but had significantly mellowed out over the years, which was good as Anarka didn't exactly park her boat in entirely legal areas. Our first combined sleepover on the Liberty also caused him concern as the boat had ended up in another place entirely overnight, but seeing his daughter happy must have helped warm things over.
Not to mention my own parents helping in that respect, too. I dearly love my papa and my maman; both of them work so hard to keep the bakery running, which means long days and nights, but they always also find ways to make time for me. Occasionally I pitch in, there have even been periods when Sabrina has as well, and they get along with Roger and Anarka. They've even taken on Juleka's brother, Luka, as a delivery driver! Anarka had come back to Paris so that Luka could attend a prestigious music school. Juleka was offered the same but she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do yet, so of course Sabrina and I jumped at the chance to have her in our class, though it did mean she had to go down a grade because of odd timing.
We were now getting ready to enter our third year of school together. It seemed as though we wouldn't be switching classes, even with the addition of some new people into the school; I didn't pay attention to any of that but Sabrina had found out that not only was the daughter of the Mayor going to be in our school this year, but also the son of some famous fashion designer. Ag...something. Agreste maybe? That name had sounded familiar.
It didn't matter; nothing would change my year too much. Nothing exciting would happen, nothing out of the ordinary. I'm happy being normal, I'm happy in my life, with my friends.
But as I travelled to school, before meeting up with Sabrina and Juleka, little did I know my life would change in a big way. All because I picked up a small butterfly brooch that was lying in a puddle of water. I didn't even notice it at first but a purple jewel caught my sight. Bending down to pick it up, a terrible shock came to me, one of the worst I've ever experienced.
A vision of a girl in a ladybug outfit, a boy in leather made to look like a cat. Some figure calling himself “Hawkmoth”. A box that seemed to be filled with random jewellery. A bunch of mysterious figures that were guarding over said box, but it was stolen from a Temple-
“Nettie!”
I looked down the street and saw Sabrina calling out to me, with Juleka standing next to her. I couldn't just leave the broach, it seemed far too precious for that. Besides, if it gave off such a strong mental vision, maybe that meant that I was supposed to have it? I could always give it up later, and maybe someone was out looking for a piece of lost jewellery. Stuffing it into my pocket, I ran down to meet my friends. After school was over, maybe then I could figure out what to do with it.
For now, my last year at Collège Françoise Dupont was about to begin.
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narcissisticmf · 3 months ago
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my thoughts on the united states 2024 presidential election
i debated on whether or not to post this. i was worried it would upset people, but i am far past caring. i've never been so enraged in my entire life. this might sound dramatic, but the election results truly and indefinitely disheartened me. for those who are going to disagree with me politically, ignore this, but if you're willing to learn something, keep reading. trump plans to implement project 2025, stripping women of their rights. this includes abolishing the department of education, cutting taxes for the wealthy, raising taxes for the working class, expanding his muslim ban, implementing more book bans, banning SAFE abortions, eliminating protections for women's life-saving medical care, and reinstating his transgender military ban. these are just SOME of the issues trump plans to push through with project 2025. i live in a blue state, so my rights are mostly protected, but my heart breaks and rages for the women trapped in red states. i'm livid and terrified for my sisters—young girls, women, and people with uteruses. for those who voted for a racist, convicted felon, r*pist, and sex offender, i hope you're happy with your decision to stand against your sisters, aunts, grandmothers and mothers. the rest of the world is progressing, but america is stagnant in its 1950s, white-picket fence, suburbanian dream. the united states has failed its women. i've been seeking community with classmates, friends, and online spaces where people share my mindset. this was my second time voting, and i've never felt so powerless. after casting my vote, i felt empowered, believing my voice mattered, but was too quickly disappointed. what gives me a little bit of hope is that trump will not be allowed to run again after this term. unfortunately, we still have to muscle through the next four (scary) years. to all the women in my life, we need to stand together now more than ever because that orange monster, who'll be sitting in office soon, doesn't give a shit about us. i won't seek connection, friendship, or partnership with men until they listen to us. i will also be taking part in the 4b movement, i never wanted kids to begin with but now i have more motivation not to. this may sound dramatic, but i am beyond infuriated. and i will keep fighting for change until i see it.
fyi the only people who are going to benefit from trump's presidency will be rich, white men.
let that sink in. ^^
and for my fellow white sisters who didn't vote for a sex offender, go get yourself a nice blue friendship bracelet.
—angelina.
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