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#the way france looks like he should be closer to the camera but his hand is layered behind americas head anyway???
hourcat · 1 year
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charles tastes like wine, still.
which--it’s not a surprise, really, considering all that they’d had at dinner, but pierre is still quietly amused at that fact anyway as he leans over the arm rest to kiss him after their long, long day in front of the cameras. he’s been thinking about doing this--well, since charles met him after the LV show, all boisterous energy and refreshed, relaxed grins that only come from a well-used winter break.
but he’d waited. waited until after the bulls game, waited until after they’d said goodbye to esteban, even waited after dinner, when charles had been so dazedly full of food and fondness that he’d grabbed pierre’s hand almost above the table. it’d been the wine talking, mostly, but still. pierre waited.
he doesn’t have to wait now. charles kisses him back easily, pliant against his mouth but still firm enough to hold himself upright as he, too, leans over the arm rest. the hotel’s parking garage is dark in this corner, pierre knows, and the windshield is just tinted enough to keep their identities hidden. they can do this freely.
“mon petit,” charles mumbles, breaking away to take a few breaths. “i missed you.” he doesn’t dive right back into pierre’s space, just stares at him with his wide eyes that somehow glitter even in the low light of the space around them. “you look good.”
pierre snorts. “i thought you hated the mustache,” he mutters, and charles’ breathy laugh is more of a warm breeze than a real sound. “you must have really missed me to say that.”
his best friend makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, another laugh-like breath. “i did,” he answers--earnest, so earnest, the way he somehow always is. but he’s still staring. “and you do, even if the mustache gets in the way.” he wrinkles his nose and rubs at his cheek playfully, like pierre has burned him. later, sure, this will pose a problem: charles is sensitive and pierre has missed him, even if he’s enjoying the button-pushing too much to say so right now. it wouldn’t be fair to leave marks like that on his lover’s tender skin. but now, it’s all fine: charles reaches up to rub the pad of his thumb against the scruff of pierre’s actually-formed beard, and the smile on his face is warm with affection. his mouth is still shiny-red from pierre’s affections.
his heart swoops in his chest a little. “i missed you too, calamar.” quiet. whispered right to charles’ mouth so no one can steal the tiny little confession from them. “winter break looks good on you.” charles hums some unintelligible response before closing the barely-there distance between them, kissing pierre so sweetly it’s like they’re kids again. wine-laden, traces of chocolate mousse still lingering on his tongue, pierre relishes the indulgence of it all. charles’ hand presses more into his cheek. he’s warm. he’s familiar. no tropical vacation will ever replicate this, right here right now--the laziness of their exchange, the comfort of being at home in france even if they’re miles away from any place either of them have ever lived, the certainty that this will continue the moment they’re back in pierre’s expensive hotel room because it’s all either of them can think to do. kiss, kiss, kiss. “i do not think you should include this in your next vlog, charlo.”
charles laughs, this time a little more audibly, against pierre’s mouth. “you saw that,” he says, voice quiet and a little bashful. pierre scoffs. “you should have come skiing with me, pierrot. the mountains were stunning.”
“maybe next time i will,” he mumbles. “but please, bebe, keep your shirt on for the next one--i cannot sit through another plane ride of that if you’re not there with me.”
his best friend huffs another laugh, then dips closer. their noses bump. charles giggles. “it got you here, non? how else do i get your attention, mon amour.” he doesn’t wait for an answer. he catches pierre in another kiss, still just as slow, still just as lazy and exploratory as ever. pierre doesn’t want this night to end.
if he plays his cards right, it won’t for quite a bit longer. 
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syrupyyyart · 3 years
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this promo art is absolutely hilarious
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marauderundercover · 3 years
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Taking Chances Ch. 19: Lack of Communication (Wayne Gala)
AO3
Prev
The shrill ringing of her phone tugs Marinette from her sewing machine. Glancing at the caller ID, she grins widely.
“Hey Uncle Jagged.” She says, pushing her chair away from her desk. It���d been a couple weeks since she last heard from the man as his tour had really picked up at the end. It was practically back to back concerts, so that didn’t leave a lot of time for phone calls or face times.
“Little Rocker! Glad I caught you. I have an event next week and I was hoping I could drop by the bakery so you could fix a tear in one of my suits.” He says. Marinette winces. That’s what she was supposed to do. Tell Uncle Jagged about...well, everything.
“Yeah, about that…” She trails off, wishing she’d thought to tell him about the whole ‘adopted’ thing the last time she’d seen him in person. “I’m actually not in Paris right now. I’m in Gotham spending the summer with my birth father.” She says, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. There’s silence for a minute. Then two. She looks down at the phone, frowning. Did he hang up?
“You’re in Gotham?” He finally says.
“Yup.” She says, sighing. “I’m really sorry I won’t be able to fix your suit.”
“What, no, this is great! See the event is in Gotham! It’s just a bunch of rich people and- hold on. Penny!” He yells. She catches bits and pieces of their conversation, Penny agreeing wholeheartedly with whatever it is Jagged has suddenly decided. “I have a rocking idea.” He adds.
“Okay? I’m listening.” She says, glancing at the new dress she’d started that was pinned on her dress form. She was having trouble with the shape and was quickly getting frustrated with her struggles.
“You could come with! As MDC, of course. You could wear one of your designs and get known in Gotham. The event is supposed to be highly publicized. Penny thinks it’d be a good way to get known in the US. So, whatdya say?” Jagged asks, and Marinette can just tell that he’s grinning widely, can hear it in his voice. She thinks for a minute, glancing at the dress form with a new sense of determination.
“I’ll have to double check with my dad.” She says, trying to think if they had any plans for next week.
“Of course! Let me know soon, okay? Penny says she wants to start publicizing MDC’s appearance if you’re gonna come.” Jagged says. Marinette agrees before hanging up, thinking. Would her dad let her go alone? Or would he insist on coming with? She knew Gotham was dangerous, it’s why she hadn’t gone anywhere by herself despite being a hero herself. She didn’t want to risk her Miraculous falling into the wrong hands, even if the person didn’t realize what they had. Making up her mind, she sets off to find her dad and ask about the event. She still wasn’t quite sure what it was, just that there would be plenty of big names and plenty of journalists- the perfect opportunity to build up a clientele outside of France. Checking his study first, she’s unsurprised to see he’s not there. Knowing chances were good that he was in the cave, she pulls a domino mask out of her purse. Her dad had asked her a couple days ago to wear one in the cave just in case they had unexpected visitors. Kinda like how her and Chat Noir had shown up unexpectedly that one time. Complete accident. Changing the time on the clock, she presses the button that opens the entrance, sliding in and walking through the passage. Glancing into the cave, she grins when she sees her dad, in costume, sitting at the computer.
“Hey B!” She says, knowing not to call him Dad while he was in the cowl. Something about it making him seem less intimidating, or something.
“Ladybird.” He nods. She frowns, glancing at the computer screen and wincing when she sees Superman on screen.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.” She apologizes, waving awkwardly at the man on the screen. He quirks an eyebrow.
“Hello. Ladybird, was it?” He asks and she nods.
“Er, yeah. Ladybird. Nice to meet you.” She says, rocking back and forth on her heels, eyes darting around the cave. Maybe she should just leave and ask later.
“Is everything alright?” Her dad asks, obviously confused at her presence in the cave. Not that she wasn’t allowed, she just didn’t spend a lot of time there.
“I was just wondering if I could go to an event next week with my Uncle.” She says, trying to stay vague. He’s silent for a moment before nodding.
“We can discuss details later, but that should be fine.” He says. Marinette grins, bouncing up and down in excitement.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She cheers, resisting the urge to hug him. “Bye Mr. Superman!” She adds, waving before running back through the passage to work on her dress some more. This was going to be amazing!
---
Penny had picked Marinette up early the morning of the Gala. She still wasn’t sure what it was for, but that didn’t bother her. She was just excited that she had finally finished her newest dress in time for the Gala. Penny had insisted on her coming over early so that she could help Marinette do her hair and makeup, which she was thankful for. Selina apparently had something to do tonight and couldn’t help her, and she would’ve definitely been her first choice. Smiling down at her dress, Marinette looks at Penny with a grin.
“Could you take a picture for me without my face covering so I can show my parents later?” She asks. Penny nods, smiling back.
“That dress is amazing, Marinette. Truly one of your best designs.” She says. Marinette blushes at the compliment before smiling at the camera. She thanks Penny and takes her phone back, sending the picture to her Maman and Papa as well as her dad and Selina. She was extremely proud of the dress and wanted them to see her in it before she added her ‘disguise’ to protect her identity.
“Hey, Aunt Penny?” Marinette says, looking up at the woman. Penny hums, putting on lipstick. “What is the event for? All Jagged said was that it’s a Gala.” She says, Penny huffs.
“Of course that man didn’t give you any other information. Honestly, sometimes- you agreed without knowing what the event was?” She says, eyebrows raised. Marinette shrugs.
“Uncle Jagged said that it’d be fun. I trust him.” She says. Penny sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Remind me to read any contracts before you sign them, okay sweetie?” She says. Marinette nods and Penny smiles. “Good. Anyway, it’s a Wayne Gala. The family hosts several every year to help raise money for the Wayne foundation.” Penny says and Marinette freezes. Wayne Gala? As in, her father? Her family? Were they really having a Gala tonight without telling her? Or inviting her? Were they….were they embarrassed by her?
“Like, Bruce Wayne?” Marinette manages to ask, trying hard to ignore the way her heart breaks when Penny nods. That was why Selina couldn’t help her. She had to get ready for the Gala. And if she had to guess, the rest of her family was also going. What would they have done with her if she hadn’t had plans? Would they have told her then? Or would they have acted like nothing was happening. Where even was the Gala? Oh my god. It was at the Manor, wasn’t it. The thought strikes her and she winces, giving Penny a small, tense smile.
“Are you okay?” She asks, obviously concerned. Marinette nods sharply.
“Yes, one last question. Where is it?” She asks. Penny frowns, obviously not believing that Marinette was okay, but luckily not pushing it.
“Wayne Manor. The Galas are the only time the manor is opened to other celebrities. The family is usually very private.” Penny says. Marinette huffs out a puff of air, working hard to ignore the hurt in her chest. The feeling that she wasn’t enough. That they didn’t need her. Suddenly, she wasn’t excited anymore. She really wished she would have asked Jagged for more details last week, because now she was stuck going. And it was going to suck.
---
Feeling confident in her design and disguise, Marinette walks through the wall of journalists with Penny and Jagged at her sides. She was working hard to push down the intrusive thoughts that were threatening to take over. Instead, she tried to focus on the questions being called out by the journalists.
“Jagged! Jagged Stone, is this really MDC?” One of them asks. Jagged immediately stopping and shooting the reporter a wide smile.
“Of course it is! She designed all three of these outfits.” He says, gesturing between the trio. “Isn’t she rocking!”
“MDC, why did you pick the Wayne gala to make your first public appearance?” Another journalist asks. Marinette turns to Penny, trusting her to answer the question. They’d agreed before leaving the car that it was best if Marinette didn’t speak directly to any journalists. It would make it easier for them to place her age and where she’s from, given her accent.
“She was in the area and Mr. Stone insisted his favorite designer needed a chance to flaunt her skills in America.” Penny says, flashing the journalist a wide smile before gently pushing Marinette along down the line of journalists. Marinette nods to the man who’d asked the question before following Jagged and Penny closely, her stomach churning as they walk up the front steps of the manor. Of the place she’d been living since summer started. Where apparently they didn’t care to tell her about one of the biggest family events of the year. No big deal. She thought they were accepting her, that they were all getting closer. But maybe not. Her dad not telling her didn’t hurt nearly as much as her brothers not telling her. That felt like a knife in her chest. Trying hard to move gracefully instead of tensely, she follows Jagged into the manor and into the ballroom. Her jaw clenches as she spots her family across the room.
“Mr. Stone, I’m Clark Kent. Nice to meet you.” A man with a notebook and camera says, walking over and extending a hand. Marinette narrows her eyes. She thought the journalists were supposed to stay outside. And this man looked oddly familiar….
“Rocking meeting you man! You a journalist?” He asks, his calculating look hidden by a wide grin. Mr. Kent chuckles.
“Yes, sorry for being so forward. Mr. Wayne and I are friends, so he lets my wife and I have an exclusive pass to come inside the Galas.” He says, glancing at Marinette over his glasses. She watches as his eyes widen slightly before he schools his features back into a neutral expression.
“That’s pretty rock n roll of him!” Jagged says, clapping Mr. Kent on the shoulder.
“It is. Pardon me, but are you MDC?” He asks, turning to look at Marinette once again. She glances at Penny, shaking her head to let her know that she’ll speak for herself for this one. As upset as she was with her dad, he obviously trusted this man. So she would as well.
“I am. Pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Kent.” She says, extending her hand. He smiles, shaking her hand.
“And you, ma’am. I must say, I was not expecting to see you here. I was under the impression that in person events weren’t your forte.” He says, clearly fishing for something. She knew how journalists worked, she’d seen Alya at work enough times to understand that the man in front of her was looking for a story. One she wouldn’t be giving, no matter how much her father trusted the man.
“I like to occasionally surprise people.” She says, waving her hand in a noncommittal way. “Keep them on their toes.”
“I can respect that. Well, I’ll let you all get back to your evening. Nice to meet you all.” He says. She nods back at him, not missing the way he immediately darts off to her dad. She watches as the two start talking, a surprised look on her dad’s face before he turns and sees her. She knows he recognizes the dress. Knows that he knows as well who is underneath the veil. She turns, deciding to ignore him. He didn’t want her here, fine. She’d make sure she stayed out of his way.
---
Clark Kent was confused. He’d known that Bruce must have another kid, adopted in some way. He didn’t just work with random vigilantes, especially not in his city. So knowing that Gotham had a new vigilante named Ladybird, he put two and two together. Didn’t take the world’s greatest detective. But what was confusing was the fact that no new faces showed up with the Waynes as they walked into the ballroom for the Gala. Making a note to ask him about it later, Clark makes his way around the room, talking to familiar faces and names, writing things down that would help the story he was being forced to write on the Gala. These events were not his favorite to cover, hardly anything ever happened. Until he heard the commotion outside, other journalists calling out to MDC. He blinks in surprise. MDC had never made a public appearance before. This was an odd one to choose. Preparing himself to confront the designer, he’s surprised as she walks in behind Jagged Stone. He’s even more surprised when he realizes she had to be a teenager. He chats with the girl and Jagged, glancing down at her over the top of his glasses, shock immediately flooding him. The girl had injuries. Hundreds of them. Bones fused back together haphazardly. Quickly excusing himself, he rushes over to Bruce.
“Do you know who MDC is? Because that girl is definitely younger than Tim. And she has hundreds of injuries, Bruce. Hundreds.” He says quietly, watching as Bruce turns and glances at the girl, his eyes widening slightly.
“Shit.” He mutters.
“What?” Clark asks, trying to figure out if he should also be concerned. Bruce smiles, but it's tense.
“That is my daughter.” He says. Clark blinks.
“That’s the new one? Why didn’t she show up with the rest of the family?” He asks.
“I knew she had plans for tonight, so I didn’t tell her about the Gala. I was going to warn her about it, if she didn’t have plans. So she knew to stay in her room.” Bruce explains. Clark frowns.
“You were going to keep her locked up?” He asks incredulously. Not even the least social Wayne was kept locked away for the Galas.
“Of course not. It’s just- she hasn’t said she wants to be announced yet. She hasn’t even said anything about being MDC because she hates the spotlight. I couldn’t just throw her to the sharks. I’m just trying to do what’s best for her.” Bruce says, standing up straighter. Clark sighs.
“Did you actually talk to her about it? Or did you just assume?” He asks, Bruce huffs.
“I think I know my daughter a little more than you do, Kent.” He says.
“Really? Because from here it sounds like she’s about two breaths away from a panic attack. And Penny Rolling keeps reassuring her that they don’t have to stay long. Oh- and now she’s apologizing for not telling her it was a Wayne Gala until today, but she’s also clearly confused as to why it’s upsetting her. And now-”
“Okay, I get it.” Bruce snaps, cutting him off. Clark raises an eyebrow.
“I’m not sure what happened, but you should fix this.” He says with a pointed look before walking away. God knows the Bats all need a push in the right direction every now and again.
---
Jason frowns as he looks around the room for Marinette. He knew that she hadn’t come with the family, B hadn’t explained that one. But he had heard that MDC was there. And he wanted to talk to her, make sure she was doing okay. These things were annoying as hell and he knew he wouldn’t get through it if he didn’t have his brothers (even if they were little shits). He finally spots her near a wall, clearly trying to disappear. He grins widely, walking over and grinning at her.
“Well, MDC, fancy seeing you here.” He teases with a wink. He watches her for some kind of reaction, frowning when he doesn’t get one. “Pix?” He says, softer this time as he looks at his baby sister.
“Oh, that’s right, I wasn’t supposed to be here, was I? Well, sorry to disappoint.” She snaps bitterly. Jason flinches back, surprised at her tone.
“What’re you talking about?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. Why did she sound so hurt? Why did she think they didn’t want her there?
“Clearly I’m not as much of the family as I thought I was.” She hisses under her breath. He starts to deny that, but she cuts him off with a humorless laugh. “Bruce didn’t even tell me that there was a Gala. None of you did either. A Wayne family Gala and I wasn’t told. I should’ve known better.” She says, turning to walk away. He grabs her wrist gently, stopping her.
