#The Earrings of Madame de… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ilongfor-the-arts · 6 months

Text

Tea and Music

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut!, language, mild begging, choking, unprotected sex, use of “good girl”

Summary: Part two of Poetry in Motion! These are the events that happen after Marquis meets our ballerina reader.

Word Count: 6.7k

Read Part one HERE!!!

Taglist: @jiawalker

The limo crushed the small stones under its tires as it drove along the white gravel path. The entire estate was completely covered in trees and green once we passed through the golden gates. I couldn't see the sides of the gate from the car, so I assumed his estate extended for miles.

Not a blade of grass was out of place.

I would have flirted with Vincent sooner if I had known he was concealing a mansion.

Our conversation two nights ago was extremely straightforward. He introduced himself, and I asked him one question before he insisted on speaking with me in person.

His address was on a street I'd never heard of before. I thought that perhaps it was in the Paris slums. His fancy suits and elegant demeanor were just a ruse to convince people he was wealthy.

But, alas, he lives in a mansion. Who would’ve guessed?

As the car approached the large front doors, I tried to hide my surprise. His house was something out of a movie. To take it all in, I had to turn my head completely left and right. It possessed at least three levels. It was made of lovely white vintage brick and black shingles. Two poles supported an enormous balcony on opposite sides of the large double front doors.There were dozens of tall arched windows. The architecture was inspired by the French countryside, but it was elevated to the highest level.

It appeared vintage and loved, but not worn.

“Alright madame, we are here.”

My trance was broken by the posh driver.

“Oh, yes.”

He opened the door for me, offering his hand to ensure that I would not be inconvenienced in the slightest.

I could grow accustomed to this type of treatment.

I hoisted myself up by grasping his smooth palm.

“Have a pleasant visit, madame.”

He spoke with a classy accent. His elegance, however, couldn't compete with Vincent's. The elderly driver jumped back into the driver's seat and began bustling away, rocks crunching beneath the tires.

I cocked my head upwards, hesitant. I could feel nerves brewing within my stomach. The butterflies were flying free. I took a deep breath, steadying my mind.

I honed in on the rustling of the trees, waiting until the butterflies had completely dissipated.

I couldn’t believe I was about to enter the home of a man I had just met.

I knew his name.

I knew he liked ballet.

I knew where he lived.

And, that’s it.

I climbed the few steps leading to the glass double doors.

Should I knock?

No, he was expecting me.

I gently pushed open the door. The hinges didn't creak in the least.

The doors opened to reveal a large room with white marble floors and a double staircase that swirled to the top floor. The banisters were made of gold, the dark wood walls were covered in expensive-looking paintings, and each room was separated by a large, open arch.

“Hello? I’m here!”

The waves of my voice echoed around the large, nearly empty room. I felt dwarfed by the high ceilings.

“Welcome.”

my heart skipped a beat. Vincent appeared out of nowhere, sauntering through the archway on my left, hands in pockets.

He remained silent, waiting for me to break the tension.

“Uh-Thank you for having me… your house is beautiful.”

As the gravity of the situation became clear, my tone became somewhat shaky. Vincent gave a small smile.

“Thank you very much. I have quite a few estates-“

Woah, woah, woah. A few estates? As in more than one?

“But this one is by far my favorite. It’s lavish, and quiet.”

The trees gently rustled. In the distance, birds chirped. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“See? Nothing. No sounds except those of nature.”

My knees shook. Those two previous statements felt like one big, blatant sexual innuendo. I hoped that sex wasn't the sole reason for having me in this lovely estate that just so happened to have no neighbors for miles.

He leaned against the wooden arch, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dress pants. Vincent furrowed his brow as he observed my concern.

“Please, don’t be worried. I know I was just given the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance. But, I assure you, I possess a sophisticated character.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards.

“Come.”

He said this as he stepped away from the arch, motioning for me to follow him into the next room.

“I have something I believe you will enjoy.”

I returned his stare. His beautiful eyes shone with warmth. He seemed to have changed slightly now that I was in his house. He appeared to be... more at ease. Neither his gaze nor his tone indicated any discomfort. He was no longer concerned with maintaining any sort of facade.

I couldn't bring myself to be afraid of him.

I smiled.

“Alright.”

My short heels clacked against the marble. As I strolled past him, I captured his familiar scent and was overcome with nostalgia.

The room I entered was significantly smaller than the one prior. Rather than being adorned in paintings, there was merely one green landscape above the unlit fireplace. One wall was entirely covered in wooden shelves, each of which was crammed to the brim. When I looked closer, I noticed that each section was filled with vinyl records. Some are still wrapped in plastic, while others have clearly been loved for years.

“Oh wow! You have quite the collection!”

I exclaimed as I ran my fingers along the spines of various records. Marquis laughed, amused by my intense interest.

“Oh wow!”

I had to use a surprising amount of force to pry one of the vinyls off the shelf as it was jammed into a completely full rack.

“You have the music from Giselle!”

Vincent strolled over to me, leaning over my shoulder to observe what had captured my attention. It was a record, with a lady and man engaged in dance. The lady wore a blouse and bodice, while the man donned tights and a decorated top.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

His hot breath cascaded across my face and neck as he inquired. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized he had placed his frame directly behind mine.

“Yes, I do. I was in it a long time ago. And, ever since it’s been one of my favorites.”

“Ah, you were in it?”

I flipped the vinyl to the back, reading each track and reminiscing.

“Yes, I was Giselle.”

“But of course you were.”

I scoffed, dismissing his high opinions of me.

“It really was not that impressive. It was a small community theater, and it was years ago before I decided to pursue ballet professionally.”

“It makes little difference where you do it. I'm sure you danced as well as someone from the Opéra National de Paris. Your talent is just as visible in a small theater as it is in the world's largest.”

I pushed my finger between two vinyls to create a gap so I could slip the record back into its original position.

“You flatter me.”

Vincent dragged his fingertips along the spines. As he did so, I fixed my attention along his veiny digits, my brain beginning to slip into places it hadn't been in a long time. I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to return to the present. Vincent drew his gaze across the records, studying them and searching for a specific item.

“Ah!”

He discovered what he was looking for.

“Swan Lake, another one of my favorites.”

He pulled it from the shelf and began to study it.

“Tchaikovsky's music is a work of art. He manipulates the instruments, allowing them to move in a poetic manner. It truly is unparalleled.”

He cocked his head to the side, meeting my eyes.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

He raised his brows, inviting me to respond. I shuffled towards his hot body, nodding.

“Yes, of course, it’s a classic.”

This cover depicted a woman bending over a lake, with a swan at her side. Beautiful blues were used to paint the entire cover.

“One of my dream roles is the swan queen.”

Vincent's lanky fingers pried the record's cover apart, and he slid the vinyl into his palm.

“One day, that role will be yours. I have no doubt about it.”

He handled the record with extreme grace and care. Despite being a large and rather intimidating man, his touch was featherlight. He opened a small cabinet located in the middle of the shelves with his opposite hand, revealing a beautiful maroon record player.

“And when you appear as the swan queen, it will be your role for the rest of your life. The audience will know instantaneously that no performance before or after yours will compare.”

Vincent placed the needle on the record's edge. The sound of a rich oboe filled the entire room. He placed his hands on his hips and viewed the black circle spin in a circle. The atmosphere became cozy and inviting. Despite being in a secluded mansion in the middle of the French countryside, I felt oddly at home. My heartbeat was regular.

Vincent glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you drink tea?”

He inquired.

I was so enthralled by Vincent's lovely figure that I had to shake myself awake when he spoke.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I love tea.”

Vincent unbuttoned the cuffs of his white dress shirt, rolling his sleeves up to reveal lovely veins dancing across his forearms. I gulped, my face growing hotter as butterflies began to hatch within my lower abdomen.

“Would you care to drink tea with me on the porch as we indulge in this lovely music?”

I nodded, unable to hide the grin playing on the corners of my mouth.

“I would like that very much.”

Vincent brought out a large silver tray, atop which was a lovely china set with pink flowers and gold stems.

“I would expect a wealthy man like you to have help. Rich men don’t make their own tea.”

I said, my tone slightly mocking. Vincent chuckled, plopping down onto the cream colored cushions.

“I don't usually make my own tea. But I specifically requested that we spend the day alone. The bustle of people detracts from the peaceful energy.”

I put a sugar cube in one of the adorable cups and poured tea on top, watching the sugar break and dissolve.

I picked up the saucer and leaned back, my body relaxing against the plush cushions. I had a fantastic view. My back was to the house, leaving the entire garden open for inspection. The green stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a few healthy trees. The property had a gray gravel path that twisted and turned. At the horizon, the gentle hill of the land met the flawless blue sky.

The scenery was lovely. I wish I knew how to paint.

My hair was tousled by a gentle breeze. The soothing music wafted through the house, reaching my ears as a mere whisper.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the cozy energy as I sipped my tea. The steaming liquid poured down my throat, warming me from within.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

I rested the cup in my lap.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I feel like we talk so much about me.”

I said, chuckling slightly.

Vincent sipped his tea while crossing his legs and gazing out at the horizon. His gorgeous side profile was highlighted by the gentle glow of the sun.

“My life is… not very interesting.”

His demeanor had transformed. Instead of being charming, he had become aloof.

“Oh, I’m sure your life is plenty interesting. I mean, come on, this house is ginormous! What do you do?”

Vincent grit his teeth, avoiding the question.

“I made all of my money in real estate.”

He returned my gaze, his fondness restored.

“Oh! That sounds interesting.”

I took another sip of my delicious tea.

“You must’ve gotten extremely lucky.”

He flashed me a tight smile.

“Yes, absolutely. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be where I am now.”

The birds in the distance chirped peacefully, blending with the music to create a cohesive energy that flowed through my being.

“Please, tell me if I am crossing any boundaries with this question.”

I perked up. He had piqued my interest.

“However, you are a very attractive woman. And you are constantly expressing yourself through the arts. I find it difficult to believe you don't have suitors flocking to you at all times.”

I gulped, my gaze fixed on the tea in my lap.

“Well, honestly, it’s difficult to keep a relationship when you’re constantly either in the theater, or searching for your next opportunity. The little free time I have almost never lines up with the free time of others.”

He fixed his gaze on me, listening intently to every word I said. I'd never had a conversation with a man who was so enthralled by me.

“I’ve had relationships, but it's difficult to make them stick. Lately, I’ve kinda given up. It’s stressful, y’know?”

Vincent hummed.

“Yes, I can imagine.”

He sipped his tea one last time, leaning back completely to display his stunning neck. He leaned forward and placed the china cup atop its saucer before assuming his previous position.

"Well, with me, you never have to worry about that, ma chérie." My few important obligations rarely interfere with my personal life. And, if they do, I promise to commit to our relationship and not let it fall through the cracks."

His dedication surprised me. I raised my brows.

“Well, that is very kind of you. I appreciate the reassurance.”

“That is, if pursuing a relationship with me is something that entices you.”

His statement piqued my interest. I suppose I hadn't considered the question, "What are we?" I was definitely interested in pursuing a relationship with him, despite only having become acquainted a few days ago. I felt a genuine connection, and I'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

Also, the reality that he was filthy rich drew me to him.

I finished the sweet tea, placing it on the black wire coffee table.

“Yes, I believe I would be interested in that.”

I gave him a genuine smile, which he returned.

“Good, I am glad to hear that.”

He folded his hands and tucked them into his lap, his gaze following. He was deep in thought, as if caught between reality and his thoughts. Vincent came to after what seemed like an eternity. He returned his gaze to mine. His attention had been drawn to a new emotion. He was looking at me with calculating eyes, as if he was carefully pondering what to say next.

This was unusual for him, as he always seemed to know exactly what to say.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy when I say this, but I have been admiring you for a while.”

To be honest, I didn't mind. And I didn't think he was creepy at all for expressing his admiration for me.

“In all honesty, I’m flattered. The way I see it, I wouldn’t put myself on the stage if I was afraid of extreme admiration. I mean, that is kind of the goal of a performer. Y’know, to make people fall in love with the performance.”

Vincent nodded, his smile widening. He was pleased with my response.

“I recall seeing you perform for the first time. It was about two years ago, in Coppélia. You played a minor role, but your beauty captivated me, and the more I sought you out, the more I fell in love.”

There was something sensual about the thought of Vincent admiring me from afar for years. It all seemed so forbidden, him watching me from a box, carefully calculating the best time to ask me out.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you ask me out sooner?”

Vincent shrugged.

“I assumed you were in a relationship. I tried to forget about you, but you were always on my mind. Then I didn't see you at the Opéra national de Paris for a year. My job was particularly demanding at that time. It was best if I concentrated solely on that. So I didn't go looking for you. I assumed that chapter of my life had come to an end. Then I notice you're performing in La Bayadère. And I knew that whatever force governs our universe had given me the opportunity to become your acquaintance.”

I couldn’t stop my face from breaking into a grin. I’ll admit, it felt insanely good to be admired by someone.

“Are you a nostalgic person?”

Yes, extremely.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah!”

He exclaimed, rising to his feet.

“In that case, I have one more thing I think you would like to see.”

I followed him through the house. If I didn’t have him, I would undoubtedly be lost. Each lavish hallway felt as if it extended for miles. I followed, and followed, and followed. Until eventually we reached a pair of black double doors. They were covered in beautiful flower designs. Vincent turned the golden knobs, pushing the doors open to reveal… a bedroom?

Wow.

It was a nice bedroom, to be sure. The floors were tan wood, and the walls were a dark brown color. A large, black chandelier hung from the ceiling with an expensive crystal thread. The bedframe, curtains, and dresser with a large mirror all looked like they were plucked from the queen's bedroom.

In fact, the whole place felt like it belonged to a king. The gold accents, intricate details, and visibly expensive fabrics all gave me the impression that I was in Buckingham Palace.

Vincent headed over to his dresser, which was located on the opposite side of the room as the bed. He began rummaging through various objects, searching for something.

“Ah! Here it is! I knew I kept it!”

He gave me... a leaflet? No, it's a program. It was the program from my first performance ever at the Opera Nacional de Paris, Coppélia. My eyes shot open.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you kept this!”

I flipped through it, reading the names and contemplating all the wonderful people I'd had the pleasure of working with.

“Of course I kept it.”

I raised my eyes to him. He smiled, pleased that I had found enjoyment in this little bit of nostalgia.

“Um-”

I began.

“I-I don’t mean to take your memories from you.”

I said with a small laugh.

“But, would you mind if I kept this?”

“But of course! There is no need for me to keep a silly little booklet now that I have had the pleasure of meeting the object of my affection.”

We shared a moment of peaceful, happy silence.

“Besides, if it makes you happy, I'll gladly give it to you. We've decided to pursue a relationship. So, it is my responsibility to do everything in my power to please you.”

His gaze darted to my lips before returning to my eyes, implying something taboo.

His eyes grew dark. My posture became stiff. Vincent took a large step towards me, and I had to tilt my head almost completely backwards to look him in the eyes.

I was hit with a wave of déjà vu. I was no longer on the streets of Paris, but rather in Vincent's bedroom. This time, there was nothing preventing us from delving head first into our desires.

He cupped my cheek, running his calloused thumb over my cheekbone. My breath caught in my throat. My lower abdomen was in knots, more from anticipation than from nerves. There wasn't much that could happen on the dark streets of Paris. But suddenly everything was possible and within reach. All I had to do was reach out and grab them.

“The relationships you’ve been in… have any of them had the pleasure of…”

His voice trailed off, beckoning me to finish the thought.

I gulped, a lump forming in my throat.

