#plan de bonn

[lilias42]

Nouvel état d'avancement de la BD !

ça faisait un moment qu'un petit état des lieux n'avaient pas été posté alors, j'avais envie de vous en montrer un morceau ! Il vous manque un morceau de l'histoire entre le précédent post et cette scène mais, elle est compréhensible indépendamment du reste.

Je n'ai pas grand chose à préciser pour cette partie, il n'y a pas de jeu sur le vocabulaire comme dans le dernier état des lieux. Il y a juste un point qui pourrait peut-être étonné : Pyrkaïa raconte une histoire mythologique qui existe dans notre monde, celle d'Héraclès (aussi connu sous son nom romain Hercule, notamment grâce au film Superman où il s'appelle Hercule... comment ça le "Hercule" de Disney n'est pas un film Superman ?) mais, elle ne correspond pas forcément à l'histoire mythologique de notre monde (par exemple, l'évènement qui a inspiré le vol de la ceinture d'Hippolithe [9e travail] est juste après la chasse du sanglier d'Erymanthe [4e travail] qui est tué dans cette version plutôt que capturé vivant). C'est justifié dans le texte mais, je préfère prévenir pour que ça n'étonne pas trop. En plus, je trouve ça plus intéressant de ne pas reprendre l'histoire de base mais, de l'adapter au contexte de mon univers.

Ah ! Et aussi, à plusieurs moments, la scène se concentre sur les fiertés de Pyrkaïa mais, vu que j'abime déjà pas mal mes feuilles, je ne voulais pas les creuser encore plus avant de passer le feutre en dessinant ses veines de lave (surtout que c'est ultra long aussi - -' ) alors, sur ces préparations, elles n'apparaissent pas à part sur une planche ^^'

[superiorkenshi]

Je suis pas là ils font comment casto en faite? Car c'est normal que je me retrouve seul de 6h à 12h en déco + peinture??? Et Vas-y que ceux qui arrive à 12h on une reu de 13h à 14h donc j'ai du attendre celle qui arrive à 13h20 alors que je finis à 13h??? C'est quoi ça casto ??

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

ah mon dieu mais les croute ils sont grandioses

[miirohs]

world burning [c.l.c]

pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: someone is literally shot, charles kisses reader a bit forcefully an: to the anon who said they'd sell me their soul my cashapp is @bestfanficwriterever (jk jk, i hope that anon sees this tho). Real reminder to you all, again, that non of this stuff is to be encouraged irl and this is all meant as a fictional scenario!

“Charlie?”

You could hear him softly cursing in French on the other line, whispering as the bed creaked in the background. It was obvious he had just woken up, and you felt terrible for waking him as well, knowing the day he probably had.

“Qu'est-ce qu'il y a, tu ferais mieux d'avoir une bonne raison de me réveiller (what's the matter, you'd better have a good reason for waking me up)-”

“Charles, I've been arrested, I need someone to come get me.” 

The muttering stopped, grogginess disappearing from his voice almost instantly. “Y/n? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé bon sang chéri (y/n? what the hell happened darling)?”

“Charles, not now please,” You chastised softly, looking to the door as the guards quietly conversed among themselves outside the room, “I have no idea why this is happening and what they’re gonna do to me.” “How did you even manage to get arrested… Nevermind that, I just hope you haven’t answered anything they've asked of you.” He groaned, heavy thumping over the phone as you looked nervously at the door for any indication they’d been listening to your conversation.

“I’m not that dull,” You said quietly, looking down at your lap, “and it couldn't have been anything i did, all they did was seize the car from me in the lot and bring me here.”

He paused for a moment, silent over the line. You pressed the phone against your ear, straining for any sounds on the other side of the line.

“Stay put. I’m coming to get you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you fumbled, tripping over your words in a hurry to get them out.

“Char, what are you planning on doing?”

He laughed humorlessly over the phone, the sound of keys jingling and door slamming making you jump back from the phone as if it’d grown a head.

“Exactly what I said I'm going to do, come and pick you up.”

You swallowed the thick ball that’d formed in your throat.

“You know what- never mind, send someone else in your place, maybe Carlos?” You bargained, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Pas de souci, mon amour. Je ne fais que commencer (no worries, my love. I'm just getting started). They should’ve learned not to fuck with the wrong person. I’ll be there in another 20 minutes, you won’t need to call anyone else.”

You shivered as the line went dead, looking at the now opened door, all the cops watching you with a suspicious look.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

All you could do was shake your head.

Not even a grand total of 15 minutes later, a shouting match erupted, followed by loud bangs.

There was a single person you could think of who was capable of this level of chaos, and you could have swore you’d heard him threatening the cops right now.

“Where is she?”

“Sir-”

“Don’t sir me, where the hell is she? Don’t tell me I have to blow another head off just for you to tell me.”

Everything seemed to fall silent for a couple moments, only a few voices daring to make a sound.

“Char?” You called out, a couple beats of silence weighing you down.

The sound of footsteps only got louder, stopping in front of the room you were in.

Keys jangled, the door slamming open as Charles walked in, a couple of police tailing him timidly to the outside of the door.

There were dark stains on his otherwise clean shirt, an indication of what happened visible in the peeved look on his face. Your eyes slowly trailed to his hand, a gun held tightly in his grip, smoking oh so slightly.

Noticing how your attention had drifted to the weapon, he put it down on the other side of the table as he approached you, shrugging off his jacket as he approached you.

“Tu vas bien maintenant (you're all right now),” He said quietly, running his fingers through your hair as he pulled you to him, “Come on, we’re going home.” 

You clutched his arm as he stood you up, eyes glued to the floor as you walked next to him.

You could hear their disappointed exhales, tinged with a bit of surprise as Charles kept a firm grip on your back, guiding you through the long hall to the main office.

As you continued to walk, he gently stopped you, turning around in the middle of the room as someone called for him.

“Fucks sake,” He sighed, turning around.

“Sir, i believe there has been a mistake-”

“What sort of mistake do you think you’ve made?” He snarled, his hand running down to your hand, lacing his fingers into yours.

“You see, the car we identified was yours and we thought that perhaps she’d stole it-”

“And you didn’t think to call me so I could deal with them myself?” He chuckled humorlessly, pulling you to his side. You held your breath, completely aware of what was about to happen.

“Charles, no-”

He shook his head at you, basically telling you to not interfere. You obliged, eyebrows creasing as you watch the poor man who had tried to explain himself get shoved to his knees.

“First off, you interrupt my very precious time, and then you have the audacity to say that you’ve made a mistake?” He stands back, waving at someone behind him to step forward to his side with a gun. “Do you know who she is?”

The man stumbled over his words, trying to plead for his life, but you already knew it was too late.

“Since you don’t seem to know, let me tell you. She’s the last face you’ll be seeing but since she’s here, I've decided to spare the rest of you for the time being. If I ever hear of anything happening to her again, anyone in this room will not be spared like they were today.” He remarked bemusedly, turning to you with the widest grin you’d ever seen from him.

“Chéri, close your eyes, and cover your ears as well.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. The second you did, there was a bang, followed by a thumping sound.

Something warm was on your face, but you didn’t dare open your eyes, shaky hands coming off your ears to touch your face.

“Don’t.” He was closer than you thought, causing you to jump as he rubbed what you assumed was a handkerchief against your face . “Don’t say anything, don’t look, just follow me.” 

You cracked open an eye, briefly wandering to the pool of blood a couple of feet away from you.

“What did I just tell you?” He remarked, barking at the rest in rapid french as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out the doors of the station.

There was an awkward silence as you lumbered into the passenger side seat, pressing yourself against the seat as he pulled out and onto the road.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” He muttered, hand reaching over to squeeze your thigh.

“I thought you’d be upset with me.” You looked down, noticing the dried blood on his hands, not that it made much of a difference to you anymore. Less than two years ago, you would have been horrified at the idea of blood within six feet of you, but you had come to accept it as a part of him you could never erase.

“No-” He punched the brakes, eyes slightly apologetic as you jumped from the sudden shock of stopping.

“No, no, Y/n, look at me,” His hand left your thigh, fingers curling around your chin and pulling your face to his, “You are not responsible for any of that, i gave you the car, remember? You are not to blame yourself because I would gladly do anything for you.”

“Char-” You whined, muffled slightly by the pressure of his fingers against your cheeks.

“I would give you the world to see you happy, so shut up and take it.” He pressed his lips harshly against yours, almost needy in the way he nipped at your bottom. Warmth seemed to stir inside you as he let you go, your own mind racing at a million miles per hour as he returned to the wheel as if nothing had happened.

However, under his breath, he muttered something that even escaped you as your thoughts drifted off elsewhere. “Le monde brûlera, si tu le veux ma chérie, je te le promets (the world will burn, if you want it to my darling, I promise).”

[clerc16]

✯ music? date? both ; charles leclerc

a/n: based on a tiktok i saw earlier, by teilhard_ :)

summary: she listens to music when getting ready. he loves it. she sends him a note - he asks her out.

warnings: none.

── ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You were a major music lover.

Getting ready? Listen to music. Reading? Listen to music. Driving? Listen to music. Bored? You guessed it.

Everyone knew that about you - you were unbelievably passionate about music. Any type of music.

“Y/NNNN, can we hang out today? iʼm bored” said a text from your friend. Naturally, you agreed - why not? It was a Saturday night and you had no plans whatsoever.

Like always, you turned on your regular playlist, making sure the volume is suitable only for your ears to hear, not to disturb any of your neighbors. Unbeknownst to you, your next door neighbor could listen to every sound coming out of your speakers. He was a nice guy - you interacted a few times, little “hello”s and “how are you”s every time you would randomly bump into each other. Despite being famous worldwide, he was extremely humble.

He was also devilishly handsome. But you never actually admitted that.

As you swiftly moved around your apartment to grab little bits and bobs needed to get ready, occasionally humming or singing along with the music, Charles Leclerc was sitting in the apartment right next to yours, attempting to read.

If he was bothered by your music, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you - but he wasnʼt. It gave his currently dull and dead apartment a lively feel to it. Plus, your music taste was unmatchable.

As you put on some final touches, you paused your music and turned off your speakers. You grabbed your purse, phone and keys and left your apartment, shutting your door with a soft thud.

It wasn’t the first time Charles heard your music - in fact, ever since he moved in, he’d be hearing various music genres at various times of the day. This almost seemed like his final straw; he wanted to get to know you more.

He didn’t know how to approach you - he didn’t have your number, your social media, not even an email. So he channeled his inner creativity and decided to talk to you in a special way.

The special way was by leaving you a note by your doorstep. Not very original, eh?

As you were out with your friend enjoying your night, Charles was tapping his pen on the desk trying to think of what to write. After a few long hours, Charles had written the perfect note and placed it by your doorstep, hoping to see a response in the morning.

You stumbled back into your apartment complex, trying not to make a noise. You werenʼt drunk, just tired, your body begging you to fall asleep. You paid little to no attention as to what you were stepping on as you approached your door, keys in hand. As you were about to walk in, something felt stiff underneath your shoes. Looking down, you saw a small cream envelope with your name written on it in fancy cursive writing.

You bent down to pick it up and walked inside your apartment, your eyes still on the envelope. What is this?

You sit down on your couch and carefully open the letter, not wanting to rip the envelope.

“Bonjour -

Je voulais juste dire que tu écoutes de la très bonne musique, jʼadore ça!

PS: écoute “This Charming Man” de The Smiths, tu devrais aimer...

- Charles (ton voisin, n°28)”

[ Hello -

I just wanted to say that you listen to really good music, I love it!

PS: listen to “This Charming Man” by The Smiths, you should like it...

- Charles (your neighbor, n°28) ]

You immediately smiled at the note, your heart bursting with pride. If someone compliments your music taste and recommends a song, they are immediately very dear to you.

You placed the note back into its envelope and got up to change and refresh. Youʼll make sure to write back - you just donʼt really know how.

The next day, the first thing Charles did when he got up was to check for a note. He didn’t find anything. Nothing.

He sighed and decided to get on with his day. He shouldnʼt have expected a lot, really. As he left his apartment, he checked for one last time - still, nothing.

Little did he know you were just writing his name on an envelope to place on his doorstep.

The day passed, both of you anxiously waiting for a reply from each other. When Charles finally came home and saw a pink envelope on his doorstep, he smiled so hard his cheeks must have been screaming. He grabbed the envelope and rushed inside, the smile never leaving his face.

“Bonjour!

Merci beaucoup! Cela signifie beaucoup. La chanson est incroyable, The Smiths ne déçoivent jamais.

PS: écoute de “Good Looking” de Suki Waterhouse :)

- Y/N”

[ Hello!

Thank you so much! It means a lot! The song is amazing, The Smiths never disappoint.

PS: listen to “Good Looking” by Suki Waterhouse :) ]

Charles immediately opens the song on his phone, listening to it. Your music taste never disappoints, either.

It was like that for a few days - notes filled with song suggestions being passed back and forth. Every time you played music, you made sure to turn it up just a notch so he can listen to it with you.

Eventually, phone numbers were exchanged too, so notes on doorsteps were replaced by texts. Despite all this, you two didn’t actually talk in real life - even though you were literally next door neighbors.

One day, you were doing your usual, listening to music while cooking dinner. Your doorbell rang, and you walked over to the door to see who it was. Funnily enough, no one was there - but a small envelope on the doorstep was. You were confused; you and Charles text now, so why another envelope?

You brought it inside and sat down, opening it swiftly. Your hands grasped at the paper and pulled it out, curiously reading.

“Bonjour!

I feel like itʼs appropriate to ask to see you in real life now. Talking to you has been lovely. What do you say, coming by my house tomorrow at 6PM for dinner?

☐ Oui

☐ Non

- One last letter from Charles :)”

You grinned from ear to ear as you grabbed a pen and ticket the oui box, placing the note back in its envelope and by his doorstep.

Hopefully he lets you play your music on that dinner.

[senditcolton]

I'm Still Glad I Met You

Isn't it profound, how such a brief experience can be so special?

summary: Emmaline 'Emma' Evans never expected to be in Paris, searching for inspiration to bring back to her new cafe in New York. She certainly didn't expect to meet Nico, a stranger who doesn't feel like one. But is it just the City of Love twisting her emotions, making her fall for someone who is sure to be temporary? Or is this is the start of something real? song inspo: need by taylor swift word count: 12.5k warnings: hinted intimacy (non-explicit), brief language, resolved angst. written for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange to @offside-the-lines with love 🤍❄️🖋️ bonus epilogue!

Au nom de l’équipage d’Air France, nous vous souhaitons une bonne journée.

From the large windows, Emmaline Evans watches the darkened tarmac pass, her plane headed towards the gate. There was still a small part of her that couldn’t believe that she in Paris. It was exciting even though she wouldn’t be able to explore until tomorrow. But she knew to hold her excitement close to her chest, letting her head guide her instead of her heart.

She wasn’t here for a vacation. She was here for work.

While this trip was an early birthday gift from her parents, it was bought with the express purpose of helping her prepare for the opening of the café she and her best friend Morgan had been planning for the past year and was now only 4 months away.

La Crème de la Crème. The best of the best. That was the name and that was the goal; to bring a bit of France back to Greenwich Village and impress all who walked in with Morgan’s coffee talents and Emma’s pastry skills. And what better way to bring Paris to New York than to take inspiration from the City of Love itself?

Pulling her phone out from her purse, she checks the time. 8pm. She scours through her memory until she remembers that New York is six hours behind. Opening her messages, she shoots off a quick text to Morgan.

