#the world according to paris

[thoughtlessarse]

A surge in new oil and gas production in 2024 threatens to unleash nearly 12bn tonnes of planet-heating emissions, with the world’s wealthiest countries – such as the US and the UK – leading a stampede of fossil fuel expansion in spite of their climate commitments, new data shared exclusively with the Guardian reveals. The new oil and gas field licences forecast to be awarded across the world this year are on track to generate the highest level of emissions since those issued in 2018, as heatwaves, wildfires, drought and floods cause death and destruction globally, according to analysis of industry data by the International Institute for Sustainable Development (IISD). The 11.9bn tonnes of greenhouse gas emissions – which is roughly the same as China’s annual carbon pollution – resulting over their lifetime from all current and upcoming oil and gas fields forecast to be licensed by the end of 2024 would be greater than the past four years combined. The projection includes licences awarded as of June 2024, as well as the oil and gas blocks open for bidding, under evaluation or planned. Meanwhile, fossil fuel firms are ploughing more money into developing new oil and gas sites than at any time since the 2015 Paris climate deal, when the world’s governments agreed to take steps to cut emissions and curb global heating. The world’s wealthiest countries are economically best placed – and obliged under the Paris accords – to lead the transition away from fossil fuels to cleaner energy sources. But these high-capacity countries with a low economic dependence on fossil fuels are spearheading the latest drilling frenzy despite dwindling easy-to-reach reserves, handing out 825 new licences in 2023, the largest number since records began.

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[dailyhistoryposts]

On This Day In History

December 12th, 2015: The Paris Agreement under the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change is adopted.

[tenth-sentence]

In 2015, when the world's leaders met to discuss solutions to climate change at the Paris Climate Summit (home of the Paris Accord, where global leaders committed to reducing emissions to protect against runaway global warming), Le Foll touted a simple idea for helping pave the way (or should I say, garden our way) to planetary health.

"Soil: The incredible story of what keeps the earth, and us, healthy" - Matthew Evans

[reasonsforhope]

"Businesses like to talk about the concept of a closed loop or circular economy, but often they’re trying to close small loops. Releaf Paper takes dead leaves from city trees and turns them into paper for bags, office supplies, and more—which is to say they are striving to close one heck of a big loop.

How big? Six billion trees are cut down every year for paper products according to the WWF, producing everything from toilet paper to Amazon boxes to the latest best-selling novels. Meanwhile, the average city produces 8,000 metric tons of leaves every year which clog gutters and sewers, and have to be collected, composted, burned, or dumped in landfills.

In other words, huge supply and huge demand, but Releaf Paper is making cracking progress. They already produce 3 million paper carrier bags per year from 5,000 metric tons of leaves from their headquarters in Paris.

Joining forces with landscapers in sites across Europe, thousands of tonnes of leaves arrive at their facility where a low-water, zero-sulfur/chlorine production process sees the company create paper with much smaller water and carbon footprints...

“In a city, it’s a green waste that should be collected. Really, it���s a good solution because we are keeping the balance—we get fiber for making paper and return lignin as a semi-fertilizer for the cities to fertilize the gardens or the trees. So it’s like a win-win model,” [Valentyn] Frechka, co-founder and CTO of Releaf Paper, told Euronews.

Releaf is already selling products to LVMH, BNP Paribas, Logitech, Samsung, and various other big companies. In the coming years, Frechka and Sobolenka also plan to further increase their production capacity by opening more plants in other countries. If the process is cost-efficient, there’s no reason there shouldn’t be a paper mill of this kind in every city.

“We want to expand this idea all around the world. At the end, our vision is that the technology of making paper from fallen leaves should be accessible on all continents,” Sobolenka notes, according to ZME Science."

-via Good News Network, August 15, 2024

[evilminji]

"DO BETTER!" Says Now Televised Fanboy

He, Dash Baxter is a Phan-Stan!! It's kinda his thing. See, he's a fancy ass talk show host now. Married Paulie, moved out of Amity, actually DID something with his life. His parents? Did not approve. Long n short of it? He got kicked out.

Paulie's parents were PISSED.

Retaliated by giving him all the help he needed getting EVERY scholarship he qualified for. He went to a really nice college. Missed his girlfriend like mad. But she was off in Metropolis, terrifying weaker men. Conquering the fashion scene.

And SOMEHOW? Thanks to that long talk he had with Phantom (*incoherent fanboy gibbering noises* SO COOL!) he's worked to be... more of a LEADER, you know? Less of an asshole. Cause he's popular. People copy him. He can't be an asshole.

So, somehow, when he's punching out some try-hard that thinks he's hot shit for bullying a Nerd? He and the nerd get talking, right? Cause the guy got his glasses completely fucked up. And it's what Phantom would do.

But GET THIS? Guy's never HEARD of Phantom! Is super curious, cause he runs a small time Hero's show on the web. And, Dude? Is it your LUCKY DAY! Cause you just met THE number 1 fan of Phantom, hands down!! He makes his VERY spirited case, about why Phantom is THE best Hero to ever have lived. And this guy?

Entranced.

In AWE.

Just straight up BEGS him to join his show. Cause apparently? He was BORN for it. Which? Yeah. He HAS been giving speechs to the team for YEARS now. And Talking at fan meet ups. Leading fan meet ups. Hosting parties... actually, now that he thinks about it? He DOES do a lot of public speaking? Huh.

But still, he's about to say "no", when?

Dude mentions? He'll get to talk about Phantom.

SOLD!

It. Blows. Up. Absolutely EVERYONE is in love with his pretty face, hot bod, and STRONG opinions. But they ALSO have no idea who Phantom is! Paulie! This is CRIMINAL! Horrifying! What is going ON!?

Some bullshit information black out, apparently. At least according to her... friendly Nemesis? The Goth Dweeb. Who's engaged, apparently? So good for her. Unsurprisingly, it's too the OTHER Dweebs, but still. Bout time she started planning to drag them to a court house. She's the only one with any spine in that group! If she waited for THEM to propose?

Not even as Ghosts, man.

They'd get distracted by shiny nerd shit and whimp out.

Still... a world where NO ONE knows how Awesome, Phantom is? Not on HIS watch!

So he works it in. To every segment. It becomes "his thing". Oh? Super man saved a kitten from a tree? Cute. Well PHANTOM saved a bus full of Ghost Puppies from a shady, rouge, Goverment agency. Do BETTER, Superman!

The Flash, who is a cheap knock-off and stole his name, took down an Ice Villian? Adorable! PHANTOM stopped a Rouge WINTER SPIRIT with the help of YETI WARRIORS then assisted in giving FREE medical care for anyone who needed it! Here's a picture of him making GHOST ICE SNOWMEN for small children! Do BETTER, Knock-off!

What's THAT you say? Wonder Woman fought a GOD in down town paris?

Excellent work Wonder Woman. Flawless as always. But YOU, god-boy, are a disappointment! All that power! And WHAT do you use it for? Are you even supposed to BE here?? PHANTOM uses his power to HELP people! Is awesome and knows TONS of better gods! You're just salty you didn't make the cut!

DO BETTER!

And obviously? No one believes him. There's no record of this "Phantom" guy. The pictures look fantastical and vaguely glitchy/glowy. Not quite right. They GOTTA be photo shopped. Manipulated somehow. But? As a shtick? A fake "perfect Superhero" is kinda funny and unique.

And it's one hell of Fake Hero!

A Dead Champion? Who fights gods and monsters? Rouge agencies? Sassy and tragic? With a mysterious past? Pretty cool! There's even an Offical Comic from some guy that went to the same high-school as Baxter!

Of course, as Baxter get more and more popular? The "meme" hero, Phantom, get more well known? People get more interested in where Dash grew up. You know, just a bored Google. Maybe see if the hero was based off a local legend or something. But... huh...

The Town website?

Weirdly? Sanitized.

Like... like aggressively sanitized. All smooth edges and no details. Very "move along, citizen". Ha ha... it's part of the joke right? They get it! They'll just look up local restaurants or som-....

Wait...

Hey, guuuuys?

Are you finding ANYTHING?

And! Nothing. And I do mean NOTHING! Triggers the "oh? Secrets???" Instincts of a Hacker, like finding a hard blank wall of "KEEP OUT". Especially when it's somewhere it rightfully shouldn't BE.

All it would take? Is ONE person, of decent skills and an account on Certain Forums, getting bored enough to Google the Dude On The TV(TM)? For the GIW's lil walls to come crashing down. Because yeah, you can stop ONE hacker. Even two. Probably five or six.

But how about thousands?

Hundreds of thousands?

From every time zone. Competing. Just to see what you HAVE and don't want them to see. Maybe they do something with it, maybe they don't. But fuck it, you're being RUDE and now they're CURIOUS. And THEN? Oh. Oh holy shit.

Not a meme.

Very real.

Not a joke.

The walls come crumbling down, down, down. Ripped apart by hundreds of hands. Emails sent to every sort of agency. The JLU line inundated with emergency tips. Not a joke. Not A Joke. Holy Shit, IT WASN'T A JOKE!

Phantom is REAL!

And there, on TV, stands the Man. The signal FINALLY breaching containment. Fighting off the invading God of the week. Built like statue, hair like an aurora borealis of white fire held almost delicately in place by a CROWN of ice, a suit made of void and starlight. Inhuman. Beyond human.

Here to help.

A laugh that crackles like ice and the snap of winter, rolls through the air like coming storms, rich and somehow warm. A smile that bares teeth, yet turns so KIND when he looks upon humanity, as though we are precious and worth fighting for. A living star.

A... a once living star.

And in the center of it all? Wearing his BESPOKE, custome made, Number 1 Phan full body outfit? That's right. Dash Baxter. Ha! You fuckers doubted him! Behold his blorbo and WEEP, ya fuckin casuals! The BESTEST of boys! The FINEST of Heros! Superman? Could NEVER.

And now? The weather!

@babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation

[kovilm]

Rada Krivokapic Radonjic is a famous fashion designer and stylist whose signature style of classic, elegant yet luxurious ready-to-wear helped introduce ease and streamlined modernity to 21th-century dressing.

Early life

Rada Krivokapic Radonjic is originally from Kotor, Montenegro. Her parents are father Djuro Krivokapic and mother Vidosava Kaludjerovic. She also has an older brother named Radoslav Rajo Krivokapic. Her brother is a sailor, her mother a health care worker/nurse at Kotor General Hospital, and her father a factory worker.

Education

Talking about her educational background, she passed her Master's level in 2018. The program was funded by the German Government and was also designed according to the German education system. She had enrolled in Law, Professional, and Occupational Pedagogy, Trade, and Economy. She joined the School of Fashion and Specialization for Fashion Designer and Stylist. She graduated from this school of fashion from Belgrade in 1996, which was under the Paris system in collaboration with the Academy of Fine Arts. For her fashion school, she did an internship under Giorgio Armani Milan in 1997. Working for one of the world's most famous fashion creators, she got the opportunity to meet the best fashion creators to advance her knowledge base. Likewise, she completed her Ph.D. in Fashion Design in Belgrade in 1998.

Rada Krivokapic Radonjic, a visionary in the world of fashion, hails from the picturesque town of Kotor, Montenegro. Her creative journey has been nothing short of exceptional, combining classic designs with a deep commitment to sustainability. Born into a humble family, Rada’s passion for fashion stemmed from her early exposure to the industry through her work with esteemed designers like Giorgio Armani, Gianni Versace, Valentino Garavani, Karl Lagerfeld, and Roberto Cavalli.

Professional Life and Career

Talking about her professional life, she is famous as a designer and a stylist. She is the founder of Rada Krivokapic Radonjic, Kovilm and Rada Radonjic luxury clothing brands. They were established in the city of Kotor, Montenegro. In 2006, she designed the collection "Ostvarene Rijeci". The collection was inspired by her deceased father. Moreover, she collaborated with model Filip Kapisoda in 2010 and had a number of fashion shows in 2018. Furthermore, she also organized several fashion shows in the city of Yugoslavia. She also work as Costume Designer in Kotor. Moreover, Rada also designed a new fashion accessory called "Kovilm". She designed it for the 2019 fashion show called "Svijet Bez Sukoba". Kovilm is a garment worn around the neck, which symbolizes the transformation from tie and bow-tie. Additionally, Rada has also written the books 'Odijevanje' that translates to "Dressing" and 'Krojenje i sivenje' that translates to "Tailoring and sewing". Her books are related to the issues in the fashion and clothing world, which is influential for aspiring models, designers, and stylists. She is mostly based in her hometown Kotor. However, she also has her professional links in Podgorica, the capital of Montenegro. She designed common folk costume called Zentivns 2022.

Awards, Net Worth

Rada Krivokapic Radonjic has won several awards for her humanitarian contributions and assistance. She has also received Humanitarian Contribution Awards. In 2023, Rada Krivokapic Radonjic is The World's Best Fashion Designer of The Year 2023 London, United Kingdom by Corporate LiveWire.

Personal Life

Reflecting on her personal life, Rada Krivokapic Radonjic gave birth to four children Nedjeljka Nadja Radonjic (1999), Valentina Radonjic (2001), Nebojsa Radonjic (2007) and Teodora Radonjic (2013). Furthermore, she maintains a good professional and personal life, free of scandals and controversies.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 

 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 

“I can too!” 

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 

You 

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.” 

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

[ponytailzuko]

[ID: Two images showing a digital comic of the character Ladybug from Miraculous. In the first comic, it shows Ladybug looking at her yoyo, waiting for a response from Chat Noir as he types. Her previous messages say, “hey its been a bit r u still coming for patrol? just wanna make sure u remember we changed the time.” Chat Noir responds back, “Sorry, got caught up with talking to my family. Coming now” and he adds a smiley face at the end.