“No.”

My voice quivered as I felt overpowered by his pressing gaze.

Vincent tutted crispy.

“Pity.”

He stated, his voice lowering to a sensuous whisper. I envisioned him whispering sweet nothings into my ear while thrusting mercilessly into my tight cunt.

My stomach flipped.

My knees shook.

All of the blood in my body rushed to my core.

Wetness began to pool in my panties.

I adjusted my weight uncomfortably, anticipating Vincent's next move.

He leaned forward, his lips inches away from mine. I desperately wanted to break the tension by pressing my mouth to his, thereby beginning the downward spiral of pleasure. However, my train of thought was derailed when I felt Vincent’s opposite hand glide up my thigh.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sighing in pleasure as his digits swiftly located my clothed clit. He tenderly massaged my sensitive bud. The subtle sensation was utterly euphoric. My head bowed forward, my hands anxiously clutching his white dress shirt.

Vincent jerked my head upwards, forcing my misty eyes to lock with his lust blown pupils.

“You’re already so wet, ma chérie. And I have barely even touched you.”

His velvety accent became 10 times more seductive now that it had fallen an octave.

“Oh, it will be so wonderful to watch you come undone.”

He pressed his plush lips to my jugular, applying gentle kisses to my neck as he continued to draw figure eights onto my clothed clit. I threw my arms around his neck, hanging onto his strong frame as my knees threatened to give out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs and taste your sweet little cunt.”

I couldn’t handle the erotic tone combined with the featherlight touches to my clit. It was far too much for my touch starved body to handle. needed something. I was ravenous for his mouth, his fingers, his cock. I wanted so badly to be destroyed by him, to be given such pleasure that I fear coming back to reality.

“Vincent.”

I said between heavy breaths.

“Yes ma chérie?”

My jaw hung upon, mouth unable to form coherent sentences.

“P-Please. I need you-I need you so bad.”

Vincent drew back, his lips slamming into mine. Our mouths matched like puzzle pieces. We were so glorious together that I swear I could hear angels singing in perfect harmony.

“What would you like me to do to you ma belle, hm?”

He said in between fiery kisses.

“Make me cum, Vincent, please.”

His tongue slid into my mouth, giving me a fleeting taste of his passion before he quickly yanked it back. I was flustered. Our connection had been severed, and I was unsure as to why.

Vincent grasped my chin, forcing me to keep my head still.

His hair was struggling to remain neat. The single, dangling strand was a great metaphor for his once well-kept demeanor now crumbling before my eyes.

“Beg. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to make you cum.”

He demanded.

Mt jaw quivered. His hand had retreated from my core and now lay atop the swell of my hip.

“P-Please Vincent. I need you. I need you so bad.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes disapprovingly.

“Oh, ma chérie, I know you can do better than that.”

He placed his lips to mine, swiftly reigniting the flame before suffocating it once more.

“Be my good girl and beg.”

I locked gazes with Vincent, feeling his sexual energy course through my body in waves.

“Please-“

I began, my desire somewhat strangling the words within my throat.

“Please Vincent… Please, I need you to make me cum.”

I brought my palms to his chest, attempting to quickly unbutton his dress shirt. Unfortunately, my hands were far too jittery and the buttons were far too small for me to make any significant progress.

“What exactly do you want ma belle, hm? Tell me.”

His velvety accent wafted through me whenever he spoke, adding to the wetness that had begun to pool in my panties.

“Please, please. I need you.”

Thankfully, the sexual tension had subsided just enough for me to compose meaningful sentences.

“Please, please, I need you. I need your mouth between my legs. I need-I need you to fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please, please make me cum it’s all I can think about.”

A devious smirk spread across Vincent’s face.

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

He connected our lips, reigniting the raging fire of desire that burned between us. Vincent hoisted me off the floor, his large hands traveling up my short sundress and resting against my ass. He carried me with ease, his hands gentle but his lips aggressive.

Vincent tossed me onto the bed with little regard for tenderness. However, I was barely impacted by the blow, as the mattress quickly suppressed and conformed to my physique.

I lay, my gaze fixed upwards towards Vincent’s lanky frame. The dim yet sensual lights foregrounded the sharp curvatures of his face. His long digits located his top button and he began to leisurely undo his shirt without breaking eye contact.

Suddenly, I became aware that my dress had ridden up my thighs, exposing my evident desire. I grasped the hem, pushing it downwards in a futile attempt to conceal my yearning. Vincent ceased his movements, crawling over the end of the bedframe with haste.

His hand wrapped around my wrist, pinning my hand above my head.

My eyes darted upwards, the breath hitching in my throat as I perceived his close proximity. Vincent’s previously quintessential appearance was slowly dissolving. A few strands of hair had broken loose from their original location and were now dangling aimlessly above his brow. Furthermore, his shirt was halfway undone, exposing his prominent collarbone and somewhat highlighting his toned chest.

“Don’t cover up for me, ma belle.”

He murmured, his sultry accent sending a wave of desire to my lower abdomen. My cunt throbbed.

“I want nothing more than to see every inch of you.”

Vincent lodged his thigh between my legs, his clothed knee grazing against my hot core. I jolted, a wave of heat coursing through my body. My back arched instinctively, mouth falling open as I involuntarily ground my hips against his thigh in an effort to increase friction.

Unfortunately, he revoked his leg before I was able to procure further pleasure. His free hand followed the soft curve of my side, sending shivers down my spine. My body became cold with anticipation. Goosebumps rose along my skin.

Vincent’s calloused fingertips grazed against my clothed clit. Heat radiated from my wet core as I squeezed my eyes shut. My brow furrowed as he began to slowly draw figure eights onto my clit.

“Ah, you are so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”

His soft lips connected to my jugular, peppering gentle kisses down my neck.

“I’ve thought about this moment for a long while.”

With his hands required to support his weight as he descended, his powerful clasp released my wrist. I entangled my fingers in his silky hair, further ruining his pristine image.

“Although I pride myself on maintaining a certain level of class, I can’t deny that I’ve often thought about how satisfying it would be to bring you immense pleasure.”

He continued to press his lips against my hot skin, his face now level with my clothed breasts.

Vincent leaned back on his knees. He dragged his eyes up and down my frame, running his tongue across his bottom lip. I suddenly felt small under his gaze.

His tender fingertips located the ball of my ankle, and he hastily removed both of my short heels, tossing them aimlessly to the floor. After he had discarded my shoes, he trailed his large palms upwards, caressing my calves, then my thighs. I watched intently as his veiny hands slipped under the hem of my dress. Vincent hooked a finger in the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs at a painfully slow pace.

Once I was fully exposed, he assumed a position between my legs. Thankfully, the bed was grand enough for him to lay comfortably.

All the blood in my body had rushed to my core, and I could feel my heartbeat throbbing vehemently within my lower abdomen.

Vincent trailed his moist lips along my inner thigh, gazing up at me devilishly through his lashes as he did so. He was well aware that his teasing behavior was propelling me into a state of lust filled desperation.

When he established that he had prolonged my suffering enough, he hastily buried his face between my thighs. I gasped, throwing my head back onto the opulent pillows. My thighs instinctively clenched around his head, but Vincent’s strong hands pulled my legs apart to free himself.

He flattened his tongue against my clit, taking his time to draw out his movements so as to not supply me with an orgasm too hastily. He was thoroughly enjoying the elongation of my pleasure.

After a brief moment of supplying delicate sensations to my clit, I felt the tip of his finger prod at my entrance. I threw my hands upwards, grasping onto the bed frame, my knuckles quickly turning white.

“Oh fuck!”

I exclaimed, grinding my hips against his gorgeous face.

“Vincent-Vincent your mouth feels so good, holy shit.”

I spoke in mangled cries, not caring to keep my voice down. After all, there was no one around for miles to be bothered by my proclamations.

His middle two fingers pushed into my entrance, thrusting upwards to stimulate my walls.

“You taste wonderful, ma belle.”

He uttered, continuing to fuck me with his fingers throguhout the duration of his praise. Vincent located my g spot. My nails dug into the bedframe, undoubtedly leaving prominent scratches. He took note of my non verbal cues.

Vincent increased the intensity of his fingers. Quickly, the coil of pleasure began to tighten within my lower abdomen. I bucked my hips against his face, but Vincent quickly stifled my movements by pressing my hips into the mattress.

“Are you close?”

He murmured against my clit. The gentle vibrations set my nerves ablaze with white hot desire.

“Yeah, yeah I’m so close.”

I mumbled, my arms beginning to tremble as I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt my orgasm begin to seep into the corners of my brain.

Vincent’s long digits expertly located my g spot with every thrust.

His warm mouth continued to duck and stimulate my swollen bundle of nerves.

The erotic sounds of his fingers fucking my cunt reverberated loudly throguhout the predominantly empty bedroom.

“Then cum for me, ma chérie.”

His endearing words proved to be the last necessary step in reaching my release. The tension that had built within my stomach exploded as I came gloriously all over his face. My back felt as though it had been rammed into a solid brick wall.

My chest heaved, and I found it arduous to supply my lungs with sufficient oxygen.

My eyelids began to flutter open as the movements of both his tongue and fingers slowed. When he removed his digits and mouth, I was overcome with a glorious sensation of complete satisfaction. Both my mind and body succumbed to bliss. I had never before experienced such an absence of disquiet.

Vincent climbed over me, his torso now bare.

I cracked a small grin, my palms flattening against the expanse of his soft chest. His lips shone with my arousal. I trailed my fingertips slowly downwards, halting when I reached his thick leather belt. I began to undo the buckle, however, Vincent caught wind of my intentions. With one hand, he engulfed both of my wrists, pinning them above my head. I gasped.

“Oh, no, not now.”

His gentle lips tenderly kissed the soft divot behind my ear. I took a deep breath, the scent of his pricey, heavy fragrance clouding my mind.

“I have waited far too long for this moment. It would be foolish of me to allow you to furnish pleasure when my desire has been consuming me for years.”

Vincent moved off of me and stood to remove the remainder of his clothes. With a pleasurable whoosh, he pulled his belt from the loops of his formal pants. Subsequently, he removed his shoes and allowed his trousers to gather about his ankles.

He met my stare, the mellow hue of the faint overhead lights collecting within his green irises.

“You look beautiful.”

Once again, the heat from my body began to travel downwards.

Vincent’s boxers were the final article of clothing to be removed. I gulped audibly, as his sizable cock was now standing fully erect.

Holy shit, I thought to myself.

He possessed one of the most winsome cock I had ever laid eyes on. I clenched my thighs together, my cunt eagerly clenching around nothing.

When he had finished undressing, he climbed back over me and our lips met once again. I melted into the kiss, exhaling sensually as I sunk into the plush mattress. Vincent’s hand grasped the hem of my dress, tugging it upwards until I was forced to raise my arms.

Thankfully, the supportive nature of the outfit allowed me to function in the absence of a bra. As a result, my entire body was now fully exposed for Vincent’s piercing gaze.

He discarded the dress and dropped his hips suggestively until his prominent erection pressed against my lower stomach.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, beckoning him to progress further. Vincent shuffled his hips, tip now dangerously close to my aching cunt. But, before he slipped inside of me, he raised a free hand and tenderly brushed a few unruly strands of hair from my damp forehead.

“If you wish to stop at any moment, merely apprise me and I shall cease.”

I gave him a nod, throwing my arms around his neck to provide an anchor. Vincent pressed his lips to my neck, applying a few gentle kisses before sliding his cock into my wet cunt.

My walls stretched, hastily conforming to his rather large girth. My back arched into his solid torso. I inhaled sharply as he buried the entirety of his length deep within me.

“Are you alright, ma chérie?”

His body stilled. I groaned in mild frustration.

“Y-yeah. I’m more than alright. P-please just fuck me already. I-I need you so bad.”

Vincent pulled back. His lips were plush. His hair was disheveled. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink.

His disarranged appearance was a stark contrast to the previously sophisticated man I had met at the start of this afternoon. However, I do consider the duality of man to be a topic of the utmost enticement. There is something captivating about the notion of commencing a relationship with someone who has a secret side that solely you have the pleasure of becoming acquainted with.

Without further words, Vincent began to roll his hips. The slight pain of his cock quickly dissipated to create room for immense pleasure.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“Does that feel good? Hm?”

He spoke with a slight vocal fry. The raspiness of his tone elicited a visceral reaction. I dragged my nails along his smooth back, undoubtedly breaking skin.

He grumbled deep within his chest.

When I didn’t answer, Vincent pulled his face back, blown pupils meeting mine. I gazed at him through half lidded eyes. I found it difficult to ignite passionate eye contact when I was presented with the distraction of his cock expertly grazing against my g spot with every fervent jerk of his hips.

He wrapped a large hand around my neck. My pulse rose to the top of my skin as black spots began to cloud my vision.

“Come on, ma belle, be my good girl. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

I exhaled a shuddering breath.

“F-fuck… you feel so good inside me Vincent.”

I gulped.

“Y-your cock feels so good.”

Vincent’s skin began to sheen with a thin layer of perspiration. The unruly strands of brown hair deepened in color as they stuck to his forehead. I moaned pornographically as the grip on my neck constricted once more. My jaw dropped. The brief lack of oxygen only added to the flurry of incoherent thoughts bouncing around my skull.

“Oh, my, you’re such a good girl for me.”

He gulped, a soft sigh escaping his swollen lips.

“You’re taking me so well.”

The erotic words combined with his smooth accent contributed to the tightening of my lower abdomen.

I was close, dangerously close.

I could feel my body reaching the edge, and I would soon fall into a state of euphoria.

Vincent’s adjusted his hips ever so slightly, his tip now reaching deeper than before.

I instinctively turned my head away. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I buried my face into the bed. My brow furrowed. My eyes squeezed shut as I anticipated my release.

Vincent utilized his thumb to reposition my face.

“No, don’t look away. Be my good girl and look me in the eyes.”

I forced my eyelids open, meeting his piercing stare as ever so slightly increased the frequency of his thrusts. Every instinct beckoned me to throw my head back, but I fought the desire. And, I instead kept my eyes fixated on Vincent’s blown pupils that had almost entirely consumed his irises.

“I want to watch you. I want to see your face as you cum all over my cock.”

I gave him a slight nod, indicating that I could hear while trapped in my lustful stupor.

His hand traveled downwards, gently caressing my curves before reaching my swollen clit. Vincent applied gentle pressure, and, with that, I let go.

I kept my eyes fixated on him, allowing my face to contort as it pleased.

Vincent groaned loudly, his cum coating my walls.

He continued to fuck me throguh my orgasm. His movements gradually slowed as the fog of euphoria began to dissipate. My chest rose and collapsed with fervor.

When I deemed it safe to break eye contact, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. Suddenly, I became aware of the gravitational pull the bed exerted on my body.

Jesus, I was exhausted.

Vincent removed his cock from my core. However, he remained atop me, tenderly pushing my unkempt hair back to create mild uniformity.

“You may stay here, if you’d like, for however long you wish.”

His voice was as it had been prior to our physical encounter.

I giggled, my mouth breaking into a slight smile.

“Your house is magnificent.”

I met his gaze, his eyes now possessing a tender quality.

“I don’t know if I ever want to leave.”

I said with a scoff.

A smirk played on the corner of his lips.

“Then don’t, stay here for as long as your heart desires.”