Landed! I’m going to get to the apartment and then try to sleep. How are things going over there? sent 8:08pm

The rustling of the other passengers pulls Emma’s attention from her phone, realizing that it was time to depart from the plane. She hastily grabs her items, lugging her suitcase from the overhead bin and makes her way through the airport. She utters a quick thank you to the universe for her knowledge of the French language or she would be completely lost. It isn’t until she has successfully grabbed a cab and began the route to the Paris apartment, does she check her messages again.

It's all good here! The rest of the equipment came today so the plan is to finish installing that today. And then all that’s left is the menu, staff, and décor. received 8:16pm

You make it sound so easy. sent 8:37pm

Babe, we’ve been planning this for ages. We are literally in the homestretch! received 8:42pm

I know, it’s just… ugh. I wish you were here with me. This is our dream after all. sent 8:44pm

I do too. But I’m perfectly fine holding down the fort here. You just focus on Paris and all the amazing desserts you’re going to recreate when you come back stateside! (don’t forget to make notes about the coffee as well!) received 8:49pm

I don’t know coffee nearly as well as you but I’ll do my best. Thanks, Morgan. I literally couldn’t do this without you. sent 8:53pm

You know it. received 8:54pm

A small chuckle escapes from Emma’s throat at Morgan’s reply. She sighs, looking out the taxi window, blinking a few times at the sights in front of her. She was so absorbed in the everything she left behind that she wasn’t even paying attention to where she was. She had entered the city limits. She arrived.

Paris. The city seemed to sparkle as she rode down the narrow streets and alleyways. It was early in the evening which meant the streets were crowded with people. Emma had always believed that New York was the city that never slept but she had a feeling that Paris would prove her wrong.

The taxi pulls up to the Airbnb that Emma rented and she takes her luggage, thanking her driver before grabbing the key out of the lockbox and making her way up the narrow staircase. She looks out the small window, looking at the city stretching out in front of her, the lights of the Eiffel Tower shining in the distance.

These next 4 days would be magical. That much she was sure of. What else could this experience be described as?

~*~*Day One*~*~

Emma had been in Paris for less than 16 hours and she had already found so much inspiration. It wasn’t just the cafés that she had stopped at so far, it wasn’t even the assortment of treats she had already eaten; it was the city. She thought the stories she heard about Paris were exaggerations – no city could be that amazing. People surely had to be over-romanticizing the city of romance. But they weren’t.

Here, in this moment, sitting at the Café de la Paix outside the Grand Hotel, watching as the people passed her by, listening as the chatter of multiple languages bouncing off her eardrums… she realized those stories were true. The city itself brought about its own kind of energy, cocooning her in a beautiful dream. The afternoon sun was warm on her face and Emma could only hope to bottle a mere drop of this feeling and pack it in her suitcase to bring back to New York along with her notebook that was already filled with scribbles and notes about the delicacies that she had sampled.

“Je peux me asseoir ici?”

The slightly butchered pronunciation pulls Emma out of her reverie. She looks over to see a man standing with his hand lightly resting on the chair across from her. She shoots him a smile, her hand gesturing towards the seat.

“It’s all yours.”

“Is it that obvious that I don’t speak French?” the stranger asks her as he sits down, a sheepish look on his face.

“I never said that,” Emma laughs, her lighthearted teasing pulling a relaxed smile onto his lips. “But you shouldn’t feel too bad,” she continues. “I’ve noticed that if you have even a hint of an accent, the locals here switch to English, even if you actually know how to speak French.”

“I take it that’s happened to you?”

“The American is hard to mask,” she replies with a slight shake of her head. “I’m Emma.”

“Nico,” the stranger replies, reaching for her outstretched hand to give it a polite shake. “So, American huh?”

“Born and raised. What about you? I don’t mean to pry but I do hear a… unique accent.”

“I’m from Switzerland but I work in America,” Nico explains.

“And you’re in Paris for…” Emma asks, unsure why she is so interested in this – very handsome – stranger’s story. But Nico doesn’t seem to mind her questions as he gives a small shrug and replies with that same gentle smile on his face.

“My job. Some press work,” he says, vague but nonchalant.

“Wow. You’re from Switzerland, you work in America, but your job also takes you to Paris? Quite a world traveler.”

“I’m very lucky,” Nico says before turning the question back to her. “What about you? Are you here for work or pleasure?”

“Work. But maybe a little bit of pleasure?”

“Well, now you’ve intrigued me.”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“I’d still love to hear about it.”

“Really? I don’t want to waste your time,” Emma says, hesitant. However, she can’t deny the small spark of hope that flutters in her chest over the prospect of Nico wanting to talk to her. Who wouldn’t deny the attention of an attractive and kind stranger?

“I have nothing planned for the rest of the day,” Nico assures her. “Plus, you’re one of the few people who has been welcoming to me, outside of the people from my… company.”

“Are the Parisian’s living up to the ‘stuck up French’ stereotype?” she laughs.

“Unfortunately for them, they are,” Nico replies with a laugh of his own. “But I guess it is pretty fortunate for me.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“Because then I wouldn’t have run into you.”

Emma feels her cheeks flush as his casual flattery, her head ducking down in shyness. When she looks up, she can see the grin on Nico’s face – as if he enjoyed making her flustered – and Emma is struck with the strange juxtaposition of wanting to playfully wipe that smirk away but also wanting to make sure it stayed just so she could see it more.

“Well, if I’m going to tell you my life story, I’m going to need more coffee,” she finally replies, before waving over the waitress.

The day ends up being a waste for Emma – well, at least in the work sense. She doesn’t leave Café de la Paix until late, sun hanging low in the sky; not nearly enough time left in the day to hit all of the cafés, boulangeries, and patisseries that she planned on visiting. But she finds that she doesn’t care. Because all those ‘wasted’ hours were spent talking to Nico.

He was funny and sweet and charming and drop dead gorgeous. Talking to him felt so natural, like they had known each other for ages even though they just met that day. The entire experience of him sitting across from her in a Paris café, listening to her stories, telling her stories of his own, and constantly shooting her that beautiful dimpled smile… it felt like something out of a dream.

The cynical part of her psyche wanted to shake her; he was a stranger and she was caught up in the romance of Paris. That was all. But the hopeless romantic side of her wanted to stay in this cotton-candy colored haze for as long as she could.

Which is why, now, as she sits in her rental apartment, her notebook splayed open in front of her, she isn’t brainstorming a menu or planning the ingredient list for the café or even scrolling through Pinterest for interior design inspiration.

Instead, her eyes are tracing the scrawl of numbers that Nico wrote in the top right-hand corner.

A number that was written as a request for him to join her on her exploration of Paris.

And – after she banishes that negative voice into the corner of her mind – Emma enters the number into her messages, texting him an invitation to meet her at Du Pain et des Idees on 34 Rue Yves Toudic.

She falls asleep to the knowledge of Nico’s reply.

See you then. received 9:18pm

~*~*Day Two*~*~

This was absolutely ridiculous.

That was all that Emma could think as she closes the door to her rented Parisian apartment.

Granted, a lot of things about this situation were ridiculous. The fact that she was in Paris. The fact that she was there to help open her dream café. The fact that everything she ate tasted better than she could ever imagine.

But the most ridiculous part of all? Nico.

The man that she had only met yesterday and yet… there was something about him. His gentle eyes, his soft smile, the dimples in his cheeks.

He was at the boulangerie when she arrived, a coffee in hand and an Escargot a la Pistache for her. Another thing to add into the ridiculous column – that pastry was the reason that particular store was on her checklist.

And then the day that followed… even more unbelievable. Walking down the Parisian streets with Nico by her side, taking multiple pit-stops into cafés and patisseries and boulangeries, talking about everything but also nothing at all. Nico stayed by her side into the late afternoon, until his job called him away.

There was a constant battle in her mind about why this was happening.

The hopeless romantic was telling her that this was fate; she was supposed to meet Nico here in Paris and they were supposed to experience this moment in time together. That there was a reason, some grand universal scheme, that out of all the tables he could’ve chosen to sit at in Café de la Paix, he chose hers.

The cynic, however, was telling her this was nothing. He chose that table because it was open. He accompanied her today because it came with the promise of delicious French cuisine. And sure, maybe he liked the way she looked. Perhaps that was the reason he stuck around; he was a young handsome man in a foreign country who was simply looking for a good time.

But if that was all he wanted, why choose her? He could easily pick up any beautiful French woman at any bar or club, spend the night with her and then forget her name come morning. Why spend an entire with her, seeming perfectly happy keeping her company, even if that company included her ranting to him about the details of pastry and desserts, something he admitted he knew nothing about?

That unknowable ‘why?’ was haunting Emma. Was she being paranoid? Or was she being careful? Or was she just overthinking about something and someone that was temporary?

In three days’ time, she would be on a plane flying back to New York and whatever she had shared with Nico would be over. She would never see him again. That wasn’t something that her emotions were lying to her about. That wasn’t something refutable. She would never see Nico again. Because that is what this was: temporary.

The thing is… it didn’t feel temporary.

If this was fate or destiny or whatever, it didn’t feel like Nico was supposed to come into her life for a few days and then leave without another word exchanged between them. It felt more intentional.

But, once again, perhaps her emotions were twisting this reality into the fairytale that she so desperately wanted her life to be.

Emma is startled out of her spiraling thoughts by the shrill sound of her phone ringing. After rummaging through her bag, she grasps her cell and is surprised to see Morgan’s number flashing on her screen.

The spike of fear that rushes through her clears her head faster than even the strongest cup of coffee. There was absolutely no reason for Morgan to be calling unless it was an emergency; money troubles, delivery issues, hell it could even be something worse like mold or an electrical fire. Emma quickly accepts the call and lifts her cell to her ear, mentally preparing herself.

“Girl, you better tell me what the hell is going on with you,” Morgan’s voice echoes through the line, clear as day even with the white noise of New York in the background.

“What?” Emma asks, taken aback by Morgan’s unexpected words.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to avoid this,” Morgan quips, confusing Emma even further.

“Morgan, I really don’t know what you are talking about,” Emma sighs.

“The pictures? The angles? That love-struck look on your face in every single one of them?”

“What are you talking about?” Emma repeats.

“Babe, come on. I’ve known you for years now. You think I don’t know what it looks like when you’ve tripped head over heels for someone?”

Finally, the fog lifts from Emma’s brain.

“You’re talking about the pictures I’ve texted to you,” she sighs, collapsing onto the couch. In an effort to keep Morgan updated, she had asked Nico to occasionally take her picture – across from café tables or in front of other classic Parisian sights, all which she sent to Morgan with a quick message or an even faster emoji.

“What else would I be talking about?” Morgan says, the exasperated tone that Emma had grown to love hitting her eardrums.  

“I thought you were calling me because there was some type of emergency.”

“This is a freaking emergency!” Morgan shouts, causing a laugh to fall from Emma, one which is ignored as Morgan barrels on. “My best friend has been struck by Cupid’s arrow in the City of Love!”

“I have not.”

“Don’t deny it. Now, spill. Who is the mysterious French gentleman?”

“He’s actually Swiss,” Emma retorts, knowing that Nico’s nationality was the least important reason Morgan was calling. A thought that is practically confirmed by Morgan’s next words.

“What?”

“Nothing. His name is Nico. He’s in Paris for work. I met him at Café de la Paix yesterday.”

“Really? That’s it? That’s all I get? The CliffsNotes version?”

“Well, to be honest, that’s all I really know. I mean, we’ve talked about family and childhood and general get-to-know each other things – food, movies, all that – but that’s it,” Emma explains, the words feeling stupid as they come out of her mouth.

When talking to Nico, she didn’t mind that they kept things surface level. She knew the reason for it. It was because of that word that continued to plague her – temporary. No point getting into the ‘deep stuff’ when all this would be a distant memory soon.

“Is he handsome?” Morgan’s voice sounds again, her focus on what she considered ‘important’ forcing a laugh from Emma’s lips.

“Drop dead gorgeous,” Emma sighs, Nico’s eyes and dimples and smile dancing through her mind.  

“Have you slept with him yet?”

“Morgan!”

“What?” Morgan exclaims, her own laugh seeping into her words. “I feel like it’s a very relevant question: have you slept with the drop-dead gorgeous man you met yesterday, who is choosing to spend a day of his vacation with you?”

“I told you, he’s here for work. And we didn’t spend the entire day together.”

“Not important. Have you slept with him?”

“No, I haven’t,” Emma replies, the smile clear in her words.

“Bitch, why not?” Morgan shrieks, causing Emma to laugh once again.

“Because. Besides, you should know I don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I know, not since you got out of school. But come on! First off, I take it he’s not a pretentious wanna-be pastry chef, right?”

“He’s not.”

“Alright. Secondly, you’re never going to see him again so what’s the harm?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Emma sighs as she sinks deeper into the couch cushions, the joy dropping from her voice at yet another reminder of this being temporary.

“Woah, okay,” Morgan says, her own voice softening at the sadness broadcasted in Emma’s. “Something else is going on here.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Clearly, it’s not considering how upset you sound. Come on, it’s just me. Your best friend in the whole wide world who may tease you a bit but would never actually judge you.”

Emma takes a deep breath, looking around her apartment, trying to get her thoughts in order. Her eyes move to the window where she can still see the shape of the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

“It’s just…” she begins, hesitating, worried that the words will sound ridiculous. But she relaxes, remembering that it’s just Morgan. “I’ve never felt like this before. Nico, he’s… he’s so sweet and so kind. I mean, like you said, he’s spending his free time to hang out with me. Like, that must mean something right? I mean, if he wanted a piece of ass he could find one easily.”

“Not one as hot as yours,” Morgan interjects but Emma pays no mind to her words.

“It seems like he cares about me as more than just a potential hookup. And when I’m with him… it’s easy, like we’ve known each other for ages. Part of me wants to say that all these emotions are fake because – y’know – it’s the ‘City of Love’ and Paris just making me think this is more than it is but… I feel like I could fall in love with him.”

Emma can hear Morgan’s intake of breath, a tell-tale sign that she opened her mouth to speak but Emma cut her off before she could utter a syllable.

“I know that’s stupid to say about a man I met less than 36 hours ago. Plus, like you said, we’re never going to see each other again. His job apparently takes him all around the world so the chances of running into him after this are slim to none. But since I like him this much – in a way that is beyond casual – I’m worried that if I sleep with him or hell even kiss him, it will just make it harder to get over him. Which, again, is silly that I’m worried about getting over someone that I will might spend a maximum of four days with. Like – it’s just – I don’t know.”

Emma heaves another sigh, her hand moving to run through her dark hair before a half-hearted chuckle escapes her.

“This is why I don’t do casual.”

There is a small pause as Morgan takes in all of Emma’s words, the only sound filtering through the phone being the ambient noise of both of their respective cities. Emma finally hears a sigh from the other line before Morgan’s voice comes through.

“Listen, you know I’m not much for soulmates and true love and all of that. But I think you should just embrace it, whatever it is that you are feeling.”

This time, it is Emma who is about to voice a retort and Morgan who stops her before she can.

“Yeah, you’ll probably never see him again. Yeah, this is all temporary. But isn’t that even more reason to dive in headfirst while you can? Better to live a life of mistakes than a life of regret.”

Emma lets Morgan’s final statement sink in, her brain moving a mile a minute. She was right: what was there to lose? The question whirls around Emma’s head, the answer to which doesn’t instantly appear. The only thing that Emma could think to utter was another sigh.