Ladybug thinks to herself, “Chat Noir has a family... I wonder what they’re like?” It cuts to show Chat Noir’s family according to Ladybug’s mental image. Civilian Chat Noir sits in a chair with a family of black cats, including one with a bowtie imagined as “M. Noir”, another cat with a ribbon imagined as “Mme. Noir”, and a box of kittens on Chat Noir’s lap imagined as Chat’s “litter of little siblings.” Ladybug is trying not to laugh at her own imagination. 

In the second comic, it’s after the identity reveal. Ladybug furiously says, “I cannot believe M. Noir turned out to be Gabriel Agreste.” She compares the two in her head, M. Noir is a cute fluffy cat dad, and Gabriel Agreste is referred to as “DISGUSTING.” Ladybug keeps on talking, “mon chaton deserves only the best parents this world has to offer!” That sparks an idea, and she smirks to herself as she thinks, “I have the best parents.” Her smirk grows as she thinks, “Plan to Get Chat Noir a New Family: Step 1. Convince Adrien on the merits of eloping.” There’s a cartoony drawing of Marinette on one knee proposing to Adrien. End ID]  

the drawn version of a post i made a couple days ago. in summary of that post i want marinette to think about what chat noir’s civilian life is like. and i want her to come up with the most bizarre conclusion possible because she really cant imagine chat noirs life at all. and also because she cant contemplate him being anything but a catboy.

bonus: 

[ID: Ladybug holding a cat while Chat Noir watches. Ladybug says, “chat noir look its ur sibling!” He replies back, “m’lady i’m not related to every cat in paris.” She responds, “so u r related to some?” End ID] 

[ileftmysoulinnorway]

The Vampire Laws (according to the Children of Darkness).

Total of one hundred.

Written in Latin. The main coven was based in Rome, and Armand was sent from there to Paris. Is Latin his third language? ("French my fourth and poorest language").

They largely use the term "lamiae" for vampires (which makes sense given the part of the world), but not always.

The Five Great Laws

1. Quisque suum thalamum debet habere ducem e ... ponat ... doli.

(my translation) Each coven (literally „inner room“) must have its leader ... order ... Trick.

(used in the show) Each coven must have its leader and only he might order the working of the Dark Trick upon a mortal.

2. Dona tenebrosa numquam debilesdebile.. ... er.. aut iis qui necum potestatibus quidem obscuris suis vivere possunt debent.

The Dark Gifts must never be given to the weak ... or to those who cannot (in fact) live with their dark powers.

The Dark Gifts must never be given to the crippled, the maimed or to children.

3. Nullus lamia vampiris debet scribere historiam lamiae vel quamlibet veram cognitionem lamiorum netalis historia inveniatura mortalibus et credatur.

No vampire should commit to writing the history of the vampires, or any true knowledge of vampires, lest such a story be discovered and believed by mortals.

No vampire must commit to writing the history of the vampires.

4. Nemo lamia suamveram naturammortalibus unquam patefaciet et mortale vivat.

No vampire will ever reveal his true nature to mortals and lives as a mortal.

No vampire shall ever reveal his or her true nature to a mortal and let the mortal live.

5. Nullus lamia potestalium lamia destruere nisi quod dominus copuluspotestatemhabetvitae et necis super totum gregem suum.

No vampire can destroy another vampire except for the coven master who holds the power of life and death over his whole flock.

No vampire may ever destroy another vampire except that the coven master has the power of life and death over all his flock.

Other laws that are at least a little bit readable:

51. Lamia semper ad sep... re...bit vel uni simillimum.

A vampire is always ... or very similar to one.

52. Lamia non cognoscet gaudium.

A vampire will not know joy.

53. Non cognoscet lamia felicitatem.

A vampire will not know happiness.

54. Leges magnae lamiae ...olasse iudicatus exs... ... morte punietur.

The laws of the great vampire* ... judged ... will be punished by death.

*or more likely the great laws of the vampires.

55. Lamia(e) exilia punienda ...buntur in terra tumulanda.

Exiled vampires to be punished ... buried in the ground.

56. Lamia non ambulabit in locis lucis.

A vampire will not walk in places of light.

57. Vampires praedam e consortio rapient ...s profuxis[?] et vagi.

Vampires will snatch prey from the group  ... runaways and vagrants.

58. Lamia nunquam cognoscet delicias vitae vanitates saeculi.

A vampire will never know the pleasures of life and the vanities of the world/age.

59. Lamia non requiret solatium foci[?].

A vampire will not require the comfort of a family.

60. Vampires nunquam carnalem delectationem cum mortalibus requirent.

Vampires will never seek carnal pleasure with mortals.

61. Vampires nunquam mortalium consortia quaerunt.

Vampires never seek the company of mortals.

62. Vivere inter homines ....nt labentibus annis lamia ad insaniam.

To live among humans .... the passing years ... a vampire to madness.

63. Vivere inter homines alios videre senescere ac mori sicut lamia nunquam sequila[?] lamia ad insaniam impellet.

To live among humans and see others grow old and die, like vampires would never, will drive vampires to insanity.

64. Lamia non ....patem quaerunt.

A vampire not ... seek.

65. Vampires in choro[?] delectationem non reg...rent.

Vampires do not ... delight in dance.

66. Vampires in musica non quaerunt ....tem.

Vampires do not seek .... in music.

67. Lamia(e) non[?] actibus[?] delectationem quaerunt,

Vampires do not seek pleasure in perfomances.

68. Vampires litterae** voluptatem non requirent.

Vampires do not seek pleasure in books.

**thank you lilium-in-blue

69. Vampires magicae non ....ionem requirent.

Vampires do not seek .... magic.

81. Factor amittit fac....diendi f.lli sui cogitationes ..c ...tium est donum obscurae largi...

The maker loses .... his thoughts ... is Dark Gift ...

82. Lamia in alias formas inc..sa europaea mutare poterit sed numquam in ...rundom africanum vertere poteris.

A vampire in other forms ... European ... will be able to change but never in ... African ... will be able to turn.***

*** I have no idea what this means. Words are missing and the whole sentence can have a completely different meaning than what it looks like now. My first thought was that it was some kind of reference to Akasha and Enkil. Please don't jump to conclusions.

83. Veri filii dei potestatibus eam ...per fidem resistere possunt s.... ....e sunt creaturae infidelis damnatorum.

True children of God .... powers ... can resist faith ... are the creatures ... damned unfaithful.

84. Lamia corpora aquae salsae in aestus maximo et infimo .a.tum transibunt.

A vampire will cross bodies of salt water ... at high and low tides.

85. Ut tempus mortale depopulatur corpus lamia depopulabitur tempus ut anni decennia vertuntur in saecula millennii corpus petrificat et lamia volvitur in saxum.

As time destroys the mortal body, so the vampire will be destroyed over time, as the decades turn into the centuries of the millennium, the body petrifies and the vampire turns to stone.

86. Vampires victimas non relinquent ubi a mortalibus cognosci possint nisi tales dolores fuerint ut mors non sit causa praeternaturalia.

Vampires will not leave their victims where they can be recognized by mortals unless they are wounded in such a way that their death does not seem supernatural.

87. Lamia vera loquetur scobe[?] domino.

The vampire will speak the truth ... to the master.

88. Lamia domino suo asse obediet eique exhibebit quantum tale officium postulat.

A vampire will obey his master and will give him as much as such a duty demands.

89. Lamia ad omnes casus paretur.

A vampire is prepared for everything.

90. Lamia paratus ad immolandum se ad bonum testudinis.

A vampire is willing to sacrifice himself/herself for the good of the coven.

91. Paratus lamia paratus erit suum testudinum et dominum suum ab omnibusiminis externis et domesticis defendere.

A prepared vampire will be ready to defend his/her coven and his/her master from external and internal threats.

92. Super omnia custodiatte.

Above all, be vigilant.

93. Nullam lamia eg... posuere eget t.n.idunt quam.

No vampire ... needs to put ...

94. Si lamia in...niret socium lamia fractam testudinis regulas tali de..sta domino cousco referentur.

If a vampire ... vampire breaks the rules of the coven, such ... they will be reported to the coven master.

95. Defectum de .ae...is membris certi... facere faciet ..os criminum facitos[?] lamia ac s ... .a... miserit.

The failure of ... members ... will make ... crimes ... vampire ... will be killed/released.

96. Ignorantia testament.. regulae non erit acceptabile defensionem contra regulas praevaricationis.

Ignorance ... of the rules will not be an acceptable defense against breaking the rules.

97. Admissa in cr..am un ... via exeundi ...

Admitted ... way ... avoid ...

98. Pactum lamia s... et pacem[?] praesedit.

A vampire pact ... and presides over peace.

TL;DR: Very cult-like rules, calling for restraint, moderation, obedience. Lots of little callbacks.

Let me know if you spot any mistakes or can add anything. I'm used to translating from Latin, but not into English. Latin is a bit tricky, mainly because of the crazy word order.

[onsomenewsht]

I just wanna feel something, tell me where to go

About when she wants to win gold and you talk too much but don’t answer her questions

《 read part 2, 'cause everybody knows something I don't wanna know

》 Alexia Putellas x fencer!Reader

》 words count: + 1.7k

》 the mountain’s call [way of saying]: the irresistible pull or urge to pursue a challenging goal or adventure

“You look like someone who needs to see the best place in the entire Village”

Alexia looks up from the pass’ lanyard she’s fidgeting with, finding your open smile even before spotting your outstretched hand. Her eyebrow rises on its own accord, always sceptical around strangers.

The Olympic Village is big enough to welcome the egos of some of the best athletes in the world, but not big enough to avoid their clashing. It’s actually encouraged.

Within a certain limit, obviously.

The footballer sees you in passing almost every day, given that the Spanish Team rooms are basically neighbours with the Italian Team ones. Your outgoing attitude and friendly nature make you pretty popular around the village. The fact you’re easy on the eyes and quite the talk among the players isn’t lost on Alexia either – she likes good gossip like anybody else.

“Come on, Reina, don’t let me stand here like an idiot”, your teasing words take her back from her overthinking one more time.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere celebrating that?”, she points to the medal hanging around your neck.

A genuine smile rises on both your faces as you mindlessly hold the piece of gold to look at it one more time, feeling like this is some kind of dream.

Your gaze falls on Alexia, still sitting in a corner of a communal break room when her teammates are cheering all around for one more victory in their Olympic journey.

“I’m gonna celebrate for the next four years, I can spare some time for you”

“Congratulations, by the way, I heard it’s not the first one”, she takes your hand as you burst out laughing, helping her on her feet.

You may have hosted the closest thing to a party you can do in the Village when, just earlier this week, you won your first gold medal.

It’s not your first Olympics, it’s not even your first Olympic medal. But finally being a gold medalist? An Olympic Champion? You sure could not let it pass over in silence.

The short walk is filled with small talks and giggles, you do most of the talking but Alexia’s grin stays firmly on her face the entire time. You notice her rosy cheeks and more relaxed stance, holding yourself high with pride to finally see the blonde so carefree around you.

“How did you even find this place?”

The night lights of Paris really turn the city into some sort of fantastic dream, the view is easily able to take the breath away from the little balcony you open for her. You’re on top of the biggest complex in the Village, the usual chaos that fills the French capital is somehow just background noise.

“Fencing is an ancient discipline”, you start, barely avoiding Alexia’s playful hit on your arm at your documentary-like approach.

“Jokes aside, the Italian school basically created fencing, but then the French school redefined the system to what it’s like today and they will not shut up about it. It’s a long lasting rivalry between two countries that, sportwise, hate each other”

“Everyone hates the French, sportwise”, the Spain captain agrees, mimicking your move as you sit on the floor of the balcony.

“Fencing into the Grand Palais in fucking Paris is like playing every single game as a World Cup final against the host country in a stadium filled with their fans and colours”

“Dramatic”

“Of course! You’re putting Italian and French people in the same place, asking them to fight with swords, literally. It’s gonna be dramatic”, you let your gaze wander around as the blonde’s one tries to find something inside you.

Alexia waits for you, understanding just now how your cheerful and playful behaviour hides something more complex.

She has turned on your Team Final on her way back from the stadium, curious about it – about you – after the little party you put on for the entire Village following your Individual Final victory.

She got nothing about what was happening, not understanding how some hits were good and others were given away or not counted. She prides herself on being able to recognise good athleticism and quick leg ability though. The way you move on the piste, quickly but precisely in every single gesture, is mesmerising. The way your mind acts even faster than your body is even more captivating.

What surprised her the most is the way you hold back.

While your opponents celebrate any conceded hits and your teammates celebrate loudly all the successful points, you stay stoic and firm the entire time.

It’s something she doesn’t expected from you, usually so excited about everything.

That’s probably one of the reasons that brings her here with you in the first place.

“You don’t look dramatic when you fence”

“Oh, you watched me?”

“It was the bare minimum after your detailed commentary after our last game”

“I’m Italian, I’m a football fan from birth”, you say, rolling your eyes humorously, not ready to reveal that the Spanish team is the only one you care about keeping up with during this Olympic tournament.

Alexia Putellas just admitted she turned on your Final to see you win a gold medal.

“Wait, let’s just go back to you watching me fence”

She smile at your weak attempt to avoid her question, genuinely amused about you but pretty sure you’re gonna tell her everything she asks – eventually.

A comfortable silence between the two of you fills the air for some minutes, somehow guiding your bodies closer.

“How did you find this place?”, the Catalan winks when you turn to look at her.

“I hate fencing with the French”, you start to explain after a bit with a serious note underneath your voice, “I lost my last Olympic Individual Final against a reckless fencer with the most annoying Parisian accent ever”

Another moment passes, Alexia doesn’t pressure you but can feel you relax when she places her hand on your knee.

“Last time I was in Paris, I injured myself. I was out for nine months and lost two major tournaments. This Olympics being hosted here as I was supposed to redeem myself and prove to be good enough at the same time? Really took a turn on me at first”, you avoid her gaze as you sum up one of your biggest fears to a stranger on a balcony viewing Paris’ landscape.