#marquis de gramont x reader #marquis x reader #marquis de gramont #john wick series #john wick smut #john wick movies #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick #john wick 4 #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skargard #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard icons

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user2772636 · 3 months

Text

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

Experimenting is bound to give you attention. Magazines are trending, and not just in the women's department. A one-eyed boy who has recently been caught with something vulgar has respect for women. How surprising.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: boys being boys (worse than b4), swearing, one-sided anger, reference to a movie (Hot Rod), love triangle again (new character??), fluff (finally?!?!?!)

===

Chapter four: Flashy Magazines

===

I flip through page by page the new magazine I bought. It was imported from america, and the second I heard of it, I ran to the nearest booth.

That was yesterday. Today is Monday morning. I woke up a little earlier to scroll through my said magazine and look for inspiration. I thought I'd do something different. A bit more bold.

Hair bumps and bangs. A style well worn by Priscilla Beaulieu, the speculated lover of Elvis Presley. The magazine was filled with her.

I grab my scissors, lifting my head to look into my bathroom mirror. I read the directions on the magazine, parting a small section at the middle of my hair, pulling it in front of my eyes.

I take a deep breath in. A click from the scissors is heard. Not half bad, I say to myself. I shag it a little, smiling to myself.

I continue to read the instructions to Priscilla's hair bump, deciding to make it just a small bump, curling the ends, then adding hair spray to keep it all intact. Once I was done , I added a pair of pearl earrings.

There's a new dress waiting for me in my closet. It was a present from my parents. A knee-length flowy dress with a boat neckline and a thin strap belt, all in the colour of watermelon red.

I put it on, patting down the skirt, and grab my kitten heels. I pray that I don't get caught. This is probably how Michèle felt on the first day of school.

I take one last look in the mirror. I looked older, like a proper lady. I straighten my back and smile strainedly. I breathe out slowly.

I grab my satchel and coat, then head out of my flat. Walking to school, eyes follow me. From my lovely neighbour to the men smoking cigarettes in the street. I don't mind them and continue to make my way to school.

Once I get there, I see Laubrac walking away from Michèle. I walk up to her and put on a smile.

"Michèle. How have you been?" I lean in to hug her.

"Wow, Y/N. You're stunning. You look like you were made to be in movies." Michèle laughs, and I laugh with her.

"Don't go that far." We smile at each other and make it through the gate. Once again, eyes are on me, younger this time.

We look towards the bathroom, seeing Felbec run towards it, then get rejected access through. A tall frame pushes him away, and I knew exactly who it was. I furrow my eyebrows.

A boy then comes running through the gate, shouting out how he has the money. I notice Annick as she suddenly walks away. When he makes it there, the school bell rings. I laugh, watching him move around disappointed.

××《☆》××

"Literary salons are almost always hosted by women. Madame de Sèvignè, Madame de Lafayette." Our teacher says as he leans on his table with his arms.

The lecture fades, and all I hear is the tapping of my heels on the hardwood floor.

"Dupin." Our teacher calls out. I turn around to take a look, but my eyes lock with one. I squint at Descamps, then shift my eyes to Dupin.

"As you won't stop talking, you seem well-versed on the subject. Can you share your thoughts on the salons with us?" Dupin stands, and I smile softly, seeing his embarassed state.

I turn my head back to the front, but a stare stays on me, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

I ignored it at first, and then it started to get annoying. So I turned, and I saw him, and he was smiling. He's smiling. Every time I look at him, either he looks dead inside (though, in my opinion, no dead person could look that pretty.), or he's smiling. And that's what he's doing. He's smiling.

How I wish I could wipe it off.

××《☆》××

My ears pound as I hear Ms. Giraud's voice. I might go deaf, but I keep my composure. The bell rings, and we're finally dismissed.

I hear rushed shuffling. Ms. Giraud calls out to the boy.

"Are you in a rush, Lamazière?" Ms. Giraud yells. I notice it's the same boy that ran to the bathroom with money in his hand.

He gets punished, and I laugh quietly. I grab my things, rushing up to the girls.

"Hey, I need to go to the bathroom. Continue walking without me." They nod, and we part ways.

After using the toilet, I look at myself in the mirror. I never expected that. How conscious I'd be of my looks, my movements, and my habits.

Maybe it comes with the fact I dressed up. But for what, I start to wonder. I don't know why I dressed up in the first place. I know I said for a change, but is that really all?

A flash of an eye comes to mind. I quickly shake it off. No way. Not him.

I clear my throat, then grab my things. I hastily walk out the bathroom, suddenly needing fresh air. As I make it to the hallway of the stairwell, footsteps slow down, and eyes follow me. I stop in my tracks.

I scanned through them, what face they were wearing while looking at me. I look down on myself. I still looked presentable, so what were they looking at?

I start to walk, my eyes following the faces of the boys. Each step I take down feels slower. One flight finished, and I stop glancing at them. My feet tap on the porcelain floor of the stairs as I keep my head down.

One flight left, a tall frame walks into the school. He turns to the stairs, and I stop. Descamps stares at me. I stare at him. He then looks up and sees plenty of eyes on me. I see his jaw clench.

He claps his hands. I flinch at the echo of it.

"Will you boys keep staring, or will I go shopping for a new eye with all of yours?" This gets them moving. The stairwell is noisy again.

I turn my head back to Descamps, and I glare. Hard. I walk towards him, and then I'm reminded of our height difference. I crane my neck upward.

"I could've handled myself, you know?" I squint my eyes, and all he does is stare. Why is he just staring? Can't we fight already? I feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"Are you just gonna stare or are you gonna sa-"

"You're beautiful." I barely even heard it. But I did. Then I acted like I didn't.

"What?" I stutter out, flushed cheeks redder than before.

"You're miserable. You clearly needed my help." I scoff, the comforting warmth I felt quickly replaced with boiling anger.

"Just leave me alone, Descamps." I walk away, and into the courtyard.

Who does he think he is? Some knight in shining armour? He's more like a thief in the streets. But then no thief could be as annoying, as dreadful, as smiley as him. That stupid smile, and those stupid words, and his stupid face. Stupid, stupid face. Sometimes I just wanna grab it and-

I stop in my tracks. There's a line in front of the boys' bathroom. What would they be lining up for? I see a mop of blonde hair and framed eyes. Applebaum. He hasn't talked to me, hasn't said hi, and I always wonder if I'd done anything wrong.

But he's the past. I guess he just doesn't like me. It's too bad. I had high hopes for him. A whip of air pushes by me, and it's Descamps again. He's jogging towards the bathroom. He's collecting coins from them. Really, what's going on?

I look in front of me. Michèle and Simone are seated on the stairs. I sigh in relief. I sit beside them.

"I can't do this anymore. All the boys, they're dreadful. Why did I come here in the first place?" I groan. The girls watch me, amused.

"Because you moved here from Paris and-" I cut Simone off.

"Rhetorical." I mutter. She purses her lips shut.

Michèle clears her throat. "So, you think you'll get married?" I lift my head up.

"To who?" My eyes are wide open as well as my ears.

"Eugène. Simone's lover boy." I cover my mouth in shock.

"What? I thought you had a thing for-" Simone cuts me off this time.

"No. It's a little too soon for that." She answers Michèle's question. I mouth sorry. She nods.

"Aren't you worried he'll want to take things further?" Michèle asks Simone. I started to click the pieces together. I bite on my lip to hide my smile.

"I don't know." Simone smiles at the thought. "Can I have a bite? Thanks." She says as she grabs Michèle's apple and takes a bite from it.

"I hope I find a husband soon. So I can get out of my parents house." I nod at Michèle's statement.

"That's true. But hopefully, no one from here. I'd rather die." They laugh at my overreaction, but honestly, I might just die than marry anyone here.

Well, except for one, maybe. Who, I ask myself. Right. Who am I even talking about? My eyes drift to a one-eyed boy. No. Don't even think about it.

Descamps as a husband? I laugh to myself.

Sure, I can imagine him going to work, coming home, smoking a cigarette or two as he reads the news.

Lounging in the living room one lazy afternoon, shirt slightly unbuttoned and pants a bit loose. Eating breakfast with his family, cooking with his wife (who, for some reason, looks almost like me. Very weird.), kissing her shoulders as his arms wrap around her waist.

His scent, his soft lips, his large frame. Carrying his kids in his arms as he spins them around the backyard. Teaching his son how to catch, playing dolls with his daughter, taking a break on a bench, one arm on his thigh, and the other on me.

Me? I shake my head. No, not me. His wife. Certainly not me. I grimace at the thought. Why would I even?

I sigh deeply, frustratedly. These damn thoughts are infuriating, just like him.

"Happy New Year, Ms. Palladino." My trance gets cut off.

"You too, Sir." Simone responds. I clear my throat, composing myself.

Michèle calls out for her uncle and gets up. I wonder what she's going to do. I don't pay much mind as I scoot over to Simone.

"It's Jean Pierre, isn't it?" She flinches.

"What do you mean?" I roll my eyes at her response.

"You know what I mean. Eugène? It's definitely Jean Pierre." Her cheeks flush, and she drops her head.

"I'm happy for you, really." I smile as she lifts her head, hope in her eyes. My smile wavers a bit. "But how will you tell Michèle?"

Her eyes lose that hope, and she looks away.

"I don't know. He said we shouldn't because she'll never let us see each other again."

"But one day, you'll have to." I grab her hand and rub it gently. She sighs.

"I wish you luck." I whisper, then hug her. She hugs me back. Once we pull away, Michèle sits with us again.

"He didn't want to lend it to me. What does 'adult' mean." I raise my eyebrows and puff out my cheeks, clearly not wanting to answer her question.

Michèle looks around. "What's up with everyone today?"

"You only noticed now?" I chuckle.

"Come with me." Me and Simone get up, following Michèle. She walks and calls towards Pichon.

"What's going on in the bathroom?" Pichon pauses. Too long of a pause.

"Nothing." I squint at him. Obviously not nothing.

"Somethings been going on in there today."

"Not at all. Nothing's going on." Pichon tries to walk away, but I stop him with a palm to his chest.

"Really? Why did you react that way when you ran into Mr. Bellanger?" I start to talk.

"What do you mean?" This is getting annoying.

"Don't act dumb. We know you aren't." I snap at him. "Now, why was your face all red?"

"No. It's not red." I furrow my eyebrows, now really getting angry. I almost shove him before Michèle holds me back.

"Simone, is his face red?" I ask her.

"It's red. Very red." I look back at Pichon and raise my eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

"It's not. It's just my complexion." I try to lunge at him, but Michèle's hands are tight on me.

"So you're not gonna tell us?" Michèle calls out for him. I whip my arms off of Michèle's hold, and she's quick to let me go.

"Of course he won't." I glare at the back of his head.

The bell rings.

××《☆》××

Descamps' group walks into the class together. They're rushing a bit.

"And Applebaum?" One of them asks.

"He's gonna sprain something." Descamps answers. Sprain what? What are they doing in that bathroom anyway?

"He's gonna go deaf." Oh. A shiver runs down my spine as I gag. Gross.

I hear Michèle ask Simone something, probably about what the boys are talking about. I don't wanna tell her.

Ms. Couret walks in and greets us. We're granted to sit. The door opens.

"Didn't you hear the bell, Mr. Applebaum." I gag again seeing him. I should've known he was like everyone else. To believe I might've given him a chance. I grimace.

The boys whisper and laugh. There's a boiling in my stomach. Ms. Couret moves on to the topic.

"Do you know the Beatles?" This catches my attention. No one answers, until Pichon does.

"The British band?" Ms. Couret nods.

"Yes. Let's see if those names ring a bell." I shuffle on my seat, giving my full attention to the discussion.

I don't notice the boys passing around a magazine 'till it comes flying towards Michèle's table. I peek over, and in front of her lies a flashy magazine.

××《☆》××

"He said if we didn't give him a name, the class would get detention every Thursday." Pichon says as everyone huddles in to listen. I feel a warm frame over and behind me, but I ignore it, thinking it's just another classmate.

"Then we all get detention." Dupin states, as if it wasn't already obvious.

"The whole class." Pichon exclaims.

"Even the girls?" My brows furrow. What did we do to be blamed?

"Everybody." We all stop.

"That's not fair." Simone says, and I nod with her.

"Right. What did we do? It was you guys who were being perverts." I call out.

I get more frustrated when a chest bumps into me. It's the same frame I felt earlier. I turn around, and I'm met with Descamps.

"You. You were the ones selling the magazine and passing it around." I glare at him.

"You're disgusting. I don't want you near me." I turn again and bid a quick goodbye to the girls then head home.

"Pardine!" I hear Descamps call out. I roll my eyes and keep walking. Once we're in a quieter area, he grabs my arm and gently pushes me to a wall.

"Please. I swear I would never." I glare up at him.

"Then why were you passing it around?" I ask him, tilting my head up.

His pants fill my ears. It's worrying. I place a hand on his chest.

"Calm down." I state, the worry etched in my voice.

He relaxed under my touch, I felt it, the way his muscles stopped being tense. I kept my face hard.

"Now, explain." My voice comes out demanding.

"I needed some money. What better way to collect it quickly than when there's hundreds of prepubescent boys in one school?" I roll my eyes. I almost walk away before he cages me in the wall with his arms.

"Please. Just... listen. I needed money, okay? I wanted to save up for... for..." He stutters, and my brows crease more.

"For?" I raise my brows, expecting an answer.

"For... records. Yeah. For my mother." I squint at his answer.

"That still won't excuse the fact you're a pervert."

"No, I swear. I would never. I know you don't believe me, but I swear. I swear on my mothers life I would never. Not in school, not anywhere. I respect a woman way too much to do something like that."

"A woman? Who? Your mother?" My brain turns to different answers.

"Yes." He stuttering again. "Definitely, my mother." He pushes away from me, and I feel cold.

I hum. Then I look back up at him, eyes still squinted.

"I'll let it pass for now." I see his face fill with relief, and I almost laugh.

I walk away, but before I get too far, I hear him mutter.

"You look pretty." I turn around, shocked and confused.

"What did you say?"

"I said you look shitty. Goodbye, Pardine!" He calls out as he walks away in a rush. I scoff, then turn back around to walk home.

××《☆》××

I pet George, lounging on my bed, thinking of going out to run some errands. I get up and head to the kitchen.

Stuck to the fridge, I read my mother's shopping list. I get rid of the magnet and stick the note into my coat pocket. I glance at George, then the door, then George again.

I sigh. I pick him up, head to my door, and lock it. We go down the stairs. I place him in my bicycle basket. I make sure he's tucked in well, then ride to the farmers market.

Once I'm there, I glance at the shopping list again. Some vegetables, fruit, flour, etc. I walk past each stall, buying what's needed. Just then, a boy, somewhere my age, walks towards me.

"Hi." He seems confident. "I'm Callum. What's your name?"

I look at him up and down, and then the hand he reaches out for a hand shake. He's tall, but not too tall. Maybe five feet and ten inches. He has long, wavy brown hair, neatly brushed behind his ears. He has deep doe eyes and a smile on his face. I hesitate.

"Y/N." I slowly lift my hand and shake his. His smile widens.

"So, I have a project that requires a model, and when I saw you, I thought you'd be the perfect candidate. Not to be blunt about it, but you're beautiful." I blush at the sudden compliment.

"All you need to do is let me take a couple of photos, and I'll pay you, about... 300 franc?" I gape at the offer.

"Are you sure? Just for pictures?" They nod.

"Yes. Good transaction, yeah? If I win the project, the pictures will be displayed in the front of a car magazine. Is that alright with you?" I think again, but what's there to think about when there's 300 franc on the table?

"Deal." I shake hands Callum's hand, and he smiles wider.

"Good. Now, I'll take you to my car, and you can do a couple of poses in front of it." He led me to his car, and the second I saw the bright mint blue of it, my jaw hits the floor.