“You know, sometimes you give really good advice.”

“It does tend to happen from time to time, thank you for noticing,” Morgan laughs. “And hey, regardless of what you decide over there in Paris, maybe this whirlwind romance will give you even more inspiration for the café!”

“And sometimes you give advice like that,” Emma jokes, the exasperation in the tone obvious.

“Eh, you win some, you lose some. I’ll let you get some dinner and sleep. Keep me updated – this time on everything not just the food, please and thank you.”

“Will do. Bye Morgan.”

Morgan replies with a quick goodbye before the call ends, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts once more. The hours pass and after ordering some takeout, Emma sits down at her small kitchen table. While she eats, Emma flips open to the back page of her notebook, writing down all the emotions and questions swirling around in her head, trying find some logical solution to her current predicament.

She’s in the middle of making a pros and cons list when her phone screen lights up with a message. Not thinking much of it, she doesn’t bother looking at the preview before unlocking her phone, ready to read another quip from Morgan. She is halted in her movements when she sees Nico’s name on the screen.

Hey. I had a lot of fun hanging out with you today. I was wondering if you wanted to do it again tomorrow? I have the evening off and would love to take in some Parisian nightlife. received 7:58pm

Emma’s eyes dance over his words before jumping back to her own looped handwriting on the pages of her notebook, trying to add this message into the tangle of possibilities. She is about to type up an excuse about why she can’t before a familiar voice echoes through her mind.

Better to live a life of mistakes than a life of regret. What’s the worst that could happen?

Yes, it could be a huge mistake letting Nico get any closer, letting him mess with her emotions any more than he already has. But maybe, just maybe, this was meant to be. And as Emma chews over those two possibilities, another question enters her mind.

Which would hurt more? Getting over Nico or never giving him a chance?

Emma looks back to her phone, the answer obvious to her now. She deletes the previously half written message before typing up a new response.

What did you have in mind? sent 8:06pm

Anything’s good for me. Just as long as you’re there. received 8:10pm

~*~*Day Three*~*~

Emma thought that she would get used to this feeling; the feeling of existing in a dream. It seemed to happen every hour she spent with Nico by her side. And now, the evening air warm as the two of them sit outside of Carette, the sweet taste of macarons in dancing across their tastebuds with the Eiffel Tower shining directly across the Seine… it was something out of a romance novel.

Emma glances across the small table towards Nico, wondering if he felt the same. He catches her stare and when that beautiful smile appears on his face, the butterflies erupt in her stomach. No one else had been able to illicit that reaction from her with something as simple a smile.

“Anything you would like to do next?” Nico asks, wiping the remnants of his dessert on the small paper napkins.

“Not really. I – well, we’ve – hit most of the cafés and stores on my list so I don’t have really anywhere I need to be,” Emma explains. Nico nods, acknowledging her words with a small hum. “I might just head back to my apartment. It is getting kind of late.”

“Need any company?”

His words catch Emma’s attention, the potential entendre clear within them. Emma shoots him a questioning look and it seems that her expression makes Nico realize how it must have sounded.

“I mean, not like that, I, um – what I was trying to say was would you like me to walk you home – keep you company on the way to your place,” he stumbles over his words and in the streetlights, Emma can see his cheeks turning a rosy pink. She assuages his fear with a soft laugh.

“I’d like that.”

“Good. Okay,” Nico sighs, his hands running through his hair.  He smiles again, one that Emma returns, before he lifts himself from his chair, holding his hand out to Emma. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Emma says, placing her hand in his as he helps her from her seat. Emma is about ready release her grasp when she feels his grip slightly tighten, an action that brings another questioning look on her face.

“Is this alright?” Nico asks, his voice soft.

The butterflies in her stomach flip into overdrive at his gentle request. Although she had agreed to this – Date? Meeting? Rendezvous? Whatever. – with Nico, a part of her was still hesitant to make a more daring move. To dive head first as Morgan said. Vulnerability had never been much of a strong suit for her.

But considering that Nico was looking at her like she hung the stars, that sweet earnest expression on his face, she realized that she didn’t care if her heart would be broken by the end of this trip. Because whatever she shared with Nico… it was magical.

Why not keep the magic for as long as she could?

The smallest of smiles tugs at the corner of Emma’s lips as she adjusts her hold around Nico’s hand, weaving her fingers through his.

“It’s perfect,” she whispers, her voice wavering a bit; a waver that Nico hears but silences with a small squeeze of her hand and that bright dimpled smile.

The two of them leave the small café, walking hand in hand across the square, through the Trocadero Gardens to the Pont d’Iena bridge, the Eiffel Tower standing tall in front of them. The water of the Siene is a soft soundtrack below them and Emma finds herself caught up in the beauty of Paris.

Part of her thought that the novelty of the city would wear off eventually. But it seemed that Paris revealed something else wonderful to her every second she walked down its paved streets. As her and Nico walk underneath the sprawling base of the Eiffel Tower, Emma’s eyes trace the steelwork; its gentle arcs, its cross-work patterns, the diamond in the center that she knew lifted up and up, the lights hung on every intricate weld. This vacation was one of the best things that ever happened to her, that much she was sure of.

And it was made even sweeter with the presence of the man by her side, still holding her hand.

She looks over towards Nico, his eyes connecting to hers, a smile appearing on both of their faces. She lets him lead her away from the tower, down Champ de Mars.

Emma had previously thought that the city was manipulating her emotions, getting her hopes up over someone who didn’t feel the same. Now, she thought that perhaps the city brought Nico to her for a reason. That the city wasn’t scheming to break her heart… it was planning to open it and let Nico – with his gentle eyes and soft smile and adorable dimples – change her for the better.

Her daydreams are interrupted by a chorus of ‘oohs’ falling from the mouths of other tourists around her and Nico. Emma looks and sees a few people with their camera’s aimed behind them and when she turns, her jaw drops.

There in the background, the Eiffel Tower stands, it’s thousands of lights now flashing, making the entire structure look as if it was covered in glitter.

“I haven’t been able to catch the light show since I got here,” Emma whispers, partly to herself but her words also land on Nico’s eardrums. “I always forgot when it started.”

The two of them stand there, taking in the sparkling spire before Nico’s voice breaks the brief silence.

“Do you want a picture?”

“Could you? That be amazing,” Emma says, reaching into her purse before she stops. “Oh, right. My phone died.”

“I can use mine,” Nico replies without any hesitation, reaching into the pocket of his jeans.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he says, phone now in hand.

Nico starts to take a step back, his hand slipping from Emma’s grasp. But before he can fully let go, her fingers tighten around his. The action takes Nico by surprise, his eyes jumping to their intertwined hands before looking back to Emma.

“Take one with me?” she asks, her own voice soft, the question seeming to hold more weight than it should. Emma watches as a flicker of hesitation passes across Nico’s face, the uncertainty making her anxiety jump. But Nico once again silences her fear, his expression morphing back into that smile that made her heart skip in the best way before he gently nods his head, stepping back towards her.

Nico turns their bodies so the Eiffel Tower is behind them before holding out his phone. Emma takes a small breath before she moves, slotting her body next to his, her free hand lifting to rest on his chest. Every movement is tentative, unsure of how much Nico will allow. But when Nico drops her hand to wrap his arm around her body, pulling her closer, Emma relaxes. Her body curls into Nico’s, head resting on his shoulder as Nico angles the camera to capture the shimmering tower in the background.

Nico’s thumb presses the shutter button a few times before moving the phone closer to them as his hands navigate from the camera to the photos. Emma looks over the images, the smile never leaving her face. Each picture is beautiful; the two of them looking incredibly happy, the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance. She turns her attention away from Nico’s phone, back towards him. But when their eyes connect, her breath catches in her throat.

The look on Nico’s face is one that Emma has seen a thousand times before, but only in movies and television shows. A look that had never once been directed towards her. A look of utmost gentleness, the yearning in Nico’s irises gleaming with the same intensity as the light show still happening behind them.

Nico’s head dips closer towards Emma’s upturned face and Emma finds her own body is stretching up to meet him. They pause, bare inches in between them and Emma can feel the gentle brush of Nico’s breath fanning across her cheeks.

Another moment of hesitation, the air thick with indecision, waiting for someone to make the final move.

In the end, it turns out to be Nico that leans in, closing the gap between them and capturing Emma’s lips in a gentle kiss. The press of him against her surprises Emma – not because she wasn’t expecting it, not because she didn’t want it, but because she couldn’t quite believe it was really happening.

The touch of him, the taste of him… it felt too good to be true.

But when she feels Nico start to pull away, the shock subsides and the hunger takes over. Her hands blindly lift to burrow into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, dragging him back into her as she reciprocates the kiss.

This time, it is Nico that is taken aback by her intensity but it is brief – a minuscule surprise – until he matching her passion, his own hands tightening around her waist, pulling her body impossibly closer to her. The kisses deepen, the two of them enveloped in the desire that had been steadily building for the past two days.

Eventually, they fall away from each other, dazed from the kisses shared. Emma glances up at Nico, the smile on her lips mirrored on his.

“Wow,” he whispers, his hand lifting to delicately brush his fingers across Emma’s cheekbones, causing a light laugh to escape her.

They stand there for a moment, still wrapped in each other’s arms. Emma’s thoughts spin in her mind; questions about what this means and if this changes anything. But eventually, one voice takes over.

Embrace it, Emma.

She wasn’t sure if that voice was that of her best friend or of Paris or her own, but it didn’t matter who spoke. All that mattered was that she listened.

“Do you have anywhere you need to be tomorrow morning?” Emma asks, the words light with the crooked grin that twisted itself onto her lips. The smirk is quickly matched by Nico, this time the double entendre being anything but unintentional.

“I don’t. Why do you ask?” he says, his own voice teasing.

“Oh, there’s just this café right next door to my apartment that I think you might enjoy,” Emma nonchalantly replies, matching his taunt.

“Planning another brunch?”

“It opens pretty early. And people always say that first customers get the freshest food.”

“Breakfast then,” Nico says, his agreement to her anything but subtle offer painted clearly on his face. 

“Perfect,” Emma replies.

Nico leans forward, kissing Emma once more and if there was any question left in either of their minds, it was erased by the need coursing through their bodies. Nico pulls away, his arms falling from Emma’s frame – albeit reluctantly. He takes a single step back before offering his hand once again, one that is immediately accepted by Emma. Their fingers intertwine as Emma takes her place by Nico’s side. He looks down at her, his eyes bright.

“Lead the way.”

~*~*Day Four*~*~

The gentle morning sun rouses Emma from her slumber. The plush sheets brush against her bare skin, the warmth trapped within them comforting her, lulling her back into her dream. Or, more accurately, the dream of last night.

The brush of Nico’s hands against her skin, the strength of his hold on her hips, the feeling of his lips tracing her silhouette, the softness of his hair in between her fingers, his strong arms wrapped around her as they both fell asleep.

Arms that were no longer holding her.

Her brain slowly registers the emptiness surrounding her as she blindly reaches behind, hoping that her palm would land on the solid form of Nico. But when her hand lands on the softness of the sheets and solidness of the mattress, Emma’s eyes open.

She lifts her body upright, muscles protesting, still sore from last night’s activities. Her gaze dances around the studio apartment, finding it completely empty; only the fabric of her own clothes scattered across the floor.

Emma’s heart drops, the critical voice that had been kept dormant coming back in full force, assuming the worst.

He got what he wanted. He coerced himself into your bed and you were foolish enough to let him. And now that he accomplished what he set out to do, there was no reason for him to stick around.

The soft chime of the doorbell echoes around the apartment, cutting of the voice before it had a chance to berate her further. Emma sighs, lifting herself off the bed and grabbing the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door She throws it on before walking down the stairwell towards the entrance door.

She isn’t concerned about who is waiting on the street. It was most likely a delivery person who mistook her door for the side entrance to one of the stores next to her. But when she swings the wooden door open, the French poised on her lips, she is silenced by the sight of Nico standing on the other side of the threshold, a bag hanging from his arm and two cups of coffee in his hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to take your keys and make you think you lost them or something,” he explains, the sheepish look gracing his features. Emma stares at him for a moment, her thoughts rearranging themselves at the realization that she was wrong and he didn’t simply abandon her.

“It’s alright,” she says, stepping to the side. Nico crosses through the doorway as Emma closes the door behind him. He lets her climb back up the stairs first before they both re-enter the apartment.

Nico breezes over to the small table in the kitchen, leaving Emma still standing bewildered near the entrance. She watches as he sets down the two coffee cups before fishing into the brown paper bag and removing a pair of eclairs.

“I probably should’ve waited for you because my French is terrible. Thankfully, the workers remembered you so I trust that they got your order right,” Nico explains, shooting a smile her way. “You must really like that place if they know your name after only three days.”

“Wild & The Moon has great food. I think I’ve stopped there every morning since arriving,” she says, walking towards him and taking a seat in one of the chairs. Nico settles into the opposite seat, that soft smile on his face.

“Well, I’m not going to be one to disagree with a pastry chef,” he laughs, his cheery demeanor breaking through the thin wall that Emma had hastily created around her heart when she woke up to find him missing. She returns his grin, although it is slightly half-hearted. She can see her hesitance register on Nico’s face but Emma doesn’t address it. Instead, she grabs the coffee he placed in front of her, taking a small sip.

“Is everything alright?” he asks.

“It’s perfect. Exactly what I always order,” Emma replies with a small shrug.

“That’s good to hear but it’s not exactly what I was asking.”

Emma looks back up at him, his eyes trained on her face. His emotions were painted so clearly onto his features; concern, confusion, and an inkling of fear. Emma sighs again, shaking her head slightly.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“It’s bothering you so it isn’t nothing,” Nico shoots back, the earnestness in his statement startling Emma. Nico hesitates before reaching his hand out, brushing his fingers against hers before intertwining their grip. “Tell me, please.”

Emma takes a breath, the words sticking in her throat, unsure whether to tell him the truth or to brush off his worry again. But she decides to embrace it – every emotion, the good and the bad.

“I thought you left me,” she whispers, looking back up at him. “Took off after I fell asleep because this – whatever this is – is casual. And that’s what happens with casual.”

Emma immediately regrets the words when she sees Nico’s face fall.

“Is that what you think about me?”

“It’s what my worst intentions thought,” Emma answers honestly. “I’m glad I was proven wrong though,” she continues, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. One that Nico blissfully returns.

“Last night…” he begins, pausing to deliberate his words. “Last night was amazing. Really. But I want you to know that I loved hanging out with you before that. I don’t want you to think it was all a ruse to get in your pants.”

Emma wants to tell him that she didn’t think that but it would be a lie so she just keeps her mouth closed, listening intently to Nico instead.

“I really like hanging out with you,” he concludes, looking back at her.

“I do too,” Emma responds with a smile.

She doesn’t tell him that she thinks she’s falling for him, or at least could see herself falling for him. Because, while this connection may be pure and genuine, that didn’t erase the fact that this wasn’t going to last. She was leaving tomorrow, back to New York. He would leave soon – back to wherever it was that his job took him next.

Instead, they sit there in silence, eating their food and sipping their coffee. It is a silence filled with a sense of comfort but an overlay of sadness as well. This was likely it for them.

“Today is your last day in Paris, right?” Nico asks, breaking the silence by voicing the unavoidable truth.

“Yeah. My flight is tomorrow at 9am.”

“Anything you want to do for your last day?”

“Still want to hear me rant about French pastry?”