“I promise you, we want you here. Dick, Damian, Tim, me- we all want you here. I can’t speak for B, I’ll definitely be having words with the son of a bitch later, but we want you here.” He says, frowning as he listens to her sniffle under her veil. “Pixie, we thought you knew. He told us you weren’t ready to come to this. I swear to you, we would have told you if we knew. I swear.” He adds. His heart breaks as he hears a hiccupped sob break free from her. He wants nothing more than to wrap his baby sister in a hug, but he knows he can’t. Media’d have a field day.
“Really?” She asks in a small voice. Jason nods.
“Hell yeah Pix. Tell ya what, I’m gonna go get the others and then we’re all gonna sneak out. Take one of the old man’s cars and get some garbage fast food. Who needs this lameass party anyway.” He says, hoping she’ll agree. He’ll let himself be mad at Bruce later. And boy was he gonna be mad. The old man had really fucked up this time. It was one thing to ask Mari to not go to the Gala, or to think she wasn’t ready for it. It was a completely other thing to not even give her the chance to decide, or tell her at all. Cause now she was hurt and thinking everyone hated her. Well, he wasn’t gonna let that happen. Not on his watch.
“Lemme just go tell Jagged and Penny real quick.” She agrees, scurrying off. The second she walks away Jason lets his smile drop into a scowl. That son of a bitch. Storming over to his brothers, he tugs them over to the wall. Better not to let B get word of where they’re going.
“What is the meaning of this?” Damian asks with a scowl.
“Pixie’s gonna tell her Aunt and Uncle that she’s leaving and then we’re stealing one of B’s cars to go to McDonalds.” He says simply. Tim frowns.
“And we’re doing this because?” He prompts.
“Because B apparently didn’t tell the kid about the Gala. And she assumed we knew, and that we all hate her.” Jason explains with a frown.
“Father said she didn’t want to attend.” Damian says, and Jason huffs.
“Yeah, well apparently he lied. She had no clue that the event she was going to as MDC was a Wayne Gala.” He says.
“I’ll go get the car and pull it up front.” Dick says, a determined look on his face. Sometimes his ‘we’re a family and we stick together’ shit annoyed the hell outta Jason, but he was thankful for it today.
“I’m gonna go grab Selina’s coat for her to put on. I saw her dress, and if any MDC fan sees her leaving with us it’s gonna start a media circus.” Tim says, walking away to the coat room. Jason sighs, watching Marinette from across the room. A cleared throat beside him tugs his attention back to his youngest brother.
“What?” He asks, pushing his frustration down. He’d go shoot something later, but right now he was determined to not take his frustration at Bruce out on his siblings.
“Why would Father intentionally keep her from the Gala? She is far more adept at social interaction than I am.” Damian says with a frown. Jason sighs, shrugging.
“No clue. But I’m not about to let her push herself away from the rest of us just because B fucked up.” He says, watching as she walks over to the wall, almost disappearing in the shadows. He nods towards her, making sure Damian follows. The second Tim has Selina’s coat, their small group is off, sneaking out one of the side doors and walking past the journalists, sprinting to Dick and the waiting car. They all jump in and she tears the veil off her face, making Jason wince slightly at her red, puffy eyes. Dick slams on the gas, eliciting a curse from Jason and a squeal of surprise from Marinette.
“So! We broke out of that stuffy party. Where are we headed?” Dick asks, glancing in the rearview mirror to make eye contact with Jason. Jason grins.
“We go get a shit ton of junk food from McDonalds and eat it in the car. Give it the old, fast food smell that B loves oh so much.” He says. Marinette snorts, and Jason grins at her. He’d give B hell later, but for now, he was going to enjoy spending time with his siblings.
---
Bruce frowns as he glances around the Gala, not seeing his daughter. Or any of his other children. He made a mental note to talk to them later. Perhaps keeping the Gala from Marinette wasn’t his best decision.
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bluejayblueskies · 3 years
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i cannot stop thinking about tma hell's kitchen au
(@f0xesand0wls thank you for enabling me)
- elias is the head chef, and peter and gertrude are his sous chefs. there are 20 total chefs in the competition: red team: jon, tim, georgie, daisy, naomi, agnes, gerry, jordan, helen/michael, oliver blue team: martin, sasha, melanie, basira, mike, jude, julia, jared, jane, manuela
- the black jackets are jon, martin, tim, sasha, georgie, and melanie, and the finalists are jon and martin. the winner is probably martin, but it doesn't really matter, because the actual plot of this is a jonmartin rivals-to-friends-to-lovers slowburn
- annabelle is the one who puts all of the film and audio together at the end. jmart watch the show once it's put on television and go 'what the fuck i didn't say any of that' because that's how reality tv is babey
- martin is one of those chefs who does poorly at the beginning but gets better and ends up in the final two. even though he's not on the same team as jon, jon is like 'this guy sucks' and maybe martin messes something up for jon early on and jon decides he does not like martin.
- jon is so nervous that he's going to screw up and get sent home early (he doesn't have formal culinary training and feels deeply underqualified) so he's very stiff and overly professional at the beginning. he relaxes over time as he becomes more confident in his own cooking and as he does well at challenges and dinner services.
- somewhere around chapter/episode 5, martin tells jon that he doesn't have any formal culinary training and that he said he did in order to get into the restaurant job he had prior to coming on the show. he's been cooking for his mother since he was ten though, and jon surprises himself by saying that that's a lot more impressive than studying technique in france or something. that's the catalyst of their transition from rivals into friends
- somewhere around episode 8, jude (who got switched to the red team a few episodes prior) gets eliminated, but on the dinner service before she does, there's an incident in the kitchen and jon's hand gets burnt pretty badly (not so badly that he has to go home, and he fights through the rest of dinner service because of course he does). he insists he doesn't have to go to the hospital for it, and elias reluctantly agrees and has the medic look at it. in the dorms later, martin helps jon unwrap it and put more burn cream on it and change the bandages and... yeah <3
- daisy and jon do not get along at first, and daisy actually tries to sabotage jon early in the season/fic. jon nearly gets eliminated because of it and he is not happy. then, a good few episodes later, the red team wins a challenge and they go on some sort of outdoorsy award and something happens and jon saves daisy from getting seriously injured. they're on better terms after that.
- when jon, tim, sasha, martin, melanie, and georgie get black jackets, elias (like every actual season of hell's kitchen) brings their family members/friends in for them to see. jon gets his grandmother, tim his brother, sasha her mother, georgie her best friend alex, and melanie some of her ghosthunt uk (the restaurant) friends. the only person martin has is his mother, and they tell him that she was too sick to come, but he can't shake the feeling that she just didn't want to. she didn't even agree to make him a video. it's a very awkward affair, and after the challenge (which tim wins) jon stands by martin while they're... idk, peeling 200 pounds of potatoes or something and they talk about it and they talk about a lot of their personal lives. for most of the competition, they're very aware that they're on camera at all times, but jon decides that being there for martin is more important than worrying about that.
- jon wins the next black jacket challenge and, when asked who he wants to invite on the reward, invites martin. they get to go wine tasting in a beautiful vinyard together and then they get some time to sit in the vinyard and just relax. martin probably realized he had a crush on jon around... episode/chapter 8? pretty soon after his admission that he doesn't have formal training. this episode is when jon realizes that he has a crush on martin, and the wine tasting suddenly seems very romantic and he gets very flustered. martin just thinks he's getting nervous since they're getting closer to the end of the competition.
- it's martin and jon in the finals. martin has tim, melanie, basira, and agnes on his bridage and jon has sasha, georgie, daisy, and gerry. in the middle of the entrees, something goes very wrong in martin's kitchen (not because of martin, because agnes burns like... ten racks of lamb or something ridiculous like that) and it looks like martin might not even be able to finish and he's freaking out just a little bit, so jon does something incredibly stupid and tells sasha to take charge of the kitchen for a moment and goes over into the other kitchen and pulls martin aside and takes martin's hands in his and is like 'it's okay, you're okay, everything's going to be okay. you're extremely talented and an amazing chef and an amazing person and i love you and this is not your fault and you're going to go back out there and get things back on track.'
jon goes back to his kitchen, elias yelling at him the whole way, and martin kicks agnes out and gets his kitchen back under control and they have no other issues that night. and martin's brain completely skips over the 'i love you' until the end of service, when the adrenaline wears off and they start to clear down and jon gives him this smile and suddenly martin remembers and he's like 'oh fuck'
but jon doesn't say anything about it so martin assumes he hadn't meant to say it, because of course he didn't, because they're competing for a job and $250,000 and he probably just heard jon wrong or something. jon probably said 'i love your cooking' and martin's just being stupid and letting his crush get away from him. so they both go back and sit in the dorms and wait for elias to call them up to his office. meanwhile, jon also remembers that he accidentally let i love you slip and he's having a bit of a crisis about it because on the one hand he meant it, but on the other hand he should not have said it then and martin hasn't said anything, so maybe he didn't even hear.
still, martin needs to thank jon. so he's eventually like 'thank you for what you did back there. i don't think i would have made it through service without what you said.' then, after a moment, because it is a competition: 'why did you help me? you could have let me drown and you'd have a secure win'
and jon just shrugs and says, 'because you needed help, and i... i care about you. i didn't want to see you fail. you are a good chef, martin, and i... i know you deserve this job just as much as me. you can go work at elias's restaurant and i can go back to mine and... and that'll be okay, if that's what happens'
and martin realizes suddenly that jon lives across the country from him normally and he doesn't know if he'll be able to see jon after this (chefs are busy people, after all, not a lot of time for family and such) and before he can really think about it he's like 'i wouldn't be okay with that' and then when jon just looks at him he clarifies, 'i... i don't want to just go back to living in [washington?], working all day and coming home to an empty apartment, and you'll go back to [new york?] and i... will i even see you again? because it's been so nice, being here, being with you, and i want to see you again, jon. every day.' he hesitates a moment, then decides fuck it, if i'm wrong, at least i'll only be embarrassed for a little while longer and says, 'what you said during service. did you mean it?'
and jon, tentatively, is like, 'that you're a good chef? yes, martin, i meant it, of course i did' and martin's like 'no, the... the other thing you said. right in the middle of it all. i- i don't know if i heard you right, and i just... i need to know if you meant it'
and it would be easy for jon to say no, to pretend like he didn't. but instead, he sits next to martin on the couch and takes martin's hand in his and nods and says, 'i... i've meant it for quite some time, i think' and he smiles at martin, a little bit shy, and martin's overwhelmed with affection and he reaches for jon's face, leans forward, and--
and the phone rings. unfortunately. because elias made a decision
- martin's door opens and jon's doesn't. jon thinks he should feel crushed, and he does feel disappointed, but mostly he's just so, so happy for martin. martin is stunned, and tim and sasha and georgie and melanie and basira and daisy are waiting for him below to congratulate him. martin's stuck in a round of thank yous when he turns and sees jon, who's run down the stairs to join the celebration and is looking at martin with those same eyes he would get when he was determined to win a challenge or finish a dish that needed two more minutes in one minute. and then jon just hugs martin, so tightly martin can barely breathe, and he mumbles into martin's neck, 'i would very much like to kiss you, but i very much do not want our first kiss to be on national television' and martin laughs and hugs jon tightly in return and mumbles back, 'i love you too, jon. just in case it wasn't obvious' and even though jon just lost, he's never been happier
- (they watch the show when it comes out together half a year later, in the little bit of free time they have around running their own respective restaurants, and they spend the whole time picking it apart
jon: okay i did not say that, where did they even get that from??
martin: god do i really look like that from behind...
jon: oh christ. martin, i- i think they thought i wanted to have sex with you. ugh, they've put on weird romantic music. red lighting. i hate this. i clearly did not--no, martin, don't give me that look, you know what i mean.
martin: wow, this makes us look like terrible chefs
and, at the end:
jon: christ, of course they were recording us in the dorms after the last service. this is a cooking competition, not a romance.
martin: eh, it was a bit of a romance.
jon: hush, i'm trying to watch. they're about to announce the winner. i don't have much hope for this chef martin; after all, he did burn that risotto back in episode 2--
martin, trying not to laugh while he glares at jon: oh my god jon let it go)
157 notes · View notes
parkers-gal · 3 years
Note
Reader meet Tom during a Meet and greet for the first time. She’s European (like Belgian perhaps. You can choose that) and she catches his attention. They start as close friends and whenever she gets to London, they meet up. After a while they start a relationship (can be long distance) and they just adore eachother a lot.
a good story
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wc | 3k (SORRY i rly went off)
i chose france because i heard they have a bit more diversity...? i hope that makes it a bit more universal :) plsss i didn't proofread — hope u like it ! <3
You try to wipe the sweat off your hand for the fifth time in the last two minutes. Your pulse picks up while the line moves up again. You’ve been waiting for about an hour and a half, but you really don’t mind. Not when that mop of curls and pile of muscles is so close. Besides, you get to fangirl with the rest of the fans in line around you.
You’d been in deep conversation with a girl and her girlfriend for a good while until one of them went off to get coffee and the other asked to use the bathroom. The security guard assured them that they’d return to their exact position in line, ensuring they wouldn’t have to wait all over again. You missed them, though, because they weren’t back within seven minutes so you preoccupied yourself with the lanyard around your neck with your VIP Access pass attached to the end.
You play with the strings of the Spider-man hoodie; it’s the midtown hoodie that Peter Parker wears in the first movie. You wore it to be cute — and it is, especially with these jeans — but now you’re afraid you might die of heat exhaustion. As the security guards usher yet another fan through the curtains, your feet move forward a couple of feet until the movement stops and you’re stuck waiting again.
The girl and her girlfriend return not a minute later, one of them offering you a bite of their croissants from Starbucks. You ponder the offer before politely declining; you don’t want your breath to smell, or something to get stuck in your teeth. You know you’re overthinking this entire situation, but you can’t help but be nervous when you’re about to meet the one person you’ve spent so much of your time gawking over — and through a screen, at that. It’s pathetic, you admit, but you can’t help it. There’s just something about him.
Another fan goes through the curtains and suddenly you’re less than five turns away from meeting the beloved Brit. You can’t help but feel a little more connected to him, knowing that you’d flown all the way from Paris, France for this London Meet-and-Greet. It’s a wonder how you got your schedule to work so well.
You move forward another spot, tapping your index and middle fingers on your hip while tracing the lines of the tiled floor. You try to distract yourself — counting every prime number you can think of, naming all the superheroes in the Marvel Franchise — until you’re one spot away from going through the black curtains.
“You’ll be in in less than three minutes,” the girl smiles while informing you of the estimated time frame. You thank her, taking note of the tag attached to her uniform.
You take a deep breath, shaking away all nerves and last jitters before wiping your hands one last fateful time. And then all at once, the curtain opens and allows you to step through and into the room where a young actor awaits your arrival. It’s so surreal that you have to watch your feet to ensure they don’t trip and cause you to stumble.
“Hello, love. How’re you?”
Your breath hitches and when he finally takes a good look at you, his breath does too. Your eyes lock for a beat, the two of you lost in a trance before you finally spit out a response.
“I’m… really good. How’re you?”
He smiles, eyes crinkling and face lifting up. “I’m great, thank you.”
You nod, the tip of your tongue playing with your front tooth. You shake out of it, though, setting your bag and your lanyard down on the provided table before stepping a little closer to him.
“Ah, the Midtown hoodie,” He points out, holding your wrists out so he can examine the sweatshirt himself.
“Yeah,” you smile bashfully. “It’s… stylish.”
He laughs wholeheartedly, something that eats away at your shell and causes you to join his chuckling.
“What’s your name, darling?”
You bite your lip, inhaling sharply at the term of endearment. “Y/N.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tom,” he offers a hand, something that makes your face scrunch up with a laugh.
“Can we hug instead?”
“Please?” He insists, realizing how embarrassing his last move was. The two of you embrace strongly, and you inhale the scent of Tom Holland while you can.
When you separate, you grow a little more courage, and pick up the conversation. “I loved you in The Impossibly. Obviously in the Spider-man movies, too, but your other movies are really good, too.”
“Thank you, love. That means a lot,” he scratches his neck with a sheepish smile, a blush rising from his neck and onto his cheeks. He smiles, an action you mirror. “Is this your first Meet-and-Greet?”
You nod, “Yeah, I’m a bit nervous.”
He nods in understanding. “Are you from England?”
You shake your head, “I’m currently living in Paris.”
“Ah, the country of romance,” He looks as if he’s thinking of what to say next — as if he shouldn’t say it. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one,” You smile again, and the glint in Tom’s eye changes just a shade, as if he’s just unlocked a new level. He looks excited for a different reason now.
“How long are you staying in England?”
“Till the end of the week,” You can’t help but feel giddy because it’s only Monday, which means you have until Saturday night to explore the great country of Britain, home to Tom Holland and Tom Hiddleston and Benedict Cumberbatch and basically every celebrity you’ve ever been a fan of. You can’t anticipate what Tom’s to say next, because you don’t want to turn your experience into a Wattpad story, but you hope he’s about to offer something in relation to sightseeing.
“Would you want to… could I show you around? Show you all the best places?” He looks shyer than you, almost, and you swallow your heart so you can answer calmly.