"This pretty one," Callum pats the front of the car. "is a 1955 Ford Thunderbird. Mint blue exterior, white top, and a mix of both for the interior. It has the brake horsepower of 193, and she's my most prized possession. She goes up to 23,069 kilometres. Very lovely, right?" He leans on the car, almost hugging it.

I cover my mouth, hiding my smile. He walks over to me, gently grabbing my wrist and pulling it away from my face.

"Keep that smile on, pretty lady. We need it for the pictures." He tilts his head towards the car. "Go on."

I walk slowly. Once I'm near the passengers door, I pose, and I see the flash of the camera.

"Get inside. Take a feel around." I walk to the other side of the car, opening the door and closing it once I'm in. I feel the leather of the wheel against my palm, and I scoff in awe. The camera flashes again.

"I didn't get to pose!" I laugh, slightly embarassed.

"You didn't need to. You're a natural." He snaps another photo, and I laugh again.

After taking a few photos and reviewing them, Callum finally chose one. It was me smiling at the camera with my hands on the wheels, windows rolled down.

He told me I looked perfect, which was, based on what he said, the first thing that came into his mind when he saw me.

The rest of the day, he accompanied me shopping and even offered me a ride around town in his car. I obviously couldn't say no.

He pulled the hood down, letting the wind flow through my hair as we drove in the roads, making it to the fields, stopping by for some gas, and then getting on the road again.

××《☆》××

Callum parks the car in front of his flat, which was only a few blocks away from mine. We decided to walk to my place instead of draining out the car, not before him telling me that it was absolutely fine for him to drive me directly home. When I said I needed my legs moving, he stopped pushing it and agreed.

He puts the hood back on, locking the door with his keys. He walks to my side.

"Good luck with the project." My hands are in my coat pockets as Callum walks me home. He smiles, then looks at me.

"Meeting you was luck itself. That means if you're in my pictures, I'll bring luck with me." I roll my eyes.

"Cheesy." We come to a stop infront of my flat's door.

"Well, this is it." I purse my lips, looking up at him.

"Yup. I guess we're here." His eyes sort of lose its spark. I worry.

"You okay?" I raise my eyebrows, concerned.

"I wanna see you again." He blurts out. "Is tomorrow okay? The results will come out, and I sort of want you to be there."

"Sure. I'll be there." I rub his arm reassuringly. He slowly lifts his hand to cup mine on his arm. He lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He smiles softly, lets go of my hand, and leaves. I stay in my place, unsure of what to do. When his frame disappears from my sight, I shiver. What was that?

I'm greeted by George as I get in my flat. My heart's beating out my chest, and I feel anxious. There's something in me. It doesn't feel so good. Some sort of regret. Why?

A boy. Not Callum. Someone else. Taller frame. Shorter hair. One eye. Fuck no. No way. I can't. I shouldn't. Why am I thinking about him?

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. 'I don't even call him by his first name.' Joseph Descamps. I feel indifferent calling him his first name. I'm not in terms with him like that. We aren't close enough for me to call him that.

Then suddenly, I want to. I want to call him Joseph. 'Why?' I wonder. Joseph, Joseph, Joseph. It feels nice on the tongue. Descamps is suddenly too long of a name. Joseph is fine. The name, I mean. Not him.

Then suddenly, again, it is. He is. 'No, he's not', but I want him to be. How do I get him to be? 'I can't do this. I really shouldn't.' But, oh, how much I want to.

'No.' I quiet my thoughts. 'No. Never. I won't do it.'

But I want to.

Fuck.

××《☆》××

The next morning, most of the boys are called to the principles office. I sigh in boredom, looking out the window.

"It certainly feels emptier today." Simone says, breaking the silence. I want to laugh, but I can't. I wanted to see the way Joseph's green cardigan looked on his wide frame longer.

I shake my head. I totally didn't get enough sleep last night with that thought popping in my head.

Though, that cardigan really suited him. Green really suits him. It makes him sort of glow. It's not like he doesn't already. Come to think of it, his hair glows, too. It was a bit messy. He probably rushed to school today. I wonder how soft it'll be against my fingers when I brush it off to look neater.

I remember how warm he was that day in the alley. He was so much taller, so he had to basically break his back to reach me. I double take that thought.

He had to break his back just to reach me.

I know he didn't actually break his back, but I just knew that sort of hurt. But it was nice, so I guess it was worth it for him. At least, I hope it was.

Okay, wait. Why am I thinking like this? I guess we're on good terms now. I mean, sure, we bicker, but not as much anymore? I don't know. Whatever. I guess we're fine. I want us to be. I'm tired of being mad at him for no reason.

Yeah. We're fine. That's why I'm thinking like this, right? You know, as a friendly, 'I want to take care of you' kind of way. Which is platonic. Totally. Yeah, that's fine.

Maybe I should say hi from time to time? Or no. Maybe just a nod for a greeting? Too bland. A smile will do. He might be creeped out, though.

I groan internally. Why am I overthinking this? Whatever, I'll just smile and wave. That's good. Simple and effective. Don't overthink it. There's nothing to overthink about.

Ms. Couret walks in, and the class collectively stands up. She's wearing a green dress. It looks nice. It reminds me of Joseph.

Woah. Why am I thinking about him? I think I'm just worried. Yeah. I'm worried about him because we're friends. Wait, are we friends? I'll ask later.

We're told to sit down, and we do. Ms. Couret pulls out a copy of the news. This must be about The Beatles, I remember from the last discussion, before it got interrupted. I light up in my seat.

"We won't wait for your classmates. They're getting tortured at the dean's dungeon." The class laughs.

"Today, we'll start with an article on President Kennedy's murder." So it isn't about The Beatles. I furrow my eyebrows.

I raise my hand.

"Yes?" Ms. Couret lifts her head.

"What about the song?" I shrug my shoulders, asking a bit sadly.

"No. There won't be a song. I don't have the record." I purse my lips in silent disappointment. She passes us some papers, and I sit the rest of the day quietly.

××《☆》××

I walk outside of the gate, the crowds of students slowly dissipating. My hair flows in the wind, styled the same way it was yesterday, except done in a half up half down style. My yellow dress lifts up and down as my legs do.

I'm headed to Callum's school, excited for the results. Almost halfway there, I stop. Joseph is in front of a magazine booth, buying. My heart drops, assuming it was another one of those flashy magazines. But then he leans out the booth, holding a magazine with my face on the cover.

My face is on the cover, and Joseph is buying it.

Two very important things.

One, I got on the cover, so Callum won. Two, Joseph is buying a magazine with my face on the cover. My question is, does he know it's me on the cover? Or is he buying it because he generally likes cars.

I take slow steps forward. The closer I am, the more I hear. And there's a voice inside my head repeating Joseph's words.

"That's my girl." He points to my picture in the magazine, showing the booth owner. "She's gorgeous. I mean, look at her." He makes the magazine face him again. There's a wide smile on his face.

He's smiling. I think I'm starting to like it on him.

The second he turns his head and sees me, the smile I just started to admire drops. He looks red under the afternoon sun.

"Pardine." He clears his throat, hiding the magazine. "What are you doing around here?"

"Headed to St. Patricks. You know the all boys school?" I smile softly. His nervousness seems to fade, for only a little.

"What would you be doing there?" He sounds off.

"Meeting a friend." I lift my shoulders, showing off a smile.

He looks like he melts, then stiffens back up. "A friend? Who? What's his name? What's he look like?"

"You ask a lot of questions. Answer mine first, then I'll answer yours." He nods. "What are you doing here?"

He stutters. "I was just looking around. Thought I'd buy a magazine but then saw you." He's acting uninterested. Or atleast trying to.

"Saw me walking towards you, or saw me in that magazine you have in your hands?" His eyes blow open. I hide my laugh.

"What? What do you- oh." He points to the magazine booth that he's still standing next to.

"That's you? Wow, I didn't know you modelled. It's not like I care or anything." He puts his head down, shrugging his shoulders.

"Why'd you buy it, Joseph?" I smirk, tilting my head, trying to meet his eyes. He shys away.

"I was... gonna burn it. Yeah. I was- wait. What did you call me?" He whips his head up. I try to recall, then flush when I do.

"Nothing."

"You totally called me Joseph." Yes, I did.

"No, I didn't." I shake my head.

"You never call me that." No, but like last night, I want to.

"I didn't call you Joseph."

"You just did."

"You're so childish, Joseph."

"You did it again!"

I groan, walking away from him, as red as when he saw me. Why was he red when he saw me? Whatever, I need to get to Callum.

I hear his steps behind me, and I roll my eyes.

"Y/N, come on." I turn around.

"You called me Y/N."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did." He definitely did.

"I didn't." Mhm, sure.

"You did. You never call me that." I mock him. He rolls his eye.

"Whatever."

"Whatever." I walk away from him. He doesn't seem to follow after me anymore, but then after a while, I hear his steps again.

"What's your friends name again? Are you sure I wasn't the friend you were gonna meet?" Oh right, I was gonna ask him about that.

"Are we friends?" I stop and turn to him.

He stops, too. No talking, no walking.

"Do you want us to be?" He asks. I pause.

"Yes."

"Then, yeah." There's that smile I missed.

"Good." I continue to walk.

"You didn't answer my first question."

"His name is Callum. He was the one who photographed me." I feel him grab my arm, and we stop again.

"He photographed you? When did you even meet? How are you sure he isn't some old creep?"

"Yes, he did. Yesterday, when I was in the market. He's our age, I made sure to ask."

"Okay, how exactly did he come up to you in the market?" He squints, tilting his head.

"Just went up to me, said hi, called me beautiful, offered money for the photos, took the photos, we drove around in his car, and then he walked me home." I shrug simply. He's still hesitant.

"You drove around in a stranger's car?"

"Correction, friends car."

"Yeah, a friend you just met."

"Whatever, I'm here now safe and sound anyways."

"But what if he was some creep? You need to be more careful, Y/N."

"I said it's whatever, Joseph." His eyebrows are furrowed, then after a while, he nods.

I continue to walk, and he follows. I don't stop him.

Once we're in front of St. Patricks' gate, I see the familiar Ford Thunderbird and quickly make my way, Joseph hot on my feet.

I see the familiar man leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets, then I see his toothy grin. I run up to him and give him a hug that he returns.

"Callum! Congratulations. I knew you had it in the bag." I say as I lean away from him. He keeps his arms wrapped around me. I feel a burning stare on us.

"Told you, you brought me luck." He takes his glasses off with his hand, then places the arm he used back on my waist. I hear footsteps and Callum's hold loosens.

There's an arm around my shoulder. Then, an all familiar voice.

"You alright, man? Congrats on the magazine. Y/N's told me about you." I look up at Joseph. His jaw's clenched.

"Of course she did. She told you about the ride on this pretty thing?" He pats the car, and I flush.

"Yeah, she did. I'm Joseph." He puts a hand out for Callum to shake. They clasp hands, and their grips are tight.

"Callum, but I guess you already knew that. If you don't mind me asking, who are you to Y/N?"

"Her b-"

"Friend. He's a friend." I cut him off. He looks at me with hurt in his eyes, then masks it with fake joy.

"Yup. I'm her friend." He nods to Callum.

"Oh. It's a bit weird that she hasn't mentioned you. You know, since you're friends and all." Joseph's arm tightens around me.

"Yeah, it's not like her to talk about her friends to someone she just met." There's a sarcastic smirk on his face.

Callum hums. "Well, s'nice to meet you, Joseph. Have a good one, yeah? And you, pretty lady..." Callum's gaze shifts to me, stare softening.

"Have a good night." He lifts my hand to his lips, placing a soft and lingering kiss on it. I take a deep breath in, maintaining composure, overwhelmed by the attention both boys were giving me.

Callum turns around and drives off on his car. Once his car was out of sight, I look back at Joseph, his stare still on the road where Callum rode off to.

"What was that?" I squint, tilting my head up. He instantly looks down at me with tending eyes.

"Nothing. I'll walk you home." His hand comes town to my arm, rubbing it gently. We turn to the way to my place.

The sun has set, and the street lights are on. It's a quiet night, the only things being heard are footsteps and draining water.

Only a block away from my flat, Joseph's arms are still around me. It feels comforting. It's nice to have a new friend. Though, I've known him longer.

"When you get home, I want you to say hi to George for me." I laugh at that. "I'm not kidding."

"Yeah, I'll say hi to George for you." I smile at the ground, then look up at him. He's already looking at me. We slow down a bit, just staring.

Then he leans in, and I mirror him. We lean in closer, closer, and closer. A moped engine turns on. We stop, and pull away.

"Here we are." He stops, and I didn't even notice we were already at my place.

"Oh. Right." He steps away from me, the arm around my shoulders gone. I feel alone again.

"Well, good night, Y/N." He stand there with his hands in his pockets.

"Good night, Joseph." I purse my lips. He nods. I walk up quarter way to the steps, then I stop.

I go back down, see Joseph, I tip toe, then press a kiss on his cheek. I quickly walk up the stairs again, almost tripping.

I make it to the inside of my flat, not bothering to turn the light on, then rush to the window. I peek out of it, and he's still there. He looks bewildered. Then, a smile slowly sits on his face. He stays there for a while, and then he walks away.

I slowly get up from my place, turning on the light, and I just stand there. Then, I squeal.

Holy fucking shit. Oh my gosh. No way, no way, no way, no way. I just kissed his cheek. Holy shit.

That's normal. Totally. Just a friendly kiss. But it felt nice.

I check the time. It's 12 in the morning. New year's kiss. I just had Joseph as my New Year's kiss. Kind of.

I see George, and smile wider.

"Joseph said hi."

I definitely don't hate not hating him anymore.

××《☆》××

End of- Chapter four: Flashy Magazines

Next- Chapter five: You Know Where To Find Me, and I Know Where To Look

××《☆》××

It's finally done 😭😭 watch me take a month for chapter five /j. Anw, this is a handful chapter. So many emotions. This is turning out to be an enemies to frienimies to lovers. What do u guys think abt Callum? Honestly, hes lowkey me cus i love cars. I wish i had his car. More of him soon too. I wanted tk add fluff so that u guys dont get the idea that im not making joseph and reader end game. I promise i am but u guys have to wait. Happy reading hope u guys liked this!!!

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idkfitememate · 5 months

Note

Ooo!!! what if a Melusine!creator?? (are they consider animals? I dont think so) I think that would be cute!! I mean look at their tiny face!! their button nose??? and and their cutie horns/antlers!!! AND AND THEIR TAIL???( and wings that sometimes flatters!!(I research some melusines on google, and I saw a melusine with wings! is that canon?))

A Melusine!creator with a cottage vibe or or baker that stays in fotaine!! now thats cute!!

wonder how will the fotaine characters react to them🤔🤔

Seeing a Melusine attached to the hip with Neuvillette wasn’t the most uncommon sight. What was uncommon was just HOW attached to the hip this particular Melusine was.

They clearly weren’t employed anywhere, a probably lived in Mersusea or around that area, but there were around Neuvillette every single day.

The other thing about them that was so odd, was generally how they looked.

Melusine were usually short with their little antlers, tiny tails and sometimes little wings. The only know outlier was, of course, Sigewinne.

At least, that’s what was assumed. Then you showed up.

You were on the taller side, coming up to the Sovereign’s chest, with longer horns and a larger tail. Your wings were also larger… they even looked functional. And you honestly looked like a mix between a Melusine, a leaf sheep and a Blue Dragon sea slug. The most different trait being that you looked perfectly androgynous.