“I have to admit, it is pretty entertaining,” Nico laughs, that jovial sparkle in his eyes. “And I was serious; I like hanging out with you. I don’t have anywhere I need to be so why not spend the day with you?”

The butterflies start up again; both at Nico’s sweet words but also at the heated way that he is looking at her from across the table, his eyes dancing over her frame. His gaze makes Emma suddenly aware of the only thing that is separating her bare skin from his sight is the fabric of her robe. She smirks, the desire sparking again as she lifts herself up from the table.

“Well, I looked at my notes and I actually managed to hit all the shops I wanted to,” Emma muses, taking a few steps towards Nico. “So, maybe we could go to the Louvre.”

“See the Mona Lisa?” Nico asks, his body turning towards her as she walks closer.

“Although I hear that it can get insanely crowded.”

“A little claustrophobic, wouldn’t you say?”

“My hosts – the couple who owns this apartment – left a long list of tourist spots that are close by. Some gardens, some museums…” she continues, her hands toying with the bow holding her robe together.

“That sounds relaxing,” Nico responds with a small hum.

“But I also have to do laundry and pack and I would prefer to not leave that to the last minute.”

“Completely understandable.”

“So, I don’t know really know what we should do today,” Emma sighs, her body settling between Nico’s parted thighs, the tie of her robe now partially undone, the fabric falling off one of her shoulders. His hands reach out and a small shiver rushes through Emma’s body at the sensation of his fingertips grazing the back of her thighs.

“Maybe we should just stay in?” Nico playfully suggests, his hands dancing up and down her bare skin.

“And waste our last day together?” Emma teases. Nico smirks up at her, one hand moving to the front of her body, gently undoing the remaining tie before slipping beneath the fabric, his fingers grazing her hipbone.

“I’m sure we can find something to do to pass the time.”

~*~*A Year and A Half Later*~*~

“Is the Frasier ready to go?” Emma shouts into the kitchen, her voice startling the few customers waiting by the pick-up counter.

“It’s loaded in the back of your car with the macarons and the components for the mille-feuille,” her sous-chef April calls back. “I’m need to grab profiteroles from the racks and we should be good to go.”

“We have all four flavors of macarons?”

“Yes, boss. Everything is accounted for.”

“Good. Be ready to leave in less than ten minutes,” Emma calls, pushing through the swinging kitchen doors, walking behind the café’s main counter. She weaves her way through the two baristas working on orders towards the pastry display. Leaning down, her scan over the pastries, taking inventory of what is left and what need to be replaced. She is almost halfway through her task before a nudge on her shoulder pulls her attention away from the case. Emma glances up to see Morgan’s blue eyes looking at her from underneath her blonde bangs. Wordlessly, she hands Emma a cup filled with a latte.

“You work her too hard,” Morgan says, nodding towards the kitchen, her words referencing April.

“Nothing she’s not used to,” Emma says, taking a drink. “Trust me. The chefs at her school were likely a hundred times more terrifying than me.”

“I don’t know, you’re pretty scary when you’re stressed.”

“Stressed? Who says I’m stressed?” Emma replies, her eyes turning back to the pastry case. “We need to replenish the Pain au Chocolate as soon as possible. It’s one of our best sellers so those five will probably be gone by the end of the morning rush and we don’t want the customers waiting.”

“I’ll get Jacob on that when he’s done taking orders. And you’d be stupid if you weren’t stressed.”

Her words bring Emma’s attention to her best friend and co-owner, her brows downturned into a scowl.

“Don’t give me that look,” Morgan scoffs. “Only a year since our business opened and a professional hockey team has asked us to cater their charity brunch? This is huge. You should be freaking out, it’s okay. You don’t have to hold it together for appearance’s sake, at least not in front of me.”

“You look pretty calm,” Emma retorts.

“I screamed my lungs out in the walk-in fridge when I got in this morning.”

“You should’ve told me. We could have screamed together,” Emma laughed, taking another sip of her coffee as her and Morgan departed from behind the counter, sitting down at one of the small tables in the corner.  

“With nothing but the eggs and milk as our witnesses,” Morgan laughed. The two of them look out over the café, the sound of customers talking and the hiss of the milk steamers echoing around the space.

“This is insanity,” Emma sighs.

A year. A single year from the grand opening of their café, La Crème de la Crème, and they were already more successful than they could’ve imagined. And now, in a few minutes, Emma and April would be driving across the Hudson to cater for the New Jersey Devils charity brunch.

“If you meet the person that decided to take a chance on us, give them a giant kiss on the mouth from me,” Morgan says, her testament causing Emma to laugh.

“If you want to kiss a hockey player, you should come yourself.”

“Gotta make sure this place doesn’t burn down. But who knows, maybe you’ll fall madly in love with a hot stranger like you did the last time you went to a different city without me,” Morgan jokes. The reminder causes Emma to roll her eyes.

“Will you ever let that go?”

“Have you?”

The blush that invades Emma’s cheeks is all the answer Morgan needs. Yes, it had been a year since the café opened, another four months on top of that since Emma returned from her ‘research’ trip to Paris. And she would be lying if she said she didn’t find herself still thinking about the man she met there.

Nico. He still occupied a space in her mind, ever since that last kiss they shared as he helped her into the taxi the morning she left. It was hard to let him go even though she knew that it would probably be for the best if she could just forget about him.

“The backstock should last you through the morning. If it doesn’t, Kenneth is coming in at 1. April and I should be back before then but if not, he can run the kitchen until we arrive,” Emma says, finishing off her drink and lifting herself up from the table. “Remember to have Jacob stock the Pain au Chocolate.”

“We’ve got it covered here,” Morgan says, her smile calming Emma’s beating heart. “Just focus on being the coolest pastry chef, impressing all those important people, and bringing in new customers.”

Emma responds with a playful salute before disappearing back into the kitchen. April is waiting for her by the back door, black chefs coat on, the café’s name written in cursive script over her breast. After confirming everything was in the car, they both hop in and start the drive to Newark, New Jersey.

Emma sends a thank you to whatever power there was for making traffic light, the trip not taking nearly as long as Emma had suspected it would. They are soon arriving at the hotel, pulling up to the entrance. After a quick explanation of who they were and why they were there, a few hotel workers come out to assist them as they bring their food into the kitchens.

“I’m going to find the organizer, ask where they want us to set up. Just get everything ready to be assembled and then we will go from there.”

April gives Emma a small nod in acknowledgment, turning her attention to the boxes of food in front of her. Emma leaves her to it, following the signs to the ballroom. She walks through the open doors, finding the room decorated in the red and black – colors that she now knew to be the teams –tables filling the space around a small stage.

On one wall lined with banquet tables, she spies an elegant woman holding a clipboard talking to the hotel staff, who Emma was told were providing the rest of the food. She makes her way over, the conversation hitting her ears, confirming that this was the person she needed to speak to.

Emma stands off to the side, waiting for the discussion to conclude before stepping forward.

“Hello. I’m Emmaline Evans, the co-owner and pastry chef from Crème de la Crème,” she says, holding out one of her tattooed hands.

“Oh, yes!” the woman says, graciously accepting Emma’s handshake. “I’m so glad you made it. My name’s Nicole, I’m one of the people who helped organize this brunch. Are you all settled, everything good?”

“Yes, my sous-chef is in the kitchen right now getting the plates ready. I just wanted to introduce myself and say thank you for the opportunity. It means a lot for our new business.”

“Of course! Though, I should really introduce you to Jess. She is the one that came in telling us about this amazing café in Greenwich that we just had to get,” Nicole explains, her bubbly personality infectious, making a smile break out on Emma’s face.

“I look forward to meeting her. I’ll probably be out once everything is prepared, introduce myself to some of the other guests and check to make sure everything tastes alright.”

“Perfect! I wouldn’t expect anything else from a savvy business woman, neither will any of the guests. A lot of driven people here,” Nicole explains, before turning to face the banquet tables. “We have the traditional breakfast fare here and your table is over there,” she gestures to a table a short distance away. “We decided to keep the sweets a little separate from the rest.”

“Makes perfect sense,” Emma nods, taking the layout into memory. “Would you like us to delay bringing the food out so there is a space between the main course and the dessert?”

“Is that alright for you? I think that would be best.”

“Absolutely.”

“Amazing. You can bring out the food at, let’s say 11:30? We might still be in the middle of speeches and all that but that could work out because after we’ve wrapped up there, we can direct people to your delicious food.”

“Of course. I’ll go back and get everything ready. We’ll be out at 11:30.”

“Perfect. Thank you again!” Nicole exclaims and Emma is about to extend her hand for another handshake until Nicole sweeps her into a hug instead. Emma embraces it politely before pulling away and disappearing back to the kitchen. On the way, she sees the beginning of the crowd trickling in, her eyes glancing over the guests decked out in expensive dresses and suits.

This was a golden opportunity and she wasn’t going to waste it.

She breezes into the kitchen towards the corner where April had completely set up everything in the few minutes she was gone. Emma explains the timeline and they both set to work; April filling the profiteroles with their whipped cream center and Emma assembling the layers of the mille-feuille. April finishes first and sets about arranging the macarons and profiteroles on the platters provided before moving to cut the Fraiser into slices and placing each piece on their separate plate. Emma finishes assembling the mille-feuilles and glances at the clock.

“Alright, we’ve got a few minutes. Finish plating the Fraiser and bring those out first. I’ll take the macarons and profiteroles and then we can both bring out the mille-feuille.”

“Sounds good. Do you need any help with the platters?”

“No, I should be fine,” Emma says, leaning down to pick up the silver tray the macarons were placed on. “We’ve got the labels for everything, correct.”

“Yes, boss. Do you want me to bring those out first or last.”

“Last. We can arrange the table how we see fit and then label the plates instead of having to shuffle everything around.” Emma is about to leave the kitchen before she turns back to April, the platter resting on her shoulder. “You know you don’t have to call me boss.”

“Force of habit,” April laughs, her brown eyes sparkling as she looks up from the Frasier. “You can stop pretending that you don’t like it.”

“Ha-ha,” Emma utters a sarcastic laugh before leaving. She retraces her path to the ballroom, hearing the echo of an amplified voice guiding her steps.

Emma slips in, the tables now filled with guests, their attention turned to the front stage as she sees Nicole as well as few other beautiful women standing by the podium. She registers parts of their speech; happiness for how the season was going, excitement for what was coming, reminder of the charity they were here for, and of course a call for generosity in donating. Emma makes her way around the perimeter of the room, coming to the assigned banquet table before setting the platter down. She moves back catching the eyes of April walking in with the platter of Fraiser and directs her with a nod of her head.

A few trips later, Emma is standing in front of the table, her eyes gazing over the assortment of the food she was proudest of. It looked beautiful, the whites and golds and reds and pinks and browns of the desserts creating a stunning mosaic, each section labeled in the same elegant cursive that graced her chef’s jacket.

“I’m going to go back, clean up the kitchen and get ready for any food we might have to bring back,” she says, looking to April.

“Don’t you want to stay here? You’re the chef after all,” April asks from the other side of the table.

“I plan on making the rounds a little later, get a little more personal interaction. I have no doubt that you’ll make an excellent first impression of our company without me.”

Emma sees her words register in April’s mind, a smile gracing over her features before it shifts to serious, her body lifting to stand a little taller.

“I won’t disappoint you, boss,” April says, her words serious but punctuated with a small wink, causing Emma to playfully roll her eyes. She doesn’t give another response, departing the ballrooms. She is only a few steps out of the door when she hears the final announcement echo from the speakers.

“Now please enjoy some delicious pastries from Crème de la Crème Café.”

Hearing her company name announced along with the applause that followed – although she knew the cheer wasn’t directed towards her – made her heart leap. Everything was perfect so far; all that was left was for the guests to like the food.

Emma cleans, packing the equipment they brought into her car and assembling a few take-away boxes that she hoped she didn’t have to use. She leaves the kitchen, taking a quick stop in the bathroom to wash her hands and adjust her appearance, making sure not a hair was out of place. She takes a few deep breaths, straightening her jacket before moving back into the ballroom.

She takes in the sight of plates filled with her food on tables, the smiles on peoples faces and it makes her relax. Emma catches sight of April still manning the table, her smile never wavering as she hands out desserts, her lips explaining each delicacy. She catches Emma’s eye, sending her a wink before turning her attention back to the guests. Emma lets out a sigh before she gazes around the ballroom.

“Oh, there she is! Emmaline!” she hears a voice call, locating Nicole sitting at a table waving her hand. Emma smiles, weaving through the crowd until she reaches her.

“Everyone, this is Emmaline Evans. She’s the chef that created all these wonderful treats for us!” Nicole explains and Emma smiles, nodding her head to the other guests sitting there.

“How is everything tasting?”

“Delicious!” one of the gentlemen at the table says. “Why haven’t we heard about your restaurant before?”

“We actually opened a year and a half ago so we’re relatively new.”

“Well, you are sure to get some new customers if your food always tastes this good,” he laughs, extending his hand. “Erik.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Emma says, accepting his handshake.

“I can guarantee that the food is always this good,” another feminine voice sounds from across the table. Emma turns her attention to a brunette smiling at her. “Definitely worth the drive to Greenwich.”

“Oh, right! Emmaline, this is Jess. She’s the one that insisted we book your company,” Nicole explains, the words forcing Emma to extend her hand eagerly, Jess accepting it with grace.

“Thank you for the opportunity. It really means a lot to me and my co-owner Morgan, so thank you for taking a chance on us.”

“I knew it wasn’t going to be that much of a risk. I’ve been forcing Nate to drive me to New York on his days off so I can get your food,” Jess says, nudging the shoulder of the man next to her – who Emma can only assume is Nate. “You deserve way more recognition. And, when I heard about a small woman-owned business, I knew I had to give my support. Kind of what we do.”

The other women at the table laugh in agreement, causing another smile to break out on Emma’s face. She politely stays for a few minutes, answering queries about the food provided, the menu at the café, and other general questions. Slowly, her body registers the weight of someone’s eyes on her from across the ballroom. A lull in the conversation allows her to lift her head and look around.

When her eyes land on the source of the stare, her heartbeat falters in her chest.

It had been over sixteen months since she had last seen him but she swears she could recognize those gentle brown eyes and that flowing chestnut hair anywhere.

A few tables away sat Nico; the man that she met in Paris all that time ago. The man who enchanted her from the moment he sat with her at the café table. The man she never thought she would see again.

He was here.

Emma quickly snaps out of her trance, breaking his gaze and turning her attention back to the guests in front of her with a polite smile. But beneath her composure, her thoughts were as erratic as her heartbeat. She steals another glance back in Nico’s direction, finding him in a conversation with the young man next to him, that familiar dimpled smile on his face.

“Apologies,” Emma says, interrupting the conversation taking place around her. “I should greet the other guest, check in on them.”

“Oh, of course! We’ve kept you long enough,” Nicole speaks.

“You should go talk to out team leadership,” the man next to Nicole says – Jesper, she remembered. Emma watches as he twists in his seat, eyes roving over the room before stopping, his long arm pointing to a table. “Over there.”

The directionality of his gesture has Emma’s heart skipping again, the anxiety only heightened when she follows his point to the table where Nico sat.

“That’s our captain, Nico, and our two assistant captains, Jack and Ondrej, along with their partners and a few others,” Jesper says turning back to Emma, who quickly plasters a gracious expression on her face.

“I will make sure to stop there, thank you,” she says before departing, moving only to the table next to the previous.