“I needed a place to escape without running away”

“And here we are, facing Paris from a hiding spot”

How the footballer manages to understand you so well in such a short amount of time, in such an unusual setting, is really something that surprises you. Your eyes meet and you can distinctly feel your heart skip a bit.

“I befriended a handyman, this floor is for staff only as some sort of control room”

“This explains the private balcony”

“I should have started with this and not the unasked story of my life”

You can still feel Alexia’s hand on you, mindlessly caressing your leg as you try not to implode and hide the redness of your face. She smirks.

“We’ll play France in the semifinal”, she says with a hint of disbelief and irony.

“Fuck the French”, you state solemnly, “It’s basically a wanna-be repeat of the Champions League’s final, you’re going to be fine”

“If you just jinxed it–”

“I did not, I know an Olympic Champion when I see one”

The burst of confidence and the firmness in your voice, despite the easy way you’re both talking about Spain’s next game, are enough to subside the noises inside Alexia’s head – your voice is a good distraction and your presence is a welcoming discovery.

“How is it?”

“What?”

The blonde’s finger points at the piece of gold still hanging on your neck, you’re just glad it’s her other hand as you look back and forth between her and the medal.

“You won enough to know how it is”

“It’s my first Olympics”

“In Italian there’s a word, I don’t know if you have the same difference in Spanish. It’s olimpionico and it’s not like olimpico – olympic”

“You never go for the straight answer, do you?”, she interrupts you with a teasing smile.

“No, never done anything the straight way my entire life, now let me go on with my wise and deep talk”, you graciously – and quite bravely on your part, if you must say so yourself – drop your arm around her shoulder, releasing a breath as she smoothly adjusts her body closer.

“Olimpionico is formed from the Greek ᾿Ολύμπια, which means ‘competitions of Olympia’ so our Olympic Games, and the root of νικάω, that I don’t know to explain how but can be translated with ‘victory’ or ‘winner’ and you have to trust me on this one”, you’ve never been happier with your strict education and the Italian questionable school system.

“I’m still waiting for the point”

“I mean to say we have a specific word for an Olympic athlete who doesn’t just compete in the Olympic Games but actually wins”

“You won enough Olympic medals to know how it is”

“The last time we won bronze as a team and I lost the gold against the obnoxious Frenchwoman, Alexia, keep up”, you’re perfectly aware of her hand on your thigh and her eyes burning on your face – she definitely noticed your red cheeks and the cracks on your walls.

“It’s my first Individual gold and this is my first Team gold, it’s– I don’t know how to explain, but it’s–”

“It’s olimpionico?”, she indulges you, her accent around the Italian word is way more charming than the French one.

“You get it”

“Olympic Champion sounds so uncool now”

As the night turns into a darker shade of black and the Paris lights really do the city’s name justice, you feel like there’s something profound linking you with the athlete curled on your side.

It’s a shared desire to prove yourself to everyone, while wanting to make just a few close people proud. It’s a shared hunger to be the best among some of the greatest, but to make sure the ones around you shine as much.

It’s a shared feeling, deep inside, telling you’re right where you’re supposed to be.

[mindblowingscience]

For the first time, global warming has exceeded 1.5C across an entire year, according to the EU's climate service. World leaders promised in 2015 to try to limit the long-term temperature rise to 1.5C, which is seen as crucial to help avoid the most damaging impacts. This first year-long breach doesn't break that landmark Paris agreement, but it does bring the world closer to doing so in the long-term. Urgent action to cut carbon emissions can still slow warming, scientists say.

Continue Reading.

[zvaigzdelasas]

China’s massive rollout of renewable energy is accelerating, its investments in the sector growing so large that international climate watchdogs now expect the country’s greenhouse-gas emissions to peak years earlier than anticipated—possibly as soon as this year[!!!].

China installed 217 gigawatts worth of solar power last year alone, a 55% increase, according to new government data. That is more than 500 million solar panels and well above the total installed solar capacity of the U.S. [...]

Wind-energy installation additions were 76 gigawatts last year, more than the rest of the world combined. That amounted to more than 20,000 new turbines across the country, including the world’s largest, [...]

The low-carbon capacity additions, which also included hydropower and nuclear, were for the first time large enough that their power output could cover the entire annual increase in Chinese electricity demand [!!!!], analysts say. The dynamic suggests that coal-fired generation—which accounts for 70% of overall emissions for the world’s biggest polluter—is set to decline in the years to come, according to the Paris-based International Energy Agency and Lauri Myllyvirta, the Helsinki-based lead analyst at the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air.[...]

Its rapid emissions growth long provided fodder for critics who said Beijing wasn’t committed to fighting climate change or supporting the Paris accord, the landmark climate agreement that calls for governments to attempt to limit warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius over preindustrial temperatures. Now, analysts and officials say Beijing’s efforts are lending momentum to the Paris process, which requires governments to draft new emissions plans every five years.

“An early peak would have a lot of symbolic value and send a signal to the world that we’ve turned a corner," said Jan Ivar Korsbakken, a senior researcher at the Oslo-based Center for International Climate and Environmental Research.

In 2020, Chinese leader Xi Jinping pledged that the country’s emissions would begin falling before 2030 and hit net zero before 2060, part of its plan prepared under the Paris accord. He also said China would have 1,200 gigawatts of total solar- and wind-power capacity by the end of this decade. The country is six years ahead of schedule: China reached 1,050 gigawatts of wind and solar capacity at the end of 2023, and the China Electricity Council forecast last month that capacity would top 1,300 gigawatts by the end of this year.[...]

Transition Zero, a U.K.-based nonprofit that uses satellite images to monitor industrial activity and emissions in China, says the official data are “broadly aligned and consistent" with theirs.[...]

[M]oving China’s timeline for an overall emissions peak forward could shave off around 0.3 to 0.4 degrees Celsius of projected global warming if emissions started to decline next decade, analysts say.[...]

The most certain variable in the equation is the breakneck pace of China’s renewable-energy rollout, which analysts expect will continue to add 200 to 300 gigawatts of new wind and solar capacity a year. The investments in renewable energy have become a major driver of the Chinese economy. The country’s clean-energy spending totaled $890 billion last year, up 40%. [...]

The adoption of electric vehicles is happening so rapidly that analysts say peak gasoline demand in China was already reached last year[!!!].

10 Feb 24

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

🌍🌡️ - Climate Prophecy: The Forecast Is 100% Chance of 'Cool'

1. No cases of cancer caused by HPV in Norwegian 25-year olds, the first cohort to be mass vaccinated for HPV

Last year there were zero cases of cervical cancer in the population that was vaccinated in 2009 against the HPV virus, which can cause the cancer in women. The HPV virus is extremely common, basically everyone comes into contact with one version or another of the virus in their lifetime.

The vaccine was given to girls only out of an abundance of caution, they were the most likely to contract cancer from the viruses, and because there was limited supply.

2. ‘Every square inch is covered in life’: the ageing oil rigs that became marine oases

Built decades ago, California’s offshore oil platforms are home to a huge diversity of marine life. According to a 2014 study, the rigs were some of the most “productive” ocean habitats in the world, a term that refers to biomass – or number of fish and other creatures and how much space they take up – per unit area.

3. Vaccinations may have prevented almost 20 million COVID-19 deaths worldwide

Vaccinations estimated to have averted 19.8 million COVID-19 deaths worldwide in their first year, according to the latest Imperial modelling study.

In the first year of the vaccination programme, 19.8 million out of a potential 31.4 million COVID-19 deaths were prevented worldwide according to estimates based on excess deaths from 185 countries and territories.

4. Global climate policy forecast predicts ‘well below 2°C’ Paris Agreement climate goals will be met

They report only a 10% probability we exceed 2°C by 2050. Temperatures are expected to peak between 1.7°C and 1.8°C, which is consistent with the “well below 2°C” objective of the Paris Agreement in Art. 2.1c.

5. Young driver fatality rates have fallen sharply in the US, helped by education, technology

Crash and fatality rates among drivers under 21 have fallen dramatically in the U.S. during the past 20 years.

Using data from 2002-2021, the report says that fatal crashes involving a young driver fell by 38%, while deaths of young drivers dropped even more, by about 45%.

6. A Virginia woman was feeling sad. Her doctor prescribed her a cat.

7. Remote workers report saving $5,000 to $10,000 a year

What value would American workers place on the privilege to work from home?

In a 2022 survey by FlexJobs, 45% of remote workers reported saving at least $5,000 a year. One in 5 reported saving $10,000 a year. The savings average out to about $6,000 a year. The poll reached 4,000 workers in July and August of last year.

Three years into the remote-work revolution, research increasingly suggests that telework is a commodity, a job descriptor worth thousands of dollars in potential savings and improved quality of life.

---

That's it for this week :)

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Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

[claraswritings]

Can I Be The One?

Summary: Luca is your childhood friend who has fallen in love with you. Carmy meets you through him and falls for you too Vignettes throughout the years knowing them.

Pairing: Chef Luca x female!Reader / Carmen Berzatto x female!Reader- I have never done this before. There’s TWO ENDINGS so you can pick whichever hot chef boyfriend you want.

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, negative inner monologue, allusions to a panic attack, language, slow burn (sort of…it’s a fic which spans years), Google translate used, short smut in both endings, friends to lovers.

Notes:

1. In 2.04 in Luca’s kitchen there’s a handwritten sign that says “Jeg elsker dig” which is I love you according to Google translate 😭. So I wrote that into the Luca ending because who wrote that to him. WHO?who?WHO?WHO?… It was you if you want it to be.

2. I am so up for expanding both of these CHOOSE timelines. If anyone has any ideas for blurbs or just wants to chat pop up.

———————————————————————————

LUCA

PARIS

After some years of Luca working in London restaurants and climbing the ladder, he’d built his skills up at a rapid pace impressing just about everyone, including himself with how good he was. You’d been there for him like you promised through it all, his first successful promotion where he was tasked with coming up with a new dessert. You’d brainstorm with him and hold plates steady whilst he practiced assembly. You were there his countless attempts at spun sugar that you wound up having to pick out of his hair. The day he’d perfected his technique on that had been a relief, both for Luca and you but a sad day for the fine tooth comb industry. Seeing him flourish and be successful made you so happy. People were finally seeing Luca as you saw him. Talented, patient, dedicated and hardworking. Finally, he had something he loved that he could put all of his pent up energy into.

Every time he was offered the chance to a new place, he’d asked you to come with him and every time it had been an easy decision.

Given that you’d studied languages and spoke several, you’d agree with a joke that you’d be his unofficial translator in exchange for being his taste tester. It was easy for you to get freelance work wherever you went so it became you and Luca, travelling the world together.

Only a few weeks ago he’d asked you to come to Paris with him so he could learn new pastry techniques over there and stage at a restaurant, you’d once again agreed knowing you’d be able to pick up some translation work online.

“He speaks French and English by the way.” You said as you made your way back to the Paris Air BnB you’d been staying in over the past month. “He was fucking with the staff.” You continued, referring to the government official who allegedly spoke no English or French.

“I don’t think government officials ‘mess with’ people.” Luca looked down at you and pulled a face, “He was pretty old”

On this particular night he’d called you saying there was a restaurant emergency, a government official had requested off-menu, however when said official arrived, he stared blankly at any attempts to communicate in French or English.

“Don’t they?” You said, “I hate to break it to you but I think that is pretty much the byline of their job description.”

“I think…I think he was just being a dickhead.”

“Also in their job description, darling.” you whistled lowly, laughing as you looked up at him.

The way you called him that. It felt sweet, personable and rolled off the tongue and he suddenly felt it heavy in the Paris summer. Did it feel as loaded to him as it did to you? Probably not. You were so friendly and personable to everyone. Luca shook his head and tried not to make it obvious.

Of course he’d thought about you like that. It had started in fleeting moments.

The first day of his first kitchen job, or several years ago when he went to your university graduation and you’d held his arm as you walked across the grass to have photos taken, or last year you’d stopped in to see him, KFC bucket in hand after your relationship ended (Luca hated the guy anyway), or last month you’d tried 20 different variations of the same caramelized banana dessert he’d made even if you never were overly keen on banana because he’d really, really wanted to impress this celebrity chef that was coming into where he was working as sous chef.

It had become more frequent over the years with a hundred other times in between until he couldn’t remember when it had become harder and harder to put it down to a fleeting thought and closer to ‘I think I might be in love with my best friend’

“You’re messing with me aren’t you?” Luca asked, cocking his head to the side.

“He seemed to understand when I dropped it towards the end of the meal and thanked him sounding like this.” You gestured at yourself “So I’m going to go with…no, he understood…”

“Fucking hell” Luca let out low exhale and then laughed. “Hey…thanks again for helping, the CDC has offered you a free meal.”

“Why do you think I came down.” You joked. “Well that and I like hearing about what you’re making” you added on sincerely.

“You like me being a nerd about desserts?” Luca cocked his head, a slightly teasing tone in his voice

“Yeah but I like it. It’s actually really interesting you talking about your technique” You replied back “it’s like vocal food porn or something”

“Nah,” He laughed loudly at your description and elbowed you jokingly in the sides. “You just have a sweet tooth. I can promise you most people are not that interested.”

“Pfft their loss.…” You looped your arm through his and continued “You know I’m so proud of you, Luca, how much energy and love you put into this. It’s so cool. You’ve improved so much since your first dish and you just keep getting better.”

You were there in the restaurant for the first time a dish he’d fully made himself was served in the London restaurant he’d started at. Thai green curried pineapple. It had gone out first to the table next to you and you’d watched the woman keenly, waiting for her reaction. She’d loved it , of course she had, it was made by Luca. It was an open kitchen so you’d shot him a subtle thumbs up when you caught him staring through, fingers drumming over his mouth, nervous, hoping to alleviate his nerves. You’d proceeded to rave about the dish and her reaction, in detail, to him, all the way home, so excitedly, that you were sure half of the tube heard you. Your pride in him calmed his nerves, put him at ease, not just because you were his supportive best friend, but because it would be impossible to fake your enthusiasm.