You constantly spent your time holding onto Neuvillette and he let you. Your hands were always either around him, gripping his clothes or holding his hands.

The man was perfectly reciprocating to your affections. Holding onto you and allowing you to hold onto him.

The only issue?

He was the only person who you interacted with.

Whenever anyone else tried they were always met with extreme hesitance and silence or you running away. Furina was the most hurt by this.

Though, when Neuvillette requested all officials to come meet him for a conference, they all had a feeling that you may be part of the reason why.

And when Wriothesley, Sigewinne, Furina and Clorinde all came and found him alone in the conference room he called them too, they thought that they may have been wrong.

Well there were wrong about being wrong.

“I have called you here today,” Neuvillette started, “to talk about my mew friend.”

Silence around the room.

The Dragon cleared his throat before continuing.

“If you could not tell before this point, the reason they do not interact with anyone outside of myself is because they are shy.”

Furina huffed at that.

“They have admitted to me that they feel tremendously bad about that, and wish to remedy their relationships with you all. As such, they have a gift for each of you. You may come in now, mon chéri.”

He gestured at a door, and you creeped in with four wrapped baskets on their arms. Blush dappled your cheeks as you looked down. You walked around the table, placing a basket in front of each official - minus Neuvillette.

All the baskets matched the general aesthetic of its recipient. And when unwrapped, we’re filled with all kinds of pastries and treats. You made your round and ran behind the Dragon Sovereign, shoving your face into his side.

He chuckled before leaning down and whispering something in your ear. You stepped forward and began to speak.

“Je m'excuse pour mes actions et mon comportement. Dans la mesure du possible, pourriez-vous trouver dans vos cœurs la possibilité de me pardonner?”

You barely looked up as you spoke, the flawless yet soft speech of the old tongue of Fontaine shocking them. Then Furina stood with dramatic tears in her eyes.

“OF COURSE I FORGIVE YOU DARLING!!! AWE OF COURSE I CAN!!” She quickly got out of her seat and run up to hug you, you wrapping your arms around her.

You shoved your face in her hair as you spoke.

“Merci Madame. Ton pardon illumine mon âme.”

It seemed as though the sun shined a bit brighter into the room.

Little baby!!!! Little baby!!!!!!! I wanna hold them so bad??? Mmmm little baby Melusine!Creator…໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა

*My darling - Neuvillette to You

* I apologize for my actions and behavior. If at all possible, would you be able to find it in your hearts to forgive me? - You to Everyone

* Thank you my Lady. Your forgiveness lights my soul. - You to Furina

#asks <3 #anon <3 #Melusine!Creator

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sydluvsky · 1 year

Text

perfect timing

content warning: a bit of angst and a whole lot of fluff. mentions of anxiety, drinking, sex, swearing. english isn’t my first language, sorry for typos and mistakes.

˗ˏˋ kylian mbappé x fem! reader ˎˊ˗

summary: you’re growing more and more impatient with your long time boyfriend - kylian mbappé - because you think he’s forgotten about your birthday.

————————————————————————————————

the clock hit 1pm and still no declarations for your birthday from your boyfriend of three years. this was so out of character for him. in previous years for your birthdays he always made sure to go over board; often planning months in advance. so why is it that he hasn’t even messaged you today?

you start overthinking like crazy.

has he fallen out of love?

is he announcing the breakup on your birthday?

but before your anxiety consumes you whole your assistant (who kylian hired to look after you) enters the room with shopping bags from designer stores in hand.

“this is from sir mbappé to you” they say and quickly follow up by saying “oh, and happy birthday madame”.

you smile and say thank you. fighting the urge to tell them they don’t have to call you “madame” but you’ve already done that a million times and are trying to be in a good mood for your birthday.

they quickly leave the room and now it’s only you, all alone, on your birthday when you should probably be spending time with your love. before you continue your negative thinking you remember what flew completely over your head. kylian bought you something…that’s something at least but you want him to be with you like he promised. he doesn’t have training, he reminded you yesterday he doesn’t have any plans so what’s going on?

you walk over to the pile of bags. chanel, dior, ysl, more dior, miu miu…gosh he spent so much money.

you see a pale blue card with your name written on it in fancy graceful cursive.

lord please be a letter from kylian.

you pick the mystifying letter up to see it’s sealed with a crimson heart just like all the letter he’s given you for your previous birthdays. your anxiety calms down a little.

you open the letter and are disappointed once again.

‘joyeux anniversaire mon amour.

de kylian ♡’

‘happy birthday my love.

from kylian ♡’

seriously? the disappointment slowly turns into some sort of anger. it’s taking everything in you not to call him up and let out your anger, frustration, sadness and all the other bottled up feelings.

for your previous birthdays you would be blessed with handwritten letters in which he would cover topics such as his love for you, how grateful he is for you in his life and his adoration for you.

you’ve fought the tears for too long and let it all out. you sob while opening up the designer gifts which you’re grateful for but still the need for your boyfriend is eating you alive.

you’re full well convinced he’s no longer in love with you. he set the standards for your birthday so high that this seems like some sick joke…for your first birthday with him you guy’s stayed in dubai for the weekend where every night you both ended it with drinking, dancing around the hotel with the refrigerator lights on and closing it off with sex. for your second birthday with him he woke you up with flowers and breakfast in bed then proceeded to spend the entire day in your company which meant a lot considering his busy schedule.

now for your third birthday with him he hasn’t even spoken to you in real-life, not even a call. you try your best to stop sounding selfish, ungrateful, bratty but you don’t want to invalidate your own feelings.

where the fuck is he?

————— due to how emotionally exhausted you are, you fell asleep, but got woken up from a familiar voice —————

“hey, my love” the voice whisper-shouts warmly into your ear. you can recognise that voice in a crowded room because it’s the voice of your love; kylian mbappé.

he stands there in his 5’10 glory, broad shoulders, black and white suit, honey brown eyes looking at you longingly.

you were about to surrender to his amiable presence but the memories quickly rush through your head. you deeply sigh, break the eye contact and stand up but as soon as you’re about to leave he wraps his brawny hands around your wrist.

you face him again and realise you’ve made your sadness heard in the room because the glow on his face has become dull.

“listen, i can understand what you’re thinking…” he says with visible gloom in his tone but pauses because he realises you aren’t looking at him properly.

he places his fingers on your chin, gently pulling your face to his and continues.

“just know i am going to make it up to you” he places a tender kiss on your cheek but you don’t let him off too soon.

“where were you?”

“why didn’t you message me or call me or try and communicate with me…the designer gifts don’t count ky, you know how much i crave your affection, don’t you?” thankfully your words come out audible because the tears started forming before you even started speaking.

“oh, my love” he says and rushes to hug you, you bury your face in his chest and continue to cry.

“i’ve been busy all day because i am preparing a surprise for you, i should’ve been more careful and told you before hand” he begins.

“ i just- i guess- i just didn’t want you to have a single clue what the surprise was that’s all” he says and follows it up with “i love you so much”.

you say it back but now your minds consumed with what the potential surprise could be.

you lift your head up from his chest and you say curiously; “a surprise?”, “what surprise?”.

he breaks out in his classic grin, chuckles and places a kiss on your head.

“you’ll see, my love”

————————

kylian opens the door of your all black interior volkswagen. you smile at him and hold his hand for support to get out of car.

this guy booked out an entire restaurant!

you almost laugh at your past self for what she thought was happening.

you enter the doors of the luxurious restaurant. kylian beside your side, holding your hand, taking double takes of the regal design of the restaurant and at you wearing a dress of your favourite colour.

“you look beautiful…well you always look beautiful but right now you look extremely beautiful” kylian whispers in your ear, his voice deeper than normal.

you smile hard, say “thank you” and kiss him. he moves his hand up to your cheeks and you both are about to start a make out session but are stopped after a waiter loudly coughs.

your face turns red and you whisper to him “that was so embarrassing”.

but all he does is laugh and plant a kiss on your head.

you see white lights around a table which has a sign above it saying ‘happy birthday y/n’. your face brightens and because of that so does kylian’s.

“do you like it?” he asks.

you take in the atmosphere. luxurious designs, soft music playing in the background which you slowly realise are tunes of your favourite songs. there are so many flowers all around which are different shades of your favourite colour. this guy knows you so well.

“well, of course i do” you say and turn to him to realise he’s on one knee.

now way. oh my gosh. of course this was the surprise. you start feeling a million positive emotions. you look at him and his loving eyes. the ring in his hand has a huge diamond on it with a border filled with your birth stone.

you take in a deep breathe and are about to say something but he starts speaking.

“ y/n i love you, and i only want good memories attached to your birthday so i thought this was the perfect time to propose to you” he begins.

there’s visible tears in his eyes and your heart melts.

“i am sorry for all the frustration i caused you today, and the frustration i’ve caused you before and the frustration i am probably going to cause in the future” his voice becomes slightly softer and you’re about to re-assure him how loveable he his but notice he’s going to continue so you just mouth “i love you”.

“ over time i have realised that the most precious things to me beside my passion for my profession is you. and i want to spend the rest of my life with you…so y/n, do you want to marry me?” he finishes it off.

his eyes are glossy and his voice is hopeful.

you look at him and say “yes, yes i will! a million times yes! yes!” and you begin a chain of “yesses” which makes him laugh.

he carefully starts placing the gorgeous ring on your finger and lifts you up after. he begins kissing you until he’s got you bridal style and sits you down on your designated chair on the table.

once you’ve sat down you notice a familiar pale blue letter and smile to yourself. of course he wrote you a heart-felt letter.

you look away because you can feel his eyes on you. your eyes meet eye to eye and he asks “was this the perfect timing for all this?” his tone is filled with worry which makes you question “ yeah, of course, why?”.

“it’s just…i don’t know, all i know was that i wanted to put a ring on your finger because we’ve been dating for almost three years but didn’t know when.”

“i don’t really know if you want your engagement day to be attached to your birthday that’s all” he looks down after concluding what he said.

“kylian, this was the perfect timing for everything. don’t worry too much.” you reply lovingly.

he breaks into a smile and has a noticeable light bulb moment.

“i think that’s what makes us so perfect together…we both worry too much” he jokes.

laughter fills the restaurant and the rest of the night is filled with both you having “remember when this happened?” conversations and cheesy love declarations to each other.

—————— the end ———————

thank you so much for reading!

#kylian mbappé #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe smut #kylian mbappe one shot #kylian mbappe headcanon #footballers #mbappe imagines #mbappe one shots #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x shy reader #mbappe x reader

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silverscreencaps · 10 months

Text

The Earrings of Madame de… (1953) dir. Max Ophuls

#The Earrings of Madame de #Max Ophuls #france #criterion collection #bw

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dragonagecompanions · 8 months

Note

How do you think the Dragon Age Inquisition advisors and companions would react to Child Inquisitor being the child of the Champion of Kirkwall? Also could you make Fenris the child Inquisitor's father?

Cassandra: This is...problematic.

Varric had told her enough of the Champion's husband to know that Fenris will already be desperately hunting for his child, and the Champion...so much of their family is lost, it is unthinkable that Hawke will not be in the same state. Trying to convince them both that the inquisition has not kidnapped their offspring for political reasons will require all the tact she does not have.

And will rely on the very little goodwill she can wring from Varric, who she technically did kidnap for political reasons. She will need to keep Josephine close by at all times.

Solas: For so young a child, the dalen is already a political firestorm waiting to happen. The guilt he carries from having his magic stitched into their very flesh (and the pain this child is feeling from it) was already enough to convince him to stay, but being so close to the power center of both Inquisition and the Champion of Kirkwall is an unexpected boon. He will keep his finger on the pulse of all things anchor related, and keep himself close to the actions that are working to restore Thedas to order.

And by helping this child now, keep himself on the right side of a very angry elf who might be a problem before the Dread Wolf has his power returned.

Varric: Okay so, here’s the most important thing: he should have known.

Logically there is no way that Varric Tethras-Kirkwall’s author in residence and nominally a captive of the Right Hand of the Divine- could have known that the child of his best friend in the entire world had somehow snuck away from home AND traveled halfway across the blessed world AND infiltrated a highly secure theo-political conclave designed to reign in a burgeoning civil war to enact some sort of temporary peace. He has contacts and resources and keeps an ear to the ground, but that doesn’t mean the Merchant’s Guild can tell him everything the minute it happens.

And yet the fact that a child exists in the world who is half Fenris (impulsive and quick to defend what is his) Hawke (and carries the legacy of that family) really does mean that there wasn’t anywhere else they’d end up. It’s not a comfort to Varric when the Seeker and his best friend’s kid crest the hill toward them, but it certainly changes his standing with the Inquisition. So long as the kid is there Varric’s not leaving-- he owes Hawke at least that much and more. One way or another things are going to have to be put to rights.

Blackwall: Once, as another man in another life, his actions had led to the death of four children. Even then, in the height of his arrogance and conceit, Thom Rainier had stood over those small shrouded forms and would have given his own life a hundred times over to spare them. Nothing could have brought them back, of course, and no matter how many times he had knelt before Andraste's statues and begged for Her forgiveness it was not a burden he could lay down himself.

This child, Andraste's herald or not, is not a replacement for Collier's children. Defending their life will not wipe out the debt he owes to that slaughtered family. But as he shoulders his shield and sword in their defense, it just might be a start to that forgiveness.

That will be enough.

Vivienne: Children are not in a Circle mage's destiny, no matter how high her star may climb. The dreams of children with her perfect bone structure and Bastien's eyes will forever be only that. Madame de Fer has come to accept this, has spent her entire life accepting this. If she is softer with the new apprentices newly torn from their families, more patient with the young mages still struggling with a life behind walls, that is no one business but her own.

The Herald of Andraste is a child. No matter their illustrious parentage or the fame carried by those parents, they are too young to be bandied about as some sort of divine tool to rescue the world. The Game has no minimum age, of course, and Vivienne is not naive enough to think that Hawke's offspring will not have to play it in time, but she will be taking special care to to keep both eyes on the child to whom they will ask so much of.

And a sharper eye on those who would use them. Fenris is not the only one who can glow, when needed.

Sera: Little people need looking out for, and not much littler than a sprog. From the first jump their tiny Herald has an ever devoted guardian, one who ensures there is as much fun as serious herald business, and cookies for all.

When the parents do eventually arrive, her general distrust of all things magic and ardent desire to preserve their childhood will endear her to Fenris like none other in the Inquisition. Someone must look out for the little people, and while their methods are not the same each can respect the other.

Dorian: Vishente Kaffas, this is a child. In the light of that discovery a great many of his opinions on Alexius's plans (mostly on how his mentor is simply desperate to save Felix and not thinking clearly) and brutally altered. This man who wants to murder someone hardly old enough to see over the table is not the man he once knew, and there are no excuses he can make that will make it less barbaric.

By the time they are escaped from that terrible Not-Future Dorian has formed a trauma bond with this young person as profound as any he has known, and their safety is now absolutely his priority. Despite his disinclination for their creation Dorian is not opposed to children, and along with others is very content to take over their education in all things both mundane and magical.

Fenris's arrival is still loud and bright and involves quite a few angry comments between former slave and not yet magister, but in the end Dorian's unshirking resolve toward the young Herald will carry the day. When Fenris eventually finds out that his child is set to inherit Dorian's seat in the Magisterium as the heir to the current Pavus heir, that argument will be even louder.

Iron Bull: The Qun is very clear on the care and feeding of children in their charge, and it has never been in his destiny to be a Tamassran. Nor is the Iron Bull ignorant of the identity of the Inquisitors parents. But seeing how small the Herald is, something deep and protective in the mercenary captain surprises even himself.