She was going to keep her word – she just needed a little time.

Emma introduces herself to multiple guests, answering the same questions, and handing out more business cards than she could count. She navigates the ballroom, slowly making her way over to Nico’s table. She swears that every time she moves closer, she can feel Nico’s eyes landing on her more frequently. She manages to focus on the guests in front of her enough that no one suspects anything is amiss. But she knows that the effort is half-hearted at best. The other part of her brain is twisting itself in knots over the prospect of speaking to Nico again.

She never expected to see him. She certainly didn’t expect to see him at a work event. In the fantasies that she allowed herself to occasionally indulge in, they would always run into each other at a bar or in the park or even on the street. In those daydreams, he was single and the magic from Paris would still be there between them.

But now, Emma is forced to make her brain prepare for the possible reality that she was about to walk into: that he was here with an insanely beautiful woman on his arm and the romance in Paris was exactly what she feared it to be – temporary.

It didn’t make it any better that she would have to reckon all of those heartbreaking truths with a pleasant smile on her face; the shield of professionalism she was forced to maintain that could absolutely not crack.

 Emma concludes her previous conversation, taking a deep breath before turning towards the table she had been avoiding all afternoon. She walks up to the edge, glancing around the faces of the guests, trying not to let her eyes linger on one face in particular.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she speaks, calling their attention to her. “I’m one of the owners of Crème de la Crème and I just wanted to check in, see how everything was tasting.”

“It’s fucking fantastic!” the dirty blonde next to Nico exclaims, causing Nico’s head to turn with a glare and a hiss of ‘Jack!’. A blush invades his cheeks before the man – Jack – looks back towards Emma. “Sorry, I mean, it’s really, really good.”

Emma laughs gently at his words before speaking.

“It’s alright. I’m glad to hear you like it that much.”

“It really is delicious,” the stunning blonde woman next to Jack speaks. “Is your store located in Newark?”

“No, we’re actually located in Greenwich Village in New York. But this was an amazing opportunity for our business that we just couldn’t pass up.”

“That’s awesome. Do you normally cater?”

“We’re relatively new to the catering side of food service. We do provide food for smaller parties: birthdays, anniversaries, celebrations like that. This has been out biggest event yet so this was also a test for us, to see if we could handle it.”

“Well, I say you passed with flying colors!” the woman smiles. “Could I have your card? My sister would love this and her birthday is coming up.”

“Of course,” Emma says, her hand dipping into her pocket to retrieve a card.

“Actually, could I have two? I might slip one in this guy’s hockey bag as an anniversary reminder,” she laughs, nudging Jack’s shoulder.

“When have I ever not wooed you?” he laughs.

“I’m not saying you haven’t. This is just a subtle hint about what a few delicious macarons might do.”

Emma nods, grasping the two small slips of paper and extending them to her.

“Could I also have one?” an all too familiar accented voice requests.

Emma turns her attention to Nico, her eyes connecting to his. She doesn’t give a verbal response; just another nod of her head. She hands two cards off to Jack’s partner before turning to Nico, holding a business card out to him as well. Emma suppresses a shiver that threatens to run through her body as Nico’s fingers graze against hers as he takes the paper from her hand.

“Planning on surprising a special lady, as well?” Jack teases. The question is innocent when coming from his mouth but it stops Emma’s heart as she waits for the answer – preparing for the worst.

“If by special lady, you mean my mom when she flies in for the mom’s trip, then yes,” Nico jokes back, his eyes flickering back to Emma. “Besides that, no one else comes to mind.”

Emma lets out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding at Nico’s subtle admission; he wasn’t seeing anyone, at least not seriously. The other women at the table were with his teammates, not him.

“Could I ask where you learned how to cook?” another gentleman at the table asks, his voice turning Emma’s attention to him.

“Of course. I went to The French Pastry School in Chicago, which is one of the only schools that focuses exclusively on pastry creation,” Emma explains, her eyes darting towards Nico as she contemplates her next words. “But I was also blessed with the opportunity to travel to Paris and experience the authentic Parisian cuisine first hand. That trip inspired me in many ways.”

From the corner of her eyes, Emma watches as a smile tugs at Nico’s lips.

“I’ve been to Paris as well. It’s a beautiful city with amazing food.”

“Right, you were there a little over a year ago, with the NHL European press tour,” another guest says, providing answers to questions that Emma didn’t bother asking back then. He told her that he was there for work. That wasn’t a lie. She just didn’t know that this was his job.

“It was an amazing trip,” Nico replies, his eyes darting to Emma, the weight behind his words only noticeable by that recognizable sparkle in his irises.

Emma’s own smile graces her features. Their silent conversation reminded Emma of passing secret notes, communicating in a way that only the two of them could understand. The hope soared in her chest but she pushes it down in an effort not to get caught up in the moment. She excuses herself, sneaking one last quick glance over her shoulder at Nico before making her way over to April.

She forces herself to focus on the moment at hand, taking stock of the remaining food, the event dwindling down. Emma helps April carry the remaining leftovers into the kitchen, instructing her to pack up the food and load it into the car before helping the hotel staff clean the few remaining dirty dishes.

Emma makes her way back into the ballroom, gathering the remaining business cards from their table, as well as the labels before helping the staff pick up the plates scattered on the tables.

She is absentmindedly gathering the plastic plates into a stack, reaching out to grab the last plate at the table. But before she can, it is taken by a strong hand before it is extended to her. Emma lifts her eyes to thank whoever it was in front of her but her voice catches when her eyes connect with Nico again.

“So, Paris, huh?” he asks, the question loaded with a myriad of emotions that Emma couldn’t even begin to place. She takes the plate from his hand with a smile.

“Yeah, it was a really wonderful experience.” 

“I bet.”

“Ate a lot of good food, saw some beautiful sights,” she continues, a mischievous smirk appearing on her face, her eyes never leaving Nico’s. “Met this really great guy.”

Emma swears that she can see the sigh escape Nico’s chest – the potential fear leaving him as his body relaxes, his tentative smile shifting to match her grin.

“I was worried you didn’t remember me,” he confesses. Emma’s eyes soften at his admission, her head slightly shaking in disbelief.

“Did you really think I’d forget?” she murmurs, her own words just as much of a confession as Nico’s. She watches his brown eyes shift, the confusion dancing within them.

“At the table…”

“I had to remain professional,” she explains, gently cutting him off. “Talking about a whirlwind romance I had with the team captain in front of potential clients – some of which are his teammates – isn’t really the way to get rehired.”

“Good point,” Nico laughs, the sound echoing around the almost abandoned ballroom, his hand lifting to run through his hair. His chuckle pulls a giggle from Emma’s own lips as she shakes her head again.

Their laughter dwindles until the silence covers them again. Emma can’t seem to tear her eyes away from him and it is clear that Nico feels the same. The two of them stand there, taking in the sight of the other, seemingly convincing themselves that they were really standing in front of each other. That this wasn’t just a fantasy.

“In truth,” Emma says, breaking the fragile silence, “You’re hard to get over. No one I’ve met since Paris has even come close.”

The broad smile that appears on his face makes Emma’s happiness increase, the subtle admission that she was also currently unattached understood by Nico.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he tells her, the words bringing a small teasing laugh from Emma.  

“Didn’t know you missed me that much,” she jokes.

Her words seem to catch Nico off-guard. Her green eyes follow Nico’s movements as he reaches into the interior pocket of his suit jacket, fishing out his phone. His fingers move, tapping on the screen and scrolling until he pauses. A smile tugs at his lips as he stares at whatever was on his phone before he turns the device towards her.

Emma swears her heart skips for the hundredth time that day as she takes in the image on the screen. It’s the picture they took that night in Paris – the night everything changed. Her eyes dance over the screen, looking at the ease in which her body was resting against Nico’s, the way his arm was wrapped around her frame, the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the background.

“You kept it,” she whispers.  

“Of course, I did,” Nico responds with just as much tenderness. Her eyes flicker back up to the man in front of her, the look in his eyes an echo of the one from that same night. She watches as he hesitates, seemingly debating the words he was about to say. Whatever doubts he had, they apparently weren’t enough to stop him as he speaks again. “I don’t know if I ever missed anyone as much as I missed you.”

If her heart was beating erratically before, it practically stopped at Nico’s gentle words. The desire, the yearning, the emotions hanging from every syllable hit Emma like a freight train, his need bringing forth her own. A need that she tried – desperately – to get rid of for months because she thought she would never see him again.

But he was here. He was real. And he missed her.

“I missed you too,” she admits, the confession not feeling dangerous or terrifying. Instead, it felt as simple as breathing. It felt as easy as it always did when she was next to him. It felt like Paris.

Emma and Nico look at each other, the truth of their admission floating around them, seemingly enveloping them in that love-struck haze that they existed in months ago. In a different city. In a different country.

“I don’t know if this is way too forward but I’d like to take you on a date. Or, I guess another date. If that’s alright with you?” Nico asks, his words still hesitant. Emma responds with a gentle smile.

“That sounds perfect.”

“I can’t promise that it will be as magical as Paris though,” he laughs.

Emma’s expression falters a little at his words, the fears from Paris returning along with the joy. Their reunion felt enchanting right now but maybe the shock of seeing each other again after all those months was the only thing causing this sensation. Maybe after the moment died, the worry that invaded her mind in Paris would be proven true: that it was just the City of Love that fueled their connection.

Embrace it. All of it.

It is that small voice of bravery and vulnerability that sounds, the declaration echoing in her mind. Emma takes a deep breath, summoning the courage she felt in France and letting it fill her body, letting her heart guide her actions. She reaches out towards Nico, letting her hand creep closer to his, her fingers brushing over his skin.

The energy that surges between them when their fingers intertwine is powerful. Those fireworks sparkle stronger than anything before; stronger than the lights about them, stronger than all the lights on the Eiffel Tower. That electricity has Emma looking up at Nico, seeing the same emotions dancing on his face. That touch was proved a fact that they knew in their hearts to be true but their heads still doubted.

That this – whatever it was, whatever they shared those months ago… it wasn’t temporary. It wasn’t the city. This was real.

“Paris wasn’t the magical part.”

tags: @tkachvkmatthew @m00nlightdelights @cixrosie SIGN UP FOR MY TAGLIST HERE

[olympic-paris]

saga: Soumission & Domination 275

Espagne 3 le bon plan (2013)

Réveil à 12h. PH tient les billets dans sa main et m'interroge du regard. Je lui brosse ma nuit en résumé. Il est sidéré de ce qui m'est arrivé. Lui s'est juste envoyer un petit mec dans les WC de la boite puis il l'avait ramené à Marc qui l'avait enculé à son tour. Hervé avait ramené le " clone " d'Ernesto à la villa et avec Ernesto ils se l'étaient fait d'après les gémissements qui sortaient de leur chambre. L'invité venait de se barrer.

Je sors sur la terrasse avec à la main un café très fort préparé par Paco. Je retrouve tous les autres. Bises, pelles, je dis bonjour. Nouvelle narration de ma nuit. Ernesto me dit que le plan l'intéressait et, qu'avant que je mette nos employés sur le coup, il se ferait bien un petit paquet d'oseille lui aussi. En rigolant je lui dis que je ne prendrais pas de commission avec lui. Il s'approche et nous nous battons gentiment. Je domine, merci les cours de Krav Maga de Jona ! Jusqu'à ce que PH nous pousse dans la piscine pour nous rafraichir.

Sorti de l'eau, Ernesto me pousse à appeler mon " client ". Je guette une approbation dans le regard d'Hervé. Il hausse les épaules et me dit qu'il est majeur.

J'appelle donc le trader. Il décroche après quelques sonneries. Je lui rappelle qui je suis. Il me demande aussitôt si j'ai quelqu'un pour lui. Je lui dis que j'ai un pote qui est dans la même situation que moi (soit disant chômeur) et prêt à lui rendre service. Il me demande de lui décrire Ernesto. Avant de raccrocher, je lui dis que c'est 10 avec ma petite commission (il n'a pas besoin de savoir que je n'en prends pas). Il me dit que ça ne pose pas de problème s'il est aussi bon que moi. Rendez vous pris pour 23h à son hôtel.

Au diner (22h) nous recevons le petit mec que mes deux amours s'étaient envoyé la veille accompagné deux de ses copains. Ils sont tous mimi. Petits modèles, jeunes, sportifs/musclés, imberbes, bronzés et surtout chaud du cul ! Dès l'apéritif, ils sont à genoux pour nous pomper.

Quand Ernesto nous quitte, ils sont déjà assis sur les queues de nos mecs. Je me fais plaisir avec PH et Juan.

Plus tard nous profiterons nous aussi de leurs rondelles bien rodées. Je m'aperçois alors que se sont de vraies bonnes salopes. Ils se sont déjà fait démonter par nos mecs et malgré cela supportent sans broncher nos assauts violents. Ils se font prendre par les deux bouts en même temps et vu leur ardeur à téter les bites, nous voyons qu'ils apprécient la défonce de leurs petits trous.

Celui que j'encule à l'air ravi de mes coups de rein et de ma bite qui le lime. Il m'en donne la preuve en ne retenant pas de petits gémissements de bien-être. Bien qu'il se soit fait démonter la rondelle par Paco et sa grosse bite, il serre fort honorablement la mienne bien qu'elle rende 1 bon cm de diamètre à celle de Paco ! Comme je l'en félicite, il la contracte encore plus pour me faire plaisir. Il n'arrive pas à bloquer mes mouvements mais augment bien les frottements de notre interface au point que je doive rajouter du gel. Paco passe dans mon dos et pousse sur hanches et me dis que je dois " donner " plus sec. La petite salope que j'ai entre les cuisses n'en sera que plus heureuse. Je change donc ma façon de lui baiser le cul et je passe à des sorties complètes avec ré-intromissions rapide et totale (jusqu'à ce que mes couilles tapent les siennes). Là, ce sont de réels cris de plaisir qu'il laisse échapper jusqu'à ce que Marc vienne le faire taire en lui enfonçant son gland dans la gorge.

A coté de moi, PH s'occupe du deuxième " copain ". Il est sur le dos et le petit mec le chevauche de face, alternant les rythmes. Trot et galop gardent bien raide sa bite et le cavalier s'en sert d'axe quand il se tourne et, les mains posées sur les chevilles de PH, je le vois augmenter la cadence et mon PH se mordre les lèvres pour se retenir de juter.

Le petit jeune de la veille, lui, est en 69 avec Juan.

Le mien commence à m'exciter fort avec ses serrages de cul. Je pose mes mains sur ses épaules et à chaque coup de rein qui m'enfonce en lui, je tire les mains vers moi. Sous le choc de nos corps, ses fesses s'écartent et j'enfonce jusqu'au dernier cm, le plus large, ma bite dans son trou ! Marc s'est éloigné, nos mouvements n'étant plus gérables de son coté. C'est une véritable petite salope, plus je l'encule plus il en demande. Son pote, que PH lime de son coté, me dit que je peux lui claquer les fesses, qu'il aime trop ça. Je ne suis pas un aficionado des coups mais si c'est pour son bien... Je commence doucement. Ma main claque sur sa fesse droite. Je ressens aussitôt une belle compression de ma bite, bien plus forte que précédemment. C'est si agréable que je recommence et appui plus fort. Là, mes doigts marquent sur la peau blanche et sa contraction bloque ma pénétration. De son coté ça l'air de lui plaire et il me demande d'y aller carrément. Comme j'ai encore de la retenue, son pote m'assure que c'est son trip. Marc revient alors et se charge des fessées. Le petit mec prend grave. Dès que je me retire de son cul, Marc a suffisamment de place pour lui asséner une ou deux fessées avant que je me renfonce. Ses fesses chauffent et je le sens à chaque fois que mes hanches entrent en contact avec. Ça ne peut pas durer longtemps, c'est trop bon et je fini par exploser dans ma kpote. Au même moment je le sens éjaculer sur le tapis.