Luca turned his head, not wanting to meet your eye for fear he’d run his mouth off ‘Couldn’t do it without you, thank you for always being there for me through it all, by the way I think I might have fallen in love with you’

“Thanks… not just for that, I mean for everything…” he stopped and mentally chastised himself for acting so awkward “How are you finding it?” He asked instead “I ask a lot of you, I know”

“Luca. I get to travel the world with my best friend, working from beautiful locations, whilst he lives his dream. It’s incredible.”

You were looking up at him, smiling, clearly ecstatically happy . And why wouldn’t you be. In a beautiful city with your best friend.

He knew he was your best friend but hearing you call him that felt weird. ‘You ARE her best friend, you’re not her boyfriend. Did you forget? Can master passionfruit macarons in a day but can’t understand that?

“Oh…by the way…I got you something.”

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts as you paused on the middle of the path and opened your bag with your free hand and passed him a napkin and written on it was a phrase in French.

“Still keeping up with that tradition?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah I might be.” You teased back. “Don’t pretend I don’t know you love them!”

Luca of course loved the little tradition you’d started and had to fight back the grin that was threatening to break out on his face but he couldn’t.

You’d leave him a message written in the language of wherever he was working at the time. ‘Good luck’ on a napkin for his first role in London, There was one from a trip of Venice (‘You’re the best <3’- sei il migliore), and another from Seville (‘You’ve got this <3’ - tienes esto) and one from Rotterdam (‘I believe in you <3’ - ik geloof in jou). They’d made their way into books, notes from each place he’d visited, pressed between pages as memories.

The newest one in French was ‘I am so proud of you’ - je suis si fier de toi <3

He would keep it with him tucked into a pocket until you left Paris for Chicago and he’d move it into a notebook alongside a step by step for Canelés, a photo of the first time he’d made a Paris-Brest and tickets from your first visit to the Louvre and one of you he’d taken, candid, looking up at the sparkling Eiffel Tower.

———————————————————————————

BOTH

CHICAGO

All you had heard about since Luca had started working at Ever, a 3 star Chicago restaurant, was this other chef.

Every day. All day.

He’d come home to you sounding off. ‘Carmen did this better than me, Carmen is quicker than me, Carmen pitted two bags of peas when everyone else had only pitted half of one,’

You knew Luca wasn’t used to being second best and you knew it was getting to him. He’d been the best everywhere he’d been, except now.

Luca would stay up later and later in an attempt to get better, sometimes only sleeping for an hour. It was as if he felt like all his hard work would be for nothing and he’d be back as the guy who barely passed his exams and got in trouble all the time. You’d wake up, go to the kitchen for breakfast and find Luca had been up for three hours practicing folding dough or picking seeds out of strawberries or whatever the head chef had them doing the day before.

You were growing concerned, you knew why it was bothering him and had voiced to him several times to varying results that there was nothing wrong with being second best sous chef at a Michelin star restaurant. This other guys ability didn’t make him less.

After listening to Luca explain that Carmen managed to get the layering of butter and dough just perfect for croissants and had made two dozen whilst everyone else was still on their first and how he could brown a baked alaska in 15 seconds without the ice cream melting, you’d suggested that maybe he should become friends with him.

“Why don’t you ask him how he does it?” You asked him “Maybe he’d be happy to share?”

“What?”

Luca looked in thought for a moment, as if he was only just clicking this was an option, considering it before you continued.

“I’m worried about how hard you’re pushing yourself, bit of competition is fine but you’ll wear yourself out at this rate…Plus maybe there’s something you can show him that he might need to know”

He knew you were right. You usually were. Typical of you to be able to rationalise his thoughts within minutes. Of course you’d suggest he becomes friends with Carmen, why wouldn’t you... ‘You know me too well, you’re good at knowing what I need to hear.’

***

You hadn’t expected Luca to literally show up with Carmen the next day.

And the next, and the next and the next.

If you were honest, you didn’t know what you were expecting from this guy Luca had ranted about for weeks but you’d gotten on with him far more than you expected. Carmen had been shy at first but as you spent more time with him, you’d grown to liked his quiet humour and how remarkably observant he was. He instantly noticed your jeans as vintage Levi 501s, the only type of jean you’d worn since you could remember and eventually he’d become friends with both of you.

Carmen had taken a liking to you, surprising even himself. You were warm, friendly, and outgoing. You had this incredible ability to make absolutely anyone feel like the only person in the room.

Like when he or Luca broke down the process of making the dish they’d made, you’d be looking like it was describing the most interesting story you’d heard.

Questions like ‘so how do you curl the red pepper tuiles? Is that with a knife or am I a total idiot?’ and ‘is it always a green apple in the sugar dome?’ and ‘how do you know when the yuzu jelly is done?’ Even the things you’d say like ‘Can you make Le Tendance with white chocolate or does it have to be dark’

Carmy knew you probably didn’t know the difference between the different types of pans he mentioned or why it mattered. There was no stake in the debate he and Luca had been having over compressed watermelon sorbet for you. But you cared. You always cared.

It was endearing and made him feel appreciated, kept him passionate about cooking even after a long day so he warmed to you, like you’d inadvertently got a part of him, given him a quiet understanding and support, he desperately craved but thought he’d never get.

He was achingly jealous of Luca and your unwavering love and support. It was evident from how you’d gush supportively over Luca perfecting edible flowers or lychee creme or whatever. Carmy desperately craved more of the warmth and love you gave so freely.

****

“Here.”

Carmy pushed a plate of spaghetti gratin towards you. “uh, try it, lemme know what you think. Something I’ve…erm, been..working on.”

“For me?” You grinned excitedly, not even waiting for him to nod before picked up your fork and helped yourself to some, slipping it past your lips.

“Holy fuck” you moaned as the taste hit you. “That’s amazing, Carmy, so good…”

“Better than that one in Mayfair?” Luca asked, from beside you, with a small smile. Your eyes met his and you nodded causing him to smirk. “Told you it was good, man” he said to Carmy patting him on the shoulder “this guys good at everything!”

“Oh god yeah” you took another bite “Fuck me this is…wow.”

“See…” Luca nodded encouragly “And thats high praise from her. She loves that place!”

“Wha’ one in Mayfair?” Carmy turned to you, curious. He hadn’t been but he knew there was a large list of fine dining places there and was keen to know what, or rather, who you had to compare his against.

“Murano. My family used to have dinner there once a week” you explained “…it’s an incredible restaurant. It does the best spaghetti gratin I’ve ever had…” you dug your fork in again and helped yourself to more, pausing as you did “Well… until this one. Have you been to London? We should all go.”

You were effortlessly likeable, funny. Colourful flowers and feathers snaking their way up your arm, a little silver nose ring, vintage jeans and leather jackets. ‘Of course handsome Luca would have a cool girlfriend like you.’

“You two married long or…” Carmy had asked before he could stop himself and immediately winced at how he’d just blurted it out, kicking himself internally.

Beside him, Luca attempted to cover up his surprised expression as quickly as possible and wondered if it was noticeable how he tensed. Did Carmy have a thing for you? What would you say? Obviously she’s going to say you’re not together because guess what? You’re not. Just because you’ve deluded yourself into thinking she’s your girl doesn’t mean she is. Don’t fuck up the one consistent relationship you’ve had in your life.

“Oh…we’re not, we’re not married, he’s my best friend.” You said off hand as you pulled the fork from your mouth, slowly.

“Oh…I tho…” Carmy stopped himself as he caught Luca’s eye. Did he know?

The pair of them held the silence for a few seconds, each wondering if the other was as into you as they were. Luca moved first, dropping his hand from where it was resting over his lips, as if he meant to speak but you beat him to it

“Can I eat all of this?” You pointed at the dish with your fork.

And like that the moment was gone. You’d changed the subject, completely unaware of the tension in the air.

Carmy nodded. He liked that you always wanted another taste. In the kitchen, taste tests were usually quick, a bite to give some feedback and then on to the next. Here in the kitchen of a rental you’d got a short lease on was different.

The need you had for more of what he served gave him more confidence, reassured him. It somehow felt more rewarding than a colleague having a test only to say ‘Perfect, chef. Thanks’.

And Against all odds and all expectations, he’d found himself also wanting more.

———————————————————————————

CARMY

LONDON

You’d left Chicago with Luca after a few months to move to Copenhagen but had promised to keep in touch. From when you arrived, you’d been raving about it to him. How beautiful it was, how relaxed you felt there, so when he’d been offered the chance to go over to Noma and work, he’d been all too happy to go.

Truth be told, he also missed you. Calls and texts a were not cutting it.

Carmy was never one for answering the phone. Maybe it was a defense mechanism with Mikey never answering and not wanting to get his hopes up that it was his brother finally reaching out. Until you. If anything he found himself calling or texting you even when he was tired.

Talking to you helped switch off the static in his head, it was like you were his reminder to stay grounded, stay in the moment.

Carmy had scheduled his flights so he’d have a few days in London before his flight to Copenhagen, mostly to try the places you’d recommended. He’d reached out to ask for the details and it had just so happened you’d been in town for a friends wedding. You’d offered to come meet you the day after, he’d agreed in a second, happy for the opportunity to spend time with you.

****

Markets sprawled across different corners of the city, each with their own individual personality and you seemed to know them like the back of your hand. He’d let you lead, and it was the fourth one you’d been to with him today and at each one you’d insisted on buying from numerous stalls and making him try a variety of things of varying quality as well as buying yourself a pin that went straight onto the denim jacket you had slung loosely over your shoulders.

“Sometimes it’s good, sometimes less so, you know” you hooked your legs over the bench you’d managed to get to before a large group of school kids. “I know it’s not fancy but I just love the markets. All of ‘em”

“I can get not fancy,” Carmen laughed, something he noticed he did more often around you. It had become almost alien to smile or enjoy himself but with you it came naturally “I don’t really cook for myself all tha’ much” He helped himself to some of your bang-bang noodles and twisted them around with his chopsticks “it’s comfort food. I get it,”

“Yeah I bet…Come home after cooking all day, you probably just want something you can put in the microwave.”

“Sometimes not even that So a week ago? Had leftover pizza and I’m talkin’ anymore leftover and I think it woulda just been gone off pizza. Didn’t even re-heat it”

“I don’t know if that’s gross or impressive!” You laughed and it made Carmy smile, he loved it that he could draw that reaction from you and loved that he smiled, really smiled, with you. He couldn’t remember the last time he could be like that around someone.

You paused for a minute, taking a drink from your can of Diet Coke before you spoke again.

“Reservations at eight by the way. I don’t know if it’ll compare but I wanted you to try it.”

“Reservation?” Carmy tilted his head, wondering if he’d forgotten something.

“Yeah.” You nodded giving him a wide grin “it’s a great restaurant in the Shard. You don’t think I’d take a chef to London and not try somewhere did you?”

****

That evening he found himself in a navy dress shirt he’d bought that same day sitting across from you. You’d changed into a little black dress, a small cardigan that was over your shoulders, sliding slightly down and he could see a pink peony on your shoulder.

If he was honest, he half been expecting Luca to show up but when you’d approached the maitre d, he’d greeted you by name and said ‘table for two’ and Carmy had silently breathed a sigh of relief and then instantly felt guilty over it.

Luca was a nice guy. Carmy sometimes wished he was a raging asshole so it would be easier to put his jealousy of him down to that and not his proximity and closeness to you.

****

“You look really good in navy.” You complimented, cutting through his thoughts. The waiter just had cleared away one of the other countless courses, a sous vide duck, that was as expected; delicious, even if he’d have opted for a different garnish.

Carmy felt his heart pick up. Had you just been sitting there thinking he looked good? He felt himself smile a little but was quick to downplay it, blinking back a response “you… you think?”

“Yeah, Navy really suits you, Carmy. You should wear it more often...”

‘Done’ he thought to himself.

“Thanks, I mean you, uh, you look nice too,”

You smiled at him but before you could respond, the waiter was at your table again, with a further course. Steamed chocolate sponge, baked white chocolate and sugar snap salad, the first of a few desserts.

“Wow” you muttered and you pointed at the plate “this looks so good…” you watched him take a bite and nod approvingly before you asked “Is it weird being on this side of the wall? Doing the eating and not the cooking?”

“A little…uh, I guess it’s not often that m’not worrying about everything being perfect,” Carmy grimaced and ran a hand through his hair “I feel tuned into their kitchen even though I’ve never been in it. Is that weird?” His hand rested over his chin waiting for you to respond.

You shook your head “No… No I don’t think so…” you dropped your voice and leant in closer. He could smell your perfume, your shampoo and soap from your skin. “if so, it’s also weird that I can’t switch off the translating and have been evasdropping on that German couple,” you looked to your right with your eyes

Taking your joke as a distraction from how much he’d like to bury his lips in your neck and kiss you, he laughed and took a bite of his dish. You’d made a good decision, this restaurant was excellent as you’d promised it would be.

Is this what you did with Luca? Go travel and visit places with him and try new foods and laugh?

A mix between jealousy and confusion crossed his mind as the thought occurred and he found himself wondering how Luca could not make a fucking move.

Is he crazy or does he have the willpower of a fucking saint. The question rang in Carmens mind before ‘You’re not making a move either,’ he told himself internally ‘being jealous of her friend, being jealous of a guy she’s known since she was a kid. She’s not into you. She does not want you, fucko. She could do better than you. You can’t compete, she’s not going to want you. You just wish you’d had her all this time like Luca has don’t you, would you have been as fucked in the head if you’d had her supporting you all this time?

“Carmy?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. “You kinda went somewhere there? You good”

“Uh, yeah, imma just go for a quick smoke..” he began to stand up and excused himself as he did

“There’s no terrace, you’ll have to go to ground, you want me to come with?” You made a move to put down your fork, to go with him. You looked a little concerned like you weren’t 100% buying that it was a nicotine craving driving the need for air.

“No no, you stay here, jus’ need to…” he waved and headed out pressing the button to take him to the ground level.

Once Carmy was outside, he ignored the request for smokers not to loiter too close to the building and lit up, taking a drag and letting the nicotine hit, leaning back against one of the pillars.

‘I am so fucked’

———————————————————————————

BOTH

COPENHAGEN

“So the cat…?” Carmy started to ask

He’d been in the city a week, deciding he’d work in Copenhagen for a while before heading to New York, and had been staying on a houseboat that apparently had a cat. Despite the note asking him to leave water out for the cat. The water never moved and there was no cat ever there.

You and Luca shared a look and started laughing.

“We lived on this boat until recently. Six months and I never saw that cat once. Bowl never moved.” you said “My theory is that the cat died and they still leave water out for it, Luca’s convinced it was a stray. He still changed the water every day, which was pretty sweet of him…”

Luca tilted his head a little. You’d thought it was sweet? Him looking after some imaginary cat? Maybe he should get a real one and wondered if he should mention it to you. ‘Bit coupley isn’t it, getting a cat? Get a cat so she thinks it’s cute and sees you with the cat and…you still won’t tell her you’re in love with her will you’ Luca told himself internally. He couldn’t stop picturing it though and noted it down as a maybe for the future idea.

****

“Tell Carmy about that Home Economics class you had!” Luca took a sip of his drink as the three of you sat at the table of the houseboat, sharing a few drinks one evening.

“Oh!” You perked up putting down your own as you sat up on your seat “this is so funny! We had this teacher, who set us task to bring in a a lunch you made at home, now I totally forgot because I had my French mock exam that morning…so of course I had to think fast so I didn’t get detention!”

You paused for dramatic effect. Luca biting back a laugh knowing what was coming. “Still can’t believe you got away with that.” He shook his head.

“I went to KFC on my lunch and got the strips and two sides, the corn and the salad, I spent the rest of my lunch, deconstructing it… if you will..” you gestured dramatically “so cutting up the chicken, peeling the skin off, eating some of it, shelling the corn with a blunt compass,” you emphasised, thinking your skill was impressive, “and mixing it into the salad and pretended I’d made a chicken salad.”

“She got a fucking A as well,” Luca commented as Carmy laughed at your ridiculous improvisation. “Don’t know how, but apparently Mrs Kennedy had never had a KFC before!”

“You might have if you weren’t skiving.” You raised your eyebrows. “Forever bunking this one” you pointed at him but you were smiling fondly as you did.

“Hey, You skived sometimes too. I remember you skived off PE to go to that game with me!” Luca joked back, playfully poking you in the side

“Yeah went all that way, sat with your fans and we lost”

Your pout drew a smile from Luca who knew you supported his teams rival, before you continued “and that goal was still not offside!” you emphasised.

Luca began to insist that it was, with a playful grin, knowing he was winding you up at how aggrieved you were over a game that was well over decade old.

Carmy forced a smile at the back and forth between you and Luca, taking another sip of his own drink, hoping the coolness would quell the feeling inside.

He hated it that it bothered him that you and Luca had all these shared memories, that the only time you ever bickered was over your rival teams and even then it was teasing, that Luca had known all these different versions of you, that he probably would always have that shared bond with you.

You and Luca were now bantering back and forth in a playful way that made his chest hurt so he stood up and made his way to the kitchen and began shuffling through the drawers until he found something wedged between two of them.

“What the hell is this ?” Carmy couldn’t help himself as he pulled out the cheese knife. There is no way this was one of Luca’s that he’d left when he’d lived on the boat, meaning it had to be…

“Oh my god my knife!” You perked up, abandoning your spot at the table “I’d wondered that was!”

Your cheese knife.

Your old, falling apart, slightly…okay very, blunt cheese knife.

Luca had tried on multiple occasions to persuade you to get a new one but you’d insisted you liked your old one and trusted it. Until it disappeared when you moved off the houseboat and you assumed you’d accidentally knocked it into the water or something.

“Not that knife” Luca groaned as his eyes shot over to the black handled knife Carmy held. “I was hoping you’d lost that for good” he grinned half jokingly “but it just keeps coming back”

“It’s a knife, Luca, not a haunted doll!” You laughed “I must have just left it here before we moved!”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if it was haunted.” It was his turn to pull a face, first at you then at Carmy.

“Hey I got this knife my first year of University and…” you attempted to protest

“Yeah I can tell..” Carmy spoke, giving you a pointed look. “It’s falling apart!”

“It never failed me.” You continued ignoring both of them at this point “when I wanted a late night block of cheese it was there…”

“You coulda got a professional one or anythin’ that’s not some cheap whole sale crap”

“Actually, it was from Ikea.”

The shared expression of horror between the two men was enough for you to crack up and concede, knowing you could not defend your knife to one chef, let alone two.

“Okay” you threw your hands up “Fine… but how about we leave it here, on this boat…to…”

“Fuckin’ mentally scar any chef that might be put up here in the future?” Carmy added with a laugh and was only met with a swift side eye from you, followed by a sly smirk suggesting you knew he and Luca had convinced you.

****

“What’s the note say?” Carmy asked nodding at a piece of paper glued to the front of Luca’s first Copenhagen notebook. He’d taken it out to read over some notes, prepare himself and prep.

He knew it was likely in Danish but it didn’t look like one of the common phrases he’d tried, to little avail, to practice. It looked a bit like your writing, but he couldn’t be sure.

Luca felt a flood of warmth at the chance to talk about it.

“So it’s this little tradition we do, she writes me these sentences in whatever language of the country we’re staying in. They’re usually like, ‘Well done’ or ‘you’re the best’ or something.” he enthused

“Oh.” Was all Carmy could manage at first. The jealousy sat in his stomach in a way he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Carmy hated that he was jealous but he wanted you to write him cute notes, phrases he’d only half understand “Sounds…erm, sounds nice.” was all he managed before his throat went dry.

“What are you drawing anyway?” Luca nodded at the half open notebook. As his eyes flickered down to the paper, Carmy felt his stomach drop, the breeze had blown the pages past the passionfruite posset, past the wagu beef, past the shaded menu options and right to…

You

Carmy couldn’t cover it quickly enough.

Luca just looked from the paper, back to Carmy, back to you and could feel his heartbeat in his ears.

Course Carmy likes her too. And he’s better than you at everything. She’d pick him you know. Probably already has. Why did you introduce them? That would be tragic. Introducing the one woman you’re desperately in love with to her future man and never making the move yourself. Had her as your best friend, your roommate and still couldn’t tell her you wanted her. You’re a fucking idiot.

He said your name.

“You like her?” Loud enough for Carmy but not for you. Carmy didn’t answer but he didn’t close over his book. “You into her?”

After a moment, Luca sighed, and scratched his cheek and sat beside him, accepting Carmy’s silence as confirmation.

“Yeah, me too mate.” He said quietly before passing his friend a drink.

———————————————————————————

LUCA

COPENHAGEN

With Luca securing his dream job and you able to work remotely, you’d found a bigger place together in Copenhagen. The temporary houseboat to a small place to this bigger apartment now, with a large open plan kitchen and a walk in pantry for Luca to store whatever he might need when he brought work home with him. You didn’t mind as long as he let you taste it.

You’d won the coin toss and scored the room that overlooked the water. Luca hadn’t complained, you worked mostly from home so it made sense for you to have the room with a view and also he’d have conceded anyway, knowing it would make you happy.

****

As Luca entered the room, he saw you from behind, a pair of mid thigh cycle shorts on and a large oversized black t-shirt, getting something out of the fridge. It slowly dawned on him that you were wearing his t-shirt.

The t-shirt on him was tight over his broad shoulders, stopping on his hips but on you, it hung loose and ended about at the end of your thigh, owing to the big height difference between the two of you. Making it look like it was all you were wearing. He’d seen you in shorts before, of course he had but this felt different. It was his t-shirt over the shorts making his brain go haywire.

“Hey!” You turned and greeted him, smiling. “How was work? Did that 70th birthday go well?”

“You’re…you’re wearing my shirt.” was all he could manage before he felt his throat dry up. “Are you?”

‘Get a grip man what are you a fucking teenager’ he chastised himself internally. You’ve drawn attention to it, you could have just enjoyed the view a little while longer…’

“Oh shit sorry, yeah, I just, I got stuff down mine and the doorbell was ringing and yours was at the top of the clean laundry. I didn’t think it was appropriate to open the door in just my bra.” You put what you needed on the counter and moved back beginning to prepare whatever you were making. “Not the best first impression. He might have got the wrong idea…”

Luca just hummed a laugh and didn’t say anything as he tried to stop his brain wandering to you wearing his shirt in other scenarios and he had to shut his eyes. He brought his hand to his temple, and massaged, hoping he could conceal his brain betraying him as tiredness.

“It was the landlord.” You carried on “He said rents due on the 2nd, the utility room is on the 5th floor and he’d like you to get him a reservation, he likes rhubarb and pistachio sorbet” you began relaying the translation of the landlords message.

It was around a minute later he realised he hadn’t actually replied being too busy thinking about, walking over to you, lifting you onto the counter and kissing you hard, sliding down those shorts and having you just in his shirt.

“Luca? Luca, are you okay?” He snapped back to Earth realising you were looking at him “you kinda zoned out”

“Uh yeah, rent by the 5th, utilities on the 2nd” he repeats, waving his hand.

“Other way round, you dope” you laughed. “Come here and help me anyway” You wave him over to the kitchen. “I’m making something. Sorry to take work home with you but I need your expertise!”

“Branching out from the air fryer?” he raises an eyebrow and you laugh

“What! it’s quick!” You protested in defence.

He smiled in agreement “You got a point. Come on now what do you need help with?”

You nodded towards some peaches “Can you dice those whilst I fix this dough out?”

Luca agreed and began dicing but he couldn’t help his eyes, drift back you for a few moments every so often. He watched as you attempted to knead the dough but couldn’t quite get the pressure right and struggled to push down owing to the angles.

“No, like this. The angles better if you…” Luca put down the knife, peaches sliced and diced to perfection. “Here I’ll show you”

He moved around the counter and put an arm either side of you, his hands on top of yours, pressing yours moulding the dough, as you let him lead, relaxing. He began holding your hands with his so he could knead whilst showing you. He tried to resist the urge to press into you, to hold you tight against him.

“Like this, see” he said quietly and you nodded, watching his hands and yours under them as he moved effortlessly.

“Yes, chef” you jokingly quipped and Luca had to bite his lip to stop him dropping to your neck.

It wasn’t quite what he’d like to be doing right now but it settled something else for him. So much so that maybe it was even preferable. This almost quietly domestic, almost coupley activity.

When the dough was done, he reluctantly stepped back instantly missing the contact with you, as he watched you line the dish with the dough and peaches and slide it into the oven.

“Thanks Luca” you grinned at him.

“Anytime.” Was about all he could manage and he meant it, that two minutes set his stomach alight more than anything he could remember.

You ate it together on the small balcony later that evening and as you’d asked him how it felt to finally get everything he wanted; job as head pastry chef at a Michelin restaurant and beautiful place to call home in a gorgeous city. He had to hold himself back from saying

How can I have everything I want but I don’t have you. Not in the way I want you.

———————————————————————————

CARMY

NEW YORK

“How’s Eleven Madison Park.” You asked him. He’d started a few months ago and told you to come visit when you were next in New York. Of course you’d accepted.

The head chef hates me. And not just from a cooking point of view. He actively hates me. I throw up every day before work and usually have a panic attack in the walk-in at least twice a week, he gets weirdly personal, he thinks I’m shit, told me to die yesterday. Carmy thought but hesitated, reluctant to dump his stresses out there in the open incase you thought he was overreacting.

“It’s good, but erm, I mean it’s…a lot, the head chef he’s…”

“A dick?” You suggested recognising the ‘I hate my boss’ look on his face.

Carmy looked a little startled and then he let out a breathy laugh. “He’s one of the best chefs in the world…but yeah…he’s an ass…” he stopped

“What does he say to you?” You asked, carefully.

Carmy didn’t want to say it out loud, saying it out loud felt like it would give more weight to the words and some deep paranoid part of him worried you’d agree or even worse that you’d realise and think ‘he’s got a point, you are worthless and insecure and too slow and pathetic’

“Yknow…just always on me…” his voice was quiet.

He felt the twitch in his leg and ran a hand over his mouth biting on his knuckle for a few seconds, trying to distract himself but all he could hear was his voice in his head.

“Carmy?” You noticed the furrow in his brow and his leg bouncing and his hands against his mouth “You ‘kay?”

When he didn’t respond, you continued, concerned but careful. “Carmy, babe, can you look at me? That’s all I need you to do,”

It was a struggle as he rose his head, forced his eyes open and locked his wide eyed stare onto yours. You smiled gently and exhaled, gesturing for him to follow.

He did and you did this a few more times, talking him through breathing a few more times.

‘Well done fucko, she definitely thinks you’re crazy now’

But your expression didn’t suggest that at all. The opposite. Your look was one of understanding, of compassion and kindness.

“I find this helps.” You lifted your fingers to your own neck where it joined with your shoulder, the clavicle just below, you pressed down in a massaging motion.

“Can I touch you?” You ask and Carmen swore he short circuited but instead he just nodded and hoped it wasn’t too needy, too quick that he responded to you asking to touch him.

With his permission, you put your hand on him, a copy of your own. “Like this.” your hand was on his chest right over his clavicle, circling my gently “Focus on my voice”

You continued to talk to him until he held his heart rate calm and whispered out a ‘thank you’

“Glad I can help” Before you removed your hand from his chest, your fingers brushed the gold chain he always wore, you looped it out from under his shirt. “I like this.”

“Thank you.” He said again, trying to focus on the words and not the soft touch “had it since I can remember.”

“There’s another pressure point…” you said, and took his hand and gently pressed between his thumb and finger, “Just here….”

Your hand paused as the other side skirted his palm and you froze, turning it over and seeing a partially healed burn, still red and sore. “Ouch.”

“Occupational hazard” he said with a wry smile. “It’s fine now, was worse a few days ago” he hummed

“Lemme clean it properly for you. I see plenty of utensil related injuries. My best friend is a chef too, remember. Dont want you to make it worse…”

Of course, fucking Luca. Handsome and a nice guy. What a prick.

He was pretty silent as he you cleaned it for him then you’d insisted on a cream, tracing the cut gently once you’d done “There we go, good as new”

“I like you being here.” He squeezed your hand in a moment of bravery “it’s quieter”

A laugh escaped your lips “No ones ever thought of me as quiet but I’m glad I can help.” You gave him such a lovely, soft smile that he couldn’t help but fall in love with you again.

“I mean in my head.” He said with a laugh “you, uh, y’make it quiet in my head”

Its like you turn down the volume in my head and up the warm brightness, I love you. No one has ever been like this with me. I think I’d fall apart without you. I love you.

You squeezed his hand gently “I’m glad I can do that for you” and he could have sworn he felt it in his chest.

———————————————————————————

LUCA

COPENHAGEN

Luca was barely able to keep the grin off his face. He’d been working on a special dessert just for you, going in early, finishing late, all to perfect this.

The thinnest wafer with a soft caramel creme scooped over centre, topped with a milk chocolate dome. It was a fine dining version of a long since discontinued chocolate bar that you’d loved and he could hear you approach the restaurant kitchen in perfect time.

“Hey! You ready to take off? Film starts in half an hour?”

“Here…I…” He carefully lifted the lid from the plate. “I made something for you!”

“Oh my god this looks amazing!” You stared putting down your bag, as Luca prodded the pouring chocolate towards you. You picked it up and he watched your face completely light up as you poured to reveal the concoction under it.

“Wow…this is so cool!…wait…Is this…” Your eyes lit up when you clocked what had inspired the assembled plate in front of you. “No way! Luca, how did you do this?”

His hands ran through his waves a few times and he crossed muscular arms over his large chest.

“I made it.” He said as if it was a love confession “for you.”

“Oh my god. Okay, I’m going to need you to walk me through it!? This has to be my favourite thing you’ve ever made and I haven’t even tried it yet! What even made you think of this? this is so cool”

Luca grinned and it was the same wicked smile he used to give you when you were younger and he was up to something.

‘Because I love you and you miss it and you look for it in every food store in every country we go to. You think I don’t see you looking but I do. If they won’t bring it back and make you happy, I’ll bring it back for you. Sorry it took so long. I wanted it to be perfect because you’re perfect. I love you’

“You wanna know how I made it?”

Luca gave you that look. He loved it when you asked about his process, you always did but this, the chance to gush about how he created something for you? He could do this all day.

“Course I do!” You spooned a large amount into your mouth and couldn’t stop the sound that escaped your mouth. “Fuck, this is insane. It’s perfect, Luca, oh my god”

“So to get the wafers right, you have to make sure it’s smooth wheat flour, see.” he used a fork to point at the rippled wafer in the dessert, pointing out the waves he’d folded the wafer into. “And I had to match the water at exactly the right about, increase or decrease based on the soaking characteristics of the flour. Took me a couple of gos…to get it exactly like it used to be…first couple it was too dense, the consistency was all off, after that it wasn’t thick enough and would break when I tried to roll it.”

You were looking at him like you were interested as you helped yourself to more.

“And you’re going off memory? For the consistency?” It was impressive being that the bar had been discontinued for about ten years.

Luca nodded, spurred on by how impressed you sounded “yeah I remember them. Super soft, so thin, folded over but with space between each wave…have to do it perfectly or it breaks when you roll it. It’s got to be feather soft.”

“You are such a nerd.” You said, but your eyes were soft and you were smiling at him softly “Go on…” you prompted

He shot a glance up to see you watching as if you couldn’t take your eyes off him, hanging on every word, he often worried he was being a geek or boring when he did this but you looked so engaged.

Luca was grateful you followed that with “how did you make the rest” because if you hadn’t the ‘it’s no problem, I’d give you anything. I love you so much I created this because you miss it.’ was sitting at the back of his throat.’

“The creme caramel was a little bit trickier than your standard, see it’s not got the regular consistency, it’s more dense and it’s closer to a creme than actual caramel.” He took a small scoop with a teaspoon and smeared it across an edge of a plate so you could see it spread thinly, smooth and creamy. “It’s all in the texture. The chocolate is all about the tempering… I wanted the dome to reveal it perfectly no matter where you started your pour, so I made twenty batches and practised so the chocolate would melt and reveal like a curtain pull back rather than just caving in… hold on,”

He got up, left the table and came back with two batches of domes and demonstrated for you, showing you on how the remaining earlier batches, it caved in but on the newer batches the melt was almost like a gravity defying curtain pull up.

Engrossed you watched like it was a magic trick.

“Luca this is…one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me.” You said softly “Thank you so much.”

“Does it taste like it did?” He asked the important question.

“You know.” You tapped the fork off the plate “Usually whenever they bring something back, it’s never as good. This…” you ate some more “is so incredible. It’s better. You are a genius! Who else can make desserts based on discontinued chocolate bars from memory alone! You’re so talented Luca, no one deserves this more than you.”

“I wouldn’t be where I am without you, you believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself”

“It’s easy to believe in you when you’re so clearly talented. Is this going on the menu?”

Luca nodded his head “It was meant to be just for you but I think I might…but I’ll still make it for you anytime you ever want it, maybe I’ll call it ‘The [Name]’,”

The smile you gave him was one he’d have given anything to see forever.

———————————————————————————

CARMY

NEW YORK

“Are you fucking kidding me? You think by the time the flight takes off and lands it’d be defrosted.”

You were staring at the departure board at JFK airport, your oversized luggage beside you as you drummed your fingers off the handle- DELAYED- AWAIT FURTHER ANNOUNCEMENT written next to your flight.

Carmy was all too aware of what the snow storm on both sides of the Atlantic meant as he stood beside you wondering if he thought it was wrong of him for hoping the snowstorm engulfing the airport was long lasting enough to ground your flight. He knew his own flight would be delayed too.

‘You’re a selfish mother fucker, wanting her flight grounded, She’ll easily go off and check into some fancy hotel and you’ll be alone and it’ll be what you deserve’

‘Attention all passengers- We regret to inform you flight DAT150846 to Copenhagen is cancelled. Please see our customer relations desk for further communications.’

“Fuck” you whistled and you started typing on your phone, no doubt sourcing alternatives.

“I mean I can get to Esbjerg from Newark but my flight won’t leave until tomorrow and there’s always the risk of the trains being cancelled so that’s one of a hell of an Uber. Which means I’ll get in…” you trailed off, as you attempted to work out the time difference.

‘Don’t go’ he wanted to say. He opened his mouth to say…something, anything but was cut off by the tannoy.

“Further announcement to all passengers travelling on the flight AA113717 to Chicago. This flight has now been cancelled. Please see our customer relations desk for more information.

“Shit that’s your flight, Carmy, they’re both cancelled” the second announcement interrupted your counting. You locked your phone as if it was his announcement and not yours that made your mind up and looked at him.

‘Good’ he thinks back to the Christmases of past, screaming, tension, arguments and yelling, hanging anxiety waiting for all of the above. The mental image of Donna, his mother, locked in her own car, which she’d plowed through the front of the family home a few years back, he thought of the Christmas he worked, where his executive chef chewed him out for…fuck knows, sitting there taking personal jibes after personal jibes, and thought ‘I’d rather spend it with you’

Subconsciously he straightens up, realising he probably should say something.

“It’s okay…I uh, don’t mind, Christmases my way can be…a lot” he shrugged and you understood.

Carmy had, in enough words for you to understand explained that his family, especially around Christmas, were in the most tactful wording; difficult. He didn’t mention them often, you knew he didn’t like taking about them but you knew enough to know it wasn’t usually a fun Christmas for him.

“This might be so weird, I know you’ve got your cousin in the city who you’re probably having dinner with but do you… maybe want to come to the air BnB I’m renting for Christmas. Not expecting you to cook off the clock, we can order in?”

“Michelle left a few days ago.” He said, referring to his cousin leaving for Chicago before the storm blew in, instead of ‘Yes, I’d love that. I’d rather be with you anyway’. Kicking himself internally, he took a breath “I mean…not that changes…” he brought his hand through his wavy hair before he took a breaths

“I’d like that. That sounds…great.”

****

You’d done the best you could, spending the dying hours of Christmas Eve decorating the Air BnB. Carmy had arrived early with a take out breakfast from a deli you loved and you’d spent the morning eating.

Wanting Carmy to open his present first, you passed it over and watched him unwrap it and the realisation slowly settle

“Is this?”

You nodded “Uh-huh.”

Carmy unpacked it from the wrapping and held it against himself. ‘We stopped for less than ten seconds’ he thought to himself as he unfolded the jacket.

“How did you know?” His blue eyes met yours, a curious expression on his face.

“I saw you looking. Remember a few months ago?” The way you said it is was as if it was obvious.

He’d never felt important enough for his sideways glances, one off comments and quick observations to be picked up on. For you to pick up on it…it made him feel special, loved even.

She does not love you, motherfucker. You’re delusional.

It was on one occasion when you’d wandered through the city together in fall. It was in the window of a vintage shop. He’d commented on it, off-hand, that he’d always liked a jacket like that. You’d tried to talk him in to going in and trying it on. It looked like it would be his size but he’d brushed it off in a ‘don’t matter’ type way.

“Yeah I went back that afternoon. Try it on! We can go for a Christmas walk later. Maybe in the park? I had it dry cleaned too”

Carmy didn’t say much for fear you’d think he was crazy or overreacting “Thank you”

You nodded “And I’ve ordered you a bookshelf, it’s only an Ikea one but your cook books are on the floor. Trust me, you’ll thank me.” you noted and suddenly Carmy felt himself relax again and laugh as he passed you over your present for fear he might actually cry from how lovely you were if things didn’t move on.

“Is this the soundtrack?”

You asked as you immediately unwrapped the vinyl, slid it out, squealing when you saw the limited run pressing. It was from one of your favourite 80s movies. “This is amazing, the pressing is beautiful! Thank you.”

“Yeah I watched it….Good movie. I, um, found it in a second hand store. figured you’d…like it.” He averted his eyes from yours, shyly. He left out that it was an online store and he’d spent four hours in an auction before just emailing the seller privately and telling him he’d double whatever the other guy was offering.

“You watched something else other than the cooking channel?” You joked in return, sensing he felt a little awkward about it and wanting to lighten the mood.

“Yeah well…” he looked down and back up, hands through his hair again. “I…wanted to do something nice cause…you’re always…you’re good to me”

Your eyes didn’t leave him for a second.

She’s just grateful. She’s just your friend.

“Nothing less than what you deserve…but thank you. Merry Christmas, Carmy” You leant in and kissed his cheek, only an inch or so from where he wished you’d kiss him.

After you finished your deli breakfast, you’d go for the promised walk in the park, and Carmy wondered if in some other universe, you were doing the same thing but hand in hand rather than side by side. You walked longer than you’d planned and he found himself talking more about that Christmas. Of course you were understanding, non-judgemental and Carmy opened up to you more than he’d ever opened up to anyone; about how he chased a culinary career after Mikey refused to let him work in the family restaurant, the constant panic attacks he had over the current restaurant he worked at and the retaining of three stars that the Head Chef had still found fault with him over and about how sometimes he missed Copenhagen and longed for those days on the houseboat with an imaginary cat and as he usually did with you, he felt lighter.

When you returned back, you collapsed onto the sofa, warm despite the cold air and gestured for him to sit with you

“Put it on one of those cooking shows and tell me how you’d make it better”

You tossed him the remote.

Without saying anything, he turned it on, sat beside you and listened to the sounds of the contestants completing a Christmas Dinner challenge filled the air.

To himself, Carmy wondered if this was the best Christmas he’d had in years, maybe in his adult life.

He knew the answer already.

———————————————————————————

BOTH

It had been several weeks since you’d seen either of them. Luca, he was now back in Copenhagen and Carmen had left for Chicago, having inherited his brothers restaurant, following his suicide.

God, Mikey.

You’d spent four days with Carmy in the immediate aftermath, mostly in silence, making sure he took care of himself. Occasionally he’d share something about Mikey which surprised him more than it surprised you. When it had come to it, you’d asked him if he wanted you to go to the funeral with him as support but he’d refused.

‘Don’t wanna put you through my fucking family’ he’d said. You knew it was an excuse but now was not the time to push.

He’d left for Chicago but told you three days later, he didn’t go in, expecting you to tell him he was pathetic, cruel even, but you’d asked why and then, as you always did, just listened.

****

You’d been in touch with them both over FaceTimes and texts like any other time but this felt different.

Carmy, you’d call when he was on random lunch breaks scattered through the day whenever he had the chance. By the time, his shift was over, he’d be too tired and collapse so you scheduled them as you could. You knew he was trying to work on his late brothers restaurant but knew it was shaping up to be a huge task. He’d been going to the Al-Anon meetings and had been trying but it was you who helped most even when you weren’t there.

He thought about you, when he was anxious about the restaurant, stressed about everything and when he couldn’t cope with thinking about how fucked it was that Mikey, who wouldn’t let him work in his restaurant, had fucking left it to him.

Carmy knew he had to tell you how he felt, maybe he could ask you to come out and tell you how he felt. He opened his phone, typed out a message to you and hit send and then promptly locked his phone in his locker and unsuccessfully tried not to think about it.

****

Luca you’d call at night. It reminded you of when you were both kids and you’d stay up late talking on the phone, whispering and giggling until your parents would tell you to get off the phone. You still made him laugh now as you’d relay some horrible mistranslation at work and try to make him guess what it said and what was meant.

God he missed you, every little thing about you. All he could think, despite having his dream job and living in a beautiful city was how he wanted you.

You were the one consistent relationship he had. Other people had come and gone but you’d been there since the beginning, seen him at his best, his worst and everything inbetween and he didn’t think he could have done it without you. He couldn’t lose you.

Luca unlocked his phone, wrote a message to you and clicked it shut before the read receipt could come up.

———————————————————————————

DECISION TIME

Messages (2)

Luca - “Please come back to Copenhagen, I’m going crazy. It’s not the same without you”

Carmy - “Hey, do you maybe wanna come out to Chicago again? Wanna see you soon?”

“That the two guys that are in love with you?” Your friend said “Right on time.”

You’d just been discussing your relationship with both of them and she’d been so insistent they were both in love with you. A part of you knew but didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“Let’s see your boyfriends.” Your friend pushed

“They’re not my boyfriends” You protested.

“Okay fine. Please let me see the two men competing for you.”

“Fucking hell, they’re not competing for me” Your eyes rolled, as you chucked your unlocked phone at her. “You make it sound like I’m… Bridget Jones or Bella Swan or something”

“I mean… you kinda are, honey.” she flicked through your phone finding a picture of Luca. “Wait. THATS Luca, your school friend Luca? When did that happen?“ She zoomed in “When did he get hot? -And tall! What is he now like…6’3”?”

“Of course it’s the same Luca.” You muttered. “You think I’ve been travelling about with some other Luca?”

“Show me the other guy!” She said excitedly and you rolled your eyes playfully, she was like a teenager sometimes.

“Three photos down”

“Holy shit, he’s got gorgeous eyes.” She noted looking at a photo you’d taken with Carmy “imagine those big baby blues being hard to say no to…and nice biceps too… I bet he could bench press you.” She comments casually and nudges you. “Okay so they’re both hot, so my plan of go for the hot one is out of the question.” She cocked her head.

“That’s not helpful. I don’t know what to do, they’re both great, amazing guys.”

“Which one do you want to bang…” she looked at you “most. Like if you could only sleep with one of them, which one.”

“Really, again, not helpful.”you rolled your eyes and shoved her.

“Okay in all seriousness, put everything out of your mind,” she shushed you before you could protest. “You know who you want, its obvious, just admit it to yourself and go be with him”

You nodded. She was right. She always was

“I need you to drive me the airport.”

———————————————————————————

Choose: LUCA

Your friend grinned at you, as you tapped your card on the machine having bought a ticket on the next flight out and watched as the airport worker wrapped a luggage tag around yours, sending your suitcase off.

“I knew it.” She shook her head “I mean I’m one for a slow burn romance you know me. “But years?”

One of her eyebrows raised “I would say text me when you land but you’ll probably be too busy…” she sighed and gave you a loaded look “God, you’re so lucky…”

“Fuck off” you gave her a shove and then pulling her back for a hug you nodded. “I’ll text you in a few days.”

You sent a text to Luca- “I know, I miss you… you’ll see me soon.” and then a picture of your passport.

****

There he was waiting for you as you arrived. You hadn’t expected it but of course he had.

You couldn’t stop yourself from running over to him and he, without care that you were at the arrivals gate, in an international airport, wrapped his arms around you, leant down, tilted your head up and gave you a long, lingering kiss that was years of ‘I love yous’, years of kisses, years of yearning, years of shared jokes and memories and years of being just you and Luca wrapped up in one kiss.

He could feel his heart beating like it might explode at any minute. He’d resolved himself to just fucking kiss you the next time he saw you. Your response to his message plus how you’d ran to him had confirmed in that very moment that he had to. And here you were, kissing him back.

“I love you.” He said against your mouth, instead of a hello, words whispered so only you could hear them. “I love you. I should have told you sooner. I love you.”

You let go of your case, moving your hand to toy with the hair at the back of his neck, standing on tip-toes to close the gap in height.

“Hi…I love you” you whispered, laughing as he placed his forehead on yours “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Years, give or take,” Luca gave you an honest look that made you jokingly roll your eyes.

“I meant at the airport.”

He laughed. “Went it quick when I was trying to convince myself that I’d gotten the right idea from your text”

An eyebrow raise from you told him all he needed to know and he kissed you once again

“Definitely no wrong idea. Why do you think I got on the first flight out”

You said breathlessly against his lips before pulling him down for another kiss. His hair was ever so slightly longer, pushed back with a black hairband. He’d worn it like that the first time you’d gone to Chicago with him, he’d left the hairband in after a shift once and you’d commented on how much it suited him.

“I love you so much.” You said to him againz

Realising a large group of tourists had now begun to stare, you separated. Awkwardly he held up a hand and muttered something to them with a wave causing you to burst into laughter.

“Did you just say ‘Welcome to Copenhagen I hope you enjoy your stay’ to the nice group of tourists?”

“How did you know which flight I’d be on?” You said linking your fingers with Luca’s as he picked up your suitcase in the other arm and began walking. It felt so natural to be holding his hand after all this time.

“You always like the mid-morning flight. Remember I booked us on the six am to Venice and I thought you were going to push me out the plane”

You laughed so loudly the large group looked back around causing it to be your turn to hold your hand up in apology.

“Yeah I might have done if you weren’t carrying the passports. Now I think I’m ready for you to take me home” you leant into his side.

****

“Fucking hell.” You whispered half to him, half to yourself. “Luca, that was…”

Any worry about crossing that line was gone, it had been gone when he’d picked you up with one arm, as you entered the place you’d shared in Nyhavn. Mouths mashing together, his teeth pulling on your lip, a whisper ask of ‘are you sure’ as he slid his hand under your shirt, you answering him by sucking on his neck as he held you against him, your legs around his waist

The sudden romantic moment became funny when he’d paused in the hallway and asked “My room or yours?” but you’d never have it any other way.

Luca had been gentle at first, careful. Took his time with you. Laid you down and finished you off with his hands and his mouth, and you were back flat against the mattress, aching for him to fill you. So had reached up and cupped his face, locking your ankles at the base of his back and told him you needed him desperately, that you wouldn’t break. Luca had moaned into you at your encouragement which had only made you ache more. And after he’d let the years of want lead and take over, taking you hard and fast, giving you the best night you’d ever had and drawing another climax from you until you dropped back down on the bed back splayed and hips arched for him to finish deep inside you.

**

“I know. Been thinking about us doing that for a while now…You okay?” He linked your hand with his, without looking. He was still over you, caging you against him.

“You thought about that?” You gently played with his hair.

“All the time” he said casually. “Both that and this”

He was resting on your chest now, planting small kisses across your collarbone, gentle and loving. You felt yourself flush both at the casual sexiness of his statement followed by how sweetly he checked in.

“Luca, talking like that makes me want you again.”

Luca grinned with a sly look on his face “You can have me whenever you like.” He rubbed your hip and squeezed, a silent push to answer the ‘you okay?’

“I’m better than okay.” You ran a hand through his hair playing with the soft waves “are you?”

“Just got all I wanted.” Another kiss to your lips, slowly and sweetly. “I’m on cloud fucking nine”

“It was killing me.” He said quietly after a few moments, drawing patterns over your skin making goosebumps break out “…I know I had no right to be jealous, we weren’t together, I think to me, it felt like we were,”

A small sigh escaped his lips, the breath fluttering against your skin. He’d had a point. Looking back, it had sometimes felt like you were together.

“I saved the time difference in my phone and drove myself crazy when it was night over there…I convinced myself you two were…” he stopped.

“Luca, I promise you nothing ever happened, baby, he’s my friend…but you’re everything to me.”

He lifted his head up to look at you “Good” he said before kissing you on the lips, spare hand coming up to cup your cheek. “You’re the love of my life, you know,” he kissed you again “all this…wouldn’t be the same without you,”

“You’d still have made it…” you kissed him

“Maybe.” Luca kissed you again “but it wouldn’t be the same without you. You’ve seen me at my worst, at my best…and yet you’re still here” he whispered into your neck.

“Always gonna be here babe, it’s you and me,” you traced hands down over his chest.

“You’re the love of my life, darling. You always have been” Luca looked at you with a gaze so full of love it made your heart ache.

“And you mine” you pushed your hands into his hair and placed open mouth kisses against his mouth. “You’re so perfect Luca. So, so perfect”

*

The next morning toys wrote him a new message ‘Jeg elsker dig’ the day after which he stuck just above his work station. One you wish you’d written for him all those years ago. “I love you”

A part of you always knew you did. From when you were teenage best friends, to now, you loved him. Being with Luca now after all this time, was like finally seeing clearly.

You’d make up for all the lost time.

———————————————————————————

Choose: CARMY

You tapped to send a heart over the message Carmy had sent you, knowing he’d be eating himself up if you didn’t reply

“Miss you, Carm…I’ll see you soon I promise” You texted back, hoping he was working and it would be enough to stop him going crazy until you landed.

Your friend walked you to security and squeezed your hand. “I knew you liked him…every time you spoke about him, you got all…” she jokes “I’ve never seen you like that.” She said as she hugged you goodbye “Go get your man!”

****

You hadn’t told him you were coming, wanting to surprise him. He’d given you the address of the restaurant and now as you stood outside the door, you exhaled, taking a breath before you entered.

A pretty blonde woman smiled at you as you did

“Hi! I’m looking for Carmen Berzatto.” You said returning her polite smile

“Are you [Name?] I’m Natalie. I’m Carmy’s sister”

That surprised you “He mentioned me?”

“I got it out of him eventually. You know what he’s like” She then walked to the door leading to the kitchen and stuck her head through “Carmy. You’ve got a visitor”

“If it’s the butter delivery, jus’ sign for it, Sugar, ok?” He sounded frazzled despite it being only the morning.

“It’s not the butter delivery! It’s your girl.” She said clearly not in the mood for messing around.

There was all of a sudden a flurry of voices.

“A girl? For Carmy?” You heard a mans surprise.

“Is it the girl on his phone.” A woman asked

“Jeff’s got a girl?” another woman spoke.

“Let me see.” There was shuffling around and then another man spoke “How the fucks he done that?”

“Cousin, gimme the fuckin’ phone.” You couldn’t help but smile as you heard him, hearing him in person made your heart swell. “How’d you get my password”

“Your passwords 1111, Carmen.”

“I’d say it’s not always this chaotic…” Natalie started turning back to you “but it is.”

Before you could respond you were cut off him, your Carmy, emerging from the doorway. He looked so gorgeous.

Wavy hair that he’d clearly been running his hands through, big blue eyes, strong arms under one of those white shirts and little gold chain peeking out.

“Sugar- what is the…” Carmy stopped seeing you.

“Hi.” His face softened within a second of seeing you although the fear of rejection still lingered in his mind. Why were you here?

He turned back to shout into the kitchen “Alright…gimme, gimme like five minutes okay?” Carmy ushered his sister into the kitchen so you could speak freely

“Why didnt you call me? I’d have picked you up at the airport.” he ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry…I wanted to surprise you” you gave him a small smile “Carmy” you spoke as if you know exactly what’s on his mind “I want this…I wanna be with you, like properly be with you.” You paused “And I think you want that too”

Carmy could barely believe it, you in his restaurant, in his home city, surprising him and telling him you wanted to be with him? “Course I do.” He answered quickly “Fuck was I obvious?”

“Being that it took me this long to realise it, I don’t think so.”

“S’alright, I just feel like I’ve gone crazy” Carmen choked out a laugh, still overcome with emotion that you were here. “I thought…”

‘I thought by ‘see you soon’ you meant that in weeks or months from now, you’d visit. I thought you’d go to Luca, your gorgeous, tall, charming childhood friend in one of the most beautiful cities in the world who has it all together. Not me, the fucking colossal fuck up. Surely he’d be your first choice’

His hand ran through his hair again and came to rest over his lips, expecting you to say what was I thinking I’ve changed my mind, see ya.

You took his hand and let him link his fingers with yours, knowing he had a habit of fidgeting with his hands when he was nervous.

“Carmy, I’m serious, this is me choosing you. Over anything, anyone else”

“How the fuck do you do that.” He blinked “Sometimes I feel like…like you’re in my head, or somethin’”

He liked it, he didn’t feel like his heart was going beat out of his chest around you. He could actually breathe and think with you around. Seeing you, here, in his home city, with him…he felt at ease for once, all the worries, all the stress he carried around, felt lighter. It was like you, just by being you, could turn down the sound in his head.

“Cause I know you.” You smiled softly “And I wanna make you happy. You gonna let me make you happy babe?”

He didn’t know how to finish the sentence but with the reassurance, the knowing that you’d wanted him, that you’d chosen him, he felt a surge of confidence and he cupped your face with both hands before he dropped one to your waist holding you against him and the other moved back through your hair pulling your lips to his, connecting the two of you in a passionate, messy kiss. You could feel his taut muscles, toned and firm under his shirt and holding you tight to him easily.

He’d make his excuses and finish early. Richie absolutely revelled in making fun of him for leaving to go get some, telling him maybe it’ll make him less pissy and Sugar was just happy to see Carmy happy again, she’d worried about him but the moment he’d laid eyes on you was the first time she’d seen him smile in weeks.

****

“So fuckin’ amazing.” He said breathlessly, whispering kisses against your neck later that evening “didn’t hurt you did I?” He met your eyes instantly concerned.

“No baby, I loved it” you laughed a little, you were still straddling him, legs either side of him, catching your breath as you played with his wavy hair and planted little kisses on him. “You’re the amazing one, so good baby”

Carmy had barely been able to keep his hands off you since you arrived back at his.

He’d been straight over to you, kissing you, sliding his hands up under your shirt, like he thought you’d disappear or like he wanted to touch you as much as he could incase you changed your mind.

You’d returned his kisses with equal intensity, until you’d ended up in a tangle on the couch. both your shirts discarded and jeans half unbuttoned, with your hands half down each others, touching each other, taking turns drawing moans from the other.

“Just want you” you whispered against his ear. “Only you, Carmy”

You shifted up so had your legs either side of him straddling his waist, when you could feel him under your own heat, hard against you and ground your hips into him, telling him how much you needed him.

He couldn’t wait any longer and shuffled off his jeans and yours, pulling you down to straddle him. After a few more, rotations of your hips, you slid down on to him, biting his shoulder as he stretched you. You went slow at first, teasing him and savouring the sounds he made, with every rotation of your hips. After a few blissful moments, Carmy’s hands found your hips and after a careful look for approval from him, he began moving you up and down at a fast pace, drawing cries of pleasure from you until he came deep inside you after you’d reached your high.

****

“Don’t move yet.” He whispered quietly as if admitting the need for closeness with you would make you disappear, as his hands went to your hips, holding them flush against his own. Despite the firmness of the words, there was still some vulnerability there.

“I’m not going anywhere, you wanna stay like this we can stay like this,” you rubbed your hands over his broad shoulders, still unable to get over how toned his body is.

He rested his head on your shoulder, kissing at your collarbone. “I’m so fuckin’…” he paused and wondered if it was inappropriate to tell someone youre in love them in the immediate aftermath of sex. He wouldn’t know, you’re the first person he’s said it to but he couldn’t stop himself. “I’m fuckin’ in love with you.” He said into your neck.

“Carmen.” You said, the use of his full name making his gaze shoot up to your eyes. For a second he wondered if he’d done something wrong. He was staring at you, those big blue eyes you loved so much, looking at you with pure love.

“Hey…it’s okay…” you kissed him softly, slowly, touching his face in the most tender way, thumb gracing over his cheekbone “I love you too.”

As he exhaled, dropping his forehead to yours, he was for the first time in a long time, not just content but happy.

[reasonsforhope]

"In a bid to slow deforestation in the Amazon, Brazil announced Tuesday [September 5, 2023,] that it will provide financial support to municipalities that have reduced deforestation rates the most.

During the country´s Amazon Day, President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva also signed the creation of two Indigenous territories that total 207,000 hectares (511,000 acres) — over two times the size of New York City — and of a network of conservation areas next to the Yanonami Indigenous Territory to act as a buffer against invaders, mostly illegal gold miners.

“The Amazon is in a hurry to survive the devastation caused by those few people who refuse to see the future, who in a few years cut down, burned, and polluted what nature took millennia to create,” Lula said during a ceremony in Brasilia. “The Amazon is in a hurry to continue doing what it has always done, to be essential for life on Earth.”

The new program will invest up to $120 million in technical assistance. The money will be allocated based on the municipality´s performance in reducing deforestation and fires, as measured by official satellite monitoring. A list of municipalities eligible for the funds will be published annually.

The resources must be invested in land titling, monitoring and control of deforestation and fires, and sustainable production.

The money will come from the Amazon Fund, which has received more than $1.2 billion, mostly from Norway, to help pay for sustainable development of the region. In February, the United States committed to a $50 million donation to the initiative. Two months later, President Joe Biden announced he would ask Congress for an additional $500 million, to be disbursed over five years.

The most critical municipalities are located along the arc of deforestation, a vast region along the southern part of the Amazon. This region is a stronghold of former far-right President Jair Bolsonaro, who favored agribusiness over forest preservation and lost the reelection last year.

“We believe that it’s not enough to just put up a sign saying ‘it’s forbidden to do this or that. We need to be persuasive.” Lula said, in a reference to his relationship with Amazon mayors and state governors.

Lula has promised zero net deforestation by 2030, although his term ends two years earlier. In the first seven months of his third term, there was a 42% drop in deforestation.

[Note: For context, Lula's third term as president started January 1, 2023. It was not continuous with his first two terms, when he was president from 2003 to 2010. Lula's third term has been a historic and desperately needed reversal of the anti-environmental, etc. policies of Bolsonaro, whose term ended at the end of 2022.]

Brazil is the world’s fifth-largest emitter of greenhouse gases, with almost 3% of global emissions, according to Climate Watch, an online platform managed by World Resources Institute. Almost half of these emissions come from deforestation. Under the 2015 Paris Agreement, Brazil committed to reducing carbon emissions by 37% by 2025 and 43% by 2030."

-via AP, September 5, 2023

[lockburn-castle]

the city of love

synopsis in which dokyeom proposes to yn in Paris pairing nonidol!lee dokyeom x gn!reader genre fluff warnings dk being anxious, a small part about cabarets, terms of endearment/petnames, kisses, reader wears a dress, that's all i can think of (do let me know if theres more) word count 1.9k

playlist cant help falling in love marry you

notes: been loving romcoms for a while and decided to write this story based on what id like my proposal to look like HAHAHA hope yall like it !! p.s. 10 things i hate about you is one of my favourites <3 do give me more ideas for fics in the cmmts or send me an ask !!

As Dokyeom paced around the room, his mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts. The suitcase in front of him was half-packed, clothes neatly folded, but his thoughts were anything but organized. The idea of proposing to you filled him with both excitement and anxiety. He glanced at the bag of balloons he’d slipped into his luggage, a reminder of the grand plan he had meticulously crafted for a few months now.

“What if they don’t say yes, hyung?” Dokyeom fretted, pacing around their room as he packed for the trip with Y/N. His phone was on speaker, and he were calling the group for some last-minute advice.

“Have you seen the way they look at you?” Seungkwan’s voice came through, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m pretty sure they’ll say yes.”

“If they say no, can I steal them from you?” Dino joked with a laugh. “They make amazing cookies.”

“Not helping,” Dokyeom mumbled, nervously folding another shirt into their suitcase.

Dokyeom's fingers brushed the edge of the velvet ring box, its weight a tangible symbol of his hopes and fears. “I just hope everything goes smoothly. What if all this effort is for nothing? They might leave me.”

“Don’t worry about all of that,” Jeonghan advised gently. “Remember to have fun. Trust the plan. Everything will fall into place if it’s meant to be.”

“And don’t forget to pack the ring,” S.Coups chimed in with a grin that Dokyeom could practically hear.

Dokyeom took a deep breath, nodding even though no one could see him. “Alright, I think I’m all packed. Let’s hope everything goes according to plan.” He muttered the last part.

Everything had gone surprisingly well so far. You and Dokyeom had talked about this trip to Paris for years, but something always got in the way. Now, finally, both of you were able to take a seven-day leave and make it happen. The city felt like something out of a dream — timeless, and full of hidden wonders.

On the first day, after landing in Paris, you both felt the excitement settle in as you headed straight to the Louvre. The enormous layout of the museum took your breath away as you went inside, surrounded by art from all around the world. Walking hand in hand, you wove through the maze of halls, pausing at famous works like the Mona Lisa and Winged Victory of Samothrace.

When you reached the sculpture Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss, you both stood in awe. The way the marble figures intertwined seemed almost too lifelike, as if they were frozen in a moment of affection. You couldn’t help but admire the way the light bounced off the smooth stone, highlighting every detail. Dokyeom’s arm hugged your waist as you both took in the beauty and history surrounding you.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” You whispered, eyes fixed on the sculpture.

Dokyeom nodded, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, but you know what’s even more beautiful?” He turned to look at you, his smile widening.

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him gently. “You’re such a cheeseball.”

“I mean it, though,” he chuckled, squeezing your hand. “I still can’t believe we’re here. Together.”

In that moment, surrounded by art and history, everything felt perfectly right.

You spent more time at the Louvre than planned, snapping tons of photos for Instagram and for your own memories.

On the second day, you and Dokyeom decided to explore the Montmartre, starting with the stunning Sacré-Cœur Basilica. The white domes stood out against the sky, offering an amazing view of Paris below. Inside, the intricate mosaics shimmered in the light, creating a serene atmosphere as you took in the stunning architecture.

After leaving the Basilica, you strolled through the nearby Place du Tertre, a lively square filled with the buzz of street artists and their easels. You and Dokyeom sat down to get your portraits done, soaking in the lively atmosphere. The atmosphere was vibrant, with the sounds of sketching, laughter, and conversations blending together into a perfect Montmartre experience.

After a delicious lunch at a little café, you both headed to the Musée d'Orsay. There, you found yourself captivated by masterpieces from artists like Van Gogh and Monet. Each painting seemed to pull you into its world, and the museum’s elegant interior only enhanced the experience. The two of you wandered through the halls, taking in every detail of the beautiful works of art.

As evening approached, your excitement began to build. You were about to experience the legendary Moulin Rouge, a cabaret show in Paris you’d heard so much about. Dokyeom, always full of surprises, had secretly bought tickets for the famous venue. As you arrived, the bright lights, vibrant costumes, and captivating performances whisked you away to a world of entertainment you had only dreamed of. Checking "watching a cabaret show" off your bucket list felt even more magical than you had imagined.

By the third day, you decided to slow things down, spending the afternoon at the Champ de Mars for a picnic, with the Eiffel Tower looming gracefully above. You both laughed as you watched tourists pose dramatically in front of the landmark, feeling content in your own world together. Later, you took a scenic cruise along the Seine River, the water shimmering in the late afternoon light.

The two of you returned to the hotel room early to prepare for a special dinner at the Eiffel Tower, a night you had anticipated with excitement. You had chosen a stunning white Chanel mini dress, its chic simplicity accentuated by black off-shoulder sleeves that framed your shoulders gracefully. A delicate ribbon, adorned with a Chanel camellia, cinched the waist, adding a touch of timeless elegance. The soft glow of the evening light made the fabric shimmer subtly as you moved.

Dokyeom had chosen a new suit to complement your outfit. His classic black and white suit was impeccably tailored, with a simple yet elegant Chanel brooch pinned to the lapel.

“I had to pick out a new suit to match you, you know,” he said with a playful smile. “And I didn’t want to risk being turned away because of the dress code.”

“I'm glad though. You look handsome as always.”

After taking some photos on the balcony, you headed out to the restaurant. As you were about to leave, Dokyeom asked you to wait outside while he spoke with the concierge.

You were puzzled by the request, but when he returned, he explained that he had arranged for extra towels and soap to be delivered to your room. You didn’t think much of it and continued your way to the dinner venue.

The both of you indulged in a long-awaited culinary experience at Le Jules Verne, a restaurant you had been eager to visit ever since seeing it in Murder Mystery 2. Dining high above Paris with panoramic views of the city, the experience was as unforgettable as you had hoped. The sophisticated atmosphere and exquisite cuisine made it a perfect end to a delightful day — or so you thought.

Back at the hotel, Dokyeom asked you to close your eyes. He gently guided you into the room, covering your eyes with his hands.

“Close your eyes.”

“What are you up to? Don’t do anything silly; this dress is expensive!” you chided, knowing he might do something playful.

“Relax, I’m not doing anything stupid. Are they closed?”

“Yes, kyeom, they are. What’s going on?”

“Keep them closed. I’ll let go now.”

He removed his hands, and you heard him shuffling things around. “Okay, you can open them now.”

You slowly opened your eyes and took in the breathtaking scene before you. Rose petals were delicately scattered from the entrance of the hotel room, leading to a heart-shaped arrangement in the center, where Dokyeom stood, enveloped in a sea of petals. He held a bouquet of roses, their vibrant colors contrasting beautifully with the soft light of the room. Silver balloons floated on the windows, their reflective letters spelling out “Marry Me?” Your heart raced as you took in every detail, feeling a wave of emotion swell within you.

As you stepped further into the room, Dokyeom moved to stand within the heart of petals, his eyes full of love and nervous anticipation. He handed you the bouquet, his hands trembling slightly, then knelt down with a deep breath, pulling out a ring box. Your breath hitched as you saw the ring — its diamond gleamed with a brilliance that seemed to capture all the warmth and love in the room, shimmering with every flicker of light.

“Dokyeom…”

“Y/N, love, these five years with you have been the most incredible of my life. You’ve been my rock through every high and low, my constant when everything else was uncertain. I can’t imagine a future without you, and I want to continue building that future together. I want to create more memories with you, face every challenge side by side, and share every joy. My love for you is beyond words. Will you marry me?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over as you nodded, your voice choked with emotion. “Yes, of course I will. I love you so much.” You extended your left hand, and with a gentle, reverent touch, he slid the ring onto your finger. The moment felt suspended in time, the diamond’s brilliance reflecting your shared happiness and the promise of a future together.

“Okay, thank God, because my heart was pounding and my knees were killing me,” he joked, making you laugh as you admired the ring.

“I had it custom-made.”

“Really? It’s perfect,” you said, turning your hand to catch the light. The ring’s elegant design and intricate details made it feel even more special. “I love it.”

“Yeah. I thought you’d like it more this way. I had fun designing it and made sure to include all the details you love,” he said, as you admired the diamond sparkling in the moonlight.

“Thank you, Dokyeom. This has been absolutely amazing.” You looked at him and gave him a kiss.

“Let’s take some pictures!” you said, grabbing your camera.

That night, after posting some photos on Instagram, your phone buzzed incessantly with congratulations and likes. But you barely noticed, wrapped up in the comfort of late-night snacks and your favorite movies, nestled beside your new fiancé.

“By the way, how did you pull off that incredible surprise?” you asked, gazing at Dokyeom with curiosity.

“Well, the concierge is a secret weapon,” Dokyeom said with a mischievous grin. “They’re like fairy godparents for tonight. I think they were so charmed by the proposal that they didn’t charge me a thing. They said it was the sweetest thing they’d ever seen — except maybe the time a couple asked them to help with a proposal on a gondola in Venice. ”

You laughed softly, feeling a rush of warmth and affection. “I love you, Dokyeom,” you said, your voice soft as you gazed into his eyes.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied. He gently pressed a kiss to your forehead, a gesture that made your heart swell even more.

In that moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the room and the cozy comfort of each other’s presence, everything felt perfect.

You had always thought people exaggerated when they called Paris the city of love. But experiencing it firsthand, you couldn’t agree more.