“You’d do that?’
“Of course,” He smiles softly. “You look like a lot of fun.”
You’re taken aback at the compliment, and you stumble out a reply as best you can. The two of you are reminded to take the picture so the line can move forward again, and you will yourself not to frown at the coming end of your encounter with the famous Brit.
“Could we do this?” You show him a picture from your phone and he nods excitedly.
The two of you link hands, standing close together while you smile into the camera. Your encounter comes to an end, and though you’re disappointed, Tom asks for your number, giving you his phone for the occasion. You’re giddy as you wave goodbye, leaving the tent with your picture and his lingering energy.
A day passes, giving you time to recover from your celebrity-interaction and time to get settled into your comforting hotel room on the seventh floor. You’re a bit wary that Tom won’t ever text you, and seeing as you don’t have his number, you realize you have to wait it out. You don’t want to risk waiting for the entirety of your stay here, though, so you grow worried. But alas, Tom texts late on Tuesday night, apologizing for the radio silence that came when he had to finish up the Meet-and-Greet event. You’re relieved, to say the least.
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He exchanges details, telling you to meet him at a corner cafe at ten in the morning tomorrow. You comply, promising to get a good night’s rest before saying your goodnights and sleeping the hours away. You’re promptly awoke but your eight-thirty alarm. With a groan, you get up to shower, and the cold water wakes you right up.
An hour later and you’re ready for some quality, top-notch sightseeing. You grab what you need, locking your hotel room door before going down the elevator with a sweet elderly couple. You follow the map on your phone until you arrive at a small shop on the corner, just as Tom had said. You pull the door open, the smell of coffee beans entering your airways. You exhale the familiarity of it all, smiling to yourself before searching the shop. You spot Tom in a corner booth, and as you make your way over, he sets his phone face-down on the table with a smile, waving at you. You take a seat across from him.
“This place is cute.”
“Right? Best tea in London.”
Your stomach grumbles, loud enough for the both of you to hear and then share a laugh about. “I suppose I should eat breakfast.”
“I suppose I should join you,” he replies in the same tone, the two of you sharing tender smiles before someone comes over to take your order.
The conversation picks up and all tension and awkwardness wafts away in the air, leaving you in Tom’s comfortable aura. You talk until the check is paid, and as you step out on the crisp air of the city’s streets, you turn to Tom for the agenda.
The day goes on like that. The two of you go all around the city, visiting The British Museum, the Tower Bridge, Big Ben the clock tower, the Buckingham Palace, the Portobello Road Market, the National Gallery, and even the London eye. Tom knows everything like the back of his hand, and the ancient city makes you feel so significant. Your last stop is Cambridge University, something you’ve always wanted to see in person.
Tom’s been taking your picture all day. On polaroids, your iPhones, and even some of the tourist-profiting workers who beg for sales. He claims it’s so you can start scrapbooking, a conversation the two of you had covered during your many word exchanges.
The two of you have been all over the city since the end of breakfast at almost eleven o’clock. Now, it’s almost eight o’clock and you’re hungry as fuck. After some debate, the two of you decide to take a big red bus back to your hotel for some room service or hotel-restaurant food.
Tom sits in the seat beside you on the bus, the two of you up top and enjoying the city. You get lost in conversation again, the two of you going through today’s latest pictures and video-memories. You end up goofing off, so much so that you almost miss your stop.
The two of you stumble to the entrance of your hotel. Tom smiles, grabbing the door for you. You reply with a sheepish “thank you,” before waving hello to the front desk women.
“Do you want room service or do you want to dine in the restaurant?”
“Would you mind if I joined you for room service?”
You shake your head with a gentle smile, the two of you racing to the elevators. After hitting your floor number, the elevator goes up and the two of you talk again and again. Tom excuses himself to the bathroom when you get into your room; it gives you the opportunity to change out of your clothes and into a pair of sweats and a loose tank. Tom comes out ready for room service but is grown flustered at the sight of a different outfit on you.
“Getting comfortable?”
“Duh,” you lean back on the queen sized bed, back hitting the headboard. “Stay for a movie?”
He smiles, “Hand me the menu.”
He ends up staying until ten o’clock. You promise to go clubbing with him, for a full London experience, and the two of you schedule to do just that on Friday night. You book the entirety of Thursday to finish your sightseeing with him, and before you know it, you’re spending every day in London with Tom.
On your last day, Saturday, you eat breakfast with him at that first fateful cafe. He tells you he can’t take you to the airport — he’d probably get mobbed by fans — and you understand, promising to call him once you land. He promises to come with you to France one day, so the roles can reverse.
You finish your final cup of coffee just as Tom finishes his tea. He smiles sadly, one you mirror.
“I’ll see you soon, you know. And you can still drop me off at the airport.”
“I know,” he smiles sheepishly, hand reaching across the table for yours. “But I’ll miss sightseeing with you. I forget how amazing my own country is, sometimes.”
“Well,” you smile, “I’ll be back, so don’t worry too much, Tom. It’s not like I’m going across the world.”
“Yeah,” He chuckles, “And besides, I can come see you sometime.”
“Absolutely.”
“It’s just so weird to have friends in France and shit,” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Like you live there and I can just go and visit you whenever.”
“I’m still a call away.”
“And thank god for that.”
You exhale after a beat of silence. “This is so fucking crazy.”
“What?”
“This. You, us hanging out. Just four days ago I was paying to see you, and now I’m having breakfast with you for the third time?”
“I promise, I’ll refund that Meet-and-Greet money.”
“Why?” You look at him quizzically and he bites his bottom lip.
“Well we’re friends, so you don’t really need to waste that money and I can get it back so-”
“Don’t,” you look up at him. “It makes for a good story.”
He nods, and after the two of you pay the check, you’re standing from the booth of the quaint little shop one final time, making your way to your door and settling in the passenger seat of Tom’s car. With your luggage in the backseat, he drives all the way to the airport, the loud sound of plane engines filling your ears. He drops you off at the terminal with a hug and a watery smile.
“See you soon!” He waves until you’re out of sight and the security guard is threatening to give him a ticket.
Half a year goes by, with quick three-day weekend trips back and forth, to London and to France even. You’ve seen Tom a total of seven times in the past six months, and you’ve grown closer than ever.
About a month goes by after your last trip, until your boss is telling you that you’re getting a week off for the upcoming paid break. You’ve already confirmed your flight and hotel plans to London, wanting to surprise Tom.
You decide to do it the night before you’re due on the airplane to the country of Brits.
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You can’t help but grin at your phone, eventually laying down to sleep while you can before your early morning flight. Tom’s on your mind, in your future, and in your dreams. The last month of FaceTimes and text messages have been amazing, but unbearable because you miss his presence. The extreme amounts of flirting, however, have definitely picked up over text. Your week long trip to London marks the eighth time you’ve seen Tom since that first fateful Meet-and-Greet. You can’t help but feel like the dynamic is changing a bit, though. The two of you have upped the levels a bit, and now you’re more cuddly, more flirty, and definitely more interested.
When you land, you text Tom but frown when the usual immediate response doesn’t come. Moving past a crowd of waiting people, you head to baggage claim to get your luggage. After excruciatingly lifting it off of the conveyor belt, it lands with a thud on the ground and you start wheeling it towards the exit.
The building is extremely less crowded thanks to your early flight booking. When you look up, you see that familiar head of precious brown locks, and you squeal. Tom never leaves the car when picking you up or dropping you off at the airport, for fear of paparazzi and fans catching him. But this time, he’s out and in the building to come get you.
Abandoning your luggage, you drop your carry-on on the floor as you run over to him as fast as you can. He can sense you’re about to jump into his embrace, so he prepares for the bone-crushing hug.
Your arms go around his neck while his hands settle on your waist. He smiles, chin settled in the crook of your neck while he inhales the scent of you.
“Tommy, oh my god. I missed you so much.”
When you pull apart, you’re each a jumbled mess of excitement and tears, so much so that when Tom’s hands grip your face to pull you in to a passionate kiss, you’re immediately calmed. Though you’ve never kissed before, it feels so right.
Your lips chase after his, deepening it as your hands go to his hair and his to the small of your back. When you separate, your foreheads lean against each other while you pant.
“That’s new.”
“Sorry, I should’ve asked.”
You chuckle, “I would’ve said yes.”
He interlocks your fingers, smiling. “I missed you.”
“I missed you more.”
Suddenly, he’s reminded of the fact that the two of you are in public, and when he looks up, he sees a group of girls holding their phones up and capturing the moment he’s just shared with you. Quickly, he pulls you into his chest protectively, hiding your face in your neck.
“We need to hide or else they’re gonna know it’s m-”
“Don’t,” you settle him. “It makes for a good story.”
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angryschnauzer · 3 years
Note
Ohhh I got one for you, you know about henry getting hard when filming that scene in the tudors? How about him being really apologetic and going to her trailer after to say sorry again but hearing her getting off saying his name???
Oh fuck yes. I like this one. Enjoy the smutty smut smut.
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A Hard Apology
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, inappropriate erections, unprotected sex.
As paying acting jobs went, this one wasn’t bad at all. Your costar was certainly enjoying himself as you straddled his waist, the crew bustling around you as they set up for another take of the saucy love scene you were about to film. The fluffy white robe that was draped around your shoulders hid the majority of your body and your costar from the waist down, and in the chill of the set you were thankful for it as the air conditioning was making your nipples harden each time you had to shed the robe for a take.
You glanced down and smiled at the fine specimen of a man beneath you, but his attention seemed elsewhere as he was muttering to himself;
“Ireland 20 England 32, England 44 France 8, Wales 21 England 13...”
“Henry?”
“Huh?”
“What are you...?”
“Umm... Rugby scores...”
“Oh... ok”
It was usual for actors to try and distract themselves during love scene filming days, but as the director yelled to get ready for take seven you shed your robe and handed it to a member of the crew, steadying yourself on Henry’s broad chest. The director called action and you did just that, bending down to kiss him with full tongues, before the ‘sex’ started and you began to ride him. Your moans were fake but you started to feel something nudge at your modesty pouch you wore, your eyes going wide before you looked at Henry and saw the panic on his face. You quickly leaned down and kissed him again, and although unscripted you knew it would conceal the look of panic on his face;
“Flip us over and bury your face in my neck, i’ll wrap my legs around you” you whispered so low your voice was concealed by the squeaking of the antique bed.
With impressive strength and dexterity Henry did just that, and to help the matter the bedsheets had tangled between your legs, now hopefully obscuring and surprises the camera may be picking up where it was now obvious Henry’s modesty pouch had come loose and was doing absolutely zero to control his nether regions. 
With dry humping that was getting wetter by the second, you both fully immersed yourselves in the scene, your fingers digging into his back muscles and ripe ass cheeks as you arched your back, adding in a few ‘Oh your majesty’s’ for good measure. The tiny coloured light on the ceiling turned to red and it was your signal to ‘finish’ the scene, the moans and grunts becoming more and more realistic as the two of you really went for it. 
The director yelled cut and crew appeared with fluffy white gowns for the both of you, each helping the other into theirs so not to expose yourselves to the crew. The producer called for an hour’s break to change scenes and for costume changes, so you retreated to your trailer.
-
Henry wanted a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked in years, but good god that scene shot his nerves, his mind still clouded by embarrassment. He’d been distracted by your tits – fucking hell they were glorious – so he hadn’t ‘tucked’ himself between his legs to help control his body responding. His hard-on had raged so forcefully it’d torn the adhesive modesty pouch away from his body and there was no doubt you’d been able to feel him. It was completely unprofessional and he chewed on his fingernail as he made his way back to his trailer. He should apologise, tell you how sorry he was for what happened
“Oh Henry…”
He stopped in his tracks. Was he hearing things? He listened again and heard whimpering, and your voice again;
“Please… Fuck, Henry…”
He glanced up and saw your name above the trailer door. It was now or never. He gently tried the handle and found it unlocked, quietly slipping inside and shutting it just as silently. Stalking through the small trailer he found you in the most glorious position; splayed on your bed, one hand cupping your breast and pinching your deliciously pert nipple, the other hand between your thighs, strumming at your clit. He could see your wetness had coated your inner thighs and fingers, your petals spread opening as a welcoming blossom.
“Henry, I need you…”
“Well I’m right here…”
Your eyes shot open, taking in the welcome intruder as he stood filling the narrow doorway to the bedroom of your trailer. You couldn’t stop your ministrations, you were too far gone, so when you watched him hastily strip himself of the sweatpants and fluffy robe he’d put on after your scene and climbed onto the bed you let out a groan as you saw his hardening dick swelling and heavy between his thighs. Taking hold of your wrist he pulled your hand free of your cunt, bringing your fingers to his mouth and carefully sucking your essence from each one before pressing kisses down your arm until his body was pressed to yours.
“I came to apologise…” he murmured between kisses and bites to your neck and shoulders
“Yes, I accept… please… oh my god please keep doing that…”
His sharp teeth had found the soft skin of your neck and he was dragging the points of them over your jugular. Your fingers wound into his hair as your back arched and pressed your body to his, desperate for more. Fidgeting beneath him you finally felt him slid a hand between your bodies, positioning his crown at your soaked hole before pushing inside, parting your walls as he stretched you out. There was no further apology, instead raw passion took over, your bodies meeting in the most carnal of ways.
You soon found your body was chasing its release, your hands gripping onto his biceps as he pounded you into the flimsy bed, the grey and pink floral covers twisted beneath your sweaty bodies. You came with a scream, his lips and teeth finding your neck again as you squeezed him tight, your body shuddering with wave after wave of pleasure.
Henry’s thrusts grew sloppy as he got closer to his own peak, before he suddenly pulled out and fisted his thick girth, pumping himself over you;
“Gonna cum on those fantastic tits, they got me into all this trouble in the first place as you bounced them in my face… so fucking beautiful…”
His cum shot out in thick white ropes, coating your heated skin before he fell back and sat on his haunches, his chest heaving. You were both silent yet sated, smiles tugging at the corners of your mouths when suddenly a knock at the door startled both of you;
“Director says get a move on and shower, the whole crew heard you. You both need to be in wardrobe in fifteen minutes”
“Shit” you muttered
“Pah, Lets take a shower. We’re the fucking stars, they can wait”
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weelittleweasley · 3 years
Text
growing pains (d.m.)
prompt as requested by anon: after the war and settling down with draco, the time comes for your children to attend hogwarts.
pairing: draco malfoy x fem! reader
warnings: recollection of pregnancy, recollection of the war, crying, lots of cute fluff though :)
word count: 3.6k
a/n: i cried writing this. have fun.
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Never did you think that you would have a normal life with Draco after everything that happened. The war took so much life away from you both; it showed you how truly ugly and vile the world could be. Especially Draco.
After the war, Draco refused to allow himself and his future family live in a world that was so cruel and unforgiving. Draco wanted to undo all of the wrongdoings he had done and work harder for a better future for himself, for you, and your family; it’s what you deserved, he told you. Draco wanted to give you the world and he would rest at nothing to do so.
Draco left his past behind him and moved from Malfoy Manor to settle somewhere new. A new start, a new life. You two were married immediately after the dust had settled from the war. The ceremony was very private just the two of you, professing your undying love for each other, Draco promising profusely that he would do anything and everything to keep you happy.
Life, for the first time, felt ordinary. And you thanked Godric for that. The two of you worked your jobs, supported yourselves, and were happy. And that’s all you could really ask for. You had everything you needed, a job, a roof over your head, and Draco by your side.
Although life was ordinary for the first time in years, Draco would do special things for you here and there to show you just how much he loved you and adore having you as his wife. During work, he’d send you three dozen roses to your desk, earning you strange glances as you just sat there, smiling like a school girl. Or when he knew you had an awfully long day, he’d draw you a bath and pour you a glass of wine and let you be for a few hours, letting you decompress. Or it could be something as simple as leaving you a love note on your pillow when he woke up before you. Draco was so thoughtful when it came to taking the time to appreciate all that he had. He had taken it for granted so many times in the past and with the war, it was all threatened. Draco learned quickly that he needed to recognize his blessings and take a moment each day to really show you how much he cared.
This was more than enough for you, just you and Draco living your lives together, relishing in this new life you created together. 
But soon enough, Draco started casually tossing around the idea of having children. You had been married for a year when it he started toying with the idea of having your own kids. You were in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes from that night’s dinner, Draco wiping down the table.
“(Y/N)?” he spoke from the dining room.
“Yes, my love?” you called back.
Draco walked into the kitchen, leaning on the door frame his arms folded across his chest. “Do you think we should move?” he asked, searching your face for a reaction.
Your eyes furrowed. You had been living in this house for a little over a year and you loved it. It was a symbol of your freedom away from the mess of your pasts and your renewed love and dedication to each other. Why would Draco want to leave this place you so fondly called home? You spoke your thoughts that swirled around your head, “Move? Why would we move?”
He peeled himself off the door frame and took a few steps towards you as you shut off the water and turned towards him to give him your full attention. “I think we’ve out grown this home,” he speaks. “Think about it. With my new business starting and with your promotions at work, we’ll both need a home our own offices. Not to mention, we’ll need a nursery soon and that means we’d have to covert the guest room into one, but where would your parents stay when they visit us. Besides, I want to move somewhere were my commute is shorter to work,” Draco shurgs, dancing around the fact that he just mentioned having a nursery in your home.