(His Tama is both surprised and not to get a letter from her former charge, and if her memories of the little boy hold true he will read her meaning in the otherwise clinical advise on the care and keeping of young children.)

Watching the Chargers adopt the little Herald as one of their own has another lasting effect. There is no decision on the Storm Coast, not with this true understanding o family, and in truth Bull was lost to the Qun long before Gatt came south with an unbeatable test.

Cole: "So young, so bright, wanted to come south to find Uncle Varric, never meant to hurt anyone. You just wanted to help, to heal the hurt and make it whole. I want that too!"

The innocent and ardent desire of children to do good, and the boundless compassion that comes with youth, makes the Herald and Cole perfect companions. This friendship is strained by the arrival of Fenris's Anders driven loathing of abominations, but a more patient Hawke might ease the way there.

Josephine: She has younger siblings, and is currently responsible for the fate of House Montiliyet. The care and feeding of one small child is...well, child's play. If only Cassandra would not keep pulling her aside like some talisman against the Champion of Kirkwall.

If it were less entertaining, their ambassador might have informed the Seeker that her letters to Aveline Vallen have already abated much suspicion...

Leliana: There are one or two amongst her agents who have some experience with children, and she assigns them watch over their Herald. Beyond that, the spymaster keeps a distance. A child need not know all the brutal things done to keep the world turning. That is sacrifice enough.

If, every once in a while, the young herald is soothed after a nightmare with Ferelden lullabyes in an Orlesian accent, few are brave enough to share it.

Cullen: Maker's breathe, he'd thought he left Kirkwall behind him. Like Leliana he assigns soldiers who either are parents or who are good with children to keep a weather eye on the child, and adopts Cassandra's strategy of using Josephine as a shield against Champion and/or Lyrium Ghost rage.

Once was enough.

Mod Fereldone

#dragon age inqusition #child inquisitor #solas #dorian pavus #blackwall #cassandra pentaghast #vivienne de fer #the iron bull #cole #cullen rutherford #josephine montilyet #lelianna #hawke #fenris #varric tethras

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rapha-reads · 3 days

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Some IWTV s02e02 thoughts in no particular order:

Daniel: "Are you going to keep finishing each other's..."

Me: sandwiches.

Daniel: "Oh, I'm done thinking. Bring me the tequila and some popcorn, let's flip to channel 300-something, it's a Univision night!"

That, and the whole telenovela thing: MOOD. I love that guy's sass.

The vampire who goes and kills a guy behind Loumand flirting, and when he catches the head, goes "Merci !". That. I love that. I want a gif of that. But with the sound.

Louis goes and reads Daniel ('s mind, or, just reads him) whenever he feels like his own memory is lying to him, or when Danny boy strikes a chord he'd rather stay silent. But Daniel apparently has his own demons. That scene with Loumand teaming up to invade his mind was chilling actually.

Okay, can I be unnecessarily and gratuitously nitpicky for a minute? Because I'm gonna be honest, a good 75% of the French in this episode was not. Good. I mean, it was passable, but man did it grate on my ears. Also, I AM from Toulouse, and I'm sorry "Madame" but that was not a Toulousain accent. The couturière's def native French, and I wonder if Armand's French during the Murder Manoir scene is Assad himself or dub, because when it's Assad, his "Théâtre des Vampires" is uuuuh yeah, that's alright, but come on, for a vampire who's been living in Paris since freaking Charlemagne lui-même, ton accent laisse à désirer, l'ami. Il y a comme qui dirait des relents britanniques... Enfin. Je dis ça, je dis rien.

Oh, speaking about the Murder Manoir, I love the episode insider! Jacob describing the chaos during the filming of that scene was adorable. And Delainey's giddiness is so cute too!

Anyway, I love how that episode shifts tone and genre from one scene to another. Opening with the cliché Parisian ouverture, only thing lacking was the béret, I swear, then going full telenovela, and then straight into noir gothic, with some meta, vaudeville, pantomime when we're with the company... Oh, and full romantic drama during the Letter scene.

Now can we have Lestat back, I miss Sam Reid's unhinged presence.

#my apologies for the french in the middle of this rambling sometimes i can not keep the linguistic chauvinism in check #rapha talks #rapha watches shows #interview with the vampire #iwtv #iwtv s2 #iwtv spoilers #do you know what it means to be loved by death

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peaky-shelby · 1 year

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NEW ROMANTICS | MBAPPÉ [8]

» summary: in which an arrogant and talented football player (the best of his time as some say) and a focused and harsh critic of a journalist are gonna have to find a way to co-exist.

» chapter 8: life is just a classroom

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» writers note: good luck???

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His dark eyes glowed in the dark as they looked up at her. His face half hidden in between her thighs. A dangerous view. Her hand grasping on the sheet. Her scream expressed in a gasp of air because her vocal chords felt broken. His hands glued on her, leaving invisible tattoos anywhere he’d touch her. He head appeared whole , he reached closer to her lips. He dived in her neck. Biting her ear. His heartbeat an echo in the dark room.

Knock.

Getting louder. His lips on hers, her sitting up just to be closer, to taste ever part of his lips she could, her hands all too familiar with the back of his head and his hair in between them.

Knock. Knock.

Was that hers or his heartbeat? Was it both in the same rhythm. Her eyes close.

“Taylor” he whispers and it’s a sound she could get drunk on. She takes in a heavy breath; she took in his smell. It’s so wrong. She opened her eyes. He smirked. Behind him she can see the stands, they’re not in her room.

Knock. Knock.

“Taylor!” His voice come out clearer now. He leans in to kiss her again, but she only focuses on where they are. The field. There’s something incredibly romantic about an empty field.

“Taylor!”

She jumped on the bed, her heart beating faster than the drums on a rock song, reaching for air. A hand pushing her thigh, she flinched, screamed, and fell off the bed.

Knock. Knock.

“Open the goddamn door.” Sayd Trish in a gruff and tired voice, her face half hidden in the pillows. Taylor looked around confused, she rubs her head. Her mind stuck on the dream or memory whatever it was. Like someone had set a curse for her to be controlled by him.

Knock!

She got up, tried to steady herself and looked through the peephole. A suited important looking man, black skinned and tall. She opened the door slightly, peaking her head in between.

“What could you possibly want from me?” she asked, not in the mood for conversation.

“Monsieur Mbappe m'a envoyé chercher sa voiture. Si vous pouviez me donner les clés, s'il vous plaît.”

She would have reacted if she knew what the hell he was talking about. Instead, she remained frozen as she was, a dumbfounded, brain cell burned expression on her face.

“Madame va bien ? J'ai juste besoin des clés.”

“What on earth are you on about?”

“Les Cles pour la voiture!”

Maybe if she hadn’t just woken up from a scary dream she would have understood it faster but all she could hear were noises with an accent. Suddenly she was pushed on the side by Trish. A very angry looking Trish, who started speaking in French to communicate with the guy. Taylor stood watching a little surprised by her friend.

“He wants Kylian’s keys!” she said quickly.

Taylor raised her eyebrows, processing and slowly understanding. She looked at the clock tied around her wrist, than back at the unknown guy “It’s 6am” she spat out. They guy seemed to be saying something else, but she couldn’t follow again. Trish was already looking around the house for the car keys while Taylor was contemplating murder, not of the guy but of Kylian. Her friend found the keys under the desk, Luna sitting next to them. She grabbed them and gave them to the employee, faking a smile. “Bonjour!” she said quickly and closed the door. Taylor kept her hand on the door, her eyes settling on Trish.

“I’m going to murder him.”

“If he wakes me up again at 6am, I’m murdering both of you!” she said and went straight for the coffee machine.

“This is an act of war” mumbled Taylor, already planning her own attack in her mind “What does he even need the car for at 6am in the morning? Why would he be awake at 6am in the morning? This was planned! That’s why he gave me the keys in the first place—”

“TAYLOR! TAYLOR! Please, I just woke up, lower your bloody voice.” She complained, starting the coffee machine. “Why is this so noisy?” she bent her head on the counter groaning.

“Since when do you speak French?” she asked, getting closer to her friend.

“I was paying attention in class, wasn’t kicking balls all the time like you.” She paused, smirking “not in sports at least, you know.”

“Oh my god.” Her disgust was visible on her tone. She went and sat back on the bed, pulling the sheets and the blankets over her head “it’s too early for this.”

“You know...” she dropped sugar on her coffee “if you two started fucking each other on regular basis, I think it would solve a lot of problems—”

Taylor threw the sheets away from her face, looking at her “are you out of your mind?”

Trish picked up her coffee, smiling and sat on the edge of the bed “girl you were whispering his name in your sleep—” Taylor sat up in shock, her eyes widening in fear. She held her mouth with her hand. “I’m just saying. You are not exactly subtle. Neither is he. Ramos knows he has a hate-crush on you.” She took a sip from her cup, her eyes staying and watching at Taylor’s expressions. She was enjoying this, she kept opening her mouth like she was going to say something, but no actual words would leave her mouth. She raised her finger.

“Which reminds me—” she started changing the subject “you and Ramos are a little too close, aren’t you?” she asked. Trish laughed, winking. “You never talk to a guy that hot unless you plan to fuck him or have fucked him already and you are leaving to go back to England tonight so—” her voice trailed off, her eyes getting bigger “Oh my god you already fucked him.” Trish sipped loudly on her coffee, a slight smirk on her face as she left the cup down and got up to go to the bathroom. “You slept with one of my players?”

“So did you.” She reminded her from the other room, the water running on the sink. Taylor didn’t have an answer to that, so she just dropped herself back on the bed, sinking in the pillows, wishing it was an ocean instead. Her palms reached for her face, rubbing it and muffling the loud groan that came out of her throat. Trish came back in the room, looking fresh and less like a half awaken zombie. “Besties that fuck the same team, stay together? Or something like that—”

“Trish please”

Trish laughed, picking up some of her shirt from the floor and leaving them on the bed before getting each one to fold them carefully. “Listen, the only reason we are alive is to eat and have sex—”

“OH MY GOD. It’s not happening!” she got up, pushing her hair out of her face “It was just a moment of weakness! Me and him it can’t happen because I’ve already given up my writing for this team— I’m not risking my job for a fuck. End of discussion.” She took her phone and left for the bathroom, closing the door with a thud that made Trish jump.

But Trish smiled because she knew her friend all too well. The door to the bathroom opened again just a few seconds later. Trish studied her friend who had her face stuck on her phone, looking at something important. “What happened, did he text you?”

“No…” she murmured “it’s official.”

“what’s official? Taylor what’s going on?” Taylor handed the phone over to her friend, showing her a post on Instagram. An article about her joining the team. Trish started reading “PSG hires ex female player and journalist as a coach consult before QATAR TOUR 23” They looked at each other, all sort of emotions appearing in their faces. “why do you look like a ghost? This is good news! Are you ok?”

“No, I am not ok.” She confessed, her eyes saddening, worry reflecting on them as realization hit her harder than it had so far “I slept with one of my players.” She paused, her brows lowering, the blood leaving her face. Her voice coming out weak and broken “and I liked it.”

TRAINING CAMPUS / GYM – DAY

“You’re here early.” Mumbled Hakimi when he saw Kylian coming in, already dressed and ready.

“Don’t want to give her any excuses to blow her whistle on my face again.” He said, jumping on the treadmill next to Hakimi. “What about you?”

“We have the fitting for DIOR in the afternoon, wanted to finish before that—”

Kylian almost tripped as he stopped running for a second. He held on to the treadmill to regain his balance and looked at Hakimi “That’s today?”

“Yeah, why? You had other plans?”

“Meant to meet a friend. What time?”

“I’m planned for 5. I don’t know about you. Leo was scheduled for 3 maybe you’re with him.”

“They are separating us?”

“yes” he said simply and continued running. He heard footsteps coming from the entrance and he looked behind him, taking a quick peak. It was Ramos, looking at his phone.

“You guys saw the announcement?”

“What announcement?”

“I think you’d rather get off the treadmill first.” He smiled. Kylian glanced at him. He hesitated but stepped of the treadmill and snatched his phone from him. Reading the same announcement that Taylor had read, his expression copying hers because the same realization hit him like a car, because there was no more hiding on the sin they had committed.

“Merde…” he whispered.

“You ok Man?” asked Ramos, a smirk on his face. Hakimi got off his treadmill too, moving in between them to read whatever they were reading. His first reaction was to look at his best friend, unlike Ramos, Hakimi wasn’t smiling. He was worried, he knew much more and saw way more than he was letting on. Kylian left without saying anything.

“Holy shit.” Was all Hakimi said.

TRAINING CAMPUS / OUTSIDE AREA – DAY

Fog. Cold. Grey skies and grey feelings. All of those things expressing the emotions of almost everyone in the field.

Taylor saw him when she came, passing by her on the hall. Walking in different directions, their energy touching on another. She kept her eyes on the floor while he moved next to her, and he stared blankly in front of him like he hadn’t even seen her. Still, there was a sense of electricity that charged both of them when they walked passed one another. An electricity that made her close her eyes and him close his fist. No jokes, no side eyes. Nothing.

She was in the middle of the field, watching the players moving in between the obstacles. Sometimes they’d stop, they’d fool around. Marquinhos accidently stepped on Neymar and he smacked him on the back of his neck. That started a little game of chasing each other around. She would have blew her whistle sooner if she didn’t get carried away by seeing Neymar laughing like that. She had missed that dork.

“Wilock!” she turned around, meeting Linda, the secretary. “You’re on the third batch. You have a fitting at 5.” She gave her a little card that had her name and a number on it, number 16. She felt a burden on her soldiers.

“What’s this for?”

“DIOR Fitting. You’re part of the team now, they wanna show off their new girl.”

“Wai—wait” she cleared her throat “Did you just say DIOR, or is that another French word I don’t understand?”

Linda laughed, shaking her head “just be outside at 4:30. They’ll drive you and a few more of the players at the fitting.” She said and left but Taylor had so many questions. She read the card again, narrowing her eyes, like she was trying to read in between the lines. She turned it around, her pupils dilating when she saw the stamp on the back “bitch really said DIOR.” She mouthed an inaudible ‘oh my god’ before someone violently crashed on her back, causing her to misstep and ran a few steps in order to not fall. She looked behind her, Kimpembe standing there with his hands raised claiming his innocence. “Wasn’t me!” he said quickly and looked to his left. Bernat was on the ground there, bent to his knees, breathing heavily. He waved his hand, apologizing quickly.

She put the whistle back in between her lips and blew it. Everyone closing their ears.

“I want her whistle privileges revoked.” Complained Neymar at Marquinhos.

Kylian, standing also next to Neymar, overheard the comment. He pulled his neck warmer up, glaring at her from a distance. She caught it, looked in his direction while players moved in the space between them. She put the whistle back in her mouth and blew it, coldly at him.

TRAINING CAMPUS / ENTRANCE – DAY

Taylor walked out, looking at the card, back and forth, again and again. She kept thinking that the words on it would disappear eventually and all of it would turn out to be a prank. One of the employees, held her arm to lead her on the right van. She followed with no complained, her disbelief showing in her face. The employee opened the door for her and nodded for her to go kin.

“Merci” she mumbled and stepped inside, still looking at the card. She slid on the window seat, until her thigh bumped on someone else’s. She looked up, realizing she wasn’t alone in the car.

Hakimi gave her an awkward smile, waving at her. She cleared her throat and moved a few inches away from him, looking away. A few moment later Sergio came on the van, sliding next to her. Then Neymar, sitting across from her and—

“Oh, for crying out loud—” she murmured when she saw him bending himself to get in the car. He stopped when he saw her. Tension rising in seconds. She looked away but she had no idea where to keep her eyes on. She didn’t want to look at Hakimi and she couldn’t look at Neymar either. Looking at Ramos made her stomach twist because she could see Trish all over him. So, the choices were two, ceiling or the floor. She tried the floor first, but her eyes kept looking at his feet. She bit her tongue and laid her head back, staring at the ceiling instead.

“You alright?” asked Ramos.

“Parfait.” she said.

Kylian’s eyes arose in the sound her voice. Hakimi noticed the look his was giving him, a look mixed with crave and anger. He kicked his ankle, to get him back on reality. Kylian looked at him, his expression softening.

“Exercising your French?” questioned Ramos.

“Only so I can yell at you in both languages.” She said simply, keeping her eyes closed.

“Je veux te voir essayer.” Prompted Kylian. She lowered her head, her eyes meeting his. Being locked in a car with him, in such an enclosed space felt wrong. It felt like she was trapped. Her palms were sweating as she thought about last night’s dreams, her dirty thoughts racing at the corner of her mind. She was feeling naked, the more that he looked at her, having to remind herself that they weren’t alone in the car. The only words she picked out was “je veux” which she knew meant “I want”. She had no idea what the rest of was but still decided to torment him.

“Do you?” she asked. Seeing the fear and surprise when he thought she understood him. He was intrigued.

Now it was Neymar’s turn to notice, the way they glared at each other. Like they were going to attack one another in seconds. He and Hakimi locked their eyes, understanding each other, Neymar slowly picking on the tension.

“Hey chill out. Both of you! Jesus.” He waved his hand between them to ruin their moment, feeling weird just by watching them. “Santo inferno.” He mumbled in Brazilian. Taylor looked back at the ceiling again. His eyes would unwilling always find their way back to her but in his defense, he tried to look away.

“Bonjour, bonjour! Je m’appelle Diego! Je suis heureux de vous rencontrer.” Diego was really energetic, dressed in what looked like an expensive suit. Incredibly tall and pretty. He looked so elegant, she thought. As she followed everyone inside the venue. Elise was waiting for them inside, smiling when she saw everyone.

“bonjour!” she said, shaking everyone’s hand. “Venez avec moi. Les loges sont à l’étage.” She explained and motioned for them to follow. Taylor was walking slowly behind them in the back, studying the venue. It was big, with cameras set around and white sheets. She imagined it’s where the boys would be photographed later. While going upstairs with them she noticed how expensive everything looked. Golden and fashionable. Then they reached the room.

The room was separated in small private spaces, that everyone could go change in respectively. There were mirrors around for them to look at themselves after they were dressed. She stood behind Neymar, gulping.

Elise walked up to her smiling “Ta robe dans un de ceux-là.” She said and pointed at the third fitting box.

“Elle ne parle pas français.” Said Kylian quickly, Taylor looked up at him annoyed.

“Oh um.... Your dress…in there. You…change.” Taylor was looking at Kylian while Elise spoke, with her broken English, twisting her tongue.

“Merci” she said, glancing back at Elise.

Kylian smiled, winked even and walked in his fitting room. Taylor did the same shortly after, closing the curtain behind her as well as she could. When she turned around she found the dress. Blue, the color of the team and magnificent. Hanged up on one side of your fitting room “oh my god” she whispered, getting closer and touching it with her thumb. “This is beautiful.”

He could hear her changing from his fitting room, next to hers. Her clothes falling on the floor, her feet moving around the small space. He buttoned up his white shirt as quickly as he could so he’d stop listening to those sounds because it was doing something to him. He walked out, Diego clapping for him and saying he looked amazing. He led him to one of the mirrors and helped him put on the jacket of the suit.

“it feels a little long”

“That’s cause we haven’t adjusted it yet.” Said Diego. Another woman came next to him, examine the suit while holding a box of needles on her hands the other boys started coming out, following the same process while the tailors adjusted their suits for them.

“Elise!” called Taylor from inside her fitting room. Kylian turned to her direction only by the sound of her voice but she was still inside. Elise rushed in to help her while one of tailors reminded Kylian to keep his body straight and steady. He obeyed looking at himself in the mirror until he saw her reflection, walking out of the curtain dressed in the navy blue dress, tied around her neck by two very thin threads, and a length that got just a little over her knees. He couldn’t notice anything wrong with it, maybe because he was too focused on her bare feet and how good they looked on her new pair of black heels. He knew that heat in his chest, all too well by now, she was the only one that could ignite it. Ramos came out of his curtain a few seconds later, whistling when he saw her. That made him mad. Elise led her on the other side of the room, behind him, that allowed him to still be able to look at her reflection while they tailored her dress, shortening it. He could even see her face by the way the mirrors reflected on each other and she could see him too. Their eyes meeting while everyone else clueless of the way the stared on another through the mirrors. Sometimes he’d let his gaze travel down to her hips and her legs before letting get back to her face. She did the same, he noticed it, a slight smirk on his lips when he realized she was checking him out.

“Good length. You see legs better.” said Elise.

“j’aime…” she thought about it “la?” she questioned herself getting a few side giggles from the boys. All except Hakimi, who sometimes was as bad as her. Elise smiled standing up and stood behind her pulling the dress down to show her chest more. The minute she did that her eyes searched for Kylian’s. Yeah, he was still looking and she felt a sense of happiness when she realized.

“Tu es tres belle.”

“Merci, Elise.” She said, while still looking at Kylian until he abruptly diverted his gaze back to himself.

“Just wait till they see me arriving at the stadium looking like this. One-zero, already!” he bragged. Hakimi laughing from where he was standing next to him. Taylor scoffed, looking away.

“such confidence.” She mumbled. Kylian glanced at her.

He smiled.

When they boys were done, they were taken to the venue downstairs to take some videos and pictures for the official psg account. Taylor’s dress took longer. Elise wanted it to be perfect, show her silhouette and all her curves. Communicating was hard when she could barely speak French and Elise could barely understand English. But they pointed at what they needed, making sense of it in the end. When they agreed on everything, Elise told her to change so she could fix the dress. Taylor got back behind her curtain and tried to get off her dress but the knot was so tight around her neck she couldn’t untie it and she was too scared of ruining it. Plus, the dress was filled with needles.

“Elise!” she called “Je… aide?” her hand reached behind her neck, trying to pull on the threads until she heard the curtain opening, a presence behind her. “Merci” she said.

She felt his thumb on the back of her neck before she heard his voice “De rien.”

She jumped and turned out, Kylian standing in front of her. She smacked his shoulder. “Are you out of your mind? Get out!” she warned.

“Je veux t’aider” he said innocently, grinning.

She went to push him out, when she heard steps, Elise, coming back. She walked back against the wall and pulled him closer to her, their bodies slamming together.

“Ms. Taylor, ca va bien?”

“Oui” she said quickly “Oui!”. Kylian’s eyes seemed to find comfort in her lips while she was trying to save his mess. He leaned a little closer, his hands close to her body, looking at her with hunger. “Could you get me a glass of water?”

“Que?”

Kylian pulled back so she could see his face. He’d mouth every word slowly and she’d repeat them

“Pourrais”

‘Pou-ais”

He held back his laugh “je”

“Je.”

“Avoir”

“Aboir-“ he held his hand in front of his mouth, cracking up. She stepped on his foot and he let out an inaudible gasp, pulling his foot away.

“Damn you!” he mouthed.

“Mademoiselle?” tried Elise.

“Yes sorry, I’m trying—” she stopped when she felt his lips on her ear, as close to her as ever. This time whispering the words in her ear. She repeated them slowly, same way he was telling them or at least that’s what she thought. She couldn’t really focus on her accent when she could smell his cologne like that, when his lips brushed her ear, reminding her of her sins. Each word sounded dirty, it almost felt wrong repeating them.

“Pourrais-je avoir un verre d'eau?” she asked in the end with her messy accent but thankfully clear enough for Elise to understand.

“Oui.” Said Elise and left the room again.

Taylor stayed as she was until Kylian decided to move his face away from hers, allowing her to breathe normally.

“That was a C plus” he said, with a cocky grin.

“Leave” she warned.

“We need to talk.”

“Lost your keys?”

“I’m serious!”

“Not here.”

“After the fitting. come with me.”

“No.” she said as if the answer was obvious.

“Taylor—”

“Get out.” She persisted.

He let out a bitter breath, his hand reaching behind her neck, his fingers playing with the thread that was keeping the dress on her. He played with it a little, intentionally. The skin to skin contact made her weak, made her embarrassed for her thoughts. Then he untied it, the dress loosening around her but not enough to fall off. Still she moved her hand over her chest, holding the dress up. He smiled, examining her whole one last time before his index finger stroked her blushed cheekbone for a second.

Taylor let herself crumble against the cold wall, trying to replace the warmth he had ignited.

“I just wanna go home.” Said Neymar, sitting next to Ramos on the couch. He couldn’t take it with the flash and the cameras anymore. He leaned back, covering his face. Ramos laughed and patted his thigh. “I haven’t even packed for tomorrow.”

“I don’t think anyone has.”

“Mr. Ramos! Your suit is ready!”

Ramos got up. For a moment Neymar was alone, half asleep on the coach when he felt the space next to him deepening. He looked to his right, meeting Taylor. She lifted her leg up, crossing them on the coach, getting comfortable. A sweet silence settling between them. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore her.

“Suit looked good on you.” She tried. All she got as a respond was a slight ‘hm’. She sunk deeper on the couch. “This is all very special, isn’t it?” he opened his right eye taking a quick peak at her. She looked at him, smiling. She poked his shoulder “you’re gonna talk to me or what?”

“Where’s your whistle?”

“Left it at the stadium with my devil horns.”

“Ah!” he nodded, letting out a very weak and short laugh before silence came back.

She looked at her fingers, scratching her nails. “you ever gonna forgive me?”

He made a ‘tsk’ sound with his death, shaking his head slowly.

“I know I hurt you. Maybe I was little too harsh in my reviews—”

“Maybe?”

“Fine, very harsh. Definitely. But—” she huffed “it’s the same with Kylian. I see your potential and it stinks that you let personal issues get in the way of it. There is zero chemistry on the field anymore. People can see that, they are not dumb. You’re trying to better when it’s all about working together. He gets mad because he is in denial. You get sad because you know it’s true.”

He avoided her eyes “haven’t seen you writing anything new.”

She hesitated “I gave it up.”

“What?” he looked at her.

“I can’t do both things. I thought I could but… first of all there is no time and…” she smiled “I don’t like dragging my friends online.” His eyes softened, she shrugged her shoulder “I just drag them in their face.” He laughed, nodding. “Whistling in their ear. I have to be honest I’m having a lot of fun torturing you!”

“We can tell!” she smacked him.

The doors behind them opened and laughter was heard. She could recognize both laughs. When she looked behind her, she saw Kylian, next to a much taller familiar man.

“TJ!” Called Bellingham and Taylor jumped up from the couch while Jude came closer to hug her. She hugged him back, feeling a sense of home in his arms.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked, stumbling her words. He pulled back to look at her.

“Kylian called, he said you’re going out for drinks.”

“Did he?” She asked in a high pitched voice, giving him the fakest smile she could master.

“Thought you’d like to see a friend from the past.” Said Kylian, his arm hanging around Jude’s shoulder. “he’s leaving tomorrow. It’s be a shame not to.”

She smiled. Unable to do anything else.

ROOFTOP GARDEN BAR – NIGHT

“She got in a fight every other day with the lads.” Joked Jude.

They all sat in a rounded table. Kylian and Taylor across from each other, separated by everyone else. She was in between Neymar and Hakimi, secretly hoping Ramos would have been here as well. Taylor was pretending to laugh through all the embarrassing stories that Jude was telling about her, the same look of annoyance in her face through the whole night.

“It’s because I knew I was better than all of you.” She supported, sipping on her Margarita.

“You were in trouble with the coaches too.”

“Really?” gasped Neymar.

“Don’t get any ideas on your mind Junior. I was just…” she thought of the right word “a little feisty.”

“A little? You were loud.”

“She’s still loud.” Mumbled Kylian. Their eyes met under their dim lights. His comment dirty for anyone that could understand. She looked away.

“She had a little crush on me too, didn’t you?” he laughed. Taylor opened her mouth, laughing.

“That’s fake news. It was you that had a crush on me. Remember?”

“Don’t listen to her, she was at my house every other day.”

“We were kids” she defended, finally starting to enjoy the moment “It was only because your mother made the best carbonara I’ve ever tasted. I was obviously using you!” Jude pretended to be hurt, holding a hand over his chest. “Oh don’t do that—” she chuckled “Remember my dad’s cooking? Your mother was my last hope—plus, you were all over Sandra when I wasn’t there.”

He raised his finger “oh— hold up now, that’s not fair. I might—” motioned his hands “have filled the empty space you were always leaving me with, with Sandra—” Everyone laughed, Taylor hitting her hand on the table. It was a loud belly laugh. Kylian realized he had never made her laugh like that “but you’re the one that left us, moved away to Chelsea—” She chuckled, looked at her cocktail, cocking her head. Her expression saddening. She bit the corner of her mouth, not really wanting to say anything. “Then she met Mason, forgot all about us brummie boys.”

Neymar raised his eyebrows in shock. She shrunk in her place, shaking her head “Mason Mount?” asked Neymar. Everyone except Kylian was shocked. He already knew. “I could have sworn you said something about being immune to footballers ones—so far you’ve dated two—”

“OK!” She raised her hand “Me and Mr. Dracula over there—” Jude laughed at the nickname, obviously an inside joke “We never dated.”

“That breaks my heart, doll.”

“I was Nine!” she protested, still laughing “and you’d buy candy rings for me. Of course I lied about being in love with you.” She explained “and Mason… it was very brief. You know… got immunity right after him.”

It was Kylian’s turn to laugh, maybe a little louder than he should have, everyone looking at him. Taylor must have tried to kick him but she got Jude’s leg instead.

“What the ‘ell?” He yelled.

Taylor tried to wave it off, like she actually meant to kick him but her eyes found Kylian’s. He was sipping on his wine, an infuriating look on his face while he was picking out every single detail he could about her.

A few more stories about how insolent she used to be, a few more jokes of their shared adventures and how dangerous she could get. A few more laughs, allowing Taylor to forget about Kylian on the other side of the table. Kylian noticed how normal she looked, a whole other side of her, childish even. She was a different person, sweeter, less defensive. He wished he could make her feel like that. As always, he realized he was staring when he felt Hakimi’s elbow, hitting his shoulder. His eyes darting away.

They got downstairs on the street, all of them walking to their cars. The boys had called their personal drivers, taylor would get an UBER. She was anxious when she saw Jude in the beginning, anxious of her past but in the end she felt comfort as they walked side to side. It was like she was getting back a part of her she had lost.

“how’s your dad? Haven’t seen him since the wedding” he asked

“He’s happy, finally.” She reassured him, staring at the pavement “He and Beth are as in love as ever and Little Lily is growing” They stopped their pace. The rest of the boys standing a little farther away from them. He looked at her, a very obvious question in his eyes. Taylor could hear it, she looked away, her hands finding solace in her pockets “He’s... taking it one day at a time. Like always. So is Beth…”

“But is he better?”

She shrugged her shoulders “I don’t know. He’s older, so it’s harder but he never talks to me about it. He still blames himself for what happened. Which is dumb but… you know.”

“Next time, I’m in London I’ll go see him.”

“Oh he’d love that. He’d love to see your mother too.” She said, rubbing his arm. “Thanks for tonight.”

“Thank Kylian. He’s the one that invited me.”

She snorted “yeah, he’s intentions weren’t as good. It just backfired on him.”

She he pursed his lips and opened his arms as an invitation to a hug. She accepted it, sinking in his arms and the memories. Jude lowered his head to her ear, smiling while looking at Kylian who was staring at them both “I think he cares a little more than you think by the way he looks at you.” He kissed her cheek “be careful.” He warned and slipped away from her, to get in his car.

Taylor looked behind her, at Kylian, as her uber stopped in front of her. She gave him and the rest of the boys, a quick nod but her eyes lingered on him as she opened the door to her car. And his eyes lingered on her until her car left and he stood in the middle of a sidewalk, in rainy and moody Paris.

PRIVATE PSG AIRPLANE – EARLY MORNING

She wasn’t used to cameras following her around, the social media team seemed to have a great interest in her all of a sudden. All she’d do was wave and smile. When she entered the plane, she met Kylian, who was apparently fooling around with the flight attendants.

“Welcome on board” he said, smiling, not just to her but to everyone.

The plane was huge, separated in cubicles, small spaces for everyone to be comfortable during the 6-hour flight. She chose one seat on the back, next to a window. Her body sinking the minute she sat, ready to fall asleep again. The boys seemed to be in a cheery mood, despite the hour. She was mentally dying, wishing she could be back on her bed but neither the lights or the voices bothered her. She’d fall asleep again in no time.

“Ola!”

She looked sheepishly on her right. Neymar, sitting next to her. She studied him, her expression remaining unimpressed.

“For your own good, I hope you’re not loud during flights.”

Neymar laughed “Maybe I will just to get back at you.”

“Maybe I’ll just throw you off the plane.”

“Little grumpy, coach?”

“Two days now, I’ve waken up before daylight without my will.”

Neymar took his bag of nuts, started throwing them in his mouth “why’d you wake up yesterday?”

She remembered the reason, turned her head towards the window. “long story.”

“sure.” He mumbled.

She fell asleep a while later. He saw her, a few seats away from her. He kept glancing at her, Neymar sometimes was zoning out as well. He needed some sort of master plan to get to her without making it obvious. Hakimi was sleeping next to him, his head on his shoulder. Kylian moved his shoulder to wake him up, repeatedly. Hakimi hummed, sneered but didn’t open his eyes.

“Haki!” he said a little louder.

“It’s your turn.” He mumbled.

Kylian narrowed his eyes “what?”

“I changed the diapers last night”

“Oh my god! Wake up!” Kylian pushed him off his shoulder. Hakimi woke up violently, looking around a little confused. He rubbed his eye, tiredly.

“What’s wrong with you?” he yawned.

“I need you to do something for me.”

Hakimi’s expression fell “I was sleeping!”

“that’s not the point— don’t look at me like that! Come on, I need you to find a reason to speak to Neymar.”

“like plotting your murder?”

“Sure whatever works for you.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer. Hakimi raised his body to find Neymar. He rolled his eyes when he found him next to Taylor. She was sleeping on his shoulder while he was on his phone. He looked back at Kylian “You have to be kidding me.” He lowered his head “I really don’t want to get involved in this.”

“First and last time, I promise.”

“What am I even gonna say to him?”

“You’ll find something- baby diapers, father stuff, you’ll figure it out, I’m sure!” He said and got up. Hakimi tried to snatch his arm but Kylian left before he could. He walked down the thin hallways, standing over Neymar. He told him, Hakimi wanted to speak to him about something. Neymar hesitated at first but moved Taylor carefully away from him, her head falling on the side of the window and getting comfortable again.

Kylian took his seat as soon as he left, looking over her. He wondered how he was supposed to wake her without losing an eye. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth. While he moved his leg against hers, pushing her thigh, slowly but repeatedly so he’d wake her. Suddenly she moved her entire body closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder, same way she was sleeping with Neymar. It did something to him, her hair on his skin, the smell of lavender. He closed his eyes while she nuzzled closer to his neck. All of a sudden he didn’t want to wake her, he wanted her to stay there until they landed. He slid himself closer, her hair tickling him. Her nose wrinkled, like she was smelling him, waking up. Her eyes opened and she moved away just as quick. He moved his hand to her mouth, so she wouldn’t start yelling and wake everyone up. Her eyes were as wide as he had ever seen them, glaring at him. He put his finger in his mouth telling her to ‘shush’. She slapped his hand away from her mouth, sliding her body as far away from his as possible.

“I told you we need to talk.”

She snapped her head at him “here? Of all places?” she hissed.

“Everyone’s sleeping.”

“So, was I! what happened to Neymar? Did you lock him in the toilet?”

“He’s in deep baby conversation with Haki—”

“You’re using kids to—” Keylor Navas passed by them, both of them looking away, stopping their conversation until he was gone. “—to your advantage now?”

Kylian leaned closer, so he’d be able to whisper in a tone only she could hear. “did you see the announcement?” She reached for one of the magazines, flipping the pages like she was searching for something specific. He took it from her hands, she smacked him “can you focus for a moment?”

“What do you want me to say? yes of course I saw it, it was about me, wasn’t it?”

He waited for her to say something more “That’s it?”

“Kylian is this gonna be a problem?” she asked “I mean besides the fact that you hate me for my website. Is that also gonna be a problem? because I need to know right now.” He didn’t answer “I thought you wanted to talk about this—”

“I do”

“Then talk!” she demanded, looking fearlessly in his eyes. How was it that sometimes he felt like he had all sort of power over her and then the next moment, none at all. “It was my mistake that I didn’t tell you but if you’re gonna pull one of your smart little tricks, tell everyone and ruin this for me—”

“I won’t” he cut her off. She seemed surprise, he sat straight and away from her, letting out anxious breaths. “You really thought I would?”

“I don’t know Kylian.” She mumbled “been realizing lately that I don’t really know you at all.”

He gazed at the ceiling, nodding his head. “So we agree, we pretend like it never happened?”

“Yeah. Sounds good to me.” She stared forward, nibbling on the inside of her mouth.

“good”

“Great.”

Silence.

She looked at the blackness from her window “does Hakimi know?” she asked. And he could almost hear the terror in her voice. He lowered his head.

“He knows something happened. He doesn’t know what.”

“Don’t tell him.” She requested.

He moved his eyes at her, he could only see half her face. “I won’t.” he promised and he realized it was the most sincere, he had ever been with her. Why did his chest felt heavy then?

DOHA

Doha was the first stop. The welcoming was beautiful. Everyone had a smile on their face, shaking everyone’s hands. Some would point at Taylor, whispering something. She’d look away, feeling weird just by the thought that she was being recognized be strangers. She was never that popular as a footballer and she wasn’t used to it either.

When they reached their reception everyone was given their own key and room number. The employees helped them settle in their rooms, Taylor had used most of the boys as a shield while walking around the hotel, hiding in between them so the cameras wouldn’t find her. The members of the team were forced to go on a number of interviews while she could stay in her room, sleep, drink, do whatever she wanted to until the charity event in the hotel, later in the night. She chose sleep.

PLAY MUSIC

Kylian liked getting dressed up, it made him feel good and that outfit certainly looked good on him. He admired himself in the mirror, examining how it fell on him.

He fixed his handkerchiefs and his collar first.

Taylor fixed her make up first, blue eye shadow and maroon lipstick, same color as her favorite wine, puckering her lips in the mirror. She picked half her hair up, while the rest laid curly on her body.

He put on his black suit, dusting off any dirt that might have gathered during the trip.

She slipped in her blue dress, feeling like it was uniform made for her and her only, moving her head side to side, so her hair would fall better on her shoulders.

They stood on the edge of their beds, putting on their shoes. He tied his and she slipped her feet on her black open toe heels, strapping them. Her hands stroking her legs, she smiled, feeling way too sure of herself for the night.

She stood up when she heard a light knock on her door. She snatched her mini bag from the bed and opened the door, smiling.

“Ready?” asked Marquinhos.

She smiled and slid her hand around his elbow.

Kylian was already on the venue across the hotel, a glass of red wine in his hand, taking pictures with his teammates and interacting with fans or people that looked important. His eyes scanning the room, always, like he was expecting a bomb to go off any time. It was hard for him to hold a conversation, mostly because he’d always twist his head, any time he thought he saw a woman in a blue dress. The dim purple lights made it harder for him to spot what he was looking for until he saw her, close to Marquinhos, laughing about something.

He could hear whoever was next to him still talking but it was like a void, a noise in his head that wouldn’t go off. His eyes found a home in her silhouette, like he was seeing her in that dress for the first time. He didn’t know where to focus, her legs? Her heels? Her exposed neck or chest? He had never seen her with make up before, red lips like those, a curse and a gift. Hakimi was nowhere near to remind him he was staring so he was still staring until her eyes locked with his. He noticed she held on Marquinhos hand tighter after she saw him, getting closer like she was seeking protection. Her attention was taken away by a reporter, asking her questions. He watched as her lips moved, curling in a smile or shutting in a straight line while she listened to the questions. Marquinhos helping her through the chaos that he was used to a long time now.

“Kylian!” His companion said, pulling on his arm. He finally looked away from her and back at the man next to him.

“Excuse moi.” He said and motioned for him to continue with whatever he was saying. He very cheekily made a few steps backwards so he’d be able to look at her while also pretending he was part of the conversation, taking slow sips from time to time. Following his prey as it moved around the venue.

So, we both agree, it never happened?

But it did happen, and he wanted it to happen again.

Taylor was feeling exhausted just an hour later, any opportunity she’d find she’d sit on an empty seat, massaging her ankles that were begging to be let free of the heels. She had met more people in an hour then she had met in the entire year and she didn’t even remember her names. Her boys would compliment her, always, without ever making it inappropriate, something that made her feel better but there was one that hadn’t even come near her.

While sitting in one of the empty tables she searched for him, finding him in between the crowd. She couldn’t deny he looked good in a suit; it made him look older and wiser. His presence was louder than most people and yet he didn’t have to make any noise for people to notice him. She studied how even the fabric couldn’t hide his perfectly structured body, the body she had stroked like few woman had, the body that was hers a few nights ago. She caressed her own palm with her thumb, trying to remind herself what touching him felt like.

So, we both agree, it never happened.

Sounds good to me.

But it did and she’d never be able to forget.

A figure came and stood in front of her, hiding the view. She looked up, Ramos, smiling down at her.

“Are you allowed to dance with us?” he asked. She laughed, shaking her head.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Rumors can be terrible.”

He studied her “it’s hard being around us, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes harder than others.” She admitted, her eyes looking for him again. He wasn’t there anymore.

“Fuck the rumors.”

She laughed louder “you hanged out with Trish way too much.”

“She was good company. Knew what she wanted.”

“Yeah…” she hummed “I was always jealous of her for that.”

“Ah…” Ramos knelt in front of her so he’d be on the same level. She let her head fall on the side, narrowing her eyes. “I believe we all know what we want. Pretending we don’t is easier.” He got up and left to go back to the dance floor. She thought about his words. What if she wanted more than one thing and it was one or the other? Which one was the one she should pretend like she didn’t want it at all?

A chair moved next to her; she turned her head. Him, she thought. He kept staring at her while he sat down, as close to her as he could. He gave her a glass of wine while holding his in the other hand. She took it, their hands touching ever so slightly. They took a sip, their eyes not moving. If intoxication was a picture, it would have been this one; them, their eyes locked, sipping on the red liquid, her letting her leg fall against his and moving away when it touched his thigh. Reading their thoughts. No need for conversation. Confessing crimes to devil himself would have less tension than whatever they were doing.

“Stop staring.” She whispered

“You first.”

She swallowed the eternity of her glass in one go and left it on the table. She got up and lost herself in between the crowds until she was outside. Cold air sending a chill all over her body, she walked as far deep in the wide garden of the hotel as she could until she reached the back pool, empty and lonely. It wasn’t as cold as Paris but she was exactly well dressed.

Her body trembling until his jacket and smell covered her shoulders.

PLAY MUSIC

She closed her eyes, taking it in. His hands rubbing on her arms. She leaned her head back to him, weak to keep it or her thoughts straight as she craved to be closer to him.

He slipped his hands under his jacket so he could hold on her body as he moved closer, his breath on her neck. “you’ll freeze.” He whispered. She turned around so she’d be able to face him, her hands placed on his chest, covered by his white shirt. They could still hear the music from the distance, their bodies moving in the rhythm of it while her tachycardia seemed to pick up the closer his face would get. She gripped on his shirt, wrinkling it. Their mouths half open, moving in opposite directions while they brought each other to insanity.

“It never happened.” She reminded him with whatever strength she was left with.

He looked at her lips, his hand reaching behind her neck, his thump stroking her face. “Maybe it should.”

She moved her head to the side, so she’d stay away from his lips just to be safe. She wasn’t sure if she was trembling because of the cold or him. She looked over his shoulder at the pool. She shook her head and walked away from him closer to the pool. He watched her, half wondering what she was doing. He followed her, standing next to her. She took off her heels, returning back to her normal height and testing the temperature of the water with her toe.

“we are sinking.” She whispered “there’s only one way to go when you’re sinking.”

He turned his head away from her. He started unbuttoning his shirt, throwing it on the ground and then his pants. She watched, confused. He took off his shoes, staying in his underwear. “If we are sinking, we might as well swim.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. A minute later and he was diving in the pool, his body lost in the water. She stepped a little closer, before sitting on the edge of the pool. Leaving her phone by her side. Her feet sinking in the water as well. He returned to the surface, smiling. She grinned when she saw him until he started throwing water at her, splashing it on her. She laughed holding her hands over her dress. “This is a DIOR!” she yelled. Begging him to stop. He swam closer, enclosing her in between his arms.

“I’ll buy you an other.”

She snorted “cheeky.”

He moved even closer, her feet against his bare chest, the two of them staring at each other. Sinking, indeed. Dangerous, for sure. His hand moved away from the marble and settled on her leg. She didn’t react, a symbolic gesture for him to continue. He caressed her skin in the water, his hand finding it’s way in between her thighs, always looking her in the eyes. Opening her legs slightly. Enough to be able to leave kisses on her inner thigh, that’s when he got the first reaction, a gasp. He continued, higher, until she shut her thighs together. A momentary lapse in judgement and she jumped in the water in between him and the marble, her lips finding his in seconds. Finally allowing him to taste that lipstick, to suck every little part of her and drink it like it was whiskey. The dress getting stuck in her body as it got wet. His hands still travelling in between her thighs while his mouth got complete access to hers.

Because it did happen and it was going to happen again. And when you’ve already started sinking, there is only one way to go.

“Who’s down there?” yelled the security guard.

Screaming crying perfect storm.... Oh well..... Sinking we go. Down to the bottom we go. Unless of course they were caught. Are they gonna sleep together? Are they not? Qatar trip is gonna be fun from now on. I mean it's getting hot in here. People missing. Where is Ann? Jude's a cutie isn't he🥺 BUT HEY-- STAY CHILL PEOPLE. WE DON'T HAVE A LONG WAY TO GO. 😭😭 Ones again thanks to everyone that is reading, writing this for you is pleasuee and all i need in return is your feedback so i can't wait to see your comments. You're THE BEST!!! See ya next Sunday (maybe) xx

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#kylian mbappe #mbappe imagines #mbappé #mbappe #mbappe x reader #football writing #football imagine #football requests #neymar one shot #neymar x reader #jude bellingham x oc #jude bellingham x reader

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