#i just wanted a nice phone and that best buy gift card

[moonlit-solace]

me: I deserve the nicest phone because I've never actually gotten the nicest phone and I work hard

me after signing a contract for the nicest phone: why tf did I do this

[pparadiselost]

little black dress.

noel noa x fem reader a dinner date ends more intimately than expected. warning(s): nsfw, mirror sex minors do not interact.

you couldn’t remember the last time you had been this excited for a night out. it was like there was something different in the air, something like a spark tingling in the atmosphere, and you could barely sit still the entire day just waiting for the time to pass by.

could anyone blame you? you hadn’t been out on any proper dates in a long, long time, and whatever experiences you did have, you could probably count the number of times you went out on a date like this on one hand. as much of a diehard romantic as you were deep down, reality often didn’t pan out the same way your imagination did, and that sometimes just meant foregoing the same romantic endeavors that your more sociable peers might have.

but not while you were with noel noa. you always thought that you must have been some kind of war hero in your past life to somehow end up in a relationship with him. he was stoic and perhaps not the most expressive, but he was perfect in your eyes. hardworking, dedicated, and loyal, you liked to think that he was kind of like a reward for all of your arduous patience.

“be ready by six,” was all he had said to you over the phone last night. “wear something nice. if you want to buy a new dress, treat yourself. you already have my card. i booked a dinner reservation at a restaurant i think you’ll like.”

knowing noa, it was probably a super expensive, high end place that he would insist on paying for. he was never a particularly vain nor a materialistic man, but he was the world’s best striker and that did conveniently come with a pretty hefty paycheck. he was a frugal man, but when it came to treating you right, he would only accept the best.

you insisted that you didn’t need big gestures or expensive gifts to make the whole thing work. if anything, you cherished the homey moments you had with him more. you liked seeing him as noel noa the boyfriend, not noel noa the celebrity. no one else in the world knew what he sounded like as he dozed off on facetime while playing abroad or how tight his hugs were when you’d come to welcome him back home at the airport. 

but getting princess treatment and being pampered every once in a while didn’t hurt either. time just seemed to pass by so slowly, so you made up your mind to play into your excitement. trying to bottle it up wouldn’t do you any good, and besides, a little treat never hurt anyone. 

you ease yourself into a nice warm bath, even sprinkling in some nice smelling salts and a glittery bath bomb you had buried in your bathroom cabinets. you didn’t leave the bath until you were absolutely sure you had soaked long enough and would come out sparkling like a newborn unicorn. the thought made you smile as you worked on your hair and skin, busting open all of the expensive skincare products you had been saving for a special occasion. it was healing, to spread all of these fragrant creams and lotions over your arms and legs, taking it slow and showing some proper appreciation for your body.

your make-up came easily after that, and you had fun picking out some nice colors and your favorite products. you were practically glowing in your reflection, and you couldn’t help but muse about how nice it was to feel so appreciative about yourself for once. it was too easy to get caught up in the hubbub of your everyday life and to feel down while trying to navigate a complicated relationship with such a well-known figure with grace. 

you swing your closet door open and take a good look at the clothes inside. noa had told you to get pretty, and you want to look breathtaking for your date. you rifle through the different dresses and outfits, looking for the perfect thing to don for the night. your eyes go from the front of your closet to the back, where you find a simple but adorable little black dress nestled inside. it’s everything you were looking for. the color sleek, the design sexy but refined, and elegant enough to meet noa’s more mature taste.

you don’t waste another thought grabbing the dress and shimmying into it. you’re blown away by your reflection in your mirror. to say you look beautiful would only be the beginning. you’re practically glowing with confidence, the dress hugging you in all the right places and making you look less like the humble mousey homebody you were to a glamorous socialite. you squeal internally, celebrating a job well done at getting ready, and you make yourself comfortable finishing up the final touches as you wait for your boyfriend to come pick you up.

sure enough, just as you were taking a breather and getting comfortable in your own skin, the doorbell went off. giddy as if you were going on your first date with him, you skip to the door and swing it open.

“ready?” the tall man at the door greets you simply. you beam up at him, your enthusiasm practically dripping off of you. noa must have spent some time getting ready himself as well: he’s dressed cleanly and simply for the date, and if you’re not mistaken, he must have treated himself to a haircut as well.

before you can do anything else, a bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers emerged from behind his back. a soft smile graces his usually stoic face, and you can see the smile wrinkles crinkling up around the corners of his eyes. you can’t exactly differentiate all of the flowers, but they’re breathtaking. the gesture has the butterflies in your stomach running wild all over again.

“for you,” he breathes. you struggle to properly form words as you return his smile with one of your own, truly feeling like a kid in a candy shop. you take the bouquet gingerly from him, and you take a moment to admire the blooms and their vibrant colors. they’re lovely, and even though it’s such a classic romantic gesture, it means more coming from him. noa is always so strict about his professional life and how he maintains himself, so this little present only cements the fact that you’re someone special to him.

“noel, you really shouldn’t have…! you’re already treating me to dinner!” you try to scold him, but he plays it off smoothly. you smile as you hug the bouquet, and he slips a hand around your waist to bring you so he can kiss you on your forehead. 

“all of this is the least that i can do for all of your patience with me. i know being with me is difficult,” he murmurs. his eyes glance over your body, his sharp gaze falling over your face, your chest, your waist, and your legs. his usually harsh expression seems to warm up after being around you. “you look beautiful too. really beautiful.”

“you’re the one that told me to dress up,” you remind him teasingly with a foxy grin as you prance off to find something that could serve as a vase for the flowers. you really ought to invest in a proper flower vase at this point; using an empty wine bottle feels like an insult to the bouquet. he makes himself at home while you hum a tune under your breath and carefully arrange the flowers in their makeshift place, admiring the gift yet again.

noa glances at his expensive watch and then towards you. “are you ready to head out? i don’t want to be late to our reservation.”

you slip your hands into the crook of his toned arm, the muscle shifting to adjust to your grip. you can feel how well built he is and how chiseled he’s gotten from a lifetime of sports, and you fight back the slight heat creeping around your body at the thought of getting to hog such an in-demand man all to yourself for the time being. 

“let’s be off!”

…

…

…

you thought the dinner went well. you enjoyed the food and the drinks, and the conversation flowed naturally as it always did. you shared jokes with noa, the man cracking a laugh every now and then, and you couldn’t imagine a more perfect night. he even let you order dessert, and he let you steal the better part of his once you had wolfed down your share. he really was the perfect boyfriend in every sense of the way, and you were glowing with how much fun you had had when he escorted you back home. 

you had half-expected him to simply drop you off with a kiss and scuttle off to whatever his manager demanded he do, but instead of the night ending early, noa evidently had other plans in mind.

“you did this on purpose tonight, didn’t you?” rough hands yank impatiently at the back of his dress, nothing like the charismatic and the usually gentle demeanor you knew of noa. heat blooms and stirs deep inside of you like a dormant monster coming to life, and you don’t offer any resistance as he unzips the back of your dress. his wandering hands immediately tug at your bra, unhooking them with a practiced expertise and latching onto the soft flesh of your tits. 

your breathing shallows. you’re at his mercy even though he’s just gotten started. noa doesn’t care whether or not it was your intention to rile him up this much. you look good, good enough for him to sink his teeth into, and he was going to have you after having held himself back for so long.

and he thinks you’re in the perfect place for that. he’s perched on the edge of your bed, and you’re placed perfectly in his lap. you keep grinding your ass against his toned, muscled thighs and the obviously big tent in the crotch of his pants. through the dimness of your room, you can see your silhouette merging with his in the mirror, your now messy reflection nothing like the sunny girl you had been just hours prior.

calloused fingers grab hungrily at your tits. his palms rub against your sensitive skin, and you barely choke back a moan when his fingertips brush over your hardened nipples. you can feel him exhale deeply when he feels you shudder against his chest, and reacting to you, his fingers toy with your nipples. pinching teasingly, flicking your nipples, groping at your chest, he has you more or less writhing in his embrace even though he hasn’t even undressed you fully.

“i wanted to do this to you ever since i came to pick you up. bet you had no clue,” he breathes against the shell of your ear. you whimper incoherently, your insides doing backflips when his teeth ghost over the thin skin of your ear, his movements lethal and sensual. “i was tempted. i wanted to rip this dress off of you and fuck you right there on the floor. and you didn’t know a single thing.”

“noel, i-,” you don’t know what you should say. god, him talking about how he wanted to rail you into tomorrow, to stretch your pretty cunt out on his thick cock and make you cream all over his girth made your head spin dangerously. he keeps coaxing you bit by bit out of your dress, and it was only out of respect for your belongings that kept him from physically tearing it off of your body. not that the dress was the issue to begin with: he could easily buy you a hundred expensive dresses if you only wanted it.

he grinds up against your ass once your metaphorical armor drops helplessly to the floor in a black puddle, followed fully by your bra. a lump grows in your throat as he nudges your legs apart with his own, and his fingers travel down the valley of your breasts, your stomach and waist, all the way between your parted thighs and down to your clothed hole. you grit your teeth when his thick fingers rub against your clothed slit, and something that sounds suspiciously close to a possessive chuckle comes from him when he can feel how wet you are against his fingertips.

“did you like that?” he mutters. “you’re so wet down here. your panties are so wet. bet you weren’t thinking of this when you were getting all giggly during our dinner date and playing footsie with me under the table. this is your reward for working me up all night.”

you grip at his forearms. your hole is pulsing as he rubs at you through your panties, your impatience visible on every inch of your body. fuck, you could feel yourself getting aroused at an embarrassingly fast pace, and it didn’t help that you could see your reflection perfectly in your mirror from where the two of you were seated. it was amazing how much self control noa had over his body. you could feel how hard and how big his dick had gotten while you were pressed up against him, your bodies gyrating lewdly together. dry humping each other while he toyed with your slit, just threatening to slip underneath your panties to touch you directly but not quite.

you throw your head back, using his broad shoulders as a makeshift support. “noel- noel, please- don’t touch me like that… i need more. i want you inside me-”

he laughs. “falling apart already? i just told you about how much you’ve been torturing me all night. don’t you think you can handle a little bit more? it’s only a fraction of what you did.”

“i want it- want it so bad, please…,” your voice trails off. you’re drooling at the thought of having his fingers stuffed inside of you. nothing could quite imitate the addictive stretch of his cock, but his fingers would feel so good inside of you. just thinking about him pumping his knuckles in and out, acutely feeling your insides twitching and drooling around him, your pussy hooked on every part of his body forever. you wiggle your hips shamelessly in rhythm with how he’s teasing you. you need him inside of your cunt. these small touches aren’t doing anything for you, and the pounding escalating in your head has nowhere to go.

noa isn’t a cruel man by any means. but he has no qualms about making you earn what he deems is appropriate, and you know that that’s what he’s doing to you right now. “why should i give myself to you? show me. show me how much you want me.”

he stops momentarily to grab at the sides of your panties, and you shudder when he peels them slowly and painstakingly off of your hips and thighs. your juices cling to the seat of your panties when he pulls them off of your thighs, your now painfully pulsing and empty hole left unprotected. noa then reaches for your own wrist, and he coaxes your legs even further apart until every part of your glistening cunt is shown in the mirror reflection, his soon-to-be indulgent reward.

your breath shakes, leaving your body as if the last sense of dignity was leaving you as well. you let him guide your hand towards your cunt, and you know what he wants to see from you. noa is a man of action, of results, and you press your fingers slowly towards your swollen clit. you let out a quiet sigh, a dull shudder of pleasure flickering up your stomach when you circle your sensitive nub. his eyes are sharp, and he never leaves your form in the mirror as you put on a perfect show for him, your own face scrunched up mid-moan and gasping out breathlessly as you touch yourself.

you imagine it’s him touching you. you try to emulate the way he would slowly touch your clit, rough fingertips swapped out for your soft ones. you take your time with yourself, making sure to savor the way your arousal swirls deep inside your body. you want to make it worth your while, you want to put on a good display for your boyfriend. he watches you like a hawk as you move your hips into your hand, your movements alternating between slow, loving movements to faster ones, from pinching your clit to sliding your fingertips up and down your slick folds to show noa just how wet you are, just how much you want him to touch your body.

“oh, fuck-,” you groan out. your fingertips circle your fluttering hole, your walls feeling horrible and empty. your fingers are so small in comparison to noa’s, but not having anything stretching you out feels even worse. you can feel noa’s breathing shallow slightly when you press your fingers against your entrance. you’re not quite penetrating yourself, but you feel the pressure against your pussy, just threatening to breach the tight ring of muscle and stretch your insides out the way you craved it. 

you push your finger past your slick hole, and you throw your head back again, moaning noa’s name. “oh, god- noel… want you inside of me, noel- need you so bad… fuck- ohhhh, fucking hell- noel…”

his hard on grinds against your ass as you begin to build a comfortable pace. you thrust two fingers inside of you, trying to mimic the movements of his thick fingers or even better, the movements of his thick cock. your fingers are a far cry from how deep and how well he fucks you, but it’ll suffice for now. and you know noa likes riling you up, prepping you implicitly like this. 

your reflection shakes in the mirror as the pleasure starts to light up your brain, your body melting away into a quivering mess of flesh and blood. the picture perfect part of the night was done, and now it was time to get into the dirty, the messy, the part that steals your breath and makes you unlock that deeply seeded bit of your mind that relishes in the unspeakable. you let your voice pitch a little higher, making your moans airy and pretty the way noa likes it best. 

“want you deep inside me…” you scissor your fingers, making sure he catches a good glimpse of the way your inner walls cling to your outstretched knuckles and all of your glistening juices dripping off of your skin. you rub at your clit with your other hand, overwhelming and flooding your senses. you can feel the hot arousal in your stomach drinking up the pulses of pleasure hurtling up your spine. your fingers thrust into your cunt faster, deeper, the pads of your fingertips desperately searching for that sweet spot inside you that makes stars explode underneath your eyelids.

noa thinks you look absolutely heavenly. angelic, even, like he’s almost undeserving of a girl as perfect as you. he’s craved this piece of euphoria the entire night, eager to see you spread out and drowning in your own pleasure, that pretty body of yours no longer hidden by the shadowy swathes of your date night dress. it’s agony, to not touch you and to not fuck you out into pieces on his cock like some feral animal, but noa is rational man. he wants to take his time with you. he wants to bury into the sinews and the tendons of your love, and he wants to sink his teeth into your sweetness and feel its sticky headiness, its heavy aftermath as it passes over his tongue and his throat, to settle somewhere deep in his heart.

“show me.” his voice is calm but strained, and he’s breathing through his nose in an attempt to calm himself. something hot and dull and not fully clear pounds against his abdomen, and blood keeps on rushing to his pants, his cock choking and gasping for attention. but noa is a master of control, and he pushes his own carnal needs aside to focus on you. “where do you want me?”

“deep. inside me,” you eke out. your voice sounds desperate, and you’re close to losing control over your body. he can see the way pleasure runs rampant all over your body. sweat beads on your skin, and when he presses his hands against you, you lean into his touch as if the small gesture is what’ll get you to finish. “want you to touch me more, noel… my fingers don’t feel as good as you do.”

he can barely suppress a laugh as he kisses your face, and you reward him with a breathy moan. “are you close? are you going to cum?”

your walls pulse and squeeze around your fingers at the sound of his voice, stoic and controlled. he’s a stark contrast to how quickly you’re falling apart, the pressure inside of your gut coiling in on itself almost painfully. you nod feverishly, your hips bucking in rhythm with how frantically you’re fucking yourself out on your fingers. “yes- wanna cum! but it’s not enough- don’t wanna cum on my fingers- wanna cum on your cock instead, please… god, touch me, touch me please…!”

he presses his lips together, and you meet his intense gaze through the mirror. “...fine. have it your way. stop touching yourself.”

your pussy feels like it’s crying out in protest when you pull your fingers out, strands of your sticky arousal clinging between your gaping hole and fingertips. your hole throbs and quivers, instantaneously craving the addictive high of being stretched out and fucked again. but you stay strong and push past the dull thrum in the back of your head, mouth going dry as noa maneuvers his cock out of his pants. 

your breath hitches in the back of your throat when you can feel something thick and hard rubbing at the inside of your thighs, and you carefully guide his cock against your slit. he bucks his hips against yours, grinding upwards so he can coat his length with your slick. you let out a small cry when his cockhead prods at your clit, and sparks settle deep inside your gut. going between edging yourself to feeling noa’s bare cock burying itself in between your soaked folds is too much, and you want him inside you as quickly as possible.

“so needy,” he murmurs as if he’s not the one who put you in this situation to begin with, “is this what you wanted? do you think you can understand how i felt now?”

you nod frantically. you’re entranced at the lewd silhouette of the two of you in the mirror, bodies entwining. his cock is huge, engorged all the way from having watched you touch yourself so eagerly, and you can feel it twitching and throbbing against you. pre-cum dots the tip, and you swallow when you see it mixing together with your juices that are coating his length.

“inside-,” you whisper like a broken record, “put it inside me- want your cock inside my pussy…”

“yeah? i’ll give it to you as much as you want,” the frenchman promises. “i’ll fuck you out so good that you can’t walk tomorrow. how about that? would that be enough for your greedy pussy? or do i need to break you further?”

your head nearly spins. it doesn’t matter to you how much he takes from you. all that matters is that you get him in one way or another. you know that he has what you need, that he’ll make you good, make you cum your brains out so that you’re left a mangled, breathless mess stuffed full of his cum and dick by the end of the night. you couldn’t imagine a more perfect ending to this tryst. 

his cockhead presses against your greedy opening, covered from tip to base with your slick. he grips at your hips, and a breathy moan escapes you as he pushes your body down on his cock. despite how long the two of you have been together, the first intrusion of his thick cock into your pussy leaves you breathless each and every time. your entire body trembles as he forces more and more of his dick into you, your already sensitive walls clamping down immediately on his engorged length. 

he doesn’t give you time to adjust to him, determined to make you feel every inch of his massive dick sliding into you. you’re taking him so well, like your cunt was made just to be stuffed with his cock, and you’re already writhing on top of him. arousal wells like the ebb and flow of the sea waves when you can see your reflection in the mirror. you can see his cock intruding into you, your pussy lips spread apart and glistening as you’re being split into two on his length.

“soooo big-,” you swoon starstruck. “you’re always so big, noel… love how you feel inside of me.”

“do you now?” he replies, the teasing edge in his voice unmistakable. you’re fluttering around him deliciously, your legs spread out all pretty for him in his lap, and you can feel his balls tensing up underneath you as he bottoms out. it’s insane, his sheer size, and you think it’s even crazier that you’ve gotten hooked on this man so deeply that you don’t think you can get off on anything that doesn’t involve him anymore. you swear you feel his tip all the way up in your throat, and just having him slide into you like this is enough to make your brain feel all tingly and fuzzy.

one hand starts rubbing slow circles into the skin of your hip, right where your thighs connect with the rest of your body. “why don’t you start moving for me then? i’m not done with you quite yet. keep putting on a bit of a show for me.”

you moan as you start grinding up and down, moving yourself slowly off of his cock before sinking down on it. your breath catches in the back of your throat as pleasure starts to flicker all over your insides again. your stomach coils each time you buck your hips, and seeing everything you’re doing reflected in the mirror doesn’t help you. you can see just how much of his cock is sliding in and out of you as you ride him, his hands beginning to wander all over your body. you whimper for him incoherently as his deft fingers rub at your clit and grope at your chest.

“look at you,” noa breathes against your ear. “look at how good you’re being for me. look at that pretty pussy… all wet and spread out just for me. feels good to ride me, doesn’t it? i can feel how tight you are every time you bounce in my lap.”

his lewd words have your insides clamping around him. you want him to keep talking to you like that, the deep cadences of his normally calm voice a stark contrast to your scattered thoughts. you can feel your rhythm speeding up, the desperation in your movements evident to him. you want to feel more of him inside of you, and you’re shaking your hips like any scrap of shame left inside of you has withered away. it did a long time ago, but you know you’re only enjoying it because it’s him, because everything that makes him feels good makes you feel good too.

you angle your hips so that his tip is sliding against that one spot you like best, and you’re throwing your head back and groaning out his name. noa’s cock throbs inside of you precariously with each swell of your voice. he likes having you like this, the possessive side of him eating up every part of you. he likes the contrast between your normally demure everyday, the side you keep honed and professional to perfect the balancing act of managing your own life and his hectic one, versus whatever madness he has you entrapped in once the two of you are alone. he likes it, likes how shameless you are, likes wielding the knowledge that he’s the only who gets to see you like this.

“feels so good- feels so good having cock inside me- having your cock inside me-,” you keep repeating the same words again. it’s all you care about. the rest of the world might as well be dead to you in this instant. all you want to feel is his strong chest against your back as you ride him, your sweaty bodies connected and twisting with one another.

“i know,” he whispers back. “and you’re taking it so well. that’s my lady. i can’t decide if i wanna look at you or the mirror. fuck, you’re so tight… do you like it when i talk to you like this? like it when i talk you through everything you’re doing while you see it in the mirror? c’mon, show me more of your pretty pussy…”

your thighs burn slightly with how much you’re working them, but you’re determined to see things through. his cock slides in and out of you with little resistance from just how wet you are, your pussy drooling over the sensation of being penetrated by him over and over again. with him touching your body all over, the pleasure receptacles in your brain keep lighting up. he knows how to make you fall apart so easily, and yet each time, it feels so new. you can’t get enough of whatever euphoria this is, being stretched out on his girth and drinking up all of his obscene praise.

“all spread out just for me… tits bouncing and everything too… so dirty,” he hums, swallowing thickly. his adam’s apple bobs, and he groans under his breath. you’re rocking your hips so well for him, moving in a way that makes both of you feel so good. he can feel his abs tensing up with each sensual roll of your hips. god, he loves it when you ride him. he loves seeing the pleasure and neediness scrawled all over your face, like you’re going to stop breathing if you don’t feel more of him with each thrust. he’s thrusting into you to match your pace. wet squelching noises fill the room to match your dazed breaths and cries each time his cock delves deep into your stretched out hole. 

“oh fuck- noel-,” you moan, arching your back. “i-if you talk to me like that, i’ll-”

he laughs when you can’t bring yourself to finish your words. you can feel your brain turning to mush, your ability to string together sentences dissolving like a spoonful of sugar mixed into water. the pleasure shooting through your core is too much for you to handle, consuming all of your consciousness. it’s all you can register, the addictive feeling of his cock spearing you into two, rubbing your ass against his lap shamelessly as you fuck yourself on his dick. 

“you’ll what? stay with me now.” his stern, unforgiving voice snaps you back out of whatever hazy drunkenness is pressing like a deadweight on your mind. “talk to me. is it making you feel good? do you like hearing my voice while having my cock inside of you? does that turn you on?”

you swear you can feel him smirking against your skin when your pussy clenches around him greedily. god, it’s so obvious. how could you not get off on this man’s voice? he’s so firm, so stern, and so ready to give you everything he has if you just so much as say the word. he’s as dedicated as he is draconian, and hearing how he’s going to force you to garble out your pathetic mewls in order to earn yourself your true prize makes your pussy throb painfully around him. 

“yes- love hearing you- turns me on so fucking much…,” you slur out. you don’t know how you’re going to face yourself in the mirror after everything that’s happening tonight. you’ve never seen anyone move their hips in the way you do now, hungry to have cock inside of you. his dick stretches you out just right, in the way that has your vision flashing white each time his cockhead slides deep into you. you want him to bruise your cervix and fuck you full, until you can’t walk and can’t do anything except obsess over him. “you’re so fucking sexy… you’re gonna kill me…”

“i’m not going to do such a thing. might fuck you until you pass out, but i would never hurt you. unless you want me to. but even then-…” he whispers. you choke out a loud whine when his fingertips graze over your clit again, pinching at your sensitive nub before rolling it in between his fingers. an electric surge washes over your body, and you’re clenching up so much around him that you’re basically milking his cock. you’re getting dangerously close, the aftershock of having fingered yourself earlier making the edge hurtle towards you that much faster. 

“noel…!”

he chuckles darkly. “-i think i prefer making you scream from pleasure.”

you’re practically writhing in his arms. your stomach pulses, coiling in and outward, waves of pleasure washing over you as the arousal in your gut quivers in accordance to some primal rhythm. he’s thrusting so hard up into you, and each snap of his hips into yours makes you let out a strangled cry. you can feel him rubbing so deep inside of you. what might have started out as a sensual night is now at its peak desperation, just two people fucking one another as if they’ve been starved of oxygen. you feel like you might actually crumble if you were to pull away from noa.

“like that, yeah?” the frenchman responds. the sounds of your sloppy lovemaking are ringing throughout the room, your cunt leaking like a faucet around him. he’s sliding in and out of your clenched hole, and you can barely breathe from how good it feels. your breaths are shallow and desperate, each thrust netting the striker a rough cry of his name. it does something to him too, lights up some part deep inside of his brain that likes hearing you cry for him. 

he’s a good man, and noa abides by being the best version of himself he can. but something about knowing how easily he can get you to break, how his cock has you turning into a fucked out version of yourself, how much he can corrupt you over and over again until you’re sobbing and begging for release, does something to him. it’s a kind of perverse obsession, but the more he feeds it, the more he craves it. he loves breaking you down in his arms, and he savors each opportunity he gets.

“gonna cum soon, aren’t you?” he groans. “i know you are. i can feel you tightening up around my cock… squeezing me all nice. fuck—pretty pussy just clenched up around me now.. i’ll make you cum- make you cum all over my cock… that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“yes!” you sound feverish with how needy you are. you grind down on him, your cunt basically gushing all around his girth as his tip grinds against your g-spot. it feels so addictively good, almost enough to make you cum right there and then from how deep his cock is reaching inside of you. it’s insane how this man is built, like his cock was crafted just to rip orgasm after orgasm from you ruthlessly, until your sheets are drenched and you’re begging him for mercy. “make me cum! love cumming on your cock- ‘t’s the best- cumming on your cock is the best…!”

“gonna make you cum- then i’ll creampie that greedy pussy of yours. that tight fucking hole- made to take my cum too,” he grunts. his balls tense up against your ass, and he’s so close. he’s close to spilling inside of you, stuffing you out even further with his cock and cum mixing inside of your pliant cunt. you take him so well, beg for him so sweetly on command. noa is just a man, and what man could resist the pathetic sobs and cries of the woman he loves to death?

you’re a mess. you know this. and yet the thought, just the fleeting idea pressing up against your brain through the messy haze, of him cumming deep into your pussy and flooding your womb makes your walls twitch and jump up around him. he moans, the sound almost primal from how deep it comes from his chest, and you think you’re going to suffocate to death with how much of him you’re taking. 

“yeah- want that too, don’t you? don’t even think about hiding anything from me. i know you too well for that.” his breath is hot on your skin, and you’re consumed with the need for him to bite you. you want him to be rough with you the way he is right now, breaking you in a way that you can only describe as lovingly. you’re milking him wildly, and you’re not going to last longer. his cockhead bullies the entrance of your womb, ramming into what feels like your cervix, and it’s all you can do to take in shallow breaths and let him fuck into you like the world’s about to end tomorrow.

“cumming…!” your chest feels tight. the pleasure is so overwhelming that it’s almost too much. “i’m cumming! cumming, cumming- fuck, fuck, oh shit- it’s getting everywhere! feels so good- you’re gonna break me, you’re gonna break my pussy!”

your vision flashes white. you can’t breathe for a second, your lungs giving out on you as if you had the wind knocked out of you. all it takes is for one full stroke for you to come tumbling across the edge, pleasure coursing like it's overtaking your pulse all throughout the crevices of your body. your back arches dangerously off of his chest, and you’re clenching up all around him. you’re vaguely aware of the wetness gushing past your womb and from your hole. your juices are leaking out of you like a faucet, undoubtedly making a mess underneath you.

but you can’t care less. the sensations zipping through your mind and your body are just too good. you’re a far cry from the beautifully put together woman you were a few hours ago, composed and intelligent. now all you can register, all you care about, all you live for is the high of orgasming after being fucked stupid on noa’s cock. 

his thick cock keeps slamming into you rapidly, threatening to split you in half. your stomach is still buzzing from the high, but he’s being so rough. you can feel the overstimulation tingling somewhere in your gut, your sensitive walls crying out as his cock refuses to let up the brutal pace. it’s hot, and you can feel your stomach coiling up again in painful knots, sending shockwaves of pain mixed with pleasure all throughout your core.

“w-wait- don’t keep going so fast!” you slur out, your words mixing into one another. it’s taking everything inside of you just to hold onto a semblance of coherent clarity, his cock fucking you dumb with every passing second. “it’s too much- i-i can’t handle it…! i just came… don’t be so rough with me!”

“you can take it. you’re going to take it.” noa’s deep voice keeps you locked in place. the wet sounds of him fucking you through your orgasm, desperately chasing after his own high, has you trapped where you are. your brain feels fuzzy all over, and the tightness in your core isn’t helping you at all. at this rate, you’re going to cum again right after having your first orgasm ripped from you, and knowing that noa’s also about to blow his load right into you makes you feel weak and helpless in his arms.

you love it. you don’t know when this greedy streak inside of you must have developed, but there’s a kind of masochistic pleasure that you’re soaking up. you can’t get enough of it, can’t get enough of being absolutely smothered in noa’s affection.

“fuck- tight fucking pussy-,” he mutters. “taking me so well. taking my cock so well- gonna cum inside you- you’re gonna take that too, yeah?”

you nod breathlessly. you’re sure your womb’s ready to take him, ready to have his cum flood you, soak up all of him like you were nothing more than a vessel made to take his love. he pumps into you hard, over and over, and you’re crying out, your moans mixing with his harsh breathing into one wet steamy mess.

your mind flashes blank when you feel the pressure rupturing inside of you. his cock pulses inside of you like a second heartbeat. his cum rushes into you, ropes of hot, strong cum filling up your womb and making you leak. it’s hot, burning its way across your sensitive insides, but you feel so happy and fucked out. you don’t need to look into the mirror across from you to know that you’re just a ghost of yourself, plugged to the brim with his cum and cock stretching out your worn out hole.

“sooooo good-,” you warble out. “feels sooooo good- love how full i feel…”

he’s breathing heavily. you can make out the faint sound of his ragged exhales and inhales, and you can feel his chest rising and falling against your back. there’s something so gentle yet so rough, so sweet yet so uncaring about the way he touches you. he loves you to death, but the polite restraint he has when it comes to your body always ends up snapping when you find some way to snap it like you want him to go crazy.

you do. 

there’s a sense of euphoric numbness that stains the air, that leaves you mindless and happy. you trust noa with everything you have, and you’re sure the weird fuzzy warmth that fills your head is the same feeling that must be consuming noa too. you don’t need to exchange any further words with him to know that the connection between the two of you runs deep. 

your womb sloshes with all the cum noa’s dumped inside you, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to let you go anytime soon. and you’re fine with that. there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than in the safety of his arms, all tuckered out after a rewarding dinner with him. you’re no saint nor a sinner, nothing more than your ordinary person who managed to win noa’s heart with patience and love, but in some ways, you like to imagine that these glimpses of otherworldly intimacy and happiness are your reward for always keeping your heart open towards someone as harsh as noa can be at times.

it’s a mutual feeling, you’re sure. but you’ll save those thoughts for later, when you’re more lucid and more capable of fending for yourself. for now, you continue to grasp at that tenderness, letting noa hold you close to his chest and his heart, just the two of you in your own special world and nothing else.

KINKTOBER 2024—la deuxième semaine.

if you enjoyed my writing and would like to show appreciation, you can do so by donating to help tawfik evacuate gaza. time is running out for his family, so if you ever had any thoughts about tipping or commissioning me, please extend that generosity to those in need.

[lunarlando]

Hi I just saw ur girl dad lando requests r open and ran over bc I'm obsessed with dad lando too and there's simply not enough fics on it unfortunately.

Anyway my fic/blurb idea is fluffy and slightly angsty? so lando and fem!wife!reader's daughters r in their teens and and they're used to reader (their mum) typically being the "bad cop" and lando being the "fun parent" who will spoil them and can never say no to them when reader does. One day readers tired of her teens hating her for being the mean one so they decide to switch roles and the girls r rlly confused and angry at lando and start being nice to reader who's enjoying watching lando take her place for once. Maybe the girls ask to go out to a party or ask for new phones or smth u can decide. Ignore my request if it doesn't seem interesting 😭 and have a grt day byee xx

thank you for the request! a few other grid kids make an appearance, hope that's okay! and lando is such a fun dad type guy you're so right x

feel free to request more :)

Having teenage girls was not an easy feat.

You were warned of the terrible twos and gotten through them twice with your sanity intact, but nobody had ever warned you about teenagers. You suspect it should’ve been a given, but when you thought about having teenagers you always saw yourself as the type of mum who your daughters would feel close to.

Now that you’re the mum of a sixteen and seventeen year old, you find yourself becoming the opposite. You’ve turned into the bad cop between Lando and yourself. He’s the fun parent, you’re the party pooper. He spoils Estelle and Delilah because he can, because he loves his girls more than life itself, and you’re stuck reining in his gift giving because you don’t want them to become accustomed to always getting what they want when they want no matter the cost.

Even when you put your foot down on some of their more extravagant requests, Lando finds a way around it. 

Part of the reason Lando spoils them so much is because he was still racing in Formula One when both of them were born and while they were growing up, so he’d miss things sometimes. He tried his hardest not to miss bigger events like their birthdays and holidays, but other stuff like their school recitals, sports games—he did the best he could, but a lot of the time it just never aligned with his busy schedule. 

Now that he’d taken a step back from being in the seat of a car for the past three years, he was trying to make up for lost time. 

“I feel like the girls think I’m a hardass,” you sigh as you’re getting ready for bed one night. Lando is brushing his teeth, but he sticks his head out of the bathroom at your words, frowning at you with the brush still in his mouth. “Do you think they hate me?” 

“You’re their mum, they don’t hate you,” he replies through toothpaste bubbles, wrinkling his nose at you. “All you’ve done their whole lives is take care of them. How could they hate you?” 

“Because I’m their mum,” you say pointedly. Lando cocks his head, like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. “Mums and daughters are different from mums and sons. Trust me.” 

“Okay, fair. But I don’t think you’re a hardass. You’re just…firm with them, is all.” 

You snort unattractively, looking at him pointedly. “Yeah, I have to be, mister take my credit card, buy whatever you want.” Lando hums thoughtfully, disappearing back into the bathroom to finish washing up before reappearing and padding over to his side of the bed. “I love that you want them to have everything they could ever dream of, and I say this with nothing but even more love, but you’re not the best when it comes to saying no to the girls.” 

“I know. I just…I hate it when they look so disappointed and sad.” 

“And you think I do? I don’t want to be the bad cop, but someone has to,” you grumble, setting aside your book. Lando snuggles up close to you, propping his chin on your shoulder. “You should try it.” 

“Ha, that’s funny.” 

“No, I’m serious, Lan. Tomorrow, we switch roles. You’ll be me and I’ll be you, and then you’ll understand,” you propose, smiling at him in that way you know he won’t be able to resist. All these years and you’ve still got your husband wrapped around your finger. 

“That doesn’t sound like a good time.” 

“Oh, it won’t be. Not for you, at least. But we’re a team, aren’t we?” 

“I hate it when you’re right.” 

—

Fortunately for Lando, things at the Norris household don’t get interesting until nighttime the following day. 

“Hey Mum, we’re going out tonight. Just wanted to let you know since we might be out after curfew,” Estelle says absentmindedly, not looking up from her phone. Beside her, Delilah giggles quietly, ever her older sister’s follower. You want to tell them no—their curfew is late enough as it is and they’ve got school tomorrow—but you refrain. It’s Lando’s turn to be the bad cop. 

“Sure, I don’t see why not. Ask your father first though,” you reply instead. From the couch where he’s watching some rerun of an old grand prix, Lando straightens at the mention of his name, twisting around to look at you with wide eyes. You raise a brow, tilting your head at the two girls who’ve turned their attention on their dad. “Go on, he’s listening.” 

They share a confused look with each other, but you can see the gears turning in their quick teenage brains. If mum said yes, dad would definitely say yes. Easy.

Or so they think. 

Delilah bounces over to sit on the couch next to Lando, smiling at him widely. “Hi daddy! Can we go to a party tonight?” 

Now Estelle’s sitting on his other side, bringing out the same patented charming Norris grin. “Well, it’s not really a party. More like a few friends hanging out. Super laid back.” 

“Uh huh. Gonna need some more details, lovebugs,” Lando hums, flashing their same smile right back at them. There’s no use in trying to play the guy who invented the game. “Who’s gonna be there, where it is. You wouldn’t want your mum and I to worry, would you?” 

“Um…” Delilah balks. She probably wasn’t expecting him to ask so many questions. He usually doesn’t, just says yes because he can’t bring himself to say no to them. 

Estelle cuts in before her sister can potentially dig them into an inescapable hole. “Adrien’s going, Clara and Maeve will be there too, and Teo.” 

Adrien and Teo—Charles’ and Carlos’ sons, respectively, and Clara and Maeve—Oscar’s twin daughters. You know that she knows the two of you trust your friends, so name dropping their kids would give them a fighting chance. She’s smart like that. You’d admire it more if her intellect wasn’t aimed at sweet talking her parents. 

Lando sneaks another panicked glance back at you, and you shake your head slightly. That solidifies his resolve, because as much as he doesn’t want to disappoint them, you have an agreement, and a deal’s a deal. “Sorry girls, it’s gonna be a no. We’re all staying in tonight.”

“What?” 

“Let’s do something as a family, yeah? Game night? Or you can do some laps on the sim, I know how much you like that,” Lando offers up, as if enticing them with sim racing would soften the blow of their dad’s first no. 

“Seriously? But dad, it’s not a party! We’re just gonna watch a movie or something!” Estelle exclaims, crossing her arms over her chest.

The girls share another look with each other, this one more irritated than confused. Lando just tries his best to stay firm looking. You, on the other hand, watch the whole thing play out from where you are, fighting to hide a smile, because now he knows how you feel all the damn time. It shouldn’t please you, but as someone who’s been taking the brunt of their teenage-ness for a while now, it brings you just a smidge of joy. 

“That doesn’t change things, unfortunately. You two will be staying here with your dear old parents, and that’s it.” 

“That’s so unfair though!” Estelle huffs, rolling her eyes. 

Lando cocks his head at her, brows raised in challenge. “I’d watch the attitude if I were you, Stell.” 

Delilah switches her tactic to try and salvage things, coming over to where you’re still chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter. Out of the two of them, your youngest knows exactly where her mum’s soft spot lies. “Mum? We just want to hang out with our friends. Please?” 

“You heard your dad, girls,” you say, shrugging. “If he says no, it’s no. Sorry.” 

They disappear down the corridor grumbling to each other rather quickly after that, no doubt already texting their friends about how awful their dad is. It almost makes you laugh, because for once, you’re not the one they’re mad at. Lando trudges over to you, pressing himself against your back in a rather dejected hug. 

“Doesn’t feel great, does it?” 

“Is this what it feels like to be you?” he groans. You can feel him frowning against your neck and you chuckle, running your fingers through his curls affectionately. “We’re setting some more ground rules, effectively immediately.” 

“Like what, don’t be mean to your mum? They’re teenagers, Lan. It’s what they do.” 

“I was never like this.” That draws quite a laugh from you. “What?” 

“So if I call your parents and ask them if you were ever a little shit when you were younger, they’d say no?” 

“...Don’t call them.” 

“That’s what I thought.” You kiss his cheek gratefully still. “We balance each other out well, I’d say. I don’t mind being the bad cop sometimes, but you can’t just be a fun dad all the time.” 

“But it’s so fun being a fun dad,” he whines, but you know he understands. “I don’t have to feel like this.” 

“You’ll get over it, darling. They will too, and we’ll be back to the same old thing tomorrow.” 

“I love you, bad cop.” 

“Love you more, fun dad.”

[gothamite-rambler]

Jon and Damian being best friends (and better friends than their father)

Jon and Damian were in the middle of a heated Fortnite match, battling against other online players when one player, Ballbuster335, started trash-talking them after a loss.

Ballbuster335: Y’all are trash! I swear.

Damian (clarifying): We lost because of you.

Ballbuster335: I told Superboy9000 to cover! He messed up! Damn, he’s such trash, dude! TRASH!

Jon lowered his head, a look of defeat on his face. Damian set his controller down and pulled out his phone, quickly searching for information on Ballbuster335.

Jon (softly): I’m sorry—

Damian (calmly): Ballbuster335, Sunnyvale Avenue, New Jersey, Jared Davis. You work at a Dollar Tree. I won’t hesitate to drive over and put my foot up your ass if you don’t apologize and log off.

The irate player fell silent, while snickers from the other players could be heard in the background.

Damian: What’s wrong, Jared? Upset that your failed NFT business left you broke? Cursing out middle schoolers after joining our party? Lost a game due to your own mistakes, or are you just scared that I will find you? I saw your internet history, too.

Jared remained speechless, an audible gulp echoing in the chat.

Damian: Why’d you stop talking? Is it because you live close by? Or because if you keep attacking my friend, I’ll find you and deal with you? Insult me all you want, but if you mess with Jon, you're messing with the wrong person. Log off, or I can get there really fast.

A log-out ping sounded as Jared exited without offering an apology, but Jon wasn’t complaining.

Damian: Such a shame. Well, would everyone else like to continue?

The other gamers nodded in agreement, eager to keep playing. Jon smiled and playfully nudged Damian with his arm. Damian shrugged with a grin.

--------------------------------------

Jon: What’s one nice thing you can say about me?

Damian: You’re st... I mean, you are funny and make me smile.

Jon (eyes lighting up): You think I’m funny?

Damian (sighing): I hate to admit it, but you are.

Jon: And I give the best hugs!

Damian: I never said th—

Jon enveloped Damian in a tight hug. Damian sighed having expected this, but patted his friend’s arm with a smile.

--------------------------------------

After a successful mission, Damian carried Jon in his arms as they made their way back to Jon’s house.

Jon (arms wrapped around Damian's shoulders): Ain’t this something, pal? You’re carrying me like a true friend would.

Damian (exhausted): Yep, remind me why I’m carrying you again?

Jon: My healing factor isn't as good as my dad's.

Damian (stating the obvious): Okay, but you have one.

Jon: Yeah, but... you’re really strong.

Damian (mulling it over and accepting): That’s a fact, but I’m dropping you when I can guarantee we’re safe.

Jon: When will that be?

Damian (as they enter a cul-de-sac): Drop.

Jon was unceremoniously dropped on the ground, and Damian stepped over him, heading toward Jon's family home.

Damian: Get up.

Jon scrambled to his feet and ran over to Damian, placing his arm on his shoulder as they chatted about what to do for the rest of the night.

--------------------------------------

While shopping, Jon spotted a Monster High shirt and, intrigued by its cool design, picked it off the rack.

Jon (smiling): I like this shirt, but I don’t think I can afford it.

Damian swiftly yanked off the shirt tag and headed to the front counter to pay without another word.

Jon (trying to stop him): Damian, wait! Stop buying me stuff. We’ve been over this.

Damian (paying for the item): I told you, my friend language is gifting things. I don’t expect anything in return either. It’s just how I operate. Let it happen.

Jon: But won’t your dad be mad you’re using his money?

Damian: Considering he’s insanely rich and my mom is too... I don’t think he’ll notice I borrowed his credit card for the day. He lets me take it anyway. Buying clothes and necessities for my friend is just a bonus. You're a necessity I need to finance.

Jon: Aww, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.

Damian: I do have a way with words.

The cashier, who had listened to the entire exchange, widened her eyes in surprise as she handed Damian his receipt.

Cashier: Christ, my friends usually beg me for money and you're doing this? Kid, you're lucky.

Damian: He is, thank you. Jon, you want anything else?

Jon: Um... I’m good—

Cashier: Dude, there’s a sale, and your friend just said he’ll buy you anything! Pick out a couple more shirts at least. I don’t mean to interject, but this kid seems awesome.

Damian (smiling): Jon, listen to the nice saleswoman.

Jon sighed, smiling as he relented.

Jon: Fine, but I’m picking out something for you as well.

Damian nodded, following Jon to the shirts section of the store, ready for more shopping adventures together.

[lynnlovesspidahman]

happy birthday.

peter parker x reader

masterlist.

warnings : none :))

word count : 1.2k

summary : peter’s not easy to shop for, so you settle for a gift money cant buy. happy birthday peter parker 😏

again, i just love ps4 peter so he was in mind while writing this. but you can imagine any of them!!

Peter’s birthday was in 3 days.

You’ve been dating for a little over 5 months, now. You wanted him to feel special for his birthday, considering everything he’s done for you over the course of your relationship.

But he’s such a hard person to shop for. You’ve been wandering around Target for what feels like ages now.

At first, new cologne seemed like a good idea. But, you already prefer the one he already uses (and you have no clue which one that is, you can’t exactly just ask him now).

The next best was new clothes. And they did have nice pairs of the flannel shirts he always seems to wear (He looked delicious every time, you couldn’t argue with that). You looked through the hangers, picked out the best looking ones, and threw them into your cart.

So now you have is a few shirts, cool. But still not enough. So you ran through a couple of gifts you thought he would appreciate. Scratch that, he has to love it, not just appreciate it.

Flowers? No, he can’t take care of them properly.

Skin care? No, he’s told you before he can’t be bothered, he literally uses just water. And yet his skin remains clear.

Shower stuff? Might give the wrong message.

Candy? Too basic.

New furniture for his ever so bland apartment? Too much money.

Gift card to his favorite restaurant? That could work, but it probably would end up being used immediately. By you.

Nothing seemed to work for him. You paid for the three shirts you picked out and left.

You were walking down the street, still trying to think of something to get him.

Your phone rang in your pocket. You put the plastic bag in your left hand as you reached for your phone with your right.

You smiled, admiring Peter’s contact photo as it lit up your screen, he was calling you. The photo was from a date 2 months ago.

He took you on a walk through Central Park, which was beautiful during the summertime.

The trees were beautifully green, and the weather was perfectly warm. He wore a black cap that day, which he rarely did.

As you two sat on a bench together, his arm sat behind you on the back of the bench. You couldn’t stop looking over at him as he spoke to you. Needless to say, he was very easy on the eyes that day. You took your phone out to take a photo. You raised it to your side to capture you both, and as soon as he realized you were taking a photo, he gave a thumbs-up and gave a little smirk smile to the camera. That picture has been your favorite of you two since then.

In that moment, you realized you were so in love with him. But you didn’t tell him. It still felt too early. And you weren’t exactly confident in the I-love-you-return. So you kept it to yourself, to this day.

Before it could go to voicemail from you accidentally staring at his contact photo, you answered his call.

“Hi!”

“Hi, Peter,” You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from smiling too much.

“Whatcha up to?”

“Nothing, just finished shopping at Target, I was bored.”

“Oh, okay. Are you busy?”

You checked the time, 2:43 PM.

“No, why?”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out at my place, for a bit.”

“Duh. I just gotta head back home and do get my stuff.”

“Okay! Just tell me when you’re on your way.”

“I will, See ya later, L-“ It was a habit for you to say that when ending a call and you almost did to Peter. Good catch, Y/N.

“See ya.”

You hung up the call, letting out the breath you were holding during the last second of the call. You almost fucked up, bad.

But would it have been so bad?

Peter’s birthday is today. Still, all you’ve gotten him is those three shirts.

You feel so shitty. So you quickly came up with a plan.

You would take him out to brunch, walk in central park, and sit on that same bench, and maybe maybe maybe tell him you love him?

Which is a horrible fucking birthday present especially if he doesn’t feel the same way and has to let you down easily. But, you want to let him know he’s important to you and no gift was able to speak that for you.

What’s there to lose to just say it to him?

Everything. You could lose everything you’ve built with him. Don’t say it, Y/N.

“Hey, Peter?” You turned your body to face him, you two were sitting in the exact bench.

“Hm?” He looked over at you, his eyebrows raised.

He was wearing the new blue flannel you bought him. You washed it for him the other day and gave it to him during brunch. Immediately he had put one on (your favorite that you picked out) and has been wearing it all day.

“I wanna tell you something,” No going back, do it. You have to.

“Okay.. What’s up?” His whole body was now facing you. All of his attention on you.

“I just- we’ve been together for five months now. Which is a long time with somebody, at least to me. And you’ve become such an important person in my life and being around you has become so routine that I can’t imagine any of my free time being spent without you.”

He slowly nodded, looking confused.

“I should’ve told you this months ago, but I didn’t. I was too nervous to tell you before, and it’s really not a good time to tell you — especially on your birthday — but I can’t keep it a secret anymore-”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?! Peter, no. Quite the opposite actually,” You joked, he didn’t know what you meant though.

“Oh, phew. I got really scared. You got all serious and then you started saying it wasn’t a good thing to tell me on my birthday-”

“I love you.” You blurted, interrupting his rambling.

He just stared at you, mouth still agape from him talking.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” You started to gather your things and about to stand up and leave.

“Wait. Do you? Like actually?” He gripped your wrist, stopping you.

“Yeah,” You turned your head away from him, feeling a blush creep on your face. This was embarrassing.

“I- I love you, too.” He stood up, and positioned his thumb under your jaw to turn your head towards him.

“Wha-”

“I love you.” He repeated himself, this time he was looking into your eyes.

You both leaned in, simultaneously.

“I said it first, but I love you too.” You pulled him by his collar and pressed your lips onto his.

After a moment, you felt him smile against your lips.

“What?” You asked, giggling as you opened your eyes to look at him.

“You love me,” He teased, tickling your sides.

“Don’t get cheesy.”

“No promises,” He laughed, leaning into another kiss.

“Happy birthday, Pete.”

hehehe. okay fr tho it is actually peter parker’s birthday today and i needed to make something. this was lowkey half-assed but i kinda like it so i’m just gonna post it 🥲🥲

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!! 💓

[poppurini]

FIVE LOVE LANGUAGES ：with lilia ヾ( ˃o˂ )◞

note. doing all five for this man bc i’m greedy

wc. 1566﹐gn!reader mostly but fem!reader in one small part of a section ig? in giving gifts!

giving gifts — for some people, receiving / giving a heartfelt gift is what makes them feel most loved.

this one’s a given! he loves travelling, so he’ll definitely bring you lots and lots of souvenirs. i feel like lilia’s definitely the kind to give you rings / bracelets / necklaces stored with the sand from the beach you two went to or something similar teehee. the kind to randomly gift you something even when there’s no special occasion. “this reminds me of you” kind of bf <3 definitely remembers the things you like / your preferences to make you even happier!

i also think lilia would gift you handmade crafts! the moment he finds out there are such creative ways to express one’s love to another? oh boy, he’s purchasing all the colour papers, glue sticks, popsicle sticks, whatever! yknow those diy cube thingies that could be opened and pictures are stuck to each and every side? yeah those. he’ll definitely make it colourful and sparkly! maybe even a little messy / some errors here and there but it’s just so lilia to do that, one look at it and people can guess who it’s from. it’s definitely much more endearing than picture-perfect ones.

flowers flowers flowers! he never forgets them. you might even need to remind him that you’ve ran out of vases! i’ve said this so many times in my lilia posts but i will die on this hill he gives you flowers native to briar valley, his homeland. not to mention the scented letters written in perfect cursive? the poems? just him spilling out all his love for you on ink? search for the meaning of those flowers and you’ll run into his arms crying and peppering his face with kisses, swear.

also loves matching with you! matching keychains, bracelets, necklaces, anklets, phone cases, rings (wink), pretty much everything. will buy “she’s my queen” “he’s my king” neon coloured couple t-shirts, ironically or not it’s up to your sanity. he’ll also give you rocks he finds cool looking he’s so stupid (i want to exchange vows with him)

acts of service — for these people, actions speak louder than words. these are nice things you do for your partner that make them feel loved and appreciated.

he likes doing things for you. trouble with homework? let him help! going somewhere? let him fly you! oh, your laundry’s piling up…let him play his favourite horror movie on the tv first! wanna take a drink but too lazy to get up from the bed? fine, fine, but you gotta give him a kiss as a reward later, kay? even though he could just use magic to float it towards you, he just wants an excuse to steal kisses.

definitely offers to cook but who would want that. so he’ll try his best to assist you in the kitchen upon your orders! no five tablespoons of salt or frog slime in the soup? tsk. he does dishes most of the time since he’s not allowed to cook in your kitchen anymore :(

this sounds so unserious but it gets me on my knees. he orders food / inquires concerns—“they asked for no pickles” that kind—for you if you’re too scared or shy to do it. no i will not elaborate further. also very casually swipes a few tissues, grabs your jaw gently and wipes the crumbs at the corner of your mouth while continue to hum to your words. if you complain about how you were planning on doing it yourself later he just chuckles and gives your cheek a teasing pat. oh, just let him take care of you, would you? he doesn’t mind, you just keep taking about your day and tell him about the kitten you saw. taking care of others is one of his best feats!

quality time — this is all about giving the other person your undivided attention. they feel loved if you are present and focused on them when you are together.

he will always, and i mean always, make time for you. he’s already old and gets a wild card to do whatever he wants in his life so ofc he’d want to spend it all on you! especially if he had no choice but to put you second hundreds of years ago back when he had royal duties (if you guys are already together then) he’ll definitely make it up to you now.

i feel like lilia is HEAVY on quality time due to his race as a fae and former general status, he knows far too well how fleeting time can be and how much you could lose from it, so he really appreciates time with you no matter how it’s spent. even lazing on the couch and having simple cuddles would be enough to make his old heart melt! him lying stomach down in between your legs and resting his cheek on your stomach; just wrapping his arms around your figure and snuggling in, he’ll groan like he’s getting a professional full body massage when you play with his hair / massage his scalp.

but of course he still wishes to travel around the globe with you, his darling love. just think of the amount of things you two are going to experience! witnessing new cultures and sights, the inevitable small arguments during vacations, sliding the curtains open fully at the break of dawn to let the sun shine on your sleepy figure and hearing your groggy groans, catching the pillow you throw at him, they’ve got lilia’s heart thumping loudly in its cage.

psst, as a bonus, tell him you want attention while he’s gaming and he’ll immediately log out for you <3 eh, he can tackle this raid later. sorry user gloomurai!

words of affirmation — this language uses words to affirm other people. it’s about expressing affection through spoken words, praise, or appreciation.

SCREAMS TILL MY VOCAL CHORDS BREAK he has no qualms repeating his affection and admiration for you, especially if you’re someone who constantly craves it; he’ll gladly remind you every minute of the day. lilia would cradle you in his arms, humming a calm tune while caressing your skin and pressing chaste kisses to your forehead / hair every now and then.

pats your head reassuringly and lets you bury yourself into his shoulder / chest if you’re feeling particularly clingy that day; telling you how pretty you are, how cute you are, how your silly little jokes and laughs got him feeling like a schoolboy in love—“you know, like those, what do you call it? shoujo mangas?”—and how you got this legendary former war general completely wrapped around your finger.

i think there’s something so beautiful about one accepting your flaws and aiding you to solve the problem if it’s possible instead of just brushing you off by singing false praises…and that’s what my interpretation of lilia is. what’s that? you feel bad for being a “burden” and not good enough for him? nonsense. he loves you with his entire heart and soul, that also includes loving your flaws and helping you through it.

now, that doesn’t mean he thinks you’re a burden or unworthy of him, but he’ll find the root of the problem together with you to know why you feel this way so he could truly help you through it and make you feel better about yourself, it’s what you deserve. it really aches the man’s heart to hear you speak of yourself so negatively when all he thinks of you is everything good and butterflies in his stomach.

physical touch — to this person, nothing speaks more deeply than appropriate physical touch. they feel love through physical affection.

lilia loves having an arm around your waist, caressing it gently with his thumb while he nods and listens attentively to you talk about your day. he’ll gently brush a stray strand of hair out of the way or tuck it behind your ear to get a better view of your— what, you look better with your hair framing your face? wrong! you look good whenever and right now he wants to admire your pretty face with no obstacles in the way.

his hand, although small, is firm and heavy against yours. absolutely loves intertwining your fingers together and rubbing his thumb on your skin, he’ll kiss the inside of your wrist while looking into your eyes with a warm gaze, always the romantic.

one of the things that makes him absolutely go weak is you sitting on his lap!! probably likes you straddling him most because he gets to be closest with you that way. it isn’t even about being sensual he just adores holding your body close against his, melting into each other’s warm and secure embrace with no care in the world.

when you’re in this position, you’ll find him speaking in a softer tone, perhaps even a little deeper than his usual voice (see: general lilia times). maybe he’s doing it on purpose because he knows it flusters you or maybe he just feels safe and allows himself to be vulnerable around you. he’ll do reassuring caresses on your thighs, waist, or both; drawing random patterns and sometimes even telling you to guess them with a small chuckle.

he’s always holding you with such tender love and care it undoubtedly makes you melt each and every time, and he’s not even trying. his hold just harbours such genuine love and affection for you, it’s another way of exposing his feelings bare to you if he wasn’t speaking up about it already. he’d love to touch you at all times if possible, it’s a solid reminder that you’re still here, with him.

he cups your cheek benevolently with one hand, caressing the heated skin and giving chaste kisses to those lips he’s addicted to, murmuring promises and affection that holds true while the other hand wraps reassuringly, tightly, perhaps even desperately around your waist, he’s not going anywhere and neither are you.

written and posted by millie. copying, reposting, rewriting, or uploading on other platforms are strictly prohibited.

[oharamwah]

Hii, LOVE your work, you write amazing fluff with Miguel, makes me giggle and blush every time💘

Could I request Miguel with a reader whose love language is gifts and they are just used to buying and making lots of stuff for their loved ones, but not used to receiving it? Not like they can't accept it, but it's just new to them. And so Miguel remembers a little simple detail the reader likes (their fav flower for example) and gives it to them, while reader just goes error head empty

♡ — no returns or exchanges : miguel wants you to be treated as sweetly as you treat others → 1.05k

boyfriend!miguel x gn!reader

contents : you and miguel’s anniversary, miguel being attentive and spoiling his lovely one <3<3, mentions of baker!reader !!! (as a hobby)

posted july 29th - to be edited !

© oharamwah, please do not steal my work.

your entire life, you’ve been a giver. you find joy in shopping and piecing things together for others and you’ve been hand making all your cards for as long as you can remember. friends and family always looked forward to their birthdays because they knew you’d go all out.

so when you and miguel first started dating, you would smother him in gifts. whether it be writing him small notes everyday or baking him his favourite pastries, you’d take any chance to do something nice for him.

miguel’s love language is a little different. he’s always been one to spend more time with those he loves, maybe giving them a gift once in a while or on special occasions, but quality time meant the most to him.

the two of you were different, night and day, but you were both content with that.

miguel would take time out of his busy schedule to stay the night at your place and you would provide dinner — it was perfect.

today marks you and miguel’s 1 year anniversary, and you are beyond excited. you’ve been planning his present for months prior; your boyfriend isn’t big on shopping for others or himself. shoes worn out? they still fit him though. shirt has a hole in it? he’ll just use it to sleep. if it ain’t broke, he is not fixing it. even if it is a little (very) broken.

so, you decided to buy him two brand new outfits, shoes and all.

you sit anxiously cross legged on the floor of your bedroom with a box in front of you. the box is pink and sealed with white ribbons — rather girly, miguel would say, but it was all you had.

you’re hoping he likes the clothes you picked out. due to his lack of interest in fashion, you aren’t exactly sure what miguel likes to wear. you know he’ll tell you he “likes whatever you pick out”, but you know that boyfriends usually say that to be sweet. you don’t want him to be sweet, you want him to genuinely like the things you pick out. the pressure of it being your very first anniversary didn’t make your breathing any steadier, either.

the sound of your phone ringing interrupted your anxious thoughts. you glance over to your right and there it is, miguel’s contact picture glowing brightly. it’s a sweet photo of the two of you, your arms wrapped tightly around miguel’s waist mid swing. your first swing together. you remember that day like it was yesterday, the rush of being loose in the air and the freedom of knowing no one could get to either of you.

you sigh with a smile and excitedly pick up the phone, immediately pressing answer.

“hey miguel,” he can hear the smile on your voice, “you almost here?”

“hi, i’m outside.” he says in a pant.

you heart skips a beat when you hear the last two words. you get off your bedroom floor and skip over to the front door, taking a peak through the peephole.

the sight you see is precious — miguel, your boyfriend, standing with his hands filled with balloons and flowers and bags, and best of all, his charming closed-mouth smile plastered on his face.

you open the door and the man before you is even better through a naked eye. you can smell his cologne, one you had bought him as a birthday present, and his smile widens upon seeing you.

“hi honey,” he says, but you don’t let him speak any further. before you know it, your arms are flung around his neck causing him to stumble back a bit, his arms barely able to reciprocate the hug.

“miguel!” you gasp, finally pulling away.

“happy anniversary, y/n.”

you’re both smiling at each other, absolutely captivated by each other. the moment is so perfect; the sun is just beginning to set, the air is just right, and miguel is with you.

you let him inside and he sets down all the presents except for one, a bouquet. he takes slow steps over to you, holding the bouquet out in front of him.

“for you,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“miguel,” you sing, accepting the flowers a small pout on your face. ‘they’re my favourite,’ you think.

“i hope you like them. i had to ask around a few times but,”

“they’re perfect, miguel. absolutely perfect.” you smile up at him.

“here, i got you a few things.”

miguel starts handing you the bags one by one, each one from a different luxury shop. there are five in total.

you’re still pouting, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the surplus of presents. you don’t really know how to react, given that you’re always the one in miguel’s shoes.

as he hands you the last bag, he notices the sullen look on your face and he pauses.

“you okay honey?”

you feel a bit awkward — no one’s ever spoiled you this much in your entire life.

your eyes are a little shiny when you make eye contact with miguel, causing him to instantly grow worried. his first instinct is always to pull you into a hug.

“oh, baby,” he says, his voice expressing great concern. his arms make their way around your figure.

“what is it? something hurt?”

you shake your head into his chest. you can hear his heartbeat and it’s a little faster than it should be. he pulls back to look at you, and he looks sorry.

“is it the presents? do you not like them?”

you shake your head again.

“they’re wonderful, miguel.” you sniffle, looking up at him with a rueful grin.

“i’m just.. so happy.” you say in a soft breath. miguel’s face goes from troubled to relieved to in love.

“i’m glad you’re happy, sweetheart.” he smiles. “i’m so happy too.”

you tip toe a little to give miguel a kiss. one of thanks, one to say all the words you can’t think of to show him just how much him being there meant to you.

and even with no words, miguel know’s he’s done it. he’s found a part of him whose heart is meant to be a giver, and he was finally able to make you a receiver for the first time in your life.

a/n : enjoy my angels ♡

[ladamedusoif]

Provenance

A Gentleman Thief x F!Museum Professional Reader Story

Part of the HCU (Heritage Crimes Universe) - click for masterlist

Pairing: The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) x F!Museum Professional Reader

Summary: Two months after their reunion, the museum curator finds herself on an unexpected Parisian adventure. 

Content warnings: Smut; Oral sex (F receiving); unprotected but safe PiV sex; discussion of contraception; alcohol consumption; angst; discussion of illegal acquisition of stolen objects during WW2; (ethical) heritage crimes; theft; sort-of fluff; no physical description of Reader beyond her professional attire, though she has a nickname (chérie).

Rating: E (18+ MDNI)

Word count: ~7,500

A/N: They're back! The Thief is just too charming to resist. A follow-up to My Kiss, Only For You and Reunions.

I am no longer using a taglist: please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to keep up to date with my work.

The package is, unmistakably, a book. Wrapped in brown paper, a neatly-typed address label affixed to the front. No return address. 

It’s pretty explicitly addressed to you, though. Right down to the department. You rack your brain, trying to remember whether you’d ordered something and forgotten. Or maybe it’s a gift?

You slip it out of the wrapping carefully. The dust jacket design suggests it’s from the 1950s, 1960s at the latest, but it’s in impeccable condition. 

The Museums of Paris: A Guide

The front cover features a photo of the Louvre, the facades still soot-blackened before their cleaning in the later part of the twentieth century, with beautifully-dressed tourists milling around the old entrance to the museum. 

Before you can leaf through the book, seeking a receipt or gift card or invoice of some kind, your desk phone rings. The museum director. And they want to speak to you: now. 

***

“We’ve had an…unusual request.”

You slip into the old leather chair opposite the director’s desk, covered in papers and catalogues. “An unusual request?”

She takes off her dark-framed glasses and smiles. “One of our major donors. They’re potentially about to buy some important art objects from a private Parisian collector, and we are hoping that - in time - they might donate them to us.”

“Okay…”

“But they don’t feel entirely confident appraising the collection without expert guidance.”

You nod slowly. 

The director looks at you as if she’s waiting for the penny to drop. 

“They want you to go to Paris with them, as an expert consultant. They will pay for all your expenses, travel, per diems - the lot.”

You just about manage to stop your jaw falling open. 

“Um…why me? I’m not one of the senior curators or object specialists, maybe they…”

She holds up a perfectly-manicured hand. “Stop there. The donor has explicitly requested you. They believe you are the best equipped to manage their needs on this job.”

“Uh… okay. So, when do I leave?”

She grins. “Two days’ time. And bring some decent clothes - you know how formal some of the French collectors can be.”

As you return to the office, a sensual memory flashes through your brain. Velvet, the colour of good Burgundy wine. Soft lips, coarse beard. Warm bodies pressed together. The most intense orgasm you’ve had in years, maybe ever.

It couldn’t be, surely. It was almost two months since that night and there’d been no missive, no note, nothing. The director said “them”, didn’t she? Not “he”. 

Besides, she’d said the donor was buying the objects. Not, you chuckle to yourself as you sit at your desk, stealing them. However ethical his motives may be. 

Still. No harm in packing some nice lingerie. Just in case.

***

It is still dark when your phone buzzes to let you know that the car - paid for and sent by the client - is waiting outside, ready to bring you to the airport for your transatlantic flight to Paris. 

You’d expected an Uber, not the gleaming black vehicle pulled up outside your building. Suitcase securely stowed, the driver points out the bottled water and snacks located in the back of the car as he sets off through deserted city streets. 

The surprises keep coming. You are in business class, not coach, for the long flight, resisting the urge to kick your feet and squeal with delight at the unexpected luxury. A smartly-dressed man holds a sign with your name on at Arrivals, and for a moment you wonder if this is the client. He’s another driver, of course - a charming and funny young Frenchman called Youssef, who speaks English with a vague American accent he says he picked up from TV and movies. 

Youssef whisks you into the city, pointing out landmarks along the way. The Eiffel Tower comes into view on the other side of the river as the black car negotiates elegant, narrow streets lined with perfectly-maintained nineteenth-century apartment buildings. 

“Et voilà!” Youssef stops the car and hops out to retrieve your suitcase. You step out, expecting to see the entrance to a hotel - but instead it’s just another residential building, sealed off from the city by two huge, heavy, dark green doors. 

With a bright smile, Youssef taps a little tag off a keypad and one of the doors swings open, revealing a passage leading to a gorgeous courtyard beyond. He refuses your tip - “it’s all good, madame!” - and instead picks up your bag and leads the way, opening another door to reveal the entrance hall proper. The marble floor is polished to perfection; dark red carpet covers the staircase that wraps around the elevator shaft; and there is not a sound to be heard.

”Sixth floor, madame. They’re waiting for you there.” He slides back the door of the elevator, slots your case in beside you, and presses the button. “Have a nice day!”

The elevator is old - possibly pre-World War One, you muse, unable to turn off the specialist’s mind - and slow. As it ascends, you take a moment to gather your thoughts and process this strange little adventure. 

If this was a movie, you’d be walking into a meeting of a criminal gang - or maybe to your death, you suddenly think, panic taking over for a second as the lift comes to a shuddering stop and you step out onto the sixth floor landing.

There is only one apartment entrance up here, as far as you can see. Dark red double doors, perfectly polished brass doorknobs and fittings adorning them, and a tiny doorbell discreetly tucked alongside the doorframe on one side. 

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and hover your finger over the button. 

The door to the apartment swings open just as your fingertip makes contact with the doorbell, setting off a loud, sonorous bell somewhere within and making you jump.

”Bienvenue, chérie. Come in, won’t you? I do hope I haven’t frightened you.”

***

“You know, if you wanted to ask me out again you could have just called or emailed, like a normal person.”

He hands you a cup of strong black coffee and joins you on the couch in the apartment’s enormous living room. 

“Do you think I’m a normal person?”

You take a sip and chuckle. “You are definitely not a normal person.”

He smiles in satisfaction, eyes taking you in from head to toe as you feel a warmth building deep within.

”It’s very, very good to see you, chérie.” His voice is warm and honeyed, an inviting purr that makes you ache between your legs. 

Today, he is wearing a black cashmere turtleneck with a pair of perfectly-tailored grey dress pants and some heavy, brown-framed glasses. It’s all you can do not to climb on top of him. 

“It’s been almost two months, Thief. Did you forget about me?”

He shakes his head, eyes softening with what you want to believe is genuine regret. “Never. I had to spend some time away, in South America - dealing with the family business, you know - and then I came here, to look at Madame Deseine’s…collection.”

The way he enunciates the final word gives you pause. What was in this “collection”?

“So my invitation here was just an excuse to see me, is that it? Because you weren’t back in the city yet?”

He looks at you in surprise. “Of course not! I mean, I’m very happy to see you again.” A little smile, eyes twinkling. “But no, I need your expertise. And your company is…a nice bonus.”

“My expertise?”

He sits back and crosses his legs, holding your gaze. “You are a specialist in the kinds of decorative arts and objects in Madame Deseine’s collection, I believe. And you are fluent in French. Year abroad in Lyon, correct?”

Your mouth falls open and you quirk your head. “How did… have you been… were you digging for information on me? That’s a violation of trust, and -“

He interrupts your fury with a chuckle. “Chérie, it’s all on your museum staff page profile. Qualifications, time abroad, special areas of expertise.”

You blush, embarrassed, and stare down into the dark swirl of your coffee as an awkward silence takes hold in the apartment’s tasteful interior. 

“I’m sorry, chérie. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Trust me, you are exactly the right person for the job.” 

He extends a hand towards yours, long fingers gently stroking the back of your hand. When you look up, his dark eyes are warm and genuinely apologetic. 

“I guess I’m not used to being…pursued, like this.”

He arches an eyebrow. “In what sense?”

You smirk and stand up. “In every sense, Thief. Now: are you going to explain this ‘job’ to me or not?”

His gaze - taking you in, a smile on his lips - is enough to set you aflame. 

“I am. But over dinner, I think.”

***

The waiter perfectly pours a little more white wine into each of your glasses before returning the bottle to the stainless steel ice bucket and leaving the two of you to your meals. 

He raises his glass to you, and you return the gesture.

You were not surprised when the car had pulled up outside an elegant, discreet restaurant tucked away in the Seventh Arrondissement. It was exactly his style: subtle, timeless, and exuding quality even before he held the door open and you stepped inside.

“So.” He swallows a bite of his monkfish and takes a sip of wine. “Madame Deseine.”

“Madame Deseine.”

You start to eat your meal as he explains. A genuine and respected art collector, Madame Deseine lived outside Paris in her family’s country estate, surrounded by an exceptional array of mostly nineteenth and early twentieth-century paintings, decorative arts, sculpture and furniture. As she grew older, she had begun to sell some parts of the collection - but remained extremely guarded about its exact contents.

“There are some…questions about the provenance of some of the items in the collection, or at least items we think are in the collection. Mostly late nineteenth-century decorative arts - clocks, vases, that sort of thing - but also some small art nouveau sculptures and figurines.”

You take a sip of your wine and narrow your eyes. “And this is where you come in?”

He nods. 

“You’re planning to steal some of her collection?”

He shakes his head, pauses, then nods before shaking his head again.

“Kind of, not really. Didn’t you hear what I said about provenance?”

“You think she’s not being entirely honest about her methods, about how she came by the collection?” In a world increasingly attuned to the repatriation of looted and stolen objects to their rightful place, you were deeply familiar with the importance of the provenance paper trail. 

He dabs at the corner of his mouth with the linen napkin. “Some of the collection. I believe that some of the collection came into her family as a result of looting and theft, that these items were not restored to their rightful owners, and that she is well aware of this fact.”

“You know that some of the most important art collectors in France before the war were Jewish families, no doubt.” You nod and he continues. “And that many of those families, even if they were in the minority lucky enough to escape the round-ups and the camps, had to leave behind those collections.”

”And when they were gone, the collections were…dispersed.”

He shakes his head. “Not dispersed. Stolen. Some of the surviving members of those families had their possessions located and restored, but not all. And I have been reliably informed that some of those missing items are currently in the hands of Madame Claudine Deseine.”

You swallow a bite of your salmon and size him up. “Aha. And this is why an ethical gentleman thief is required, I suppose?”

He gives you a knowing smile. The way the candlelight catches the coppery flecks in his brown eyes makes your breath catch for an instant. 

“I have been asked by a number of individuals to retrieve the objects stolen from their families over eighty years ago, and which have made their way into Madame Deseine’s collection without regard for their provenance.” He chews thoughtfully on a steamed green bean. 

“So where, exactly, do I come in, Thief?”

”I am going to buy some of the collection. But in order to be sure that the missing objects are in the Deseine chateau and to cross-check the gaps in the provenance records…I need to gain her trust. Or rather - you need to gain her trust.”

You raise your eyebrows and take another sip of wine. You might need something stronger by the end of the night.

”You aren’t seriously asking me to steal art, are you?” you hiss. He shakes his head furiously.

”Absolutely not. But I know Claudine Deseine’s reputation, and I know she won’t just let a potential buyer see the whole of her collection. She will, however, be a little more welcoming to a specialist who has kindly agreed to evaluate the items properly. Oh, and to look through the provenance records, to save us all time.”

”So what, I just turn up with you and hope she lets me into her secret stash of stolen stuff?”

He chuckles at the alliteration. “Not quite. But you may need to butter her up, tell her you’ve heard extraordinary things about the rare items she has, ask if she might let you see these things you’ve only read about in catalogues. And when you’re in, you can use your expertise to confirm that these are the items we are looking for, and then look for any gaps or obvious forgeries in the accompanying paperwork.”

”And how, exactly, do you propose to liberate the items from this chateau?”

He taps his nose. “Chérie, telling you that would make you completely complicit. I will handle it, you will wait in the apartment.”

You purse your lips. “I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing to this.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Deseine has knowingly sat on these things too long - why else would she hide these valuable items from any public descriptions of her collection? The government ignores the claims from the descendants because, for the most part, they live in the US.” He finishes the remaining wine in his glass. “And I, personally, cannot resist a challenge.”

“I have one condition. Apart from not becoming more implicated in this than I already am.”

“Name it.”

”That. That’s my condition. I want your name.”

He chuckles and looks down at his empty dinner plate. “Chérie, I cannot.”

”You’re asking me to help you steal back some very valuable art, and you can’t give me your name?”

”If you know my name you will know too much. And I don’t know why you need to know, anyway.”

You roll your eyes. “I like to know who I’m working with. And, on occasion, who I’m sleeping with, or who’s eating me out on my desk.”

To your satisfaction, he splutters on his sparkling water. 

”I still can’t tell you,” he says, recovering his composure.

”Nothing stopping me guessing, though,” you whisper mischievously. “Let’s see. Giacomo.”

He gives you a withering glance.

”Not that, then…Pietro.”

An eye-roll. 

“Dave.”

”Do I look like a ‘Dave’ to you?”

You giggle as the waiter takes away your empty plates. “No, that’s true. Pierre?”

He groans and shakes his head, but his smile is unmistakable. “Don’t make me regret this, chérie.”

***

Back in the apartment, he rummages in a sideboard filled with bottles of various liqueurs and spirits, before producing a bottle of Courvoisier and two cognac glasses.

“A little digestif, if you’d like?” 

You accept your glass gratefully and inhale the complex, fruity aroma of the alcohol, swirling it gently before taking a sip. Its warmth radiates through your body and you close your eyes and savour the sensation, tucking your feet under you as you cosy up on the couch.

“Tell me about the apartment.”

He smiles, looking around the spacious living room, its nineteenth century interior fixtures somehow matching perfectly with the array of impeccably-chosen twentieth-century furniture. 

“My great-great-grandfather bought it, not long after this building was constructed - late nineteenth century, I think. The family business frequently brought him to Paris, and he needed a base.”

“And the family business is…?”

He huffs a laugh. “You are persistent, chérie. Wine. The family business was - is - wine.” 

You raise your eyebrows and nod as if extremely impressed, and he chuckles, revealing the laughter lines around his eyes that lend his handsome face such character. 

“Well, I can’t pretend to be an expert - what do they call it? An…oenophile, is that it? - so I’m not going to ask for any more details, fear not. My wine knowledge extends no further than ‘that’s quite nice, isn’t it.’”

He feigns horror, recoiling back into the cushions of the sofa. “Chérie, I am going to have to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

You giggle and take another sip of the cognac. “I’m willing to learn, though.”

“That so? Well, I can be your guide, if you’d like.” He finishes his cognac and licks his lips as he looks at you. 

“I…I would like.”

He smiles, takes your glass, and stands up. You follow his lead, wandering behind him into the kitchen where he deposits the empty glasses on a pristine countertop. Every fibre of your being wants to reach for him, to pull him to you, to have him there and then.

“Chérie, I…didn’t want to presume anything.” He swallows hard and turns to face you, eyes a little wary. “About, uh, sleeping arrangements. Hence the guest bedroom.”

You had changed there earlier - a bright, pretty bedroom at one end of the corridor running along the apartment, complete with its own small en suite bathroom. 

“Oh. Of course.” You flush. “A busy day tomorrow.”

His hand finds yours, long fingers caressing yours before he brings it to his lips for a soft, sustained kiss that does nothing to quench the flames of your desire.

“Indeed. That said, if you want company…”

You see the spark in his eyes: teasing, playful, almost daring you to act first. Instead, you meet his gaze with an enigmatic smile.

He pulls away slightly and arches an eyebrow. “If you want company, I am just down the hall. Bonne nuit, chérie.”

***

In the quiet of the guest room you slip out of your clothes and into a wine-coloured silk robe you’d found hanging on the back of the door, freshly pressed. You retrieve your washbag and toiletries and set about your nightly routine. 

You hoped it would be a distraction from the ache between your legs, from the memory of his hand on yours, from the way he looked at you, from his offer of company. From the wet patch you’d noticed on your panties as you undressed. 

“Fuck.”

You close your eyes and lean on the sink for a moment as you take a deep breath before reaching for your moisturiser.

***

He’s sitting on his bed, stripped to his boxers and clad in his own, navy blue silk robe. It hangs open around his body, the colour a perfect complement for his golden skin. 

A knock. He lifts his head from his papers.

“Come in, chérie.”

She peeks playfully around the door. “I was wondering if that offer was still valid. I think I do want some…company.”

“It’s still valid.” He tidies away the paperwork and pats the space beside him on the large bed. “What kind of company did you have in mind?”

She crosses the room, hands reaching for the sash of her guest robe. It falls open as she reaches the bed, revealing the lacy bra and matching French knickers underneath. He inhales sharply, cock twitching at the sight. 

“Up to you. This is your turf, after all.” 

“Ah, but you’re the guest, chérie. Your preference is what counts.”

She shucks off the robe and climbs onto the bed, swiftly straddling him. With a slow roll of her hips, she drags her pussy over his hardening cock, the outline visible under his dark boxers.

“This is my preference. Does it work for you, too, Thief?”

He answers with a hungry kiss as he pulls her tight to him.

***

He tastes of mint and cinnamon and the faintest trace of Courvoisier. You had missed his mouth.

His fingers unhook the clasps of your bra and he tugs it off you, discarding it to a corner of the room. He breaks the kiss, lips pink and wet, and turns his attention to your tits: cupping them, fondling them, squeezing them with his broad hands before he starts to suck on each nipple in turn.

You toss back your head and bite your lip, stifling a loud moan. He releases your breast with a pop of his mouth.

“This apartment is the entire top floor, chérie. You can be as loud as you wish.”

Two fingers tug aside the crotch of your panties and find the warm wetness that’s been building between your legs all day. He looks up at you and grins. 

“On your back, amor.”

French knickers off, he gently pushes your thighs back before resting your legs over his shoulders. He buries his face against your pussy with a delighted groan, the delicious timbre of his voice rumbling against your core. 

He licks a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, a hand pressing against your belly as your hips instinctively buck upwards with pleasure and need. His tongue swirls lasciviously across your folds, lapping up the wetness, before he begins to suck on your clit. Slow at first, a gorgeous torment; then faster, more insistent, the tip of his tongue flicking over and back over the swollen nub rhythmically in time with your needy moans and whimpers. 

He keeps it up as he slips first one, then two fingers inside you and hooks them just so, chuckling when you cry out.

“Fuck…I’m close, I -“

You let go. You come hard against his face, ecstasy coursing through your body as he keeps on fucking you through it with his fingers, gently pulling out when he senses your overstimulation. 

He moves up and lies beside you, face to face. 

“You enjoyed that.”

You try to slow your breathing. “You think?”

He chuckles, tracing the curve of your hip with his hand. “I enjoyed it, too.”

“And no jewel theft involved this time. So far, anyway.”

He closes his eyes and smiles, humming contentedly as he reaches for your breast, idly rubbing your nipple with his thumb. 

You study his features for a moment, noting the handful of freckles on his face, the way his dark lashes look against his cheeks, the gloss of your own slick shimmering across his pink lips, his chin, his moustache. 

This time, when your tongue swipes against his mouth, he tastes of you. 

You gather some of your own wetness on your fingers by way of lubrication, before tugging down his boxers and taking his cock in your hand. He closes his eyes as you stroke him slowly, steadily, feeling him growing harder under your careful touch.

With your free hand you caress the side of his face, thumb rubbing gently against the grey patches in his beard. 

“I want you, Thief.” 

He opens his eyes and smiles before gently moving your hand away from his cock. He shucks off his robe and shifts into position above you, arms caging your body on either side. 

“You know, I’m on birth control,” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes. “And you were the last person I was with, and before that…well, it had been a while.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Same. Well, not the birth control, evidently…but the rest. No one but you, not for some time. So…?”

You trail your fingers over his chest, dappled here and there with freckles, and he leans down to kiss you. Different, this time - softer, less desperate, more…tender.

“So you can have me bare, if you want.” 

“Oh fuck, chérie. Yes. Please.” He gestures with his head. “Turn, get on all fours.”

You do as you are told, teasingly wiggling your ass at him once you’re in position. He gives it a light slap and you squeal approvingly until the feeling of his cock opening you up makes you catch your breath.

He sinks slowly inside you, pausing when he’s fully sheathed in your warm pussy. You can hear his breathing becoming a little ragged, hitching as he adjusts to the feeling.

”Feel good, Thief?”

”Incredible, amor. You?” 

“Fucking amazing.”

He takes you slowly at first, a long drag out, a quicker thrust back inside, and builds up a rhythm quickly. The angle is nothing short of perfect and you bury your face against the covers, whining with pleasure. He reaches down and grabs one of your breasts, fingers pressing into the flesh as he fucks you harder and faster. 

“Such a beautiful body, amor. So soft and warm and fuck, such a tight little pussy for me. You feel so perfect on my cock.”

He’s hitting you just right now, another orgasm building rapidly until you come for the second time, muffling your cries in the blankets. You turn to look at him: broad body glistening with perspiration, errant curls falling over his forehead and darkened with sweat, that gorgeous head thrown back as he gets closer and closer.

”Come on, Thief.” You purr your encouragement, never taking your eyes off him. “Come on. Come. Fill me up.”

He comes hard, with a loud cry, hands gently caressing your hips as he finishes deep inside you. 

”I think you missed me.” 

He flops back on the bed and turns to face you as you nestle against him. A mischievous grin plays around his lips. “What on earth makes you say that, chérie?”

You kiss his forehead, tasting the salty sweetness of his damp skin. “Just a hunch. By the way, I have an even better reason why I need to know your name.”

He groans and rolls his eyes affectionately. “Well?”

”Well…if I knew your name, I could scream it out loud the next time you make me come like that.”

His eyes widen and he grins. “You could, I suppose.”

”So? What’s your name…Pablo.”

He fixes you with a teasing glare. “Not Pablo.”

”James. Jimmy. Jimbob?”

He can’t help but burst out laughing this time. “Fine. Fine. Let’s make a deal. If we succeed with Madame Deseine, I’ll give you a name.”

”A name?” The distinction is striking.

”A name. It may or may not be my name. But it will be a name. Deal?”

“Deal.”

***

The morning mist hangs low over the French countryside as you drive through the enormous gateway that divides the Deseine estate from the rest of the world, and follow the long drive up to the chateau proper.

You had expected that Youssef would be on driving duty. But it was your gentleman thief at the wheel of the understated hire car, confidently navigating the autoroutes and trunk roads that led to your destination. For a moment you imagine a parallel universe where you are just a normal couple on a normal holiday, not a nameless thief and a museum curator plotting to relieve a woman of her family’s ill-gotten gains.

He had slept well, it seemed. You? Not so much. In the wee small hours of the morning, you lay awake, listening to his steady breaths and ruminating over what, exactly, you were doing here - and why.

He isn’t your partner. Not your boyfriend. Hell, you don’t know if you could call this “dating”. You don’t even know who he is. He stole from your employer because you let your pussy override your brain. He brought you to Paris to aid and abet in another theft. And, instead of turning on your heel and trying to protect your professional reputation, you’d not only agreed to his scheme - you’d fucked him. Again. 

You’d tossed and turned on the pillows as you tried to quiet your mind enough for sleep. Was this really just about sex? Or was something else pulling you into each other’s orbits?

The Deseine chateau emerges at the end of the driveway. It appears at first glance to date from the eighteenth century, with some later additions and extensions. He pulls up near the main door and hops out of the car, quickly bounding over to the passenger side so he can hold the door for you. 

“What a gentleman,” you whisper, straightening the smart blazer and palazzo pants you’d worn for the occasion. 

“At your service,” he replies with a subtle wink. “Just as I was when you needed…company. How are you feeling this morning, by the way? Satisfied, I hope.”

Before you can answer, the enormous main doors of the chateau swing open and a petite woman with snow-white hair emerges, clad in a vintage bouclé Chanel skirt and matching jacket. He moves swiftly up the steps to shake her hand, speaking too quietly for you to pick up on whatever name he’s using today.

“And this is my expert, my advisor, my guiding light!” He gestures towards you, motioning for you to join them. You introduce yourself with a bright smile, trying to read the older woman’s expression, to get a sense of how you might gain her trust.

“It is an honour to be here, Madame. I’m so excited to see the collection.”

Claudine Deseine casts an appraising glance over you from head to toe. Seemingly satisfied, she extends her hand in greeting and addresses you in clipped, precise English. 

“It is very special, I think you’ll agree. Now, do come in - I’ll have my housekeeper Maryam bring us some coffee, and then we can take a look at the objects we’ve discussed.”

***

He is gentlemanly charm personified, you think, watching him follow Madame Deseine around the house. He flirts just enough to have the older woman like putty in his hands, listens attentively, laughs at her jokes, and looks at her with a familiar twinkle in his eyes. 

The recognition gives you pause, but you push it to the back of your mind. You have a plan to stick to today.

She leads the two of you into a bright room at the back of the chateau, overlooking a gorgeous French-style formal garden. “Well, here they are.” She gestures towards a large oak table in the middle of the room, where a variety of figurines and decorative objects are set out. You’d known what to expect: mostly art nouveau, dating from decades either side of 1900; some bronze figures; some beautifully-decorated ceramics, glazes still bright and vibrant; and what you immediately recognise as a small, early Lalique crystal vase.

He claps his hands together in what looks like genuine delight, eyes widening as he moves closer to the table. “May I?”

Madame Deseine beams and nods. He carefully picks up one of the vases, inspecting the swirling, sinuous curves of its painted decoration before checking the makers’ marks on the bottom of the piece. 

“Extraordinary,” he says in a rapt whisper.

“Madame?” She turns to face you. “Would it be possible for me to see the paperwork while he - while my client is inspecting the objects? It would save your valuable time, and you’ve already been so kind to accommodate us.”

She beams. “Of course. Follow me, won’t you?” She opens another door leading off the room and pauses for a moment. 

“I’ll be back tout de suite, monsieur,” she purrs at him as he peers at a bronze figurine. “Please, make yourself at home.”

“You really are most kind, Madame.” He winks, and the esteemed Claudine Deseine titters like a schoolgirl.

***

She flicks a switch and illuminates a large, windowless room located at the rear of the house, in what you suspect might be the former servants’ quarters. “Et voilà. The archive.”

The walls are lined with shelving, filled with hundreds of archive boxes and files. You begin to scan the shelves, trying to work out a pattern in the filing system. 

“They are labelled according to date of acquisition,” she explains. “Achats, purchases, by year.”

You look at her with an expression that you hope conveys innocent confusion. “Gosh, it’s all such a lot. Could you give me dates for the items being sold? Ballpark, if necessary - I just know he’s a stickler for the paperwork but he’s impatient and he won’t take kindly to me taking a long time in here…”

She smiles and nods sympathetically, and for a moment you feel incredibly guilty. “Ah. Men. I understand, my dear.” She pulls out an unmarked, unlabelled box file from the top shelf and retrieves a spiral-bound book.

“This is strictly entre-nous, my dear. My personal catalogue. Everything by date. Let this be your guide. And now, I must return to monsieur.” She looks at you conspiratorially. “If he becomes - how do they say it, antsy? - then he can simply take a walk in my beautiful gardens, hmmm?”

***

He strolls past the elegantly-trimmed box hedges as he makes his way to the elaborate water feature at the centre of the gardens. He couldn’t quite believe how well it had all worked out, so far - your complaint about his impatience had, as planned, won you her sympathy and with it an order from the lady of the house to go and see the gardens while you worked through the papers. 

If necessary, he’d have feigned illness, claimed he needed some air. But it’s always better when they play right into your hands, with something they believe is their idea. 

The gardens are perfectly positioned to give him a view of the back of the house: the doors leading to a terrace, the smaller windows and discreet servants’ entrance. His dark eyes survey the building closely, making a mental map he’ll refer to when he finalises the plan. He has his suspicions, but he needs you to confirm exactly where the collections are hidden. For now, he just hopes you can unlock the final part of the puzzle. 

***

A knock on the door announces the return of Claudine Deseine. 

“Well, have you found what you needed? I do hope the catalogue was useful.”

Little do you know, Madame. 

You replace the lid on a box of papers and nod at a stack of receipts and records of authenticity relevant to the items he was perusing for purchase. 

“Very useful, thank you, Madame.” 

You swallow hard and slow your breathing as you follow her out of the room. 

“Madame, may I - may I make a somewhat bold request?”

She raises an eyebrow. “You may. What is it?”

“I couldn’t help but notice the entries for some of Lalique’s cire perdue work when I was looking at the catalogue. Pieces so rare that we only know they exist because of René Lalique’s own records…”

“Yes. And?” 

“My masters dissertation was on Lalique, Madame. Is there…would you…could I…?”

She stares at you before her features soften into a smile. 

“You want to see them, don’t you?”

***

“Well?”

He waited until you were out of the estate before asking the question, not seeming to notice how quiet you’d been since getting back in the car.

“They’re there. The three Lalique pieces, that rare Sevres vase. She was only too happy to show me.”

“Did you check the makers’ marks?”

You nod, gazing out of the window. “I did. They’re the right pieces. Those Laliques are one of a kind. In different circumstances, it would have been a joy to see them.”

“And the papers?”

He takes the turn to merge onto the autoroute back to Paris, and you wish the nagging doubts about this whole sorry enterprise - about him - would dissipate.

“The private catalogue clearly states when they were acquired, but with no corresponding archival code numbers. I checked the boxes for those years carefully, just to be sure…but there’s no paper trail. Just a note in each catalogue entry recording the dealer they came from - all from the same man.”

He nods, satisfied. “And the room itself? What’s access like?”

“I sent you some photos earlier.” While Madame Deseine had been taking the priceless objects out of their storage boxes, you had snapped some surreptitious pictures. “Access may not be straightforward, though, given the absence of a window.”

He chuckles. “Leave that to me.”

“Won’t she know that you’ve taken the pieces, by the way?”

“F is for Fake, chérie. Nothing some good forgeries cannot fix.”

***

You spend the rest of the journey in silence, while he rambles about various subjects: French motorways, private chateaux, Lalique’s cire perdue process, in which a vase is formed within a one-off wax mould that was discarded afterwards, rendering the pieces unique - and extremely valuable.

“The descendants of the original owners still have, in some cases, the provenance records for these items,” he explains as he parks the car and taps the sensor to open the door into the building. “And now, soon, they’ll have their rightful inheritance.”

You don’t know whether to snap at him or burst into tears.

He takes your coat and saunters into the apartment’s small kitchen, still talking to you as he audibly potters around, opening cupboards and taking out dishes and glassware. You are not really listening, still caught up in your own thoughts. Why the fuck were you here? Were you really willing to risk your entire reputation for a crush and some sex? You’d been lucky to escape any questioning or punishment after the theft of the ruby, after all. 

And what if, as you wondered in the chateau when he was so flirtatious and charming with Madame Deseine, he was just using you? Your knowledge and your veneer of professional respectability helped him steal. Your desire and your body got him off. Win-win for him, but a potentially devastating loss for you.

“Chérie? Didn’t you hear me?”

He’s standing at the narrow door into the kitchen that adjoins the living room, sweater sleeves rolled up.

“Oh. Oh, sorry. I was miles away. What is it?”

“I asked the housekeeper to leave a light dinner for us, as it’s been a long day. It’s nothing fancy - some salads, crudités, cold cuts and cheeses - but I do have a very nice Sancerre chilled in the fridge…”

You force a smile. “That does sound good. I’ll set the table, if you show me where everything is.”

He cheerily opens the various cartons and tubs of food as you ferry the tableware into the open-plan dining area. Behind his usual charming patter, though, is a man increasingly worried about how quiet you’ve been since you left Madame Deseine and her collections earlier that day.

***

“You know you can talk to me, chérie. What’s on your mind?”

Of course he’s noticed. Why wouldn’t he? His perceptiveness is what makes him such an artful, successful thief.

You drain your glass of Sancerre and look him square in the eye.

“Am I really so different to Claudine Deseine?”

He looks confused.

“Excuse me?”

“Am I really so different to Claudine Deseine? In your eyes, I mean. Are you using me, like you’re using her?”

“I’m not using Madame Deseine. I’m buying some of her collection so I can liberate the really valuable pieces and get them back where they belong. That’s stealing, not using.”

You exhale, long and slow. “I saw you today. Handling her just like you do me. The charm offensive, the twinkling eyes, the flirting. She, at least, hasn’t slept with you - though I wouldn’t put it past you to try if you thought it would have helped.”

The words leave your lips, and you instantly regret it. So much for rational calm. Now you just sound like a jealous lover.

He looks at you, jaw ticking, and a blend of fury and hurt burning in his dark eyes. 

“That’s rather unfair, don’t you think?”

Silence.

“I had to win her over. Just like you did. Or did you forget your part in this?”

“Why am I here, Thief? What do you want from me? There must be hundreds of other experts out there you could have enlisted to help you gain access to the collection, theft or no theft. And if it’s just about sex, well - I suspect there’s no shortage of people who’d be very glad to fuck you. So why me? Or do you just want to ruin me, finish what you started when you tricked and took advantage of me?”

His voice is low and carefully controlled. “You know that’s not what this is, chérie. You know that.”

You push away from the table and stand to face him, flinging down your linen napkin. “So what, then, is it?”

He stares at you and his expression shifts, from glowering to openness. Mouth slightly ajar, he seems to be struggling to find the words.

He can’t even bring himself to say it. Coward.

“I see. Good night, Thief.”

***

Your return flight is booked for the day after tomorrow, and there’s no way you could afford a last-minute ticket for an earlier departure. As you complete your nighttime routine and slip into the guest bed, you resolve to make the most of an unexpected solo day in Paris, looking up current exhibitions and shows at the city’s various museums and galleries. 

You take a herbal sleeping tablet, just in case, and turn off the light.

When you wake in the morning, you find that your pillow is damp from the tears you wept in the night.

His bedroom door is still firmly closed as you pad down the hallway and to the main door. Exploiting you or not, he’d made it clear that he didn’t need you for today, the final stage in his plan. There’s a spare keyfob in the drawer of the small hall console table. You slip it in your bag and head out of the apartment and into the city.

***

Museums afford a kind of sanctuary: a quiet space for meditation, reflection, imagination, escape. On a day like today, they enclose you in a safe, comforting cocoon of art and beauty, helping to shield you from the world outside - and from the raging storm of your own thoughts and worries.

You flash your work ID at the entrance to the Petit Palais and are waved through, past the lines of tourists, by virtue of the international reciprocal entry schemes for museum staff. The current temporary show, on Paris in the first decades of the twentieth century, is just what you need by way of distraction, and you lose yourself in artwork after artwork, in no hurry to return to the apartment. 

At the museum’s garden café, you take your time over coffee and cake, occasionally joined by a tiny songbird who seems hell-bent on helping himself to your snack. His daring raids on your slice of carrot cake help to stop your mind from wandering back to the apartment, to him, and to his journey back to the chateau.

***

He’s gone when you get back. Just an envelope on the counter, addressed to you. Normal service, you think, resumed at last.

Chérie,

As planned, I’ve returned to the Deseine estate to finish what we started. I intend to return later tonight, or in the early hours, but promise me that if I do not return, you will take the flight tomorrow evening. 

You must not look for me. Promise me that.

I hope that I might see you before you leave, one way or the other. 

Know that I care for you, chérie. 

Midnight comes and goes with no sight or sound of him.

One. Two. Three. Nothing.

You close your eyes and force yourself to sleep.

***

He whispers to you in your dreams, over and over. He calls out to you. 

“Chérie?”

You open your eyes. In the half-light, you see him. Hair mussed, eyes wide, face streaked with dirt, stripped to the waist. 

He feels real to the touch: warm, solid, the softness of his middle, the strength of his arms and shoulders. His beard bristles so realistically under your lips that you could almost believe he was there.

“Chérie, I’m here. I’m back. I’m with you.”

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around him and pull him to you, wordlessly peppering his face with kisses before he wriggles down and nestles his head against your chest, holding you tight to him.

He seems unsettled, distressed, even. Perhaps it had been a narrow escape. Perhaps something had gone wrong. 

No matter. You envelop him with warmth and protection. The way he clings to you, needs you, starts to provide an answer to your questions about the nature of his feelings.

You kiss the top of his head and stroke the scruff on the side of his jaw. He pulls away for a moment to look up at you, all softness and awe and warmth. He motions as if to say something, then stops, pensive, and reaches up to kiss your mouth.

“My name is Alejandro.”

Find out more about the Lalique cire perdue technique here!

If you'd like to read more about the great Jewish art collecting families of pre-war France, I strongly recommend James McAuley's The House of Fragile Things and Edmund de Waal's Letters to Camondo.

[danikamariewrites]

believe me when i say that your blog is AWESOME, AMAZING, im in love with your writing, i think it's the most beautiful thing in the world and i want to say thank you for sharing your talent with us. if i could marry one of your fanfics, i would do it without hesitation. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 .now that i said my thoughts about your amazing blog, i have a request... MODERN rowaelin x reader.

🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️ (fancy clothes, expensive phones, cars...) i would LOVE to see a fanfic of them in the modern world with reader🧎🏻‍♀️😫 .

no pressure, take your time, stay safe, eat healthy, sleep well, and drink water 🫂💜

Modern!Rowaelin x reader headcanon

A/n: thank you! That’s so nice of you to say and I’m so happy you like my writing (trying to make it my career if Hollywood can get its shit together lol). I love this concept, it’s amazing and I had to write it bc Aelin would thrive as modern day princess/queen.

Sending you love bestie ❤️

Warnings: none

Modern!Rowaelin would be a fucking power couple (and with you a power trio)

Let’s say for this hc that Aelin and Rowan are just a rich couple that come from old money. I’m talking old New England money but they give it a new look bc Aelin likes new stuff, Rowan is like the antique collector in the relationship

When you met they were shopping for art at the gallery you worked at

You had just graduated college a year or so ago and this was your entry level job in the art world. You were actually very familiar with the pieces the gallery sold and you have an insane memory for art history

Aelin and Rowan came in to buy a few pieces for their new apartment in the city so you showed them a few pieces since the owner was busy

The three of you hit it off and they offered to take you out to dinner once you finished with work

You met them at the five-star restaurant that was in their building and that’s when they asked you out. “We knew once we met you we had a connection. If you don’t feel the same way please feel free to reject us and we can pretend this never happened.” Aelin said

But you had felt an instant connection with them too. You felt safe and at home around them. You knew you needed to be with them

After that night you moved in with them and they talked you into quitting your job and working for their clients as an art collector

It was like a dream come true

Aelin and Rowan spoiled you with love, attention, and gifts

You weren’t always a material person, you grew up getting things you asked for that were within your family’s budget but this was a whole other level

After a year of being with them they gave you a credit card, “unlimited spending baby. Anything you want it’s your.” Rowan said kissing you on the cheek

Shopping sprees with Aelin were the best! Those were your bonding trips and when you truly got to know each other. You talked about everything while wandering the aisles of high end department stores, trying on shoes and clothes

Lingerie shopping was the most fun since you would pick out pieces that would drive him crazy (and each other)

There may have been a time or two where you both couldn’t keep your hands to yourself in the changing room

With Rowan your bonding time was going on walks or runs or him teaching you how to work out at the gym

When you were out in nature with him that’s when you saw him most relaxed (besides at home)

Your yearly summer vacation is always to Cape Cod

Both their families have beach houses there but they wanted their own in a different area, so they bought one just before they met you

The house is huge and you obviously use it more than once a year but you always had those set 2 weeks in July that you would go

No work. No distractions. Just the 3 of you, the beach, and fun times

You and Aelin of course demand the best lobster rolls which Rowan gets for you

Ice cream every night after dinner

And they buy you all the souvenirs you want

Two days before you were set to leave, you and Rowan were packing. You folded he put away (he’d never admit it but he’s awful at folding clothes but he tries)

Aelin came running into the bedroom with a shit eating grin on her face that told you two she wanted something, “Row, y/n/n.” “Yes Aelin.” You responded in unison

“I just realized we need something for the Cape house that we don’t have.” Rowan rolled his eyes, “And what would that be, Fireheart?”

“We don’t have a Jeep!” You and Rowan shared a look. “Ok A, so what do you suggest?” Aelin clapped her hands together in excitement “We’re going to get one obviously.” “Right now!?” “Yes Rowan. Come on you’re driving.”

She rushed back out of the room and you followed her as Rowan let out an exasperated sigh, tilting his head back

45 minutes later you were all sitting in the Jeep dealership

Not only did you leave with a Jeep wrangler, but she also managed to find a beautiful jet black convertible Audi

Aelin insisted you bring both to Cape Cod and of course Rowan gave in to her

[femmmie]

Ian throws Anthony a surprise birthday party

Such a timely prompt :D

I decided to combine this fic with this promt:

The Best Day Ever

November thirtieth, 1987

June seventeenth, 1984

September sixteenth, 1987

Ian never had to think about these dates. He just knew, from around a month before they were due, to buy a gift and send a card. Of course he would also just call his sister and he'd see Anthony every week anyway. It had been like that for years and years. But the last few of them had been painful.

September sixteenth, 2017. Ian had sent a card and a text. No reply.

September sixteenth, 2018. Ian had sent nothing.

September sixteenth, 2019. Ian had sent a text. Just a 'thanx' in return.

September sixteenth, 2020. Ian had sent a birthday meme. 'lol thanks'.

September sixteenth, 2021. Ian sent nothing.

And September sixteenth, 2022. Nothing.

But now it was August 16th 2023 and Ian was determined to make Anthony's upcoming birthday count for seven. He was pacing up and down his Los Angeles appartement, suddenly stopped and shouted: "that's it!" into the dullness of the evening.

"What's up with Ian the last few days?" Shayne asked Keith at the Smosh headquarters.

They'd barely seen Ian, which had been common but not lately, now Anthony was there too. They peaked into Ian's office.

"He's still on the phone?"

Shayne stroked an imaginary goatee. "He's up to something…!"

Then the invitations started to arrive at people's doorsteps. They were impeccably hand written in gold letters that made you feel guilty of even considering not going. "The Declaration of Anthony Day" was written proudly at the top of each invitation. People would ask each other if they'd gotten one in hushed tones, and soon it was apparent that everyone at Smosh - the cast, the crew, the supporting staff - they were all invited. This was going to be some hell of a party.

And then the day arrived. A dull Saturday morning, Anthony had invited Ian, Mykie and a couple of his close friends for a vegan brunch at his home. Nothing fancy. Turning thirty-seven wasn't a particularly remarkable feat and Anthony didn't want to remind everyone of how hot he was while being the oldest person at Smosh.

The brunch was nice and uneventful, and Anthony was ready to spent the rest of the day quietly but all of a sudden the doorbell rang.

"Did we order pizza?" Mykie asked.

"I don't think so?" Anthony said, confused.

He opened the door and his jaw might as well have hit the floor. Shane Told from Silverstein was at his doorstep, dressed in all black but casual garments, and said matter-of-factly: "Happy birthday Anthony! Are ya comin'?"

"Wh.. whaaaat?" Anthony laughed and looked around, and immediately found the culprit. Ian stood there cheesing like a fool.

"Are you behind this, bestie?" Anthony asked. Ian winked.

Everyone followed Shane down the stairs and then they saw it: a sparkling monstrosity of a party bus. It was already packed with people!

"Oh my god, Jenna? Justine? Ryan! Natalie?!"

It was like the bus was filled with the year 2005. Anthony loved it. All these OG youtubers he'd not seen for ages. All of them greeted him with hugs and kisses and giggles and there was wine and champagne, and Anthony's party entered the bus as well and they drove off into downtown LA. When they arrived, Anthony saw they were at Rahel Ethiopian Vegan Cuisine, one of the best vegan restaurants in the city.

The owner of the restaurant greeted the party at the door and said "In honor of Anthony Day I have prepared you the most delicious foods! Please come inside."

"Anthony Day?" Anthony wondered aloud, and Ian laughed.

The evening was simply wonderful and Anthony saw so many people he almost got dizzy. But the night wasn't over: Ian's phone rang and he said "Hey Anthony, it's for you!"

Anthony picked up the phone, and he saw his mom in her home, together with Ian's mom who was apparently visiting.

"Hello dear," they said in near unison. Anthony was on the verge of tears.

"Hi moms."

They exchanged some sweet words and congratulations and when they hung up, Anthony dived in to hug Ian.

"This means so much to me, Ian."

Ian smiled mischievously.

"What are you planning now?" Anthony said mock-accusingly.

"Well, Anthony, you've just eaten the best meal of your life, but not everything can be five stars on your birthday. I've made you something that you must eat, or I will be offended! But I can't promise you that it's any good, or edible at all…"

The chef appeared again and rolled up a cake with thirty-seven candles on it.

"You made the cake?!" Anthony asked Ian, with a quiver in his voice.

"I sure did buddy. You know the last six years I haven't gotten you a proper gift or anything. I want to make good on that."

"Oh Ian!" Anthony hugged him again.

"Alright, alright," Ian patted Anthony on the back but he smiled widely while he did it.

To be honest, the cake did taste mediocre, but Anthony didn't mind at all. It was all the more proof that Ian had actually made it himself. He ate a whole chunk of it, and it wouldn't have mattered, all the other things. Just this cake alone, and Ian, those were the best gifts he could have ever gotten. Anthony was blissfully happy. When he went to sleep that night, he croaked to Mykie:

"I love Ian so much, he's the best friend in the entire world."

"I know you do honey," Mykie replied sweetly. "I'm so glad you're finally back together. You've been so much happier, and that in turn makes me happier."

Anthony hugged her under the blankets.

"You're such a hugger, I love it."

"Come here, daddy wants his cuddles," Anthony joked. But he was so tired that he fell asleep almost immediately after that.

[kasienda]

Would Trust You With Everything - Ch 1: Want to be There for You

An Adrino Story - Canon Divergent from Rocketear, S4 AU.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | ...

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Want to Be There for You

 Adrien lay in his bed, staring at the vaulted ceiling. Sleep didn’t feel anywhere close, which wasn’t surprising as these were his last few hours of freedom before Fashion Week started. Adrien would be missing a whole week of school and would have even less free time than normal.

 Adrien was not excited.

 And tonight he was restless.

 A run as Chat Noir would have been a nice way to get out his energy, but he didn’t really want to run the risk of running into Ladybug. It was getting harder to hide his frustration at being left in the dark, and he didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize whatever good opinion she had left of him.

 Maybe he could get a jumpstart on his school work. It sounded boring, but it needed to be done, and Adrien was not likely to have much time to work on it between fittings and shows.

 Luckily, Nino’s ringtone from his phone saved him from that eventuality.

 “Dude, what’s up? I’m so bored,” Adrien said, as the video loaded, but when it fully rendered, Adrien was looking at a black screen. Nino’s face wasn’t there and Adrien couldn’t see anything in his room. Maybe Nino had butt dialed him.

 “Nino?”

 A choking sob answered.

 “Nino! What’s wrong?”

 The phone moved rapidly, and Nino’s room and face flashed past. Adrien thought his eyes were puffy from crying, but he wasn’t certain as the camera settled onto Nino’s chin and neck, so Adrien couldn’t see his face.

 “Alya and I broke up.”

 …

 “Nathalie! Please!” Adrien begged. “There has to be a gap somewhere this coming week.”

 She shook her head. “Adrien, this week is fashion week. You’re booked solid.”

 “So cancel something! Like the least important thing.”

 “Your father would have to approve that.”

 Adrien wanted to tear his hair out. “So get him to approve it. He listens to you!”

 Nathalie turned her attention to him. “What’s this about? What’s so important?”

 Adrien slumped. She would never agree. “You know my friend, Nino?”

 “Yes?”

 “Well, he and Alya didn’t work out. They broke up.”

 “As teenage relationships often do.”

 “Nathalie! He’s my best friend. And he’s hurting.”

 “I’m sorry, Adrien. I don’t see that ranking highly on your father’s list of priorities.”

 “It ranks highly on      my     list of priorities.”

 Nathalie sighed, and swiped through whatever was on her screen. Adrien held his breath.

 She looked up. “      Maybe     one of the seamstresses will be sick Wednesday afternoon and we’ll have to reschedule your fitting for an emergency evening after your show, so there’s still enough time for modifications for Friday’s catwalk. That’s only an hour, but it will be during your school’s lunch period.”

 A grin exploded across Adrien’s face. Wednesday was still four days away, but it was      something    .

 “Thanks Nathalie! You’re the best!” And he immediately took off.

 “I said      maybe    !” she shouted after him. But he didn’t slow down, determined to get away before she could revoke her unsanctioned permission.

 …

 Adrine’s phone binged with a notification. He opened it to see a picture from Marinette. It was of Nino sitting alone on a bench in the school courtyard, his head buried between his knees.

 Marinette:  

   I tried talking to him, but got nowhere. He said I should focus on being there for Alya.  

 Adrien:  

   Are his headphones on?    

 Marinette:  

   No.  

 Adrien:  

   Fuck.  

   Okay. Thanks, I will see what I can do from here.  

 …

 Adrien:  

   You hanging in there?  

   Nino!! Answer me!!  

 Nino:  

   Dude! I’m in class.  

 Adrien:  

   How’s that going?  

 Nino:  

   Boring.  

 Adrien:  

   I have a catwalk in ten. But here’s a gift card for some new music.  

 Nino:  

   I don’t need to buy music dude. I like indie artists. They just give away their songs.  

 Adrien:  

   Right. Here’s another gift card for merch and another for sound equipment.  

 Nino:  

   Mec! Stop! You don’t have to buy my affections.  

 Adrien winced at the text. He was emulating his father. He was buying Nino gifts when he couldn’t be there in person. Adrien knew how hollow that could feel, but it was all he had at the moment.

 Adrien:  

   I know! I know!            But I can’t be there. And I want you to know “I just… I can’t be there, and I want you to know I’m thinking of you.  

 Nino:  

   Thanks man. <3  

 Adrien never got the chance to respond. Nathalie swiped the device from his hand. He lunged for it, but she was shockingly fast.

 “Nathalie!! Please!”

 “This is distracting you,” she scolded. “Your head has been buried in your screen all day and it’s affecting your performance.”

 But taking away his phone didn’t help. He might have been worse with nothing to do with his anxious worry.

 “Adrien!”

 He jumped. “Yeah?”

 “Stop biting your lip. That’s your queue. You’re up. Stay focused.”

 He didn’t know how they expected him to do that. He walked confidently onto the stage, but his heart was elsewhere and his brain was distracted. It was probably his worst show in living memory. No doubt, he’d hear about it later from his father, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 Nathalie didn’t return his phone until after dinner. He immediately shot off another few texts to Nino, but he wasn’t responding.

 Adrien:  

   Nathalie managed to clear a hole in my schedule on Wednesday.  

   I can come to school for lunch.  

   It’s only an hour, but it’s something!  

   Are you okay?  

 He even tried calling once, but Nino didn’t pick up.

 Adrien paced anxiously back and forth in his room. Had he done something wrong or was Nino just not in the mood for talking?

 “Do you think he’s okay?” he asked Plagg.

 Plagg shrugged indifferently. “He’s probably fine. Maybe his phone’s off.”

 “What if he’s not fine?” Plagg didn’t understand.

 Plagg rolled his eyes. “Go visit him if you’re so worried.”

 “Nathalie won’t let me leave! She’s pissed at me for today.”

 “Go as Chat Noir.”

 “But he won’t know that it’s me,” Adrien objected.

 “So?”

 “It would be weird for Chat Noir to visit a civilian.”

 “You've done it before.”

 “Marinette was out on her balcony. I could pretend I was just passing by. Plus, I don’t think he’s Chat Noir’s biggest fan right now.”

 “So you can offer him a chance to hit you in the jaw. That might make him feel better!” Plagg suggested.

 “Nino wouldn’t do that.”

 “So go see him. You can pretend you’re there to apologize.”

 “I wouldn’t be pretending.”

 “Great! Let’s go!”

 It was a sign of how anxious he was that Adrien transformed without further goading. Ladybug wouldn’t approve, but if she could keep secrets so could he. And if she did come across him abusing his powers for personal reasons, it seemed like she had already frozen him out anyway. This would hardly make things between them worse.

 It’s only once he’s hovering outside Nino’s window that he hesitates. Nino had been ready to blame Chat Noir for his failing relationship only a few days ago. And Rocketear hadn’t had anything friendly to say to him either. Chat Noir might be the absolutely last person Nino wanted to see.

 But his worry over Nino quickly outweighs his fears of what kind of reception he’ll get, and he taps on the window.

 He hears movement inside a few seconds later. The curtains shift, before Nino’s head is revealed. His eyebrows rise, but he opens the window quickly and moves back into his room out of sight.

 Chat Noir steps smoothly over the window sill, and takes stock of Nino’s current state. He looks absolutely terrible. He’s half sitting, half laying on his bed, his shoulders are slumped, his face is blank, and his eyes are bloodshot so he was definitely crying at some point recently.

 “Is there an akuma?” Nino asks, his voice despondent and dead to the world.

 Chat Noir shakes his head. “Nope. No akuma. I… uh… wanted to talk to you. To apologize. But I can go if this is a bad time.”

 Nino’s forehead crinkles. “Apologize for what? I’m the one that beat you up, aren’t I?”

 “I might have heard that you broke up with your girlfriend, and based on what your akuma was saying, I thought that it might be my fault?”

 “      You     heard about my breakup?!” Nino buried his head in his bed. “Does the whole world know?”

 “Uh… I doubt it. I heard from Ladybug,” Chat lied. “She noticed that Alya seemed off after she tried to interview us after Wishmaker.”

 Not a word if that was true.

 “Right,” Nino says coldly. “She talks to Ladybug, but not her own boyfriend.”

 Adrien winces. He shouldn’t have come. He knew that Nino had broken up with Alya because she was lying to him - keeping secrets from him. And here he was, just adding more deceit onto the pile to make things worse.

 “I’m sorry,” Chat Noir offers. It’s woefully inadequate. Why had he thought he could comfort Nino as Chat Noir?

 But Nino smiles. It’s weak and it doesn’t last long, but it’s a smile. It feels like a victory. “Naw, dude. Not your fault at all. It was super nice of you to swing by.”

 “Glad to be of service,” Chat says with a grin.

 But Nino doesn’t return the expression.

 Adrien doesn’t know what to do to make it better. Chat doesn’t have a relationship with Nino the way Adrien does. Maybe he should leave and let Nino mourn. And yet, he can’t bring himself to move. Nino’s his best friend even if he doesn’t know it, and Adrien wants      someone     to be there for him.

 “You doing okay?” he asks into the silence.

 Nino shrugs. “Not really.”

 “Wanna talk about it?” Chat offers.

 “Didn’t realize offering an ear was part of your superhero responsibilities.”

 “Can’t let fellow miraculous holders get akumatized,” Chat says lightly.

 Nino jumps, throwing a glance his way. “I didn’t realize you knew my identity.”

 Chat rubs the back of his neck. “I know most of the identities at this point.” Which is at least true, if misleading.

 “Well, I can’t get akumatized anymore,” he says, holding up his charm. “You don’t have to worry.”

 “Do you want me to leave?” Chat asks, his heartbeat pounding in his head. Adrien really really doesn’t want to leave.

 Nino’s silence feels deafening.

 “I’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” Chat Noir concludes, his shoulder slumping.

 “I wouldn’t say that exactly,”  Nino says. “I don’t really want to be alone. I just… I’m terrible company at the moment.”

 “That’s fine. I don’t need to be entertained or anything. I’m here to support you.”

 Nino looks at him then. “Thank you. I’ve felt really alone these last two days.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “It’s not your fault.”

 It very much feels like it is even though Adrien had no control over his whereabouts for the last two days. “So what happened?” Chat asks, taking a seat in Nino’s desk chair.

 “I don’t know!” Nino exclaims, burying his face in a pillow. “Things were great! Then something shifted. It was gradual at first. She wasn’t available as often and she didn’t tell me why. Then she started keeping secrets. Then, I caught her in an outright lie. I didn’t want to suspect her of cheating. I honestly don’t think that she would, but I couldn’t think of another explanation that fit.”

 Adrien had heard all of this the night before, but Nino didn’t know that.  

 “Do you still think she was cheating?” he asks.

 Nino shakes his head. “No, I believe her when she says she wasn’t. But she still wasn’t telling me what was going on. I asked her if she’d at least stop lying and she couldn’t even give me that!” Nino bites out. “And I just… how do we build a life together if I can’t trust what she’s saying?”

 Adrien can relate only too well, though he and Ladybug had never actually been together, but that never stopped him from loving her. Even now, when she seemed determined to keep a wall between them, he had only tried to be there for her.

 “But then I wonder if I jumped the gun?” Nino says. “Alya is a firecracker. She’s passionate and she cares about doing what’s right, she’s not afraid to act. And I just, she’s amazing! And I wonder if I made a mistake.

 “I’m normally super chill. I pride myself on being a pretty easy guy to get along with. I can put up with a lot, but Alya was the person I leaned on, where I could drop all the fronts. But it was just starting to feel like she wasn’t there. But maybe I was hasty. Maybe she would’ve come back or maybe she was worth it anyway.”

 Nino breaks off, tears streaking down his face. Adrien wishes he was here as himself instead of Chat because then offering a hug wouldn’t be weird.

 “It’s not like I don’t think she deserved her privacy. It’s just it felt like I was her last priority. And if I knew      why    , then maybe we could overcome it. But when I don’t, I’m not willing to be her last thought. You know? I always put her first.”

 “Yeah,” Chat agrees, able to relate too well. He always put Ladybug first too, and he’s not sure it has ever been the same for her. He knows in his case though, he’s being unfair. He and Ladybug were never in a relationship. Well, not a romantic one, and he’s never been certain how much she values their friendship. One minute, she throws her arms around him relieved that her miraculous cure brought him back, and the next she calls in a substitute without giving him any kind of warning or explanation. “I’m sorry you’ve been so alone through this,” Chat adds.

  “I haven’t been totally alone,” Nino disagrees, holding up his phone. “My best friend has been keeping me virtually company most of the day.”

 “Yeah? It helped?”

 “I don’t know if any of the stuff he sent helped–”

 Adrien wilts in place.

 “—but like, given what I know he’s up to, he totally had to move heaven and earth to talk to me so much, and      that     really helped. You know, just knowing that someone was thinking of me.”

 “I’m glad,” Chat Noir said. “I wish he could be there in person for you.”

 Nino sighs. “Yeah, me too, but at least you’re here. It’s nice to get out of my own head.”

 “Happy to oblige.”

 Chat Noir stays all night listening to Nino talk. He doesn’t just talk about Alya. He talks about his family - how his brother passed away years ago, and how his parents have to work a lot to make ends meet and he just doesn’t see them very often. He talks about his interests and life’s goals of becoming a director, but is afraid that’s unrealistic, but he doesn’t know what else he might do. Adrien can’t believe how much he learns.

 Only when he catches the time on Nino’s glowing digital clock that he curses. “I need to get back before someone notices I’m gone,” he says, rolling to his feet.

 “Someone’s gonna check on you at four in the morning, dude?”

 “Maybe by five, yeah. So I have to get back before then.”

 “Dude! That sucks!”

 Chat shrugs. “You get used to it.”

 “Umm… before you go…?” Nino trails off and ducks his head under the bill of his hat.

 “Yeah?”

 “Thank you, dude. It was super nice of you to come check up on me and hang out with me especially after how I treated you.”

 “How your      akuma     treated me,” Chat corrects. “Not your fault.”

 Nino winces. “I don’t know that it was the akuma talking completely.”

 “Nino,” he says softly.

 “And I know I have no right to ask this, but will you come back?”

 Adrien knew he should say no. Especially this week. But Adrien had no time, and Nino needed someone. “Yeah, I can come back. Maybe not every night, but yeah, I can come back.”

 …

 Adrien is the walking dead at the catwalk the next morning. His makeup artist of the day definitely has some choice words for Adrien the second he walks in. But despite his fatigue, he does far better on Day Two’s show if only because he can pull off the smirks and smiles. Between sets, he manages to sneak in a video call to Nino who answers immediately

 Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Adrien thought Nino looked a little better. He had bags under his eyes, like Adrien, but his gaze is warm instead of flat, and his smiles are still brief, but they’re genuine.

 “You doing better today?” Adrien asks after a few moments.

 Nino’s face lights up. “Yeah dude, I… I think I am. At least little bit.”

 “That’s awesome. Here’s to hoping that trend continues.”

 Adrien would see to it that it did.

 …

[awkwarddystopianwarlord]

When You Try Your Best But You Don't Succeed

One day a fella came to my till and he asked to purchase some Apple gift cards. Though I ask basically everyone who wants a large amount in gift cards, I especially get wary when it’s older chaps like this guy. I did my usual spiel, asking if he got any weird phone calls or emails or whatnot and that a lot of scams happen with these. When I gave him a look, he said he knew it looked suspicious, to which I replied with a somewhat stressed “uh huh”. He assured me he was well aware of these scams and didn’t have a computer even so there was nothing to worry about. He had somewhat of an accent so I didn’t fully understand what he was going on about, but I did make out “boat”. I proceeded to give him his seven gift cards worth three thousand, five hundred dollars and he went on his merry way.

And then he came back the next day with another request for gift cards. I told him again that scams were a thing and sometimes emails look like they are from family members but are fake. I asked if he phoned any family that had such a request to confirm in person. He told me that he knew what he was doing and this wasn’t any family matter. He was buying an engine for his boat. He just needed to cover the shipping. Because it was coming from the States.

He was buying an engine for his boat?

From the States?

Without a computer?

with….Apple gift cards?

Oh yessir he was, but again, there was no need to worry because he had no computer. So I gave him his two thousand dollars worth of apple gift cards. 

And then he came in a second time that day. He wanted five hundred dollars worth of Apple gift cards. It was to cover the taxes, he said. He seemed a bit exasperated, like “why do these engine merchants not tell me everything I need to pay the first time round?” I wasn’t about to give him the scam rundown again because he’d already been warned twice. I just gave him his stupid cards.

He came in a third time that very same day for two hundred dollars worth of cards this time. It was for his grandkids. He told me he had four kids from, it was either two or three, previous wives and from those kids he had five grandkids. I can’t imagine why this guy would have been twice to thrice divorced, he seems awesome with his finances and brain cells. At least this reason didn’t seem like absolute bullshit.

That same week another, much older, fella came to buy Apple gift cards. He was also very hard to understand at first. But after I gave him the scam ye be warned talk, he said something about his wife just dying and needing to sort things out. So…. naturally that means buying Apple gift cards. I sold him the two hundred dollars worth that he sought. 

He showed up the next day asking for the same amount. Because of his age and the fact he said the exact same reason for needing the cards, I wondered if he had forgotten he came in the day prior. I let him know that I had helped him yesterday and he already spent two hundred on cards. He seemed lost for a moment before replying that he remembered, the cards just didn’t work at all so he needed to come back for new ones. I wanted to hide in a wall. This was so incredibly sketchy. I let him know that he could call Apple themselves and tell them his debacle but he told me they were useless with that and he simply wanted to purchase the replacement cards. I did as asked and took the two hundred dollars. Again. 

The next week he came in wanting a hundred dollars worth. He said he’s sorting out a funeral for his wife that just died and wanted to get the grandkids something nice. I gave him the card and took his money.

I didn’t run into this dude this time, but there is a third old guy who is known to basically all the cashiers for he so often buys twenty five hundred dollars worth of Apple gift cards. There is absolutely no convincing him of any possible scamming.

I did have a lady though come through wanting a hundred dollars worth of Apple cards. Gave her the warning, she paid, that was that. Until she came in again like the next day or so wanting another because the one she got was faulty. I told her about calling Apple. She said they were useless. I told her about calling our company hotline because they might also be able to help. She got annoyed that we would have our cards not locked up and free for people to tamper. I assured her that anytime we hear of anything like that, we check every single card to ensure its validity. She didn’t seem convinced and wanted me to let my manager know that our cards were being messed with. 

I think it was within two weeks that this amount of gift card bullshittery happened. I wanted to fire myself and kick everyone out of the store forever. I wanted to hide under a rock or kick a rock or perhaps throw a rock because I was so annoyed at none of these idiots listening to me. And sure, you can say, “well why didn’t you refuse to sell them the cards? Certainly that’s allowed?” It is, however, I would much rather people get scammed through me. Why? So when the day comes that they scream at me about their shortcomings, I can confidently say that I warned them and they didn’t listen. 

There was a time once before I knew about these scams. A lady, probably in her thirties, wanted to buy a bunch of Apple cards from me. It was at my old drug store and I was younger and more innocent than I am now. She came in multiple times that day in a panic whilst on the phone asking me for more cards. When I didn’t see her again that day, I told my manager about the strange encounter. That was when she explained to me the very obvious scamming of that woman. She said to always ask when people seek many a card for many a dollar if they’d gotten any weird calls or the likes. 

It’s been more than five years now I think and I’ve been trying to avenge myself for that fateful day ever since. I had so much guilt from my ignorance and have embarked on a mission to never again let someone fall victim without warning. I’ve been successful three times, each with older women. It was so satisfying knowing I prevented a bad thing from happening. I wasn’t satisfied at all with those two weeks though. I was the antithesis of that. Can’t win them all I suppose. 

I don’t know how that one guy managed to run into boat engine sellers from another country when he had no computer and only a phone (presumably not a smart phone). It is one of the great mysteries of the world. He hasn’t come back though so maybe it was truthful all around and he’s out there right now sailing on his working boat. One can dream.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Christmas cards were obviously a bad idea.

I got a late card today, and this was a second one with a gift in it. It’s a gift card for Tractor Supply, so it might just pay for that hog feed I need.

Sounds great, right? Trouble is it’s from someone that hasn’t spoken to me in almost a year. Last year at New Years she called to see how I was doing since she and her husband had helped me out when my power had been out at Christmas. The friendly chat got rather…difficult…when it turned out she was a Trump supporter.

Look, I tried to avoid it. I would have been shocked if someone of her background (white, older, conservative christian, rural) hadn’t been a Trump supporter. But I've lived here all my life, so I long ago learned that people can be nice but still have shocking beliefs. Changing their minds doesn’t work when they don’t trust any information source outside their little world. I have to live with them, so the best way to deal with it is to never let them think you agree when you don’t, but also avoid the trigger topics** when you can. It’s a balancing act, deciding when to fight and when to dodge, but the good thing is there is plenty of solid footing since there is just so much else you can talk about.

Anyway, she pushed, wanting me to agree that poor old Trump is being lied about by the mean old media. I would not. She pushed more. I pleaded with her to drop it, since we weren’t going to agree. She didn’t, partly maybe because she seemed in total shock.

To her the idea that a woman she’d watched grow up, not much younger than her own daughter, and was thought of as “nice” from a family she respected could possibly think differently was incomprehensible. It’s another thing I learned growing up here. People assume that if you are nice, or good, or likable, then you must be like them. They have a baseline view of all that is good, the concept of morality and ethics and such, and that baseline inevitably has been formed on rural conservative christian foundations.

To be fair, this isn’t exclusive to their religious and political views. I have encountered people on the left and of various religious attitudes that all fall into the same trap of going “I like them, so I am sure we are the same”. Some really awful reactions have happened when the reality sinks in that the person they liked disagrees with them strongly.

The woman pushed, and finally I bluntly said exactly what I think of Trump. Profanity may have been involved, something this lady also strongly disapproves of, especially from women.

She quickly, clearly flustered, ended the call.

I haven’t heard from her since, until this card ( that took over a week to go a mile ) showed up.

I have to accept the gift. I have to thank her. I have to make it clear that I am willing to be friendly, but will not be won over to her world view.

**sigh**

I hate phone calls (they always feel out of control, maybe because I’m unable to read body language and faces, but also the thing of “I am making a call and so need to check the number six times and plan a script so my brain doesn’t panic”) , and my attempt to text to avoid talking wouldn’t work (it looked like a smart phone but all texts to her bounce), so now I to write a proper thank you note and buy a stamp.

And I just know she thinks I’m ungrateful for not thanking her already…..

** LOTS of trigger topics if you live in a conservative, southern, rural, bible belt while being an agnostic liberal with a certain international POV and a taste for things decidedly not local. Just mildly suggesting that being stuck living in this town isn’t the greatest has offended people!

[calamityandme]

So far it’s been a pleasant day.

I woke up with much more energy than yesterday. I actually felt ready for work.

I cleaned R’s house and took care of their recycling. I enjoyed cleaning, it gave me time to finish my audiobook. Song of Achilles was very good. I cried listening to the ending.

One bummer is my paycheck is mostly gone now. It’s okay though. I had to pay my credit card bill and it was much higher than usual. Then I had to order R a birthday gift because her birthday is coming up. The rest I need to save for later. I’m very happy to be able to pay my credit card bill and I am grateful to have had money even if it wasn’t for long lol.

When I came home I smoked and relaxed for a bit, charging my phone before I decided to take a bath. I was disgusting from cleaning for four hours. I watched What We Do in the Shadows on Hulu and that was nice.

I’m making teriyaki chicken and broccoli for dinner in the crockpot. I’m using caution this time because last crockpot dinner I had it on too high and the chicken was tough. My crockpot was a hand-me-down from my family and I love many things about it, like how large it is and how it has a keep warm setting unlike my last one. The thing about my crockpot though is that it gets really, really hot. I have learned now that if a recipe says cook on high for four hours, I should cook on low for 2-3 (making sure it’s fully cooked first of course lol). I have higher hopes for tonight’s dinner.

Another thing I’ve been working on today is planning for my engagement party. I just wanted a small party for Danny and I’s immediate family could meet. My siblings have met his siblings, but our parents have never met before. I am nervous for them to all be over at my place for the first time. I have been making a menu and trying to figure out what all to buy when they come over.

I have been having a hard time eating today. I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t eat until 6 pm today. I tried to eat earlier but it didn’t feel like the right time and my stomach was telling me it couldn’t accept food, despite my body telling me it’s hungry lol.

I’m excited for tomorrow. Tomorrow night I’m going to see that scary movie with my best friend Taylor. I think it’ll be really fun. I also have some errands to do tomorrow but I am going to try not to obsess over it and ruin my mood.

[survey--s]

469.

What was the brand of your first ever cell phone?   Sagem, and I remember thinking it was really fancy as it was colour screen and had WAP internet LOL.

What are your 3 favorite internet sites?   Facebook, Tumblr, Reddit.

Do you have a favorite pair of blue jeans? No, I actually prefer black jeans for the most part.

What profession do you respect?   There are plenty, but anyone who does anything “caring” and deals with like, bodily fluids and stuff like that - I really couldn’t cope.

Have you ever been the recipient of a practical joke?     No.

Have you ever ate something you’ve dropped on the floor, if so what?           Sure, in my own house. I’m happy with my cleaning routine and hygiene so it really doesn’t bother me to eat stuff that’s fallen somewhere.

Would you consider being an Uber driver if you needed to make extra money?     No. I’d feel really uncomfortable in an enclosed, locked space with a total stranger.

How do you know when you’re in love, what’s the main sign?  It’s been different every single time.

Have you ever gotten anything autographed, if so by who & what was it?     Yeah, concert tickets by Jimmy Carr but they got lost at some point over the years.

Do you prefer Walmart or Target? Target, but we don’t have either in the UK. I always go to Target when I’m in Australia though - I could spend hours in there lol.

What do you long for?         Enough money to buy some private land for my business so I never need to worry about members of the public getting in the way.

If you could be a personal assistant to anyone, who would it be?         NOPE.

What is the most important thing you can do to improve yourself?   Eat better, which is something I’m working on.

What makes it hard for you to keep your focus? The internet and mobile phones.

Do you think society has become too PC (politically correct)? Hmm, no, but I do think lots of people are really quick to shut down any opinion they find offensive, or even that they disagree with. I mean, you’re allowed to fid other people rude/offensive but equally you don’t get to tell people what they can and can’t say or believe.

What tragic love story do you relate to? I can’t think of any.

Has your intuition or “gut” served you well?       Yes.

What’s the longest you’ve ever waited in line for something and what was it? Probably a few hours at a theme park or something. I must have thought it was worth it at the time but I wouldn’t do it now lol.

Who is your favorite model?           I always loved Gemma Ward.

What have you done that is out of character for you?     Quit my job with nothing to go to an absolutely no plans.

Would you rather get a gift card or a gift that someone bought for you?         A gift card.

Who is the most visionary person in your life & how do they inspire you?     I’m not really someone who gets inspired by other people.

How do you handle a betrayal?     It depends on the circumstances.

What do you feel strong enough to protest about?     It’s not that I don’t feel strongly, it’s just that protests are a sensory nightmare for me and I’d end up having some kind of meltdown.    

What’s the biggest blooper you’ve never lived down?     I have no idea.

If you owned a restaurant what kind of food do you want to serve? I’d love to run a bakery - amazing coffee and excellent quality pastries, cakes and cookies, plus fresh bread and homemade sandwiches.

What will we find if we look in the bottom of your closet today? Shoes and clothes.   

What kind of car did you learn how to drive on? My first car was a Hyundai Getz. I don’t remember which car my instructor had at the time - maybe a Fiat?

What is the best thing you have done just because you were told you can’t? I honestly couldn’t tell you.

Have you ever had to go to court or testify and if so what for? Nope.

Do you believe in karma?   No. It’s a nice idea, but no.

Are you more worried about doing things right, or doing the right thing?  Both?

Do you believe in the term “Mother knows best?           Not necessarily, but I do think it’s worth listening to your parents.

Who is your favorite movie action hero? I’m not really into action films.

What is one thing you can get in your hometown you can’t get elsewhere?   There’s an ice-cream place that makes everything fresh on site. I guess you can’t get that specific ice-cream anywhere else. It’s good, too.

How important are looks in someone you’re in a relationship with?   They’re important at first, but not in the long run.

What freedom do you feel is not really free anymore?   I mean, none of us are really “free” in the true sense.

What are you most thankful for?   My husband, my family, my animals, my work, my clients.

Do you have any favorite talk shows or talk radio programs without music? No.

What was the last book you read? I can’t remember, I haven’t read anything in ages.

What’s your favorite online store? It depends what I’m buying.

What band would you love to tour with or be a roadie for?       None of them, lol.

If you were to throw a message in a bottle into the ocean, it would say?         I have no idea.

Do you have common sense or do you think people are lacking in it? These are two completely different questions, lol.

What’s your favorite non-alcoholic drink?           Coffee.

[alexjames2022]

Celebrate Mom’s Birthday With Delicious Cake

Since Mother's Day only occurs once a year, we should take advantage of the opportunity to show our moms how much we appreciate them. Over the years, she has received admiration and respect, but her birthday is especially significant. A surprise party needs a lot of planning, including choosing a unique birthday cake India and gifts for Mom, but if done well, it can be a lovely rewarding experience. All you need to start going is a little planning, some thought, and plenty of alone time. Here are some of the greatest suggestions for making your mother's birthday special. You may place an online order for cakes to be delivered to your address.

Bouquet

Frequently, the mother rises early to prepare breakfast and take care of other household duties. On your mother's birthday, serve her favorite supper and ask her to your bed so you can make things right. She'll be overjoyed if you send her some flowers. Start out mother's day in a positive frame of mind and with a grin. Instead of cooking—a chore—send a bouquet of personalized greeting cards. Your mother will be overjoyed about this, I can assure you of that. It's one of the best mom birthday ideas, so you should give it a try today. You can take online cake delivery in Mumbai at your location.

Watch her favorite movies

The simplest thing to do on mom's birthday is this. Bring your laptop, put up your speakers, dim the lights in the bedroom, and more ways to give your mother the sensation of a movie theater. Ask for refills, regularly offer her cool drinks and snacks, and, if you'd like, lie down next to him if you want to keep him company as he watches his favorite movies.

Cake

She appreciates having a special birthday cake for mom, a stunning cake for your beautiful mother, whether it is Mother's Day or just her regular birthday. You'll have the chance to charm her by doing this. Birthday cakes are offered online from every bakery shop and are available in a variety of flavors. You'll be amazed to find such a large selection, which includes specially created birthday cakes for parents.

Regardless matter how filthy it appears, she will definitely praise you for making it yourself since it will taste so much better.

Gifts

Don't forget to give your lovely mother a gift on her birthday. Giving her thoughtful presents that she can use is a lovely way to greet her. E-portals now provide door-to-door delivery services and the best birthday gift suggestions. Therefore, even if you are far away, you may still give him a thoughtful present. Choose a meaningful, practical present for her while you are shopping.

Plants

Don't be scared to include him if she enjoys gardening or simply has an obsession with houseplants. Buy her some nice plants or flowers to brighten up her house. The options include bonsai plants, plants that purify the air, medical plants, and more.

Give her the gift of travel

A vacation is the ideal present for your mum. Because it allows you to spend more time together, your connection grows stronger. Planning a long vacation or even just a weekend getaway is possible if you have adequate time. Traveling is wonderful since there are so many places to visit and activities to do! You may go on a bike tour around the city, visiting museums, and on hikes.

Take her shopping

One of the best things you can do on your mother's special day is to take her shopping. One of the best birthday activities for mom is shopping since it is calming. Bring her along so you may get her the stunning gown or accessories she has always desired. You could like trying on new clothes when shopping with your mother. A better choice would be a new phone or laptop. Give her what she wants rather than what she needs.

Additionally, if she resides in Pune, you can send her cake there using an online cake delivery in Pune at your home.

Throw A Party

Throwing a party is another enjoyable way to honor mom on her birthday! Another choice is to go out together or invite friends and family home for supper. You may help her feel even more special by throwing a party filled with games, decorations, and other well prepared activities. You can select from a wide range of cakes available online.

Give her a good day and a grin.