You stop him in his tracks, “Hold on there, lover boy,” you tease him with the nickname you’d given him back in your sixth year at Hogwarts. He smiles at the name, lightly laughing. “A nursery? Why would we need one of those?”
Draco inhales a deep breath and takes a step closer to you, placing a hand on your hip, pulling you close to him. “I love you, (Y/N). I always have. You are and will always be the most important thing to me,” he tells you as you smile, him kissing the tip of your nose. “I want to start a family together. We have more than enough money to move into a bigger house,” he refers to his hearty inheritance along with the money he’s made from his booming company, “we are both mature and ready, and don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t want a little Malfoy running around,” he teases.
You hated to admit when Draco was right. He saw the way you watched children play in the park around the corner from your home. How children giggled and played, their small feet running around, tiny voices speaking childish phrases, getting excited over new discoveries. Having a child with Draco would be a blessing. But you didn’t know if you were ready to be a mother yet. It was a large step, and one you wanted to take, it was just a matter of if you were ready for it.
Sighing, you brush your fingers through Draco’s blonde hair, a familiar feeling to the both of you. Draco lets his eyes flutter closed as he hums as you do so. “You’re right, Dray,” you admit as he smiles widely. A child. For the both of you. “But,” you interrupt, “I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mother just yet. I’m doing so well in my job and I love working. I’m not ready to give it up. This is only the beginning for me. And it’s not fair to ask you to leave your job to raise a child.”
Draco lets out a breathy laugh as he cups your cheek, rubbing it gently with his thumb as you lean into his touch. “I’m not asking you to drop everything for our child, sunshine,” he tells you. “Besides, we can always take leave from our jobs temporarily on maternity and paternity leave. When you’re ready, you go back. I run my own company, darling. My own. I call the shots. If I need to work from home to raise the child we created, so be it. I’ll enjoy every moment.”
Your heart flutters as Draco speaks. He really was perfect.
And in nine months time, you had created the most perfect thing you could have ever imagined. Celeste Frances Malfoy. Celeste...your star. A gift from the heavens. Your family was as complete as the sky; Draco, the moon, you, the sun, Celeste, your star.
Watching Celeste grow up was like watching a movie unfold before your eyes. Your beautiful baby girl held the universe in her eyes. And boy, oh boy, was she her father’s child. Identical grey eyes and silver hair, but she had your smile and laugh that made Draco’s heart swell with so much love. She had Draco’s love of mischief and often found herself in sticky situations.
Once you had found Celeste sitting quite literally in the toilet, red lipstick from your make up bag smeared across her face and chest, along with the toilet brush. You gasped as you found her and stared in shock. “Cel, what did you do?” you laughed.
She simply smiled, that mischievous smile at the age of two, and spoke, “It’s my wand! Just like mummy and daddy!” She waved the toilet brush around, making small mouth sounds that replicated those of magic and your wand. 
You laughed at the antics of your toddler. Instead of getting her out of the toilet bowl, you called out for your husband and called that he get the camera. This would be a memory you would love to keep. 
Draco ran in and saw his baby girl in this predicament and burst out laughing. “What mess did you get into, my star!” he laughed as Celeste giggled along with him. “Merlin, I need to tell your Uncle Blaise about this!” he wiped his eyes from laugher. 
The years past and Celeste grew and grew before your eyes. The more she grew up, the more she grew into her features. Her long blonde hair grew out and her eyes only grew to look more like Draco’s. But it became evident that your daughter possessed the same ruthless nature as you did. Celeste was bold and clever and wise beyond her years. She really was a perfect blend of you and Draco. 
Knowing that you could make such perfect children, that only encouraged Draco and you to have more children. Draco insisted that he wanted five children, but you stared at him with wide eyes. “Do I look like Molly Weasley?” you laughed as he chuckled to himself. “How about three?” you suggested as Draco rolled his eyes.
“I don’t like odd numbers. What if two are very close and the third one feels left out. I can’t do that to our children,” Draco pleaded as you groaned. “Four? Four and I’ll never ask for anything else!” he begs as you roll your eyes, knowing damn well that him not asking for anything else was the biggest lie. “Okay, maybe not that, but four! Four is a great number!”
And in typical Draco fashion, he got what he wanted. Four children. Celeste, your oldest, your leader, your star. Xander, your second, the jokester, the pot-stirrer, but also the empath of the family. Sage, your third, the free spirit, the humble one, Miss Independent. And last, Nicolas, your last, the baby, the soft-spoken one, but incredibly defensive of your family and its honor. Your perfect family. 
Each of your children all bore that same striking Malfoy hair, warning children to know who they were messing with. The girls looked much like their father, same hair and eyes, making your heart swell as you looked into their eyes. The boy, on the other hand, had Draco’s platinum hair, but your eyes and smile. The perfect combination.
Having such a large family meant chaos in the house. Celeste would often squeal about how Xander was bothering her while Xander tried to blame Nicolas for his pranks. Sage would quietly sit and observe before telling you the truth about what happened before going back to coloring. You laughed as Xander yelled at Sage for throwing him under the bus, but she just shrugged. The house never being silent always brought you a comfort that you never thought imaginable. The blabbering mouths of your children, the laughter, the fatherly voice of Draco booming over it all, catching your children’s attention. 
Draco was a phenomenal father. You didn’t think he could love anything as much as he loved you, but you stood corrected. Draco loved you fiercely, but Draco poured his heart and soul into the needs of his children. Each child had a different relationship with Draco but each so beautiful and lovely. Celeste, being the oldest, idolized her father and how he treated you with such love and compassion. Xander insisted he wanted to be just like his father, smart, funny, and successful. “What more do you need?” Xander would shrug as you laughed. Sage loved Draco something wild, she would draw him little pictures that he’d tape to the walls of his office, she slept with his old quidditch jumper as if it were a blanket. The sight was heart warming. And Nicolas was the baby, Draco’s baby. Nicolas was Draco’s shadow, following him room through room, staring up at him with wide eyes. Your children loved each other and that was all thanks to how you raised them.
From a young age, you told your children that family was everything. You needed to protect and love each other because if you didn’t, who else would. From then on, your children were fiercely close and loyal to each other. You remember clear as day when Xander got into a fight on the playground and word got to Celeste. Celeste then gathered the other siblings and walked up to the child and scared the living shit out of the poor kid who thought to lay a finger on Xander Malfoy.
As your children grew up, you and Draco knew very well that a Hogwarts letter would arrive in the mail soon for Celeste as she approached her eleventh birthday. Your children knew of magic and magical abilities; you wanted them to know the powers that they would posses rather than shield them so they grew to fear it. Each child had a different reaction when they found out about magic, but all fears dissipated when you showed them each your wands and old robes. (Of course, Draco revering his time as a quidditch team member, Xander immediately yelling that he would also be a Seeker like his father.)
Soon enough, the eve of Celeste’s eleventh birthday rolled around and like you expected a letter dashed through the front mailbox and landed perfectly on the breakfast table as you sat down to drink your morning coffee. The pale beige envelope was addressed to Miss Celeste Frances Malfoy. A small smile grew on  your lips as you sighed and looked towards your husband. Draco’s eyes laced together in confusion, but soon recognized the slip of paper you had in your hands. The two of you smiled at each other before Draco called out, “Cel! You have an early birthday present!”
Almost immediately footsteps sounded down the staircase before Celeste arrived in the kitchen. “What is it?” the almost eleven year old asked excitedly. You handed her the envelope with a beaming smile as she looked at you quizzically. She tore into the envelope and unfolded it to read the words scribbled onto the parchment. Soon, joy and excitement filled her eyes as she squealed out in excitement. “I’m going to Hogwarts?!” she yelled as you and Draco laughed. 
You engulfed your eldest child in a tight hug as happy tears flooded your vision. She was growing up far too fast for your liking.
----------
The start of school eventually rolled around the corner as Celeste happily pushed all of her luggage through the train stations, veering around different platforms. Draco carried Nicolas in his arms as you held Sage’s hand in yours as Celeste walked ahead with Xander, blabbing about Hogwarts, smiles on both you and Draco’s faces.
Your eldest child was about to embark on the greatest journey of her young adult life and you couldn’t be more excited for her. You had no doubt that Celeste would excel at Hogwarts, taking after both you and Draco. 
“Mum,” Celeste calls from ahead, “What house do you reckon I’ll be sorted into?” she asks.
You smile and look at your husband speaks before you, “I have my guesses, but I don’t want to influence you in any way, my star.”
Cel groans and speaks, “Come on! You reckon I’ll be a Slytherin like you?”
Draco laughs and tells his oldest child, “It doesn’t matter to me or your mother what house you’ll be sorted into. We know whatever house you are in, you’ll make us proud.”
Celeste smiles wide before looking at her surroundings realizing its come to the part she’s heard so much about. You look to Draco who nods as you sigh. Walking to Celeste, you place your hands on her shoulders. “You ready, star shine?” you ask, giving her shoulders a squeeze. Celeste gulps and looks at you, excitement and fear laced in her eyes. “We’re gonna run through together,” you aim the luggage cart at that all too familiar wall. “On the count of three,” you tell her.
Your daughter takes a deep breath in and huffs, “On three.”
“1, 2, 3,” the two of you speak before running directly at the wall, passing through with ease as another world appears before your eyes.
Multiple wizard families bustle through Platform 9 3/4, mothers calling to their children as fathers carry bags here and there. A smile forms on your face as Draco slides his hand in yours. “Looks familiar, doesn’t it?” he laughs as you roll your eyes teasingly.
You grab Celeste’s hand, “Come on, darling. Xander, push the cart for your sister. Sage, hold Daddy’s hand. She’s got a train to catch!” 
Your family starts walking to the platform where the train awaited the loading of multiple new and returning students. Draco loads Celeste’s luggage onto the train with the help of Xander as Nicolas holds onto your leg and sucks on his thumb in wonder at the scene before him.
Turning to Celeste, you see watch her anxiously bite on her lower lip as you did when you were nervous. You place a hand on your daughter’s shoulder. “Cel,” you speak as she turns towards you. “This is going to be the greatest journey ever. Enjoy every minute of it because it goes by in the blink of an eye,” you comfort her as you see tears well up in her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart,” you pull her into a hug, tears forming in your eyes. You hold onto your eldest daughter, pressing kisses onto the top of her head. “I’m so proud of you, star shine. You are going to be incredible. I have no doubt about that.”
Draco places a hand on Celeste’s back and rubs gently. “Your mother is right. When is she ever wrong?” he teases as Cel laughs and hugs Draco’s torso tight. “My star...” he gets choked up before breathing in. He squats to her level and speaks, “Have fun. Make friends. And don’t forget to write us.” Cel giggles as Draco smiles widely at his daughter. “My first born...go kick some ass.”
Cel laughs and hugs you and Draco tightly. You wished you could stay in this moment forever. It was so bittersweet. Watching your baby grow up before your own eyes, but doing everything you’ve ever wanted for her. “Okay, my star,” you pull away, letting her know it was time. “Kids, give Cel a hug goodbye.”
You smile, wiping your tears away as Draco wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. Your kids embrace in a tight group hug, telling each other how much they will love and miss Celeste. “I’ll be home for Christmas! I love you guys and I’ll see you soon!” Celeste waves as she climbs onto the train. 
“Come on, Cel!” a voice calls out that you recognize as Tanner, Pansy Parkinson’s eldest daughter.
She’ll be just fine. 
Celeste looks at you and Draco as you both send her a wink, letting her know she’ll be just fine. And there she goes, disappearing into the train car.
Slowly, you watch the train pull away from the station, waving at it, watching Celeste embark on the journey of her life. You turn to Draco, watching him gently wipe away the tears that escape his eyes. “Where did time go?” you whisper to him. “I remember being on that train.”
Draco smiles and looks at you, “I remember flirting with you on that train. And then you stomped on my foot and told me to piss off. Didn’t expect to be by my side years later with four children, did you?”
You roll your eyes, “You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you, Malfoy?” you laugh. “Alright, my lovelies,” you call to your children. “Reckon we should get some ice cream to celebrate, shouldn’t we?”
Your children all cheer at the prospect of a treat as you scoop Nicolas into your arms, kissing his plump cheeks as he giggles. Sage jumps into Draco’s arms and Xander leads the way out.
With one final look back, you sigh out. This wouldn’t be the last time you did that. You still had three more children. But part of you wished it wouldn’t come as quickly as that just did. “One down, three to go, eh?” you tease Draco who laughs.
“Yeah! I’m next! One more year!” Xander exclaims as Draco tickles his sides.
“Yeah, a whole year! Don’t try and leave us too quickly,” Draco laughs as you join in. 
It was almost surreal. The life you and Draco had built with each other. A life of love and beauty; beautiful and healthy children, successful jobs, a beautiful home to call your own, and all your loved ones safe and sound. You thanked your lucky stars that you had this life and that Draco was so adamant on giving it to you.
Draco looked back at you and noticed how deep in thought you were. As you walked through the train station, Draco took one of your hands in his. “I wouldn’t want to go through any of this with anyone else. I love you,” Draco squeezes your hand.
You smile fondly at your husband, brushing his cheek with your thumb. “I love you. Forever and always, my dear,” you whisper before giving him a sweet kiss in the middle of Platform 9 3/4 just like you had done so many times before.
Times flies when you’re having fun.
273 notes · View notes
wheninitalyy · 3 years
Text
France is no escape - part 1.
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A/N : hey! I dont share my writing online very often but since I've been reading all the Benny Watts fanfics I could find, I thought I would post the one I wrote here. I tried to make this pretty gender neutral and I do not know anything about chess, I intend to do a bit of research eventually, but I wrote this solely for my love for the characters and the show (that I may watch again because I’m so obsessed).
This should be a multiple part story if I can motivate myself to continue writing. I’m also very new to Tumblr so I apologize if I'm just- messy.
Final thing! Writing is just a hobby of mine to write down all my thoughts so I apologize if my sentences are a bit messy or too long. Thank you for reading !
Click here for Part Two :]
Pairings : Benny Watts x Reader
Word count : 1865
Warnings : none :]
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 “Well, shit,” Harry breathed as he resigned. A smile grew on my face as I leaned back in my chair, one foot on the seat with my leg pulled up against my chest and the other on the cold floor. 
Harry was visiting me in little Rouen, France. He had become one of my closer friends even if he was hundreds of miles away.
Cleo, who I met through Benny, was in France for modeling often so I saw her quite a bit, but she wasn’t my home. She wasn’t chess obsessed like my friends were back in America. 
Harry sighed as he checked his watch, I glanced over to him and already knew what was going through his head.
“Harry- you don’t have to leave. You could move in with me,” I told Harry, he smiled as he shook his head. 
“You know I can’t do that- I’m lucky you’re paying for a flight for me every time I come to France. I couldn’t afford living here and wouldn’t fit in very well,” 
He had a point; this wasn’t a place he would enjoy living his day-to-day life in. I got on just fine but learning the language to finding a new job would drive him mad... but I couldn’t help but offer, I was lonely here. I went from being in a relationship with a US Chess Champion in a little apartment in New York to being offered a whole photography career in France. I couldn’t turn this down, with my mother passing away a few months before, there was nothing keeping me in New York. 
Heh... I wonder what mother would think of me living in a little apartment in Rouen. 
She would likely ask me about the boys and restaurants, if I was making enough to buy elegant clothes and dance in the rain with strangers on late nights. I miss her.
“Hey? You okay Y/N?” Harry pulled me out of my thoughts, 
I shook my head and laughed lightly, “Sorry, I was just thinking about when I lived in New York,” I half lied,
“New York? Back when you lived with the Benny Watts?” he asked me,
“Yes, when I lived with the Benny Watts,” I responded mocking the way he referred to Benny. 
Benny Watts. The relationship with the US Chess Champion, but he wasn’t a trophy, he was very important to me at the time. 
We were meant to stay in contact after I left for France, but days without calling turned into weeks, then months and eventually I don’t think either of us expected to hear from each other in any way other than reading the chess articles.
I buy a magazine when I see him on the cover, I flip through it for a bit but within the day it gets throw into the pile of magazines sat under my coffee table. He just climbed up the ladder of chess higher and higher after I left, it’s possible that Benny Watts getting romantically involved really was bad for him like the fan girls said. 
I smiled at the thought.
I took a deep breath as I got up from my chair, “I assume it’s time for you to get going?” I looked to Harry. Harry gave me a sad smile and nodded.
  Sunny Paris, another day, another twenty chess players to hunt down for some good cover photos. This wasn’t actually a very common thing, there was a tournament here in Paris. One of the biggest we’ve had in a while actually- this could very well be the talk of the town for quite a while. 
“Hello Y/N Y/L!” the front desk receptionist greeted me with a bright smile.
“Big day, huh?” I said as rested my wrists on the counter fidgeting with a pen in my hand.
“Oh yes! your company must be thrilled about this one!” she said, I’ve talked to her enough to book a room here for the little chess tournaments (and sometimes big) to call her an acquaintance and maybe a bit more. 
“Yep, it’s going to be a long weekend,” I laughed as I looked back to her, 
“I heard they flew in a couple big players from America, anyone you know?” she asked as she looked up at me and slid my room-card over the counter to me. 
“Oh? I haven’t checked who was coming in, I’m sure I know a couple of them though,” I smiled and slid the card into my pocket, dropping my pen in my bag as well. 