Je suis mort ! Mon petit mec aussi si j'en crois son relâchement musculaire. Je l'attire sur mon torse et ensemble nous reprenons contact avec la réalité. Il me remercie et me dit que c'est pas souvent qu'il prend aussi bien son pied. Je lui demande si ses fesses ça va. Il rigole et me répond que c'était juste ce qu'il fallait pour pimenter ma sodo.

PH termine son mec. Il se retire juste à temps et jute sur son dos.

Quand nous en avons finis avec eux, nos trois mecs (Marc, Hervé et Paco) sont bien excités. Ils bandent comme s'ils ne s'étaient pas déjà vidés les couilles.

Du coup je vois les trois jeunes se jeter des coups d'oeil et, avec un bel ensemble, ils se retournent et se mettent à 4 pattes. Reins creusés, leurs positions sont de véritables appels aux viols. Nos mâles ne s'y trompent pas et le temps de se couvrir de plastique, nous les voyons les enculer de nouveau.

Je ne sais pas s'ils sont sincères, mais ils manifestent bruyamment leurs plaisirs. Quelques minutes plus tard, je sais qu'ils le sont. Les cris ne sont plus retenus et, heureusement que nous sommes un peu isolés sinon les voisins seraient surement venu voir ce qui se passait.

C'est Paco qui a hérité du mien. Il commence par lui masser les fesses encore rose. Je le vois lui en envoyer une bonne juste au moment ou il lui enfonce ses 24cm. L'addition des deux le fait hurler. J'ai eu un moment peur qu'il ait eu vraiment mal mais son cri s'est terminé par un " trop bon, encore ".

Hervé et Marc se font le même petit mec. Du coup le troisième rassemble ses forces tout en jouant avec nos services trois pièces à PH et moi. Son copain m'a tellement bien vidé les couilles que je mets plus de temps que PH pour bander à nouveau. Là, il se met à nous sucer alternativement. C'est bon. il nous prend jusque dans sa gorge mais lentement. Juste ce qu'il faut pour nous garder raide sans nous exciter à juter. Juan le rejoint et s'installe à son tour entre nos jambes.

Tableau : PH et moi cote à cote sur le canapé, les jambes écartées. Entre, un petit mec qui nous tète la bite et joue avec nos couilles. Devant nous nos Hommes en train de prendre leurs pieds ou plutôt les culs de leurs potes.

Le temps est plus long pour que nos mâles jutent. Quand je vois Marc monter en pression, je prends la tête de mon petit suceur et utilise sa bouche comme une rondelle. Les mains sur ses oreilles, je lui lime la gorge et le laisse s'organiser pour gérer sa respiration. Sa gorge est profonde et serre bien mon gland quand il s'enfonce dedans. J'arrive à exploser en même temps que Marc se vide dans le cul de son petit mec. Moi, j'envoie de grands jets de sperme dans les cheveux du mien.

Nous sommes encore debout (façon de dire, plutôt encore réveillés) quand Ernesto est de retour. Avec PH, je suis impatient de savoir comment ça s'est passé. Les autres s'en foutent et partent se coucher comme le trio d'invité nous quitte.

Ernesto sort de sa poche la liasse de billets. Il me dit que le mec est vraiment réglo de ce coté là. Coté sexe, il confirme que c'est un bouffeur de cul hors pair et que comme je l'avais raconté la veille, il avait tenu bandé des heures avant de juter. Il nous dit aussi qu'il connaissait son secret pour tenir aussi longtemps car il l'avait surpris à sniffer de la coke dans sa salle de bain. Je comprends mieux ses performances. Il avait apprécié sa technique de bouffage de cul et aussi qu'il a mangé grave du cul !

Avant qu'on aille se coucher, il me dit que nous pouvions lui refiler nos deux lutteurs. Autant que ce soit des mecs à nous qui profitent de ses libéralités.

Dès le lendemain, Ernesto appelle ses deux " employés " qui sont ravis de se faire un extra de cette ampleur (50% nets pour eux). Je rappelle notre trader et lui explique qu'en fait je dirige une société de service à la personne et lui propose " d'utiliser " mes Escorts pour la fin de son séjour.

Comme il est intéressé, nous nous rencontrons pour les détails. Je lui montre sur mon Smartphone les photos de mes deux lutteurs espagnols. Il les trouve à son goût et me demande comment on procède. Petite explication. Il me demande si je pourrais les lui envoyer de temps à autre à Londres. Moyennant la prise en charge des frais de déplacement en première, je lui dis que c'était tout à fait envisageable et que j'avais même d'autres Escorts s'il désirait varier.

Quand nous nous quittons, il a noté les coordonnées des deux sociétés, la Française et l'Espagnole, comme les Escorts qu'il compte bien faire venir chez lui. Je sens que nous allons pomper une bonne partie de ses primes ! Il me demande si mes Escorts sont à l'image de leur boss. Je comprends qu'il veut savoir s'ils seront aussi résistants. Je le rassure et lui dis que même s'ils sont juste majeurs, ils sauront assurer aussi bien que moi ou Ernesto.

Nous avons des nouvelles de Grèce. Jona et Emma m'ont appelé.

Le premier pour me remercier de leur avoir confié ma mère (à lui et François). Qu'ils passaient de vraies vacances et que la charge que je leur avais confié de veiller à la sécurité d'Emma était une réelle sinécure. Ils allaient revenir tout bronzés pour leurs stages. Il m'assura qu'ils s'entretenaient aussi coté muscu et profitaient des installations de l'hôtel.

Emma m'a juste téléphoné pour me dire que tout se passait bien et que cela faisait longtemps qu'elle n'avait pris d'aussi bonnes vacances. Elle ne savait pas si c'était la présence de ses deux " gardes du corps " mais elle n'avait jamais eu autant de choix quand aux hommes qu'elle mettait dans son lit.  Leur présence avait l'avantage d'éloigner d'elle tous les mecs de plus de 40 ans et n'osaient l'aborder que les plus beaux mecs de la plage. Pour les plans à plusieurs, elle faisait confiance à Jona et François, pour trouver de jeunes mecs partant pour ce genre de plan. Vu les problèmes économiques, les " invités " de ses deux accompagnateurs étaient ravis de la petite enveloppe avec laquelle ils repartaient. Surtout s'ils s'étaient laissés enculer !

Jardinier

~~

~~

~~

[eopederson]

Façade sud de Notre Dame avant l'incendie, Paris, 2017.

I understand that substantial progress has been made on the reconstruction of the cathedral. Wish I could go to Paris to see it, but too many other plans for 2024. Perhaps the magnificent building will be reopened by my next visit.

Bonne fête nationale !

[yannig]

C'est le jour des langues aujourd'hui donc vous avez droit à un poste en français

Et je vais continuer à parler de Koisenu Futari (une série japonaise centrée sur deux personnages AroAce, mon premier poste ici) parce que cette série est mon coup de cœur du moment. <3

Je ne suis généralement pas très bonne à repérer les éléments de language visuel - mais il y a un détail de cette série qui me fait sourire à chaque fois qu'il est dans le plan.

Quand Sakuko se prépare à s'installer avec sa meilleure amie, elle achète une lampe colorée très fun.

Et c'est évident dès l'épisode 1 qu'elle va bien s'entendre avec Takahashi, parce qu'au delà d'être tous deux AroAce, ils partagent un amour des lampes colorées.

Voilà la première lampe que Takahashi allume la première fois qu'on découvre sa maison :

Il allume cette lampe en premier, avant même le plafonnier. Je vous jure que c'est fait exprès ! Elle est parfaitement centrée dans le cadre !

Je pense qu'elle sert aussi à annoncer le côté... disons maximaliste, de la maison. Il y a beaucoup de choses, partout, tout le temps, mais ça donne un côté très chaleureux au décor.

(en opposition à l'appart moderne et lumineux mais entièrement vide que Sakuko a visité avec sa meilleure amie quelques scènes plus tôt)

(Oui je tire beaucoup d'un unique arrêt-sur-image, et alors. Quand la cinématographie est bien faite il y a beaucoup a interpréter.)

Et comme elle est installée en plein milieu de la pièce à vivre, cette lampe est régulièrement à l'écran, et elle me fait sourire à chaque fois.

La revoilà dans l'épisode 4 :

Même éteinte elle est souvent présente :

Et finalement au premier plan dans la dernière scène de l'épisode :

Cette lampe est clairement un choix de décore délibéré et je l'adore ! C'est quasiment un personnage à ce stade.

D'ailleurs ce n'est pas la seule lampe à fleurs de la maison, il y en a plusieurs rien que dans le salon, et au moins une dans la chambre de Sakuko.

[pleasecallmealsip]

Marat's Address to the Parisians

Le Junius Français, no .1, June 2 , 1790.

O Parisiens ! hommes légers, faibles & pusillanimes, dont le goût pour les nouveautés va jusqu’à la fureur, & dont la passion pour les grandes choses n’est qu’un accès passager ; qui raffolez de la liberté comme des modes du jour ; qui n’avez ni lumières, ni plan, ni principes ; qui préférez l’adroit flagorneur au conseiller sévère ; qui méconnaissez vos défenseurs ; qui vous abandonnez à la foi du premier venu ; qui vous livrez à vos ennemis sur leur parole ; qui pardonnez aux perfides et aux traîtres, au premier signe contrition ; qui dans vos projets ou vos vengeances, suivez sans cesse l’impulsion du moment ; qui êtes toujours prêts à donner un coup de collier ; qui allez au bien par vanité, et que la nature eût donné de la judiciaire et de la constance : faudra-t-il donc toujours vous traiter comme de vieux enfants ? Les leçons de la sagesse, et les vues de la prudence ne sont plus faites pour vous. Des légions de folliculaires faméliques vous ont blasés à force de sottises et d’atrocités ; les bonnes choses glissent sur vous sans effet : déjà vous ne prenez plaisir qu’aux conseils outrés, aux traits déchirants, aux invectives grossières : déjà les termes les plus forts vous paraissent sans énergie : et bientôt vous n’ouvrirez l’oreille qu’aux cris d’alarme, de meurtre, de trahison. Tant de fois agités pour des riens, comment fixer votre attention ; comment vous tenir en garde contre toute surprise ; comment vous tenir continuellement éveillés ? Un seul moyen me reste, c’est de suivre vos goûts, et de varier mon ton. O Parisiens ! Quelque bizarre que ce rôle paraisse aux yeux du sage, votre ancien ami ne dédaignera pas de le prendre, il n’est occupé que du soin de votre salut ; pour vous empêcher de retomber dans l’abîme, il n’est point d’efforts qu’il ne fasse, et toujours le Junius Français sera votre incorruptible défenseur, votre défenseur intrépide.

my translation:

O Parisians! Lightweight, feeble, and pusillanimous men, your appetite for novelties reaches furious excess, and your passion for grand things is but a brief flicker; you craze after freedom as if crazing after fashions of the day; you have neither insight, nor plan, nor principles; you prefer the skilful sycophant to the stern advisor; you disregard your defenders; you let yourselves be swayed by whosoever comes along first; you hand yourselves over to your enemies over their word; you forgive the perfidious and the treacherous at the first sign of contrition; through your projects or your vengeance you are unceasingly following your impulse of the moment; you are always ready to give another push; you seek to do good out of vanity, and nature ought to have given you judiciousness and constancy: will you forever need to be treated like overgrown children?

The lessons of wisdom, and the views of prudence are no longer made for you. Legions of famished fillers of periodical papers have wearied you with silliness and with atrocities; the good things are sliding over you unnoticed: already you only feel pleased with the overblown advices, the agonising remarks, the gross invectives: already you find the strongest words to lack energy: and soon you will only open your ears to cries of alarm, of murder, of treason. So often agitated by nothing, how could your attention be fixed; how can you be put on guard against all surprises; how can you be kept continually awake? I have been left with only one way, and that is to conform to your appetites and to vary my tone. O Parisians! However bizarre this role might seem to the eyes of the wise, your old friend will not begrudge to perform it, he is occupied but with your very survival; to prevent you from relapsing into the abyss, no single effort will he not make, and always the Junius Français will be your incorruptible defender, your defender undaunted.

[chifourmi]

"Ça me fait peur de m'attacher parce que quand je m'attache je sais que c'est fort et... Je sais pas t'es la première personne qui m'intéresse autant depuis un moment. Et comme je te dis moi je suis sérieux, je cherche pas que du cul. Je t'ai dit j'ai essayé et c'est pas mon truc donc je sais que ça fonctionnerait pas si on fait juste ça. Et j'ai peur de m'attacher alors que t'es peut-être pas passée à autre chose avec ton plan cul"

________________________________________

"Je trouve ça tellement attirant une fille qui dégage de la bonne humeur" Moi : "Ah bah je suis faite pour toi alors 😎" "Ahaha franchement je veux trop voir ton sourire en vrai, j'aime trop"

________________________________________

"T’as aucune raison de perdre confiance en toi t’as l’air d’être une fille incroyable"

________________________________________

"T'es trop jolie sur les vidéos que tu m'envoies"

________________________________________

"Si tu voyages l'année prochaine tu crois qu'on devrait s'arrêter là tout de suite? Que c'est mieux qu'on ne se voit pas?" Moi: "Je sais pas, tu préférerais?" "Je sais pas moi je trouverais ça bête, tu me plais vraiment"

________________________________________

Moi: "J'ai l'impression qu'on a la même sensibilité". "Oui, c'est trop bien"

________________________________________

Je lui ai demandé s'il savait jouer "Wish You Were Here" de Pink Floyd à la guitare parce que c'est une de mes chansons préférées et il m'a dit qu'il allait essayer de l'apprendre 🫠

J'ai tellement peur de ce qu'il est en train de se passer mais il est en train de se passer quelque chose là.

(31/05/2024)

[sinvulkt]

Ce que l’Abbé ne savait pas, c’est qu’il y a une raison pour laquelle les templiers n’ont jamais dépensé leur argent. Une malédiction de l’ancienne magie repose sur cette ile : quiconque hérite du trésor en devient son gardien.

Edmond n’en savait rien non plus. Il vit, toutefois, un immense squelette reposant sur la fortune cachée. Quelques baleines purent avoir été déposées là par ses prédécesseurs, peut-être.

Au début, ce ne fut que quelques écailles parsemant sa peau. Rien du tout. Edmond les pris pour une quelconque maladie de peau. 

Puis, ce fut une obsession. Un besoin fréquent de retourner sur l'île. La brise était bonne, là- bas. Et sans doute pouvait-il allonger son passage vers l'Italie par un petit détour? S'arrêter vers le trésor n’était qu’une question de prudence, de vérifier que quelques voleurs ne s’étaient pas accaparé ses biens.

L’obsession tourna vite en avarice, comme les ongles d’Edmond s’allongeaient et ses doigts se recourbaient. Chaque sous dépensé pour sa vengeance était légèrement plus dur à donner. Chaque pièce mise a bien pour la machine bien huilé de son plan semblait comme une goutte de sang versé sur l’autel du sacrifice, et lui brisait le cœur.

Quelque beau jour de février, il passa, par chance, près d’un chaman, qui eut tôt fait de le mettre au courant de la malédiction. En effet, le destin de tout héritier de la fortune de Monte-Cristo était de se transformer en dragon, et sous cette apparence draconique, de garder pour toujours le trésor.

Le chaman lui donna force d’amulettes et de concoctions, mais le prévint: tant que le trésor existait, il ne pouvait que ralentir le mal.

La vengeance d’Edmond était désormais une course contre la montre.

Quand ses mains deviennent griffes, il se met à porter des gants. Quand ses pupilles se fendent, il prend l’habitude de lentilles. Dès qu’il peut, malgré la douleur qui lui en déchire la poitrine, il dilapide le trésor; dans le vain espoir d’en affaiblir la malédiction. Plus d’une fois, la providence se joue de lui, et Edmond se retrouve enrichi par les mêmes investissements qu’il avait fait pour perdre sa fortune. 

André et Haydé ont beau avoir été ignorants, ils sont loin d’etre stupide. Il ne leur faut que quelques années avant de finalement découvrir le secret du comte; bien qu’ils se gardent de le dire à ce dernier. Comment ne pas remarquer la chose, quand deux ailes immenses déchire le dos du comte, le stoppant en plein milieu de l’accomplissement de sa vengeance à Paris?

C’est l'inquiétude pour son mentor qui pousse André à reporter sa vengeance. Après tout, en prison, son père biologique forme une proie facile.

Au final, seule force de maquillage permet au comte de cacher les écailles recouvrant son visage, et d'apparaître humain pour le chapitre final de sa vengeance. Les jambes courbées du comte, camouflé sous son pantalon, rendent la marche difficile sans sa fidèle canne. Ses dents, aiguisées comme un carnivore, sont ce qui lui remporte la victoire contre Fernand.

Après cela, il sait que c’est la fin. Un cœur qui n’est pas vraiment le sien bas dans sa poitrine, et lui ordonne sans cesse et sans cesse de retourner sur l'île. Pour chaque seconde passée loin d’elle, sa raison le quitte.

Il leur laisse une lettre. Elle ne dit pas un mot de sa transformation, mais elle formule une requête. Elle demande a Haydé et André de se rendre sur l'île de Monte-Cristo, avec une armée s’il le faut, et d’y subjuguer un monstre. Elle leur demande, également, de jeter le reste du trésor à la mer, où il sera enfin oublié par l’Histoire.

Haydé et André ne font rien de cela. 

La créature, ils subjuguent, car il ne reste à Edmond que très peu de raison. Mais c’était suffisamment de raison pour les épargner, aussi, quand bien même il demande la mort, les jeunes gens l'épargnent à son tour. Ils ne peuvent le laisser aux prises de la malédiction, aussi, ils l’enferme, mais ce n’est que le temps d’affaiblir cette dernière.

L’or maudit, ils parsèment au quatre vents. Une bonne partie finit dans l’océan, sans doute, mais dans tous les océans du monde, suite aux dangers du milieu marin qui font si souvent couler les bateaux. Le reste, ils échangent, ils négocient, ils jettent. Ils finissent ce qu’Edmond avait commencé, et échangent la fortune tant et si bien que la malédiction peine à les suivre. Elle ne peut s’installer dans ces étranges papiers, qui fait la mode de la monnaie de Paris. Elle ne peut s’installer dans les fermes, les forêts, les montagnes, qui soudainement sont inscrites sous le nom de ‘Monte-Cristo’. Elle ne peut rester dans les quelques artefactes qu’on entrepose en chine, en amérique, ni dans les quelques pépites données aux africains. C’est trop grand, trop large, trop de choses différentes à trop d’endroits.

Tirée à quatre épingle, la malédiction se brise.

Il est trop tard pour Edmond, dont le large corp écailleux ne pourra jamais retrouver forme humaine. Mais son esprit est clair. Il reconnaît ses enfants, ses amis. Il reconnaît le ciel, l’océan, et leurs odeurs qui chatouillent ses narines. Il se souvient avec une douloureuse nostalgie du berceau des vagues, du sel qui prend à la bouche, de l'aventure qui guidait sa vie avant qu’elle ne s'écroule.

Il est libre, désormais. Libre de l’héritage du passé.

Et c’est libre qu’Edmond Dantès, comte de Monte Cristo, se perd dans l’immensité bleu qui l’appelle.

[clickoly]

O'Knutzy Week - Day 3

Part III of Starboys, a Cubs Formula One AU

Characters by @lumosinlove, for @oknutzy-week-2024

Prompts: Vacation, Sunglasses

Links to: Part I, Part II, Ao3

Late summer days on the French Riviera 🌊

•••

Why don't we call it love? 

Summer rolled into the second week of September on the French Riviera, and Finn was soaking up the mild Mediterranean heat as much as he could. He woke up to the rising sun every morning to enjoy his runs along the Monaco Promenade, with its calming view of the sea and the addictive salty scent.

On a Thursday morning like that, with no planes to catch and no races to run, Finn came back from the gym craving nothing more than rest. He had just put in a couple of grueling hours of neck training with his teammate, whose company always eased the pain of doing something that felt pretty much like torture. Only, Kasey had acted funny all morning, like he couldn't quite look him in the eye. Maybe Finn was just being paranoid, but when he'd asked if everything was fine and Kasey had put on a weak smile and told him not to worry, it hadn't sounded very convincing.

Finn dropped his gym bag as soon as his feet hit the foyer floor. Home sweet home , he sighed with relief.

AirPods still on full blast, he kicked off his sneakers and ran straight to the kitchen, desperate for something to eat. 

It was the buzz of his phone that quickly distracted him, as a new string of texts popped up on the screen

Croissants on the road

And weekend at my parents

???

Finn automatically hit the call button next to Logan's contact picture. The phone rang once and then an unintelligible mumble made him laugh. "Did you just wake up?"

"Mhm."

"Mhhhm," Finn parroted. "What's the plan?"

"My parents just landed," Logan yawned loudly. "Nolly's there too. She asked about you before I could say hi."

Finn's smile widened. He swayed a little on his feet.

"Pick you up in half an hour?" Logan offered.

Finn didn't so much as hesitate. "Hurry up, I'm hungry."

"D'accord," Logan laughed, then grumbled something else in French that Finn didn't catch and hung up.  

Logan was late, as usual. Finn was so used to his chaotic ways that he had long since accepted his fate and waited patiently for him. He would always wait for Logan, no matter where, no matter how long.

Finn rushed through the front door of the building with only his weekend bag in hand and a light heart. He was so relieved that everything was back to normal.

He thanked the doorman with a friendly smile and a slightly accented bonne journée for the second time that day, before slowing his way down the stairs.

Waiting in the driveway was Logan, leaning against the hood of his brand new Porsche with a playful smirk on his lips. A baker's bag from their favorite boulangerie in town dangled from his wrist.

Logan must have noticed the hint of surprise on Finn's face because his own features softened. Bright green eyes watched him intently as he came closer.

Finn couldn't tell if it was the sun, high in a cloudless sky, or the anticipation for the days ahead, but he suddenly felt a tingling heat all over his body.

Logan seemed different, but at the same time he'd never looked so much like himself. He was wearing a thin linen shirt, he noticed, sheer white, with the first two buttons undone. The silver fleur-de-lis that usually hung around his neck was on full display above the tanned skin of his chest. There was no trace of a hat, just a wild tangle of soft brown curls pushed back untidily under well-worn Ray Bans. Finn had bought a matching pair for the two of them with the first money he'd earned in his Formula 4 days.

Before he could close the distance, Logan silently tossed him a key. Finn caught it on the fly.

"You're kidding," he managed.

Only then did Logan step away from the car. The playfully annoyed roll of eyes was there, but so was the familiar grin that drew wrinkles along the smooth bridge of his nose. Finn couldn't look away when Logan took the bag from his hands.

"Coffee's in the cup holder," he said. "Let's go, they're waiting for us."

"I'm gonna make a quick detour," Finn poked him from the driver's seat.

Logan turned around a bite of his pain au chocolat. "Quoi?"

That made Finn chuckle. The curves of his profile crinkled, and Logan's attention was captured by that single, darker freckle that stood out on the side of Finn's upper lip, just above the delicate bow. Logan traced all his favorite details about Finn over and over. The dark red stubble that covered his cheeks and sharp jawline, all the way down to his strong neck—a week-off feature he had only recently started sporting. And the auburn waves that fell softly over his pale forehead, tousled by the warm breeze from the open windows.

"...is that okay?"

"Hm?"

"I said," Finn exhaled, "I want to buy flowers for your parents."

Logan shot him a look. "Fish, you really don't have to. They're so excited you're coming."

"I know," Finn said casually. "But it's sunflower season. And your mom loves sunflowers. Am I right?"

Logan's heart squeezed. "She does."

"It's just... Un petit cadeau?" The French rolled off his tongue more fluently every day. "To say thank you. You know, for inviting me."

" I invited you," Logan corrected, watching Finn smoothly turn the steering wheel as he guided the car through the roundabout.

A sneering grin curled Finn's lips. "What? You want flowers too?

Logan turned to look outside, muttering under his breath. "Shut up."

   

He waited in the car, parked by the curb outside the florist's window. A majestic arrangement of lavender and dark green foliage draped the length of the arched doorway. It welcomed customers with a pervasive scent that Logan could smell with the window only a few inches open.

Logan's phone rang in the middle of making a last minute music playlist. Surprised, he smiled at the sight of the contact's name. 

"Knutty?"

"Tell me," Leo's tone was teasing. "Why did Sirius decide that I should be the one to remind you of all your responsibilities?"

"Merde," Logan felt a pang of panic. "Please don't tell me you're waiting for me."

Leo snorted a laugh. "I refuse to believe you're that unreliable," he said. "In fact, I'm sure you remember perfectly that you're supposed to be here on Monday , 2pm BST, to test the new side pods. Right?"

"Of course," Logan lied.

"Of course."

"Of course I remember. But thanks, Peanut ."

Leo groaned at the nickname. "Okay, I'm hanging up on you."

"See you soon," Logan chuckled.

Leo's voice came back softer. "Bye, Tremzy." 

Just as the call ended, Finn walked out of the shop carrying a lush bouquet of radiant sunflowers.

Logan had to swallow the sudden thought that he might have actually enjoyed getting flowers from him. And when Finn had sat back next to him, closed the door, and handed him the bouquet to secure for the ride, maybe Logan had pretended it was for him, too.

What he hadn't expected, though, was for Finn to pull a single, long-stemmed red rose out of nowhere. What the soft look on his face meant, he didn't dare ask. Instead, Logan stared at the velvety petals in front of him, at the long fingers confidently holding the stalk.

"Thornless," Finn said quietly. "So you won't get stung."

Logan found he could barely breathe as he took the flower from Finn's gentle hand.

"Thank you, Lo." Finn smiled when their eyes met, and Logan knew he wasn't just talking about the weekend getaway. His careful whisper had him burning in the sparkling fire behind two sweet, chocolatey rare gems.

Finally, Logan found his voice again. "Take the coast." It was a little raspy, so he cleared his throat. "Good view all the way to Nice."

And there it was, the Finn O'Hara smirk. " Sap."

"Fuck you." 

–

A piece of Heaven on Earth, that's how Logan felt about his family house in Nice. It wasn't the soothing landscape, the privacy of the gardens, or the infinity pool that skimmed the horizon. It was about his past, the memories this place was steeped in—of a carefree childhood and a handful of weeks that had left indelible marks on his heart.

Noelle was waiting on the porch, tying her long, dark hair into a messy bun.

"What's that look on your face?" Logan nearly shouted to cover the loud scratching of his footsteps on the gravel. Behind her, he saw his mom sigh theatrically, but the wide grin that swept across her face immediately betrayed her.

It always happened like this, more or less. Logan would make some random comment to break the ice—especially after months of not seeing each other—and then one of his sisters would immediately make him feel like he'd never left, as if they were all just children being spoiled with love under the same cozy roof.

Noelle just stared back.

"Quoi?" Logan laughed, stopping in front of her.

"For me?" She eyed the rose in his hand.

Logan tucked the flower behind his back and shook his head. He flashed her a goofy smile, a panicked attempt to cover up the whirlwind of emotions inside him, as loud and insistent as the rustle of the waves crashing on the rocks in the distance. It was the same tactic he'd used that one time, long ago, when he'd broken her favorite toy by accidentally tripping over it. A painful plea disguised as a childish smirk.

Noelle, of course, knew better. Her eyes immediately landed on Finn, who was offering their mother the sunflowers, then leaning into her embrace. When she turned back to Logan, she blinded him with the sweetest of beams, a warm ray of sunshine on the first day of spring. 

"Une rose rouge?" She murmured. "De ton Rouge?" 

Ever so slightly, Logan nodded. Just a tiny, single nod of his head that could have meant anything. But when Noelle carefully stood on tiptoe to hug him close, he knew he'd given himself away. She could always read him like an open book. 

"I love you, Lolo." 

Logan clung to her. He squeezed her waist between his arms and rested his head in the crook of her neck. "Love you, too," he whispered back. "I was going to say I missed you as well, but that sounds way too mushy." 

Noelle pulled back enough to pinch Logan's cheeks between her fingers, until his lips puckered into a pout. "I missed you too." 

"And me?" Finn chimed in with a silly frown. 

"You? Hm. Let me think..." She tapped her lips with a finger, her gaze wandering upward.

Finn's eyes widened exaggeratedly. "I thought I was your favorite!"

"That's not fair, Bambi," she protested, moving to cup one of Finn's cheeks tenderly. "Who can resist those big doe eyes, huh?" 

Logan smiled to himself. At least I'm not the only one.

He watched Finn melt into his sister's embrace. It was casually familial, and Logan's heart was ready to explode, overwhelmed with joy and something even greater he struggled to name. 

Home, his mind quickly supplied.

"So, am I still your favorite?"

"I mean," Noelle scrunched her nose, pulling away. "I'm the only one here who didn't get flowers, so..."

Finn grinned and cocked his head toward the car. "What about the two bottles of your beloved rosé in my bag?"

"Oh, Harzy," she mirrored his bold smile, "I missed you so much.”

[coolvieilledentelle]

Décembre est la fin qui ressemble à un début. Décembre remplit nos cœurs de miséricorde et d'humilité. Décembre est le temps des miracles, le temps des contes de fées, le temps de la magie et des cadeaux. Un cadeau que nous avons attendu toute l'année. Parfois le plus cher à notre coeur. Une série de moments magiques pour les familles. Les gestes du cœur, l'affection, la chaleur du mois de décembre sont disposés de manière tentante dans le collier le plus exquis. Un collier qui illumine l'arrière-plan enneigé et réfracte nos rayons de soleil préférés dans un arc-en-ciel coloré d'espoirs pour un début coloré. Décembre brille de toutes les couleurs sur le fond blanc… Comme une feuille sur laquelle on écrit les moments passés et les projets d'avenir… entre les lignes du bilan. L'évaluation pour savoir si nous avons été bons, si nous avons été plus heureux au cours de l'année écoulée, ce que nous serons au cours de la nouvelle année… Nous colorons de nouveaux rêves, et ce que nous voulons oublier reste sous la ligne. Nous effaçons les attentes erronées pour faire de la place dans nos yeux pour de nouveaux couchers de soleil magnifiques , mais seulement pour les retrouver après des levers de soleil encore plus beaux. Décembre est la flamme dans la cheminée, qui est allumée par les étincelles de nos sourires, par l'affection dans nos yeux, par les mains tendues avec gratitude. Décembre a la couleur de l'amour et du vin rouge. Il nous enivre au fil des jours du calendrier. Et il nous rend réels. Il nous fait revivre nos souvenirs d'enfance. Il nous donne de l'humanité, de la foi, de l'espoir et du partage ! Décembre est notre prière… Ne pas être seul ! Soyons meilleurs ! Que nos enfants soient plus heureux ! Que nos proches soient en bonne santé ! Que nos cœurs soient pleins ! Que la route soit lumineuse ! Les gens - bénis… Qu'il en soit ainsi !

Charlotte

[business-ligne]

Comment élaborer un business plan ? Guide pratique pour réussir

Élaborer un business plan est une étape cruciale lorsque tu souhaites créer un business. C’est le document qui va structurer ton projet de création et convaincre les investisseurs ou les banquiers de te soutenir. Si tu te demandes comment élaborer un business plan, voici un guide concis pour te guider à travers ce processus.

1. Définir les grandes lignes de ton projet

Avant de te lancer dans la rédaction, il est important de clarifier les objectifs fixés pour ton projet d’entreprise. Tu dois :

Déterminer ton modèle économique : comment ton entreprise générera-t-elle des revenus ?

Identifier ta proposition de valeur : quel est l’avantage concurrentiel de ton business ?

Analyser le marché : qui sont tes clients potentiels et concurrents ?

2. Rédiger une description claire du business

Commence par une description détaillée de ton entreprise :

Présentation de l’entreprise : mission, vision, et objectifs.

Produits ou services proposés : caractéristiques, avantages, et différenciation.

Analyse du marché : taille, tendances, et segments de marché visés.

3. Construire un modèle économique solide

Le business model doit montrer comment ton entreprise va gagner de l’argent. Inclue :

La stratégie commerciale : méthodes de vente et de distribution.

Les sources de revenus : prix des produits, abonnements, services complémentaires.

La structure des coûts : coûts fixes et variables.

4. Élaborer le plan financier

Le volet financier est crucial pour démontrer la viabilité de ton projet. Assure-toi d’inclure :

Les prévisions financières : budget prévisionnel, compte de résultat prévisionnel, et bilan prévisionnel.

Le plan de trésorerie : pour gérer les flux de trésorerie et le fonds de roulement.

Le plan de financement : sources de financement, apports personnels, et besoins de financement externe.

5. Développer une stratégie marketing efficace

Pour attirer et fidéliser tes futurs clients, tu dois définir :

La stratégie marketing : canaux de communication, promotions, et campagnes publicitaires.

Le plan d’action : étapes pour atteindre tes objectifs de vente et de croissance.

Le plan de développement : comment tu prévois d’étendre ton business dans le futur.

6. Préparer une analyse des risques

Tout projet comporte des risques, il est donc important d’identifier et de planifier :

Les risques financiers : fluctuation des revenus, imprévus de trésorerie.

Les risques opérationnels : problèmes d'approvisionnement, de production.

Les risques de marché : changements dans la demande, arrivée de nouveaux concurrents.

7. Mettre en forme et présenter le business plan

Une fois que toutes les sections sont rédigées, il est temps de :

Structurer ton document de manière claire et logique.

Présenter les sections clés : résumé exécutif, analyse de marché, stratégie marketing, plan financier.

Faire relire par des experts comptables ou des mentors pour garantir la qualité du contenu.

Astuces bonus pour un business plan réussi

Sois réaliste dans tes prévisions et évite les chiffres trop optimistes.

Utilise des graphiques et des tableaux pour illustrer les données financières et rendre le plan plus visuel.

Teste ton business plan auprès de personnes extérieures à ton projet pour obtenir des retours constructifs.

Conclusion

Élaborer un business plan détaillé et bien structuré est essentiel pour réussir ton projet entrepreneurial. En suivant ces étapes et en prenant le temps de préparer un document complet, tu augmentes considérablement tes chances de convaincre les investisseurs et de lancer ton entreprise avec succès. Alors, prends le temps nécessaire pour rédiger un business plan solide, et n’hésite pas à faire appel à des experts pour t’aider dans cette démarche.

Si tu as d’autres questions ou besoin de précisions supplémentaires sur la manière de rédiger un business plan, je suis là pour t’aider ! Bonne chance avec ton projet de création d’entreprise.

FAQ : Comment élaborer un business plan ?

1. Qu'est-ce qu'un business plan et pourquoi est-il important ?

Réponse : Un business plan est un document détaillé qui décrit ton projet de création, ton modèle économique, et comment tu prévois de réaliser tes objectifs. Il est crucial pour convaincre les investisseurs, obtenir des financements, et structurer ton projet d'entreprise. Il te permet également de prévoir les étapes clés et d’anticiper les défis.

2. Quels sont les éléments essentiels à inclure dans un business plan ?

Réponse : Un business plan complet doit inclure :

Le résumé exécutif : présentation succincte de ton projet.

La description de l'entreprise : mission, vision, et produits ou services.

L'analyse de marché : étude de marché, concurrence, et clients potentiels.

Le business model : comment tu vas générer des revenus.

Le plan financier : prévisions financières, compte de résultat prévisionnel, et plan de trésorerie.

La stratégie marketing : comment tu comptes attirer et fidéliser les clients.

Les risques et opportunités : identification des risques et des opportunités.

3. Comment réaliser une étude de marché efficace pour mon business plan ?

Réponse : Pour réaliser une étude de marché efficace :

Analyse les tendances du secteur et les besoins des consommateurs.

Identifie tes principaux concurrents et évalue leurs forces et faiblesses.

Interroge des clients potentiels pour comprendre leurs attentes et préférences.

Collecte des données quantitatives et qualitatives pour soutenir tes prévisions.

4. Comment déterminer les prévisions financières de mon business plan ?

Réponse : Les prévisions financières incluent :

Le budget prévisionnel : estimation des coûts et des revenus.

Le compte de résultat prévisionnel : projection des bénéfices et des pertes.

Le bilan prévisionnel : estimation des actifs, passifs, et capitaux propres.

Le plan de trésorerie : gestion des flux de trésorerie et du fonds de roulement.

Assure-toi que tes projections sont réalistes et basées sur des données solides.

5. Quel est le rôle du résumé exécutif dans un business plan ?

Réponse : Le résumé exécutif est une vue d'ensemble de ton projet. Il doit capturer l'essence de ton business plan en quelques pages, en mettant en avant :

La mission et vision de l'entreprise.

Les objectifs principaux et les valeurs ajoutées de ton produit ou service.

Le besoin en financement et comment tu prévois de l'utiliser.

Ce résumé est souvent le premier élément lu, donc il doit être convaincant et clair.

6. Quelle est l'importance du plan de financement dans un business plan ?

Réponse : Le plan de financement montre comment tu vas lever des fonds et gérer les financements nécessaires pour ton projet de création. Il doit inclure :

Les sources de financement : apports personnels, prêts bancaires, crowdfunding, etc.

Les besoins de financement : montant total nécessaire et utilisation des fonds.

Les conditions de remboursement et les garanties offertes.

7. Comment évaluer la viabilité de mon projet dans le business plan ?

Réponse : Pour évaluer la viabilité de ton projet :

Fais une analyse SWOT (forces, faiblesses, opportunités, menaces).

Évalue le seuil de rentabilité pour déterminer le volume de ventes nécessaire pour couvrir les coûts.

Analyse la demande du marché et assure-toi que ton business model est solide et adaptable.

8. Quels sont les pièges courants à éviter lors de la rédaction d'un business plan ?

Réponse : Voici quelques pièges à éviter :

Sous-estimer les coûts ou surrévaluer les revenus.

Manquer de détails dans les prévisions financières ou la stratégie marketing.

Ignorer les risques et ne pas prévoir de solutions pour les atténuer.

Ne pas adapter le business plan en fonction du public cible, que ce soit pour des investisseurs, des banques, ou des partenaires.

9. Quand devrais-je réviser mon business plan ?

Réponse : Révise ton business plan :

Avant le lancement de l’entreprise pour t’assurer que tout est en place.

Après des changements significatifs dans le marché ou dans ton entreprise (par exemple, nouvelle stratégie, modification du modèle économique).

Périodiquement pour ajuster les prévisions financières et la stratégie en fonction de l’évolution du marché et des performances de l’entreprise.

10. Où puis-je obtenir de l'aide pour rédiger mon business plan ?

Réponse : Tu peux obtenir de l’aide auprès de :

Experts comptables pour les aspects financiers.

Incubateurs et pépinières d’entreprises pour des conseils et un accompagnement.

Chambres de commerce (CCI) pour des ressources et des formations.

Mentors et réseaux d’entrepreneurs pour des retours d’expérience et des conseils pratiques.

À voir aussi : Comment lancer un business ?

[bestedoesmeow]

charles l. x pierre g. x reader!

-On top of a mountain, surrounded by the people you care about, you welcome the new year. But there is one thing you need to know ; You must confront your past in order to move forward.

tw: none...literally none

p.s: I used translation for the french sentences, so they might not be completely true. Forgive the mistakes <;33

  When you arrived at Chamonix, it was a chilly, windy winter evening, and even with Pierre's scarf over your neck, you could feel the chill running down your spine. Pierre informed you of the plan just before you arrived at the location. Some of the drivers had made the decision to welcome the New Year together on a mountain with their partners. You didn't decline the offer, and it wouldn't matter if you welcomed the New Year in a pitch-black basement as long as Pierre was there with you. 

It didn't take you long to get there; you had been with Pierre and his family for about a week at that point.

You went directly to the reception to get the keys to your room before meeting everyone at the dinner.

“ Réservation pour Pierre Gasly, puis-je avoir la clé de la chambre ?” ( Reservation for Pierre Gasly, can I get the keys to the room?)

“ Bienvenue monsieur, votre numéro de chambre 125. Je vais envoyer vos affaires dans votre chambre dès que possible. Passez de bonnes vacances.” (Welcome sir your room number is 125, i will send your things to your room a.s.a.p, have a nice vacation)

Pierre took your hand and locked your fingers together before glancing, smiling at you.

“ Maybe I should learn French too you know, you sound hot when you talk French.” You said while Pierre was pressing the floor button in the elevator. He came closer to you with a side smirk before starting to talk.

“ I am not hot when not talking French? You are mean.”

You let a little chuckle before reaching out to him to press a kiss on his cheek.

“ That is not the case and you know that too.” After getting off the elevator, you said this as you followed Pierre to your room. The view from the room was beautiful, showing snow-covered mounds and guests enjoying the area with warm beverages in hand. Your baggage had probably arrived five minutes ago, so Pierre was enjoying the view while donning a turtleneck and fresh pair of trousers. 

Opening his travel care bag to grab his cologne, he inquired, “ Enjoying the view?”

“ I'm happy to be back since I missed it here  and I loved it when I first visited.” Charles Leclerc was the first person to bring you here for Christmas two years ago. However, you smiled a little bit when you thought of that Christmas.

“ And who you came here with huh, chérie?” He said while fixing his hair in front of the mirror.Although Pierre and Charles were good friends, you didn't want to bring up your relationship with Charles even if Pierre appreciated your memories of the past. As you prepared to respond, the door was silently knocked, and Pierre quickly departed to get it. You can't comprehend that person because you entered the restroom to fix your hair. You decided that the coziest and warmest attire for dinner would be a white knitted sweater, leggings, and your Uggs, so you changed into those items. 

As you pulled your phone and power bank out of your bag, you asked, “ Who was that?”

“ Ah, Albon. They are waiting for us at the table.”

You and Pierre were the last ones to join the table, everyone was waiting for you two to join to order their food, Pierre was holding your hand while greeting the others.

“ Sorry for the delay everyone, the road here was killer.” The table was not crowded as you thought it would be. George, Alex Charles and their girlfriends were the only ones to attend. You hugely smiled before sitting next to Pierre and Carmen on the table, and there was Charles Leclerc sitting front of you with a nice smile on his lips.

  “ So anyone ready to order?” Said Albon. 

It was not as nerve-wracking as you had anticipated for you and Charles because the dinner went well with amusing chats, racing recollections of the drivers, or couple stories. Furthermore, you and Charlotte had a good talk as time went on. She might have known you were Charles' ex-girlfriend, but even if she did, you assumed she was mature enough not to bring it up. You all made the choice to stop by the open bar for a drink after dinner.

/2 YEARS AGO/

“ Amour, c'mon it's not that cold.” Charles said. He was chuckling while trying to empty the hood of your sweatshirt filled with snow. You mocked his words while your teeth were chattering with the cold.

“ How would you know Charles I didn't THROW A SNOWBALL INSIDE OF YOU.”

“ I am sorry, sorry you know that wasn't my purpose.”He said while pulling you close to give you a tight hug, he was still chuckling at your response when you gave him a smile back.

“ Thank God that I love you, or you surely would be dead by now.”

/TODAY/

In the communal area as they awaited the arrival of the New Year, many people were engaged in numerous activities. When you were seated next to Pierre and observing the television that was put near the fireplace, Charles and Russell were getting drinks from the bar. When Charles caressed Charlotte's face lightly to hand her the beer, she was just ready to fall asleep. Russell brought your drinks to Pierre, who gave you one of them. 

“ How much is still left?” Albon questioned softly almost. 

“ Albon, don't even consider closing your eyes for the next 15 minutes.”  Pierre emphasized the "eyes" in his sentence. The others chuckled a bit as a result, and you gave Pierre a tender chin stroke right away.'

“ 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1” Like they hadn't just been about to fall asleep, everyone greeted the New Year with excitement and joy. As you hugged Lily, who was standing right next to you, you couldn't help but giggle joyfully. 

" I want this to be your best year ever. Glad to meet you.”

" Lily, I hope you have the happiest year ever, and I'm so glad I know you and Albon, too." Before extending a hand and grinning, you stated that. You were startled by the scene when you turned around to kiss Pierre. A simple, lovely ring was contained in a small jewelry box that Pierre was holding. Before he spoke, he was grinning broadly as he watched your response. 

“ Happy New Year, love, tospend the rest of my life with you, I simply could not wait. I don't want to go a single second without you at my side. Je t' aime Y/N." 

With that many people surrounding you, you were unable to speak. Before sobbing joyfully, you covered your mouth with your hands. As you drew nearer to Pierre, you kissed him on the lips and then gave him permission to put a ring on your finger. 

“ Pierre, I adore you.”

You noticed Charles was the last person to hug as you were hugging Russell, which was around 5 minutes after the proposal. Charles reached for your hand with pleased eyes after Russell massaged your back and wished you a great year and a nice engagement.

“ I’m really happy that my best friend got someone as great as him.”

You wanted to give him a big hug, tell him how grateful you were for everything, and give his hair a one last stroke  to let him know it wasn't his fault you were broken up. You wanted to assure him that it was for the best that and you would always be by his side.  you wanted to let him know that you weren't upset with him for breaking up with you suddenly . You wished to assure him that everything was fine. Instead, you tightened the embrace and , his hands lightly stroked your back before he slipped away. 

“I'm grateful, Charles.” All you could manage to say was that you were attempting to contain joyous tears. Before going back to Pierre, you gave him a direct glance.   

''By the way, Leclerc, you still haven't given me the carrot cake recipe. 

Before responding to you, he grinned warmly. 

'' Oh yes so sorry, Y/N; I'll take care of it as soon as we return home.