“Well you have a nice morning and tell me if you need anything!” she smiled back,
“Thank you!” I waved to her goodbye and started to walk around the lobby. 
One, two, ten chess tables lined up by the windows. The patterned carpet matched the drapes and the tables and chairs were a deep burgundy shade. Potted plants in every corner and little decorative ribbons hung from the ceiling, they really went all out this year. 
The games didn’t start until tomorrow, not any important ones at least, so today would be the best day to strike on interviews and photos. I arrived early so people were only just arriving or settling in.
I sat down on a nearby sofa and pulled my camera out, fixing a few things here and there so I didn’t have to later. 
After about 30 minutes, I heard a familiar voice, “Well that’s just pawns, there’s no hope there,” the man had an American accent.
I stood up and looked around for the man who I heard; I scanned the room until he spoke again. My eyes darted behind me as I quickly turned around, oh lord. 
There he was, long black leather trench coat with a hat that anyone could recognize, tight dark jeans and a black t-shirt. I could almost call the chains around his neck sparkly if the sunrays hit them just right, a crowd around him at all times since he got here, I’d assume. 
There he was, Benny Watts. 
I was about to walk over knowing how much my company would love to see some shots of him, or maybe it was because he was an old friend... or an old lover. 
I shook the thoughts out of my head as I put my camera back in my bag gently and brushed myself off. 
I should go.
I stood up and begun to walk toward the elevator across the room, “Y/N!” someone shouted from behind me. I swiftly turned around to be met with Cleo.
“Cleo!” I greeted her, pulling her into a hug.
“I’m so glad I caught you before I had to leave! I have a job at eleven,” she paused as she looked over my shoulder. “Oh! have you said hello to Benny yet?” shit.
I turned around to be met with Benny’s gaze, he smiled as he stood up. Of course, his name being said would immediately catch his attention. I looked back to Cleo, there is no turning back, thank you for that Cleo. 
I shut my eyes as I swore under my breath.
“Y/N?” Benny asked,
I forgot to breathe for a moment and let out a quiet exhale and turned around, “Ben- Mr. Watts,” I corrected myself as I would if I was on a job, which I was.
At this moment it seemed I had forgotten all my history with Benny while also remembering every detail. 
He seemed taken aback by what I called him, “Why are you calling me that?” he smiled but his eyes clearly said he was caught off guard. 
“I- I’m on the job,” I stuttered at first, I could see him deciding to let it slide as he looked away. He looked back to me and opened his arms for a hug, I backed away just a bit and he immediately got the message. Why did I do that?
“What? You’ve been gone for a couple years and I’m a stranger now?” he laughed, yet I could tell he was irritated by how I acted. But he was Benny Watts, he never shared how he felt, and he never shows weakness. What I did merely confused him as far as I knew.
I didn’t know how to act if I was being honest, things weren’t left exactly fantastic when I left for France. Benny wasn’t happy I was leaving, not at all. He went from being shocked, to upset, to begging me to stay, to making promises like he would visit me. He didn’t keep those promises, but I never expected him to. 
I took a deep breath, “No you’re not- I’m just- sorry,” I was a mess, I wasn’t even able to stay cool around Benny when we were together.
He was my weakness, his smile, his messy dirty blonde locks, his voice. 
He looked down, “Don’t worry about it,” he paused as he looked at my eyes. He just stared at me, “Better get going, I think some people are waiting on me,” he told me as he looked back to the crowd who sat around him and a chess table just moments ago.
I looked over to Cleo with a worried expression, she put her hand on my shoulder and shrugged with a sympathetic smile. I was an idiot, I backed away from a hug with Benny when I used to wake up to him everyday only 2 years ago.
Benny looked me up and down and tipped his hat, he spun on his heel as he turned around to walk away. I didn’t know what to say so I decided to say my goodbyes to Cleo and go to my room,
“Benny,” I turned around suddenly hoping to catch him,
“Yeah?” Benny turned to look at me,
“I’ll see you later?” I asked,
He chuckled quietly and looked to his feet, “Sure Y/N, I’ll see you later,” he said dully.
I felt relieved he didn’t scoff and keep walking like he had done to many who wronged him.
I do miss him; I wasn’t distant because I wanted to be- I was distant because I had lost my ways with him. I didn’t know how to be his friend again. I miss the bad jokes and the excited chess talk and even some of the pointless arguing, what it was before I left. 
  I fell onto my bed and stared at the ceiling in my hotel room.
What would mother think?
I ask myself the same question every day. She would think if he didn’t move to France with me in the first place that he wasn’t worth my time, I smiled as I remembered when she first met him.
She asked how much money he had, if he took me to his tournaments, if he would die for me. Benny sat there speechless while I was a giggling mess, I don’t even believe we were together at that point but over my dead body did I not introduce a US Chess Champion to my mother.
I’ll talk to him before he leaves, I’ll be there to watch him win everyone. I’ll fix what I have clearly broken.
// Part Two ! //
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stardancerluv · 3 years
Text
Gotham Surviving the Pandemic 2021
Part 5
Summary: worries raise, anger explodes.
Roman’s mouth formed a thin line as he read the paper.
Cases are on the rise! Virus has mutated once again! Is another lockdown on the horizon? It announced.
He ran his fingers through his hair. His chest felt like it was tightening. An entire syndicate had contracted it and well… Died. Enemies should be beat the old fashioned way. Pushed or bought out, not some stupid virus. They should have been more cautious. He was still relieved that he had not met with them.
Getting up, he began to pace. His eye was caught by one the photos of the two of you that sat on his desk. He grabbed it. It was you before this silent killer. There was a carefreeness to it.
He glanced in the direction of your studio. The frame creaked under his gloved hand. You were not going to like what he was going to say.
******
You sighed after ending your call. Your heart beat hard in your chest. News from France just reached you. It was news you had been dreading. One of the best fabric merchants you knew has died. Damn it. That would put a dent in things.
You eyed the door of your studio. Cases were on the rise in Gotham. You knew how serious Roman was about keeping you safe.
Biting your bottom lip, you debated keeping this from him. In the three years of being his girl, you never lied to him. You frowned. The idea made you ill.
Damn, you just didn’t want him to worry. He had enough on his mind with the club. There was also those that he kept on the payroll.
You had been safe this entire time. You would continue to be. As it is, you had already put in place a lot of precautions. You could come up with more of them.
You eyed your door. You couldn’t lie to him. But how would you go about telling him. Your stomach knotted, making you ill.
You held your face in your hands as you tried to think. You began to pace. Then you went over to the window and looked out.
Damn this silent killer, you cursed softly. Why haven’t we found some way to curb or get rid of this virus.
Looking down you grimaced. You picked up one of the more carefree shots of you and Roman. You had managed a rather good shot of the two of you. Across his face was the smile that crinkled his eyes.
Since the pandemic you rarely saw it. At the beach house you did. Sighing, you sat down on the window seat.
A sharp knock on the door startled you. “Yes?”
Roman came in and you could already tell by his posture that this wasn’t good.
“Y/N, you and I have to talk.”
You swallowed and began to stand up.
He came over and gestured for you to stay seated. “Y/N.” As he looked at you, his eyes were stormy. His mix of emotions made your stomach churn. When he looked like this you knew you had to brace yourself.
“Cases are on the rise.” He started.
You nodded.
“I- I don’t want you going to meet your clients in person for a while.”
“Roman.” You stood.
“Listen, there are more and more mutations out there.”
“Yes, I’ve heard. But it's crucial to my business. I meet them and we discuss what they want.”
“Put a pause on that.” He stepped closer, his face took an edge. “Meet them on camera.”
“I can’t. It is integral to my creative process.”
“Your creative process?” He mimicked. “Your creative process?” He repeated. “Does that fend off the disease?”
“No, but… But-”
“Does the disease say, oh wait I can’t hurt Y/N. She is in the middle of her creative process!” He shouted.
“I take precautions!” You shouted back. Annoyance began to uncoil deep in your stomach.
“They’re not good enough!”
“I’m still here.” You were growing exasperated. “How about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Will you? Will you negotiate, will you make a territory grab via camera?” You shot back.
“That’s different.”
“Because you’re a criminal?” You instantly winced at your own words. Fuck, what had you just said. Everything in you crumbled. You had not meant that. You reached for him, flinched and stepped back.
All emotion escaped his face. “Y/N...” Your name sounded strangled.
“Oh… Roman, I...” You wobbled… Tears immediately filled your eyes.
He inhaled, turned and began walking away. You grabbed his arm, he turned back and looked at you. You instantly let go of his arm. The look in his eyes spoke more than he coul d ever do. You backed up.
And moments later, he left and slammed the door shut behind him. You threw yourself against your window seat.
@spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @nebulastarr @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97-blog1 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @professionalclown123 @chogisss @xxinvisiblexx @shantellorraine @xxvisionsxx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @mrskenobi19 @bdffkierenwalker @thereluctantherosrose
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boldlyanxious · 3 years
Text
Dare
Part of Meet cute Mondays
All fic masterlist
She could still here Adrien yelling at her from the ground. He was definitely recording this. Her thin little flats did not have good traction and it might be her downfall. Literally.
Had they been in Paris she thought she might have been able to climb anything in the city without her transformation but this was Gotham. It was dark and dreary and everything felt like it was slightly damp all the time. She didn't know if it was condensation from the cooler air or being so close to the water. Possibly it was a mix of the two.
She was pretty far up now. Maybe she shouldn't have looked down to see him laughing at her. There was even a bit of a crowd now, watching. Probably what the asshole wanted for her humiliation. But no one would know who she was with this mask on. The cape wasn't really helping. It whipped around as she got higher.
She reached the platform with her hands and planted her feet against the poles that lifted it this high. She used that to pull herself up to the statue. Based on how well they could see the statue before she guessed that Adrien had a pretty great angle for the video.
The gargoyle was a lot larger up close. She could hear Adrien laughing again and she groaned. She never should have agreed to make a bet with him. She knew he had die hard fans in France as a teen but had not expected him to make the top 20 eligible bachelors in the world at 23. Probably partially her own fault for keeping him relevant as he backed her debut line and modeled some of the clothes. They were on their way to a very expensive Gotham restaurant where she would be paying for her slight against him when he came up with this dare to get out of it.
From the platform she climbed up to the sculpted rock the gargoyle posed on. She decided to go all out since she was already up here. She straightened her Batman mask and checked that the symbol was on her chest straight and made sure the cape was flowing in the wind. She posed for the crowd and camera.
"I am Batman and I love you," she shouted in a gravely voice. She pulled out her other prop and faced the large gargoyle. She dropped to one knee and held out the ring pop to the statue. "Please say you will marry me."
The reaction of the crowd was perfect. Adrien gave her a thumbs up to show she had done what was required. But Marinette was into the act by this point. She jumped up and hugged the statue. Her arms barely closed around it's neck. She heard someone call from below to kiss so she leaned close and made a smacking kiss sound. She leaned back against the creatures clawed hand as if she was being dipped.
The next sound she heard was much closer than the ground. She saw him upside down first before she righted herself. She hadn't planned for being caught up here. She thought she might have to run away quickly if someone showed up. She eyes the vigilante before her. She thought he might be Red Hood, although technically it was more of a helmet not a hood that he wore.
None of his face was visible so she was completely blind sided when he grabbed her around the middle and used a cord to swing away on.
"Don't worry, Batman. We will save you from whatever shrunk you." He spoke into a radio next, "I have Batman. Some foul magic shrunk him."
She could hear the response from his ear piece. "I am right here. You know that isn't me."
"Imposter!" He said. They landed on a building and he flipped a switch. She suspected he shut off his radio.
"Take me back," Marinette said.
"I may not even look for how to get you back to normal. You look way better this way."
Marinette walked to the door on the roof but it was locked. She left all her things, her phone included, with Adrien to make the climb easier.
"It's locked," she said. "Can you get me down?"
He walked up to her and took the ring pop from her.
"So are you engaged to the gargoyle or do I have a shot?"
Marinette didn't know what to say. He lifted his helmet high enough to grin at her before he put the ring pop in his mouth. He pushed the helmet back and lifted her back up. Then they swung back over to near where she had been.
"Uh thanks," Marinette said.
"Hope I see you around." He says before he swung back up to a nearby rooftop.
Tags
@technicallyburninggarden | @emjrabbitwolf | @certainmuffinbagelcalzone | @theymakeupfairies
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deja-you · 3 years
Text
domestic tranquility
m. de lafayette x reader
summary: a collection of intimate scenes from the L/n Administration, or the ‘what if’ ending to foreign affairs.
word count: 4.3k
author’s note: i hope this makes up for the ending of foreign affairs :) also a special thank you to @astralaffairs​ because she is my inspiration and she took the time to help edit this and i just love her in general
masterlist | foreign affairs
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“Lafayette, will you marry me?”
The other line was silent, and you almost thought he had hung up on you.
“Hello?”
“I’m sorry, I must’ve heard you wrong. I could have sworn you just asked me to marry you.”
“I did.”
You could hear him suck in a deep breath. “Chèrie, I don’t understand.”
“Lafayette, I know this is a lot to ask. I’m going to run for president. I’m the perfect candidate, I really am. I’m what America needs right now.”
“Of course you are. Where do I come into this?”
“My staff has run some numbers. I do a lot better in the polls if I’m in a committed relationship. But the problem is, I’m not in a committed relationship.”
“You want to lie to the press and tell them we’re married?”
“I don’t want to lie to them. I’m asking you to marry me. It wouldn’t be a lie.”
“Huh.”
“You can say no. I know this is a lot to ask. It’s crazy, reall—”
“Okay.”
“What?”
“Let’s get married.”
Your jaw hung open. “Just like that, you’re on board?”
“You should be president, chèrie. I want to help you any way I can.”
“Are you sure about this? This isn’t something to be taken lightly.”
“Believe me, I’m taking this very seriously. I’m going to get on the next plane to New York. We’ll talk about this in person.”
You opened your mouth to say something else, but you found yourself at a loss for words. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“See you soon,” he repeated. “Let’s get married.”
You were in Iowa.
For some reason you had to come to godforsaken Iowa to become president. You didn’t think about how stupid corn was. You couldn’t think about it, just in case it somehow slipped out and you then alienated all the voters in Iowa. But you really didn’t care.
What you did care about was the sight of your French husband (it still felt strange to call him that) contentedly eating away at a cob of corn. A strange contrast to the sight of him smoking cigarettes and drinking a diabolo menthe at a Parisian café, but he looked just at home at the Iowa State Fair as he did in France.
His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he gestured for you to join him. Pasting on a smile, you made your way over to him and a series of photographers followed after you.
“Chèrie, have you tried this? It is amazing. This is the best corn I have ever had,” he said, waving around the corn on the cob animatedly while he spoke. The photographers were eating it up, and the corn on the cob vendor was smiling proudly.
You were absolutely bewildered by just how magnetizing he was. People loved him just for eating corn. You couldn’t even blame them, because you knew just how infectious his smile was when he was genuinely happy.
This marked your first official outing as a couple on the campaign trail since you had married Lafayette. If you were honest, you had been nervous about the whole ordeal, but the second Lafayette sent you that easygoing look, you relaxed.
When you were close enough, his hand found yours and he was quick to intertwine your fingers together. This was where the real and unreal collided. His genuine smile and unharnessed affection met your faltering remembrance that this wasn’t the loving marriage it looked like. It was serving its purpose at this exact moment.
You counted each time the camera flashed to take a picture of you and Lafayette walking hand in hand. You could see the headlines on tomorrow’s papers, and you could see Lafayette’s grinning face. A political marriage certainly wasn’t traditional or morally acceptable, but there were real issues that needed to be tackled. You had plans to reform the health care system and the economy. If Lafayette helped you achieve a platform where you could really make a difference, who cared if you bent a few social constructs?
Besides, it gave you the opportunity to reconnect with an old… friend.
“You really like corn?” You asked him quietly.
Lafayette sent a disarming smile to the photographers, and leaned in very closer to whisper in your ear, “I can’t stand corn. Get me out of Iowa.”
You didn’t hide your laugh, and the photographers quickly shot a few more photos of the two of you being a cute couple. Lafayette really didn’t like the corn? You had been so convinced his smile was real. You were beginning to think you couldn’t tell the difference between what was fake and what was real.
There was some kind of external force that wanted you and Lafayette to end up together.
You were sure of this, because you had expelled him from your life multiple times by now. The memory of him leaving you on the sidewalk in D.C. felt like it was just yesterday, but now you were back in his arms. And it felt so natural.
So yes, there was something pulling the two of you together. You didn’t want to call it fate. You didn’t really believe in that. It had to be something stronger. There was something tugging at your heart telling you it was choice, but you didn’t want to believe that, either. Your fingers gripped his suit a little tighter in an attempt to ground yourself.
This was good. This was nice, you thought as you swayed back and forth. There were thousands of eyes trained on you, and millions watching you from home on their TVs. The thought that so many people were watching you right now was daunting, but it was nothing that you weren’t used to at this point. You were the Leader of the Free World. The President of the United States.
You could hear a few cameras click, and you flashed a disarming smile in their direction. A well-known singer was crooning out the words to a slow, melodic version of Stand by Me. Your husband squeezed your hip lightly, causing you to look up at him while he absently swayed with you.
He grinned when you met his gaze and softly whispered, “relax a little. This is your moment. Enjoy it. You’ve earned it.”
Your stiff smile melted into a genuine one and you gave him a small nod. He was right, you did deserve this. The road to the White House had been one paved with blood, sweat, and tears, and you still hadn’t stepped foot in the building yet. A few more balls, and then you could finally move into your new home for the next four to eight years. But you had earned it.
The last year and a half had been the craziest 18 months of your life, and you knew it wasn’t about to get easier anytime soon. But this was good. This was nice. You didn’t have to worry about any political opponents or Supreme Court appointments right now. All you had to do was dance leisurely with your attractive husband.
“What are your thoughts on my seeking out a second term?” you asked quietly on the ride back to the White House.
There were a few more balls that you and Lafayette had attended, staying only long enough to share a dance or two with the press before heading to the next event. It had been a non-stop day; the inaugural address in the morning and the inaugural balls in the evening, and everything in between had successfully worn you thin. Lafayette had been at your side all day, and you could tell that he was exhausted as well.
“Ma chèrie, you were just sworn in. How can you already be thinking about re-election?” Lafayette yawned, slumping back against the seat with his bowtie undone and hanging lazily around his neck.
You laughed softly and shook your head from side to side. “It’s you I’m concerned about.”
“Hm?”
You shifted in your seat to look him in the eye. “You agreed to marry me so I could win the Presidency. I told you that we would only have to stay married while I was in the White House. So what are your thoughts on eight years instead of four?”
“Are you kidding me, Y/n?” Lafayette asked incredulously.
You pursed your lips and raised an eyebrow in confusion.
“You’re running for a second term. And I’m going to be by your side through it all. That is, if you still want to be President after dealing with Congress for four years.”
This solicited a laugh from you. He paused before he continued. The pause was the space between you and him, between the Earth and the Sun and everything in between. A hesitancy for the desperation of being wanted and the interval for not knowing if that was what he wanted.
“And of course, if you still want me by your side in four years.”
You tilted your head to the side and smiled at him. “Of course I’ll still want you by my side. We made a promise. For better or for worse.”
Lafayette took your hand in his and raised it to his lips. “For better or for worse.”
Somehow you found the time to sit down and watch a movie in the White House movie theater. 
Lafayette chooses some sort of action movie, you can’t even remember the title of the film and you decide that it’s not important.
You’ve invited some close friends to join you for the night. The Hamiltons (of course), your chief of staff, Nathan Hale, and his partner, and a few other White House senior staffers. All people you would trust with your life and your secrets.
You know Alex’s suspected for a while that you and Lafayette got married for political reasons. He’s a real politician, so he’s one of the few who have actually considered that marriage could be an ambitious political move. A heartless speculation, yes, but he isn’t exactly wrong. You consider that he’s mentioned the idea to Eliza, but you’ve given them no confirmation on the subject.
Nathan knows you better than you know yourself after working for you for all these years. And he knows about your history with Lafayette. He may have been the one to plant the idea in your head of calling Lafayette up before you ran for office, but you’ve never officially explained to him the truth about your relationship. You don’t need to.
The point is, most people in this room know both you and Lafayette completely. And you trust everyone in this room completely. Even if they did find out the truth, it wouldn’t matter. You know your secret would be safe. Knowing all this, you begin to wonder who you’re trying to convince that your marriage is real.
It has to be someone. You’re not throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close for your own benefit. Lafayette isn’t getting you a bag of popcorn and placing a kiss to your cheek for any other reason than because he really wants to sell this marriage. 
You have to be putting on this performance for someone, because if not, that would mean you’re shooting Lafayette loving looks for no other reason except for the fact that you want to. And that can’t be right. Quid est veritas?
You’re given relief from the thoughts turning around and around and around in your head when the lights turn down low. You take your seat beside Lafayette (something in you tells you that your place has always been beside him). The movie starts playing and you relax for the first time since before you were sworn in as president (was that nearly a year ago?). 
You don’t know if it’s because there’s something therapeutic about watching a fictional President having to deal with fictional problems, or if it’s relaxing because Lafayette has pulled you to his side and his hand absently runs through your hair. You decide it’s both.
“Are you tired?” Lafayette whispers in your ear quietly about halfway through the movie.
You are tired, but you insist on whispering back a no. He doesn’t believe you. Lafayette turns his head and presses his forehead against yours. The movie is forgotten in the background, you have his complete attention.
“Close your eyes,” he says softly. “Get some rest. I’ve got you.”
You want to kiss him. You’re so close to him now, all you would have to do is tilt your head just slightly to the right. If you kiss him now, you can say you were just trying to sell the relationship. To the maybe five people in the (dark) room who weren’t even paying attention to you, and even if they were none of them were about to report to the press that they thought your marriage was a sham. It’s not a good excuse, but you’re still considering it.
You don’t consider it any further; you don’t get to. A bit of light comes flooding into the movie theater, and you hear some hushed voices at the entrance.
“Madam President?”
Regretfully, you untangle your limbs from Lafayette’s and sit up. A White House staffer gives you an apologetic look and explains that there’s been a situation. You don’t look back at Lafayette because you know you’d be met with a look of disappointment. Instead, you make a light joke to the audience about never getting a break and they all laugh politely and urge you to go take care of the matter at hand.
You recall the 25th amendment while you’re leaving the theater, and you try to recall what the succession of the presidency really means. What is the Vice President doing tonight? You’re too busy thinking about what it would feel like to have your husband’s arms wrapped around you once more to think about whatever situation had arisen, did that make you unfit for office? Could someone else just take over for one night so you could spend the evening with Lafayette?
“You stayed up?”
You didn’t know what time it was – didn’t need to – but it was late. You had spent the entire day flying back from meetings in Germany, and then more meetings on the plane. You were exhausted, your staff was exhausted, so by the time you got back to the residency you were certain that you were the only one on the planet who was still awake.
“Didn’t want you to be alone.” Lafayette is still awake.
He looks tired, and you know he’s beyond tired. No doubt his schedule has been filled all day, and the both of you have to be up – four hours? That’s hardly enough sleep to function properly. And yet Lafayette has sacrificed his sleep because he didn’t want you to be alone.
Not that you would have been alone. You had planned on entering the residency quietly and sliding into bed beside him after you changed into sweats. You would let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep, and you’d hardly feel alone. But you’d be lying if you said his consciousness wasn’t a comforting presence to you.
“How was Germany?” He yawns.
You’re in a hurry to change out of your suit because the soft comforter of the bed is calling your name. You hardly process his words, murmuring some practiced, diplomatic response. He says he wishes he could’ve come with you, and you tell him you understand why he couldn’t this time. Next time, you say.
“You shouldn’t have stayed up for me,” you tell him once you’re comfortably situated in your favorite pair of sweats.
“For you? I was waiting up for the Vice President. Jay and I had a little rendez-vous planned for tonight, you just got back early.” His grin is tired, but there’s still a playful twinkle in his eye.
You sit beside him on the bed, giving him a little shove and rolling your eyes. “If you had said Secretary Hamilton, I might’ve believed you.”
He leans on you slightly, his head resting on top of yours. “Secretary Hamilton?”
“Mmhmm,” you say quietly. “The two of you have far too much chemistry.”
“Ma chèrie.” He lifts his head off yours just enough to turn to face you, and two of his fingers move your head so you’re facing each other. There’s only one bedside lamp turned on right now, and he’s taking this moment to memorize the lines of your face and the exact shade of your eyes. “You know you’re the only one for me.”
You realize you don’t love him in the way you used to. Not in a bad way, you haven’t stopped loving him. It’s just different this time. It’s honest and real, which is a bit ironic, because the foundations of your marriage were anything but truthful.
You’re polite, so your smile often is fake. He’s real. Right in front of you, right beside you. Every night. There’s something about his mercy and selflessness that you are in love with. He’s teaching you what it really means to be human. Even if you didn’t love him for that, you are so covered in him you wouldn’t know what else to be.
Whatever bravery you had stored up for debating political adversaries or promoting your most radical ideas suddenly possessed you, and you felt yourself leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. In the privacy of your shared residency. With no one around to see.
It’s almost like something breaks in him, if just for a moment. Maybe it’s the sleeplessness that’s slowing eroding away at his brain. Maybe he’s like you, and he’s also been wanting this for longer than he’s willing to admit, but he doesn’t hesitate, he just melts into you.
Your head feels foggy, you can’t really think, all you know is that this feels good. It’s the kind of intoxicating feeling that reminds you of the first time you kissed him, but you remind yourself that nothing is like the first time. You don’t love him in the way you used to. It’s different. Better.
“Don’t run for re-election.”
He doesn’t look at you when he speaks. Well, usually he would, but right now he isn’t looking at you. His eyes are memorizing the stitches on your coat, refusing to look at your eyes or your lips or your hands. You recognized the emotions swirling from his heart up to his lips. Shame.
Lafayette had never been anything but supportive when it came to your political career, so hearing him ask you not to run for re-election was a shocker. He loves supporting you. You know it’s out of a place of deep regret and desperation that Lafayette would ever even broach the subject. But he’s desperate now. You can tell.
You take his face in your hands – reaching out for anything good. You’d like to take the moment to just be here with him, but you’ve never been given enough time for that. It hurts him to look at you, but eventually he does.
“What?” You ask him softly. You know you heard him correctly, but you feel the need to prompt him into an explanation.
“I know it’s not my decision. And if you decide that you are going to run for re-election, we’ll put the matter to rest. We can pretend this conversation never happened,” he says sincerely. Lafayette takes a deep breath as if the next part will be difficult for him to articulate. You know that is. “Don’t run for re-election.”
He’s firmer in his request this time. Yes, the shame is still there, but it’s an underlying tone beneath his pure tenderness.
Lafayette’s never asked much from you. When you asked him to marry you, he hardly asked any questions. You know he would do whatever it is you asked of him at any time, so when he asks you not to run for re-election, you already know your answer without him having to explain himself. If this is what he wants, you’ll do it for him.
But you are still the president of the United States. You have a responsibility to your party, the government, and Americans as a whole. After accomplishing all you have in the last four years, it won’t be easy to walk away from the presidency without a reason. No, you don’t deserve a reason from Lafayette – you don’t even need one, if you are being honest – but you can at least pretend to be hesitant when it comes to leaving the Nation’s highest office.
“Why don’t you want me running for re-election?” you ask.
“Because I love you.” He says it like it’s the most simple and straightforward answer he can think of.
You can’t help but smile. “And I love you. But what does that have to do with me not running for re-election?”
“I know you love me. But there’s some part of me that will always think – as long as we’re in the public eye – that you only love me for appearances. That this is only love for the cameras—”
“Laf, it’s not. I promise I love you.”
“I know you do. But I’m always going to wonder. If it’s fake. If it just feels like love because of the atmosphere. For the past four years I’ve had to live with the gnawing fear that you wouldn’t love me outside of the White House. It would kill me if I had to live like this for another four years.”
Your voice is softer when you speak again. “You once told me you’d stay with me if I wanted to run for re-election. You said for better or for worse.”
“I know. That was years ago. That was when I thought you would only stay married to me while we were in the White House. That was when I thought a fake marriage would be enough for me.”
“Laf—”
“Ma chèrie, I want a life with you. One that isn’t just for show. I want to love you because I love you, not because it will help with your polling numbers.” There’s a deliberate determination between his words. He’s nervous. “I love you so much, and I can’t stand the idea of anyone having reason to think it’s anything less than love.”
The Oval Office is golden.
Well, technically, it’s more of a beige with a vibrant blue carpet in the middle of the room displaying the presidential seal. But in the low light of the December afternoon, the room is filled with a golden glow.
You’ve always known you were going to make history, but to actually be history is something altogether new for you. In another month, the drapes in the Oval Office and the furniture would all be replaced with whatever furniture the next president saw fit. It would be too easy for the white house staff to clean out the White House of any trace of you, but maybe if you were lucky you’d be mentioned in a footnote in a textbook somewhere.
It’s not like you are one to make rash choices. The decision of stepping down from office came after long and meticulous thought on the subject. You are more certain that you made the right decision more and more each day, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have your doubts every now and then.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Lafayette knows you better than you know yourself. He can tell by the blank look on your face while you read through a thick file that no, he’s not interrupting anything.
“It’s strange that I can say no,” you sigh softly. “I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t busy. But apparently people don’t care about a lame duck when there’s a shiny new President-Elect.”
He crosses the room and leans against the desk. Lafayette gently tugs your hand up to his lips and presses a delicate kiss against your knuckles. It’s gentle and timid, as if everything about this relationship depends on this small act of affection. You’ve noticed that Lafayette has been more reserved lately, almost like he feels guilty for asking such a heavy favor of you.
“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite president?” It’s hardly a question and mostly an answer.
You smile, and he can’t help but think about how beautiful you are. He thinks you get more beautiful every day, although he can’t figure out how that’s possible.
“Your favorite? You like me better than President Washington?”
Lafayette hums softly and pulls you out of your seat, lifting you up onto the desk. He stands between your legs, hands resting gently on your hips. His gaze falls from your eyes to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and finally says, “you’re easier on the eyes.”
You laugh – Lafayette swears it’s lyrical – and press a kiss to his cheek. “That’s good to hear. How has the house hunting been going?”
His eyes visibly brighten. “I think I’ve found the place.”
“Is that right?”
“Mmhmm. It’s this piece of property in upstate New York. The drive to the city isn’t so far, and the estate. I just know you’re going to love it.”
You could sense the excitement emanating off of him. “Am I?”
Lafayette nods. “Chèrie, you have to see this place. It has a beautiful kitchen for me to cook in. A balcony – I know you love balconies. A few acres so one day our kids—”
“Our kids?”
His eyes widen as he quickly realizes his mistake. “I—well… yeah? I know we haven’t talked about this. I always pictured us with kids, but if that’s not what you want, I can respect that. We don’t need to have kids, I promise that you are already more than enough for me.”
You bring a hand to cup his face, your thumb softly moving across his cheek as you just hold him. “Lafayette, I want a family with you. I want a future with you. I want forever with you. I love you.”
He brings your lips to his, and for the first time, you’re not worried about it being the last time.
I’m just going to add foreign affairs taglist here :)
@fanfic-addict-98 @wordvomit-foryourmind @farihafangirls @actuallyanita @cubedtriangle @katierpblogg @ballerinafairyprincess @dannighost @ateliefloresdaprimavera @lexylovesfandoms @dovesgrangers @a-hopeless-fan @biafbunny @hermionie-is-my-queen @zeelmol @oi-itsemily @itsjube @someinsanefangirl @awkward-walking-potato @lu123sworld @exorcisms-with-elmo @ohsoverykeri-blog @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @poetnstuff @nyxie75 @roxanne2020 @luckyfriesss
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Text
Soulmarks, Part 9
First part
Previous
~~~
She breathed out as she broke Mr. Pigeon’s whistle for the 21st time.
“God, when will Hawkmoth show up again? We haven’t seen him in ages,” complained Marinette as she caught the butterfly. She waved it off vaguely.
“It’s almost like he doesn’t want us to beat him,” complained Adrien, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Right?”
Tim laughed over the comms. “Sucks that you guys can’t track the butterflies.”
The heroes looked at each other in silence for a long time.
“You… you have tried to track the akumas, right?”
“Well…” Began Adrien.
“About that…” Continued Marinette.
Tim sighed.
~
He looked up from the computer as she took a seat beside him and raised his eyebrows slightly. “Hey.”
“Hi,” she mumbled, sipping at her coffee cup. She started pulling up tabs on a different screen.
He gave a grin. “You didn’t get me any?”
“Dick said you’re cut off.”
He sighed. Man, he’d been hoping that she hadn’t known. Now how was he supposed to stay up when he’d been expressly told to go to sleep?
“I don’t get that. You drink more than me. You should be banned, too.”
She shrugged. “I can portal out and get some if I want. You can’t. You’re easier to control.”
Damn it. That made sense.
He rested his head back against the chair and crossed his arms. “This is stupid.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, still clicking away at the computer.
He huffed at her apparent disinterest in his struggles. He looked at her screen to see what had captivated her attention and raised his eyebrows. “If you needed a map of Gotham you could’ve just looked it up on your phone.”
“Not what I was doing.” She sighed. “I’m trying to figure out where Joker would be hiding. He’s super white. You’d think someone’d see him by now and post him on twitter.”
He shook his head. “Not if he killed everyone he saw.”
“But he hasn’t done that. There hasn’t been any major shootings, no mysterious missing camera footage, nothing.” She crumpled the now empty coffee cup in her hands. “It’s like he just... disappeared.”
He scooted his wheely chair closer to her and frowned as he looked at the files she was searching through over her shoulder. She was, shockingly, right. Not only had Joker not been implicated for any crimes, the city had been devoid of pretty much everything major since he’d been gone. No bank robberies, no shoutouts, nothing. It was as if every major criminal had agreed to take the month off.
“Gotham is too quiet,” he whispered.
She nodded grimly.
~
Marinette sighed lightly as she stepped into the Batcave and found Tim zombie-ing around. She caught his arm before he could bring another cup of coffee to his lips.
“When was the last time you slept?”
He mumbled something that might have been ‘never’.
She shook her head. “I know finding Joker is important, but you have to sleep more.”
He groaned.
She tried to pull the mug away from him.
He didn’t let go, hooking his legs around his swivel chair. She pulled again and cursed when this only succeeded in making him roll a few centimeters.
She narrowed her eyes and started dragging him around the Batcave by his mug. Eventually he’d have to give up or his body would give out. She could wait. She was hopped up on caffeine and it was only midday in France. She could outlast him.
Dick walked in, twirling his escrima sticks like batons. He stopped short as he spotted the heroine dragging her soulmate around the Batcave while he hung off of her.
“Uh…?”
“DONT YOU FUCKING JUDGE ME, DICK.”
He raised his hands in a kind of ‘okay, damn, don’t hurt me’ fashion and started backing away slowly.
“Diiiiiick, help meeeeeeee,” begged Tim.
Dick hesitated, his eyes flickering between both of them, before he apparently decided that it would be better to just fall to his doom than choose a side. He hopped over the nearest railing and disappeared.
Marinette blinked. “Did he just… die...?”
“I’m fine!” He yelled from somewhere in the cave.
“Oooookaaaaay… what is wrong with this family?” She whispered.
“One day you’ll be one of us, so you’re insulting future you right now,” Tim teased quietly, only to whine as she managed to finally kick the chair away from him.
She hooked his arm around her shoulders and bore most of his weight as she began dragging him up to his room. “Who says we’re going to get married?”
“Hopefully you, one day, but if you don’t there’s no way Bruce wouldn’t adopt you.”
She rolled her eyes. “You need to sleep.”
“No…”
“Yes.”
She pushed open the door to his room and raised her eyebrows at the spotlessness. She had expected it to be covered in a fine layer of dust with how little he used it, but she supposed that Alfred would never let the mansion fall into even slight disrepair.
He sighed and attempted to lean away from her. She probably would have actually fallen if she hadn’t been prepared for some kind of retaliation but, as it was, she still ended up having to grab the doorframe to stop them from hitting the floor.
He pouted. “I don’t wanna sleep.”
“Okay, fine, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t make you sleep,” she said, dropping him on the bed.
She crossed her arms over her chest as he considered the question.
He couldn’t seem to meet her eyes as he mumbled his answer: “Nightmares.”
Marinette had been prepared to immediately shut him down, her mouth halfway open, but then she snapped it shut.
That was actually a very good reason. Huh.
What was she supposed to say? She wasn’t his therapist! She was fourteen! Give her a break!
She watched him pull his pillow to his chest and bury his face in it. There was a tiny pang in her chest.
Even if she wasn’t his therapist, she still wanted to help…
She hesitantly sat down on the edge of the bed and took his hand. He stiffened slightly and looked up at her with a tiny, somewhat confused, frown playing across his lips. She gave him an awkward smile in return.
“You’re going to pass out no matter what, but… I’ll stay here and make sure you don’t have any nightmares, okay? I promise.”
He squeezed her hand a little bit to say he understood and settled into the blankets. After a bit, he gave a short laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You say ‘okay’ a lot when you don’t know what to do,” he teased quietly.
She blinked. “Oka --?”
He cut her off with his laughter and her face reddened.
“That’s it! I’m leaving!” She joked, only to feel his grip tighten on her hand. 
“Don’t go. Please.”
She looked at his wide eyes and felt herself blush harder. “I was kidding, I made a promise. Besides, I don’t think you’d sleep if I left.”
His grip slackened a little bit.
“Actually… my body kinda gave up when I laid down here and now it won’t let me get up.”
She nodded slightly. “Yeah, they do that when you do something stupid and then lay down. They’re pretty good at making sure you don’t overexert yourself.”
He huffed. “Stupid human limitations.”
Marinette grinned and ran her thumb along the back of his hand. “Awful, really.”
He gave a short hum of agreement before closing his eyes. After a bit, she felt his grip slacken on her hand.
She pulled the blanket over him properly and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Tim smiled in his sleep.
~~~
Next part
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211 notes · View notes
dreamescapeswriting · 4 years
Text
BTS Reaction | Interactions With Paparazzi [Request]
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Seokjin:
Jin was rubbing your hand trying to reassure you that this was going to be fine and everyone was going to love you. BigHit had announced that they had an announcement to make regarding one of their employees and it was Jin. Well, Jin and you. Your relationship was finally going to be made known to the public after four years of dating, you were having mixed feelings about it. You couldn't decide if it was a good idea to do this or not, you thought people were going to hate you for hiding it for so long or maybe they would just hate you anyway.
"It's just a small interview, then it's all over and we can leave." He reassured you kissing your cheek and then looking over at his manager who was still talking to the interviewer about what they could and couldn't ask you,
"What if they hate us together?" Jin looked at you and could see you were seriously worried about it. You were overthinking every small detail you could think of and he didn't want you to have to carry that on your shoulders.
"They won't but even if they do, I love you and nothing that anyone can say will change that." You smiled feeling a little better now that he was reassuring you it was okay and the interviewer walked over sitting on the table in front of you while his camera crew got ready.
"So you and Y/n have been together for how long?" The interviewer questioned, all of the questions were going to be directed at Jin since he was the famous one in your relationship which gave you a sense of relieve.
"Four years, five in December." He answered the interviewer turned to look at you with a giant smile on his face.
"How were you feeling after your first date with him? What was it like?" You smiled at the memory you had of your first date and you looked at Jin to make sure it was okay to talk about and he nodded,
"Our first date was a mess," You laughed as you remembered it more and more, Jin had made you promise that it wasn't your first ''official'' date since it was such a disaster but you still counted it as such.
"We went out for a walk around the Han River and he was so nervous that he actually ended up falling over one of the metal railings and into the river." Jin groaned hiding his face in his hands while you continued to tell the story,
"I went to help him out and he ended up pulling me in with him and we were freezing since it was the middle of Winter." The interviewer was laughing along with you while Jin cringed in the corner.
"I don't even think the boys know about this, he made me promise that it wasn't our official first date." You all finished laughing and Jin was still cringing at the memories he'd thought he'd erased from his memory and the interviewer moved on to more questions.
"So what was your official date then?" You looked at Jin who went on to explain that after the disaster of the first one he took you out to a restaurant, nowhere near water, then he took you out to see a show together and go to do a little sightseeing.
"We ended up getting stuck out in Busan though because the car I was renting broke down so we spent the night walking along the roads trying to find somewhere to stay and we found a cute b&b." You smiled at the fond memories that you had with Jin and the interviewer continued to question you both while you were only half paying attention to everything happening.
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Yoongi:
"Yoongi I don't know if this is such a good idea, anyone could be watching the house." You said as Yoongi packed up his bag ready to head to the studio. He'd stayed over the night before, something you both promised never to do because it could lead to things like this happening and you would be in the position you're in now.
"I'm sure no one saw me coming," He chuckled walking over to you, you were trying to look through the blinds for anyone that was watching the house but Yoongi wrapped his arms around your waist and was resting his head on your shoulder.
"No one's there." The car that was picking him up pulled into the driveway and you sighed not wanting him to leave just yet.
"I'll come back later and we can do this again." He told you once he saw the sad expression on your face,
"Yoongi you can stay over again what if-" You didn't get to finish your sentence because he started kissing you to shut you up. He was sick of hiding from everyone he wanted everyone to know that you were the one he loved and if getting caught was the way to do it then he was going to deal with the consequences.
"We've been together for two years, I'm sure if they were going to find me they would have by now." You agreed with him on the part but it still didn't stop you from worrying, you didn't want to be the reason that he got in trouble at work and you didn't want to upset Army in any way either.
"Here." You handed him a spare key to the apartment and he stared down at the small key with a frown on his face,
"Front door key, for when you're working late and I won't be awake when you come around." He smiled at the gesture and handed you a key,
"To the dorms." You handed the key back to him but he insisted you keep it, placing it in the palm of your hand and nodding that he wanted you to have it. He wanted you to feel like you were always welcome at the dorms because you were, everyone loved you and you loved them.
"I'll see you tonight, I love you." He kissed your temple and opened the front door, as soon as the door opened you were greeted by yelling and flashing cameras. People all over your front garden asking so many different questions you couldn't quite catch what they were trying to say or ask you. You were starting to get nervous because no only were you on the photos but so was your house number and your address, was it going to be that easy for everyone to find you now?
"Y-Yoongi?" He looked back at you and then over at the cameras he put his bags down on the floor going back to your doorstep and reaching for you, kissing you passionately in front of everyone not caring about hiding it anymore. The camera shutter noise slowed to a stop and he pulled away looking at them all,
"Any more questions?" They all stayed silent awkwardly looking away from what had just unfolded in front of them and Yoongi walked over to the car that was waiting shouting that he would see you later and he'd have someone come to the apartment and make sure no one was going to be on the property anymore.
"Bye! I love you!" He screamed trying to add to the effect that he was in a serious and committed relationship with you, you, on the other hand, were getting more and more nervous the longer people stared at you.
"I love you too." Once the car was gone you slammed and locked the front door too scared to do anything until Yoongi came back from work, but he was texting you the whole day keeping you updated on when a guard would come to check on you.
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(*CHOKES*) 
Hoseok:
Much like Hoseok, you were known to be the friendliest person that Army knew. They would always come up to you if you were alone in the shopping mall but if you were with friends or family they would keep their distance not wanting to interrupt your time with them.
"Not to alarm you," You frowned looking up to see someone you didn't know standing there, she was wearing a BTS shirt so you knew she was Army, she had a worried expression on her face.
"There's a photographer and he's been trailing you for twenty minutes." You glanced over your shoulder to see a man following you and taking photographs. It was nothing new since they normally followed you and Hoseok together but you had no idea why he was following you alone.
"Why are they following me? He's not here, he's not even in Korea right now." You groaned walking closer to the Army who introduced herself and you began walking around the shop getting to know her and waiting for the man to leave but as more time went on more photographers joined him.
"Maybe there's something they know that I don't." You laughed, another girl walked over to you and asked what was happening when she saw you and another Army together.
"Paparazzi." You told her as she looked over at them,
"Do you deal with them a lot?" You shook your head biting down on your lip,
"They only normally come to us when Hobi is here, I'll message him." As you were typing a message to him the cameras began flashing and you frowned looking up to see them all aiming their cameras at you carefully and making sure to get you on screen.
"Back exit." The girls said in unison pulling you out of the shop and into the streets,
"I know a small cafe down the road, we can sit at the back?" You nodded in agreement and followed along with them in a rush to get away from photographers.
You'd been sitting in the cafe with both of the girls for an hour when Hoseok finally replied to your frantic texts asking him for advice on what to do,
"Hobi said they're trying to see what I'm like without him, what I do when he's not here and I should just go about business as usual." You laughed putting your phone on the table and ordering another coffee and something for the girls to have while they were sitting with you.
"Business as usual? As though you aren't being watched on your every move?" You giggled at them and shook your head glancing over at the window to see a couple of photographers still standing outside and waiting to get a glimpse of you again.
"They'll get over it soon and leave." You laughed getting up and going to the counter to order you all something to eat since you were going to be there for a while.
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Namjoon:
"Namjoon! We could get seen!" You giggled as he pulled you over to the Louvre, he'd brought you along to France for the weekend since he had some time off. He wanted to spend it all with you and so he flew you out to the most romantic place he could think of, you thought you were going to be cramped up inside a hotel the whole time but were surprised when he told you he had the whole weekend planned out. Today you were dressed in baseball caps and hoodies trying to seem like normal tourists and not Kim Namjoon and his partner, he was taking you around to different tourist spots and getting photographs for your family and friends as well as your Instagram.
"It'll be fun." He chuckled holding your hand and buying you both tickets and heading inside of the giant glass building with your hand interlocked with his,
"No hats inside sir." The man at the door said in a thick French accent as he stared at you and Namjoon, you were sure it would be fine since you were indoors anyway and if anyone inside spotted you it was no big deal. You both took your hats off and walked inside you were over the moon by everything around you, it was hard to believe that you were standing in the middle of the Louvre building with the love of your life. You;'d expressed to Namjoon about your affection for the Louvre and just France, in general, it had always been your most loved place in the world, beside Namjoon's arms of course. But France was your dream holiday destination and thanks to Namjoon you were finally getting to live it out.
"Joonie this is insane." You whispered as you walked around viewing everything inside, translating some of the plaques for Namjoon since his French wasn't as good as his English and then going over to more things and being amazed by everything you saw.
(X)
Once you both came out of the Louvre you were greeted by flashing lights like the ones Namjoon got whenever he went to the airport.
"Someone must have told them we were here." He told you taking your hand and running through the crowds of photographers who were all yelling different questions at you both to see what was happening. You were glad you'd worn converse shoes instead of anything else, the comfiest shoes to run in. You'd dealt with all of this before when your relationship was first revealed to the public but Namjoon knew how you got around big crowds and he didn't want you to have to go through all of it again,
"This way." You laughed pulling him down a small alleyway and holding him against a wall, no one bothered looking down there when they ran past and you giggled up at Namjoon who was sweating and panting more than he ever did on stage.
"This wasn't on the plan for today." He chuckled looking down at you as you stared up at him, he ran his hand along your cheek and smiled as you blushed at the small action,
"Cute." He whispered to you before leaning down and connecting your lips together, you blushed and wrapped your arms around his neck standing on your tiptoes so you could kiss him back properly. A camera flash went off and the sound alerted you that you weren't alone anymore,
"Run?" You questioned looking at him and down the other side of the alleyway, it was a clear shot and if you ran fast enough you could make it to a taxi bay and getaway.
"Run." He confirmed squeezing your hand and pulling you along with him laughing as the cameras continued to get photos of you both being so happy together.
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Jimin:
Jimin had been texting you all morning warning you that there would be photographers at the airport and to be ready when you got there for them. Your relationship had been out in the open from the moment it started three years ago so you were used to the cameras by now but he still liked to let you be prepared first. You had a cap and mask ready to cover your face after the long flight you'd just had and you were ready to go home to your shared apartment with Jimin and sleep all day.
"Are you waiting inside or outside?" You questioned him over the phone and a pair of hands on your waist made you scream,
"Jimin!" You whined turning around and hugging him tightly, no photographers were allowed inside and you debated staying there with him for an hour before going out into the freezing cold Korean air and flashing lights for a while.
"We have to leave at some point." You nodded in agreement but dragged him over to the shops that were inside,
"Stay here I saw something I really want to get first." Jimin groaned reminding you of your evergrowing collection of items that you got whenever you left or landed in Korea. It had been growing since your first trip out and he was running out of room in the apartment you shared to store everything.
You came back out clutching a bag in your hands and smiling, hiding it so he couldn't take a look inside.
"Let me see." You pulled it in front of you jogging ahead of him so he couldn't grab it from your hands but he caught up to you leading to a chase out of the airport and in front of the cameras.
"No." You giggled as he took the bag from your hands and looked inside revealing the stuffed BT21 teddies that were inside. It was all of the newest line of stuffed animals that they had released and you hadn't gotten them until now. You giggled at him as he stared at you with a playful glare knowing you had nowhere to put them when you got home and they would probably take pride spot on the double bed in your room. Looking around for the black SUV that would always come to pick you both up you frowned now spotting it,
"Probably had to move around before he got a ticket," Jimin said as you both continued to act as normal as possible in front of the cameras, it was silent except for a couple of them asking for you to turn and look at them and another bunch asking how your flight was. Once the car pulled up you both began walking towards it and a photographer knocked over your bag,
"Sorry!" She began ranting but you assured her it was okay and bent down to pick everything back up and put them inside, people capturing the moment that you were being nice to them and then getting into the car. Stories ran about how kind you were to the photographer who had walked into you and Jimin was smiling at how nice the articles were about you, it had always been that way though. There was never a bad article about you anywhere.
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Taehyung:
Taehyung and you sat across from each other in the cafe and you stared down at the food you had ordered suddenly feeling uneasy.
"You okay?" You nodded trying not to think about it too much, Taehyung was used to this kind of life but you weren't. You weren't used to being followed around by people with cameras all of the time and they were currently stationed outside of the cafe trying to get photos.
"What is it?" He asked he knew how to read you like a book so he knew there was something wrong the moment that you looked at him or rather didn't look at him. You were never a good liar so to avoid it you would stare down at the floor or your hands to stop him from getting the truth from you but he caught onto that trick soon.
"The cameras...They don't make you uncomfortable?" He shook his head and then realised how you must have been feeling. Your relationship hadn't been out in the open for long and you were nervous that you would do something to make them angry,
"I can ask them for privacy if you want?" You shook your head knowing it would probably make them angry and make you seem like the bad guy.
"No, it's fine." You lied trying to seem a little better than you were but he knew you weren't okay and so he moved to sit beside you instead of across from you. Slightly blocking the views so the cameras wouldn't reach your face as much and you smiled at him thanking him and reaching for a chip from your plate.
"Where do you want to go after this?" You asked looking at him and smiling, he'd been wanting to do some shopping before he went away on tour but he could tell how uncomfortable you were being out in front of the cameras,
"We'll go home and watch some movies," He suggested moving some hair from your face but you shook your head telling him you would be fine as long as he didn't leave you alone anywhere,
"We should try that couples painting class tomorrow though, I saw it on the cafe board." You said as you remembered seeing it on the board on the way in. You were so lost in conversation with Taehyung you'd forgotten about the cameras that were all taking photos of you both laughing and joking together, photos of you kissing his cheek and him staring lovingly into your eyes acting like a really sweet couple from one of the dramas you watch all the time.
"I heard there's a new book shop down the road, we should check that out too." He told you remembering that he'd promised to pick up something new for Namjoon to read while he was out and about.
"Sure," You told him as you got up from the small sofa you were sitting on in the cafe, you both began walking towards the exit when you got nervous again. He linked your hands together and gave you a squeeze, promising you it would be fine and that he was there if you got too nervous for it.
"Y/n! Tae! What are your plans for the day!?" They all started to yell at you and Taehyung could tell you were getting more and more anxious so he turned to face them and began to ask for a little more privacy with you, telling them that he just wanted to be alone for you a while not mentioning that it was you that was uncomfortable and they all agreed to back off and leave you both alone.
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Jungkook:
The paparazzi knew how shy you got whenever they would follow you around with Jungkook, you would constantly hold onto Jungkook for support and whenever they directed questions at you you would turn into a blushing mess hiding further into your hoodies or into Jungkook's arms so they tried to make it as easy for you as possible.
"You going to be okay?" Jungkook questioned, you were sitting in the black SUV outside the airport. You were going home for the holidays and everyone had caught wind that he would be dropping you off at the airport so they wanted to get some photos.
"Yeah." You lied looking out of the window, they were all standing on the other side of the road like they did whenever the boys and other idols were travelling. It was making you anxious thinking about going out there but you were trying to remember what Hoseok had told you he thought about when he was walking through them all.
"I'll be there the whole time." You nodded and he took your hand in his opening the door and letting you get out first and then getting out behind you. Reminding you that everything was fine and you were going to be okay.  You just had to smile and be kind, you were kind anyway so you just had to put it on display for everyone to see, Hoseok had been giving you tips on handling the paparazzi and you were going to put them to good use.
"Have a nice flight Y/n." Some of the photographers said as you walked past them all they were still taking your photos but they were respecting that you needed a little distance because you weren't used to it, you were smiling at them as you walked hand in hand with Jungkook dragging your suitcase behind you as you did so you didn't have a mask on like you normally did when you did this.
"Happy Holidays." Another greeted and you bowed to them all smiling brightly whenever they would talk to you,
"Happy Holidays to you all too." You said before going into the airport and slowing your walk down to a stroll, Jungkook smiled at you and told you how awesome he thought it was that you decided to try and talk to them. You had been trying to get a little comfier with it since it was how your life was going to be whenever you were around Jungkook.
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Tagline: 
@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @kpopfanfictionhoes @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @callingmyangel @rjsmochii @fan-ati--c @btsiguess-kpop 
532 notes · View notes
feeling-uncomfy · 3 years
Text
Am I spamming? Yes. Do I care? Not really, I'm having fun so- sorry you're at the brute end of my restlessness.
This was definitely inspired by "paranoia party" by Frances Forever. Its a bop.
There are some warnings-
Alcohol mentions (aka Hawks gets drunk and makes bad decisions.
There's some implications of sexual assault, please be cautions while reading
There's also a blood warning
Don't know why my brain did this it just started typing so- hah
Anyways enjoy :D
Shigaraki sat up at a desk full of monitors. Kurogiri stood stiff at his side. "This is a horrible idea, pull him out." Kurogiri said, speaking with a tone he rarely used on Shigaraki. Shigaraki shrugged, watching Compress weave through the crowd as he declined his third offering of champagne that night. At this point, he was the only sober one in the room. "He's not a damsel, he'll live, Kurogiri."
Kurogiri bit back his first response. "You know as well as I do as much as he enjoys partying, this is beyond anyone's limit. People are blackout drunk in there." Shigaraki nodded, and he caught up on what Kurogiri was trying to explain when Compress pulled someone's hand off of his shoulder. "If anyone tries anything like that, we have Twice, Dabi and Magne ready to pull him out," Shigaraki pointed to Hawks on another monitor. "And we have the bird." Kurogiri shook his head, not enjoying this in the slightest.
Atsuhiro felt the same.
He enjoyed partying, he used to do it all the time in his youth. Though, after one particular night, he couldn't bring himself to even smell alcohol. He refused to go near it. Or leave his apartment, but that's his story. Now that he's surrounded by either tipsy or flat-out drunk people, Atsuhiro was ready to call it a night and go take a shower to try wash the alcohol away. He tried his best to swallow around the lump in his throat whenever someone's hand brushed up against his arm.
He thought he was safe when someone grabbed him from behind. Atsuhiro turned sharply, and stopped mid-punch. It was Hawks. "Ah, it's just you." Atsuhiro breathed a sigh of relief. "I doubt I'm going to be able to find our target like this, we should go-" Atsuhiro's breath hitched when he felt Hawks's grip tighten on his wrist. "Hawks." He hissed, turning back. One look at his face and Atsuhiro knew he was in trouble. Hawks was drunk. How did that even happen? Atsuhiro pulled back, freeing his wrist only to have his waist grabbed.
"Hawks." Atsuhiro tried again, grabbing his wrist. "Let go." Hawks didn't seem to want to, and pulled Atsuhiro to the dance floor, where there were people dancing. Atsuhiro was spun around almost like a doll. Hawks was laughing, and pulled him so they were chest to chest. If Atsuhiro wasn't aware that they were being watched, he might have actually stabbed Hawks. He was spun again, and let out a shriek as he was picked up this time. "Put me down-! Hawks!" Atsuhiro's cry was ignored as Hawks brought them back off the centre of the dance floor.
"Very funny." Atsuhiro said sarcastically. "Can you let go now?" Atsuhiro winced once again as Hawks dug his nails into Atsuhiro's waist. Hawks grinned, positively out of it, and pushed his whole weight onto Atsuhiro. They fell back, Atsuhiro's back hitting a wall. In one quick movement, Atsuhiro was caged by a pair of arms. Atsuhiro was vaguely aware of Hawks saying his name, his face buried into his neck.
Atsuhiro barely suppressed a wince when he felt teeth digging into his neck. This was too familiar, Atsuhiro barely remembered what happened that night but Hawks's weight on him brought a cold reminder of the whole thing to him, and Atsuhiro felt like he was going to get sick. "Hawks-" Atsuhiro froze when he saw Hawks's hand start to move. Atsuhiro wasn't going to give it a chance to go anywhere.
Atsuhiro shoved Hawks off of him roughly, sufficiently terrified for the night.
Backing into the crowd, Atsuhiro realised he was bleeding. He clutched where Hawks had bit down and looked around for the camera. Which one was he supposed to signal at again? Atsuhiro forced himself not to flinch at Hawks calling him again. Atsuhiro took off into the crowd, caution thrown to the wind. He didn't bother checking if the door he went through was the right door, he just needed to get away from the stench, from the people, from Hawks.
"What's happening down there?!"
Shigaraki yelled into the walkie talkie, Kurogiri glaring at the feather covering the camera. "Don't know, Magne went in." Shigaraki sighed, scratching at his neck harshly. "Good." He said simply. Dabi put the walkie talkie away, looking at Twice, who was peeking into the room. "I can't see her! She's right there!" Dabi looked in, and saw Magne dragging Hawks out, his feathers following. "What about Mr.?" Dabi glared at Hawks as Magne shook her head.
"Boss, Magne didn't find Mr." Dabi's voice crackled over the walkie talkie. Shigaraki leaned in. "Send Hawks back to the van." Dabi grinned at the clear threat in his bosses voice. He grabbed Hawks and started walking as Kurogiri's patience ran thin, and he left as well. Magne and Twice stayed at the door, peeking in to catch wind of Compress. Kurogiri looked through the building, thankfully blending in well as he looked.
Kurogiri heard Atsuhiro before he found him.
Kurogiri turned down to the right when he heard a hitched sob, then silence. Turning around sharply, Kurogiri saw Atsuhiro pressed up against a wall, covering his mouth and neck. "Atsuhiro-? Atsuhiro, it's Kurogiri." Kurogiri spoke as gently as he could, surprisingly able to surpress his anger. Atsuhiro didn't answer, wiping his tears away sufficiently and grinning weakly up at him. "Kurogiri, I-" Kurogiri waited as Atsuhiro took a shaky breath. "I didn't see you there."
"Are you hurt? What happened down there?" Kurogiri stood over Atsuhiro, watching him curl into himself as he got closer. "Nothing, it was just a little hiccup." Atsuhiro laughed weakly as more tears fell down his cheeks. Kurogiri wiped them away, and saw blood trickle down Atsuhiro's hand. Kurogiri stared for a second, and then registered what he was looking at. "Atsuhiro, what happened to your neck?" Atsuhiro didn't answer, and Kurogiri gently moved his hand. He saw the teeth marks.
"Who did this?" Kurogiri's voice turned cold.
Atsuhiro stared firmly at the floor. "Could we just go home?" His voice was barely above a whisper. Kurogiri shook his head. "Atsuhiro. Who did this." Atsuhiro forced himself to breathe, forced himself to keep his composure, or what was left of it. Atsuhiro muttered as Kurogiri wrapped his arms around him loosely. "What was that, love?" Kurogiri asked, and neither noticed the nickname. "Hawks. It was Hawks. He didn't- he was drunk." Atsuhiro's words were choked as he spoke into Kurogiri's chest, his grip tightening on his shirt.
Kurogiri took a deep breath, both to hide the will to hold Compress tighter in fear of scaring him more, and anger at Hawks. He was going to rip that man to shreds. "Okay, let's get you out of here, alright? We'll go back to the van." Atsuhiro nodded, face hidden as Kurogiri warped them back to the van.
Dabi looked over, and hid the relief he felt when he saw Atsuhiro. "Boss, Kurogiri has Mr." Atsuhiro looked over, and Kurogiri would've been impressed by his ability to seem fine if not for the rage flowing through him. "I'm not dead, no need to be concerned." Atsuhiro laughed, then winced, his hand flying to the bloody mark on his neck. Dabi frowned. "Did a dog attack you or something?" Kurogiri gestured to Hawks, and Dabi's shoulders raising was the only indication that he was surprised.
"Hawks-?" Dabi asked, voice sharp. Kurogiri nodded as Hawks stumbled out of the van, and Atsuhiro took an instinctive step back when they made eye contact. Hawks garbled speaking was interrupted by Dabi kneeing him in the gut. Atsuhiro let out a startled laugh, not expecting that at all. Toga ran out of the van, wrapping her arms around Atsuhiro and swinging off of him. "Twice was worried about you! You want me to cut up the guy who hurt you?" Toga grinned and pulled a knife out of god knows where. Atsuhiro laughed again, shaking his head.
"That's not necessary, but thank you." Toga didn't respond, and dragged him over to Spinner. As soon as Shigaraki joined them outside with Magne and Twice, they were off. Atsuhiro sat up front with Spinner, and thankfully, there was no issue getting back. Shigaraki sent the others on their way, and Dabi managed to convince him to wait until Hawks was sober to kill him, somehow. Kurogiri led Atsuhiro off to shower and away from Hawks.
Atsuhiro cleaned himself off until all he could smell was soap, and his skin was scrubbed raw, he got out only because Kurogiri called him. Atsuhiro was freshly clothed, dried and ready to drop dead. Kurogiri snorted a little when Atsuhiro faceplanted on the bed. "Atsuhiro." Kurogiri called softly, and Atsuhiro looked over. Kurogiri reapplied a bandage to the wound. "There, now you can rest, love." Atsuhiro nodded, eyes already shut. Kurogiri gently eased Atsuhiro back into the pillows, watching him curls around the blankets.
Kurogiri waited until he was sure Atsuhiro was asleep before leaving. He walked down the hall and tried not to yell when he caught Toga and Twice breaking into Atsuhiro's room. He held back a sigh and let them go. He had more important things to tend to. Like the murder of the number two hero.
Atsuhiro woke the next day to arms wrapped around every limb. At first, he panicked. Then he saw who was there. Twice and Toga were clinging to his arms, and Spinner was the reason he couldn't feel his legs. He was draped over both of them, sleeping soundly. Atsuhiro knew he wasn't moving any time soon, so he decided to lean back and wait for rescue. Unfortunately, he fell asleep before said rescue showed up.
Twice and Spinner were woken abruptly to Hawks screaming. Spinner was about to ask what the hell was happening, but was shoved off the bed by Toga, who proceeded to scream. "They're killing him without us! C'mon!" Twice started to shush her as Atsuhiro shifted around. The three of them froze until Atsuhiro settled again, comfortable. Spinner snuck out, holding the door open for the other two as the fled the room. As soon as Spinner eased the door shut, they were off.
Shigaraki was chasing Hawks through the halls, Dabi hot on his heels, literally.
Twice made a clone, and followed Dabi through the door. Toga threw one of her knives to Spinner and the two followed. Kurogiri enjoyed watching them, already deciding when and how he was going to kill Hawks. So he sat back and watched the others chase Hawks out into the streets. He enjoyed the panic over the media, it was entertaining to watch other heroes try get in their way. Kurogiri simply sat back and waited for Atsuhiro to get up.
[Something I feel I should explain is Hawks's behaviour- because I am aware of how different I'm writing him-
Hawks to me is the kind of guy who treats everyone aside from his chosen few people like shit. Like- if he doesn't like or if he doesn't have to respect you, he doesn't care about you. At all.
Tokoyami, Miruko and Endeavour, people like them that he likes he protects, he treats well and he adores them. People like Dabi, Shigaraki and Kurogiri? He has to respect them, it's the only reason he tolerates them.
His relationship with Twice is a little like his and Tokoyami's, Tokoyami and Twice treat him like a human, so he wants to make sure they're happy, that they're well fed and other stuff like that.
I dont think Hawks feels that way about Compress, therefore he doesn't treat him like that, simple as. The only reason he'd like Compress is because of his drive to do work and be productive instead of sleeping.
Which is also why I dont think his relationship with Dabi is great either, because Dabi and Hawks dont trust each other and all that.
Yeah idk- I just think it's pretty cool to explore Hawks's duality as a spy and how differently he'd treat people he sees as "good" and "bad"]
27 notes · View notes
caitlesshea · 4 years
Text
we run with the wolves in the shadows
“So how many times did you actually kill each other before you realized you couldn’t die?”
Joe looks up at the sound of Nile asking both he and Nicky a question. 
Nicky shrugs like he doesn’t remember but Joe knows he does, because how could he forget such a thing, but before he can answer, Nicky does. 
“Enough.” 
Joe nods his agreement and Nile looks like she’s about to argue with them but decides not to when Andy pokes her head into the living room.
“They were alive when I found them, so killing each other was a moot point.”
“Okay, but you dreamed of each other right?” Nile asks this question to Andy, who answers with more patience than Joe’s ever seen her have. 
Nicky nods towards their room and Joe follows, glad to be escaping the questions for now. 
“We can’t avoid him forever.” Nicky says before the door is fully shut, picking up their earlier discussion of finding Booker. 
Joe has been steadily avoiding the conversation for the last five months, but with Nile’s questions and Andy’s mortality, they can’t avoid it forever, or even the hundred years they told him. 
“We can.”
“You are being petulant.”
Joe pouts and Nicky crosses the room and pulls Joe to his chest. Joe goes willingly as he kisses Nicky. 
“Fine, I assume you found him?”
“He’s in France.”
Joe snorts, because Booker is nothing but not predictable.
“Of course he is.”
“We’ll leave in the morning.” 
~~~
Telling Andy and Nile that they were leaving the safe house for a couple of days was easier than Joe thought. 
Although, if he’s being honest, he’s pretty sure Andy knows where they’re headed. 
“All the beautiful places in Paris and he picks this place?” Joe snarks as he pulls his sunglasses down to look at the building they tracked Booker to.
“His son lived here.” Nicky says quietly. Joe looks at him sharply.
“You remember where his son lived over three hundred years ago but now how many times we killed each other?”
Nicky looks back at him sharply. “It was four times, Yusuf, and it’s not that I don’t remember. It’s that I don’t want to.” 
Joe grabs Nicky’s hand, suddenly choked up, and squeezes. 
“Amore.” Joe whispers as he puts his forehead against Nicky’s and Nicky squeezes his hand back. 
“C’mon. We have to go to the market, you know he hasn’t eaten a proper meal in months.” 
Joe chuckles, loving Nicky even more.
“Lead the way.”
~~~ 
“This place is really a shit hole.” Joe says as they walk up the stairs to Booker’s apartment. Nicky scowls at him and knocks on the door. 
They hear shuffling coming from inside the apartment , what sounds like bottles falling to the floor, and Joe winces at a loud crash while Nicky sighs. 
“What?” Booker says gruffly as he pulls open the door and then stares at them incredulously. 
“Sebastien.” Nicky says as he shoulders his way into the apartment. “This place is filthy. Where is the kitchen?”
Booker points towards a doorway and Nicky nods his head and disappears. 
“Booker.” Joe claps him on the shoulder and walks past him to sit on the couch.
“What are you doing here?” 
“I’m gonna watch the game.” Joe puts his feet up and lifts up the remote. “You pay the bill?”
Booker nods wordlessly and Joe finds the right channel and settles in.
“Is Andy?” Booker looks away and then looks back at Joe. 
“Everyone’s fine.” 
“And you two?” Booker looks towards the sounds coming from the kitchen. 
“We are here.” 
“Yeah. But why?”
“We will explain after you eat.” Nicky says as he appears with a plate of antipasto. “And after you drink this. And this.” Nicky places two water glasses in front of Booker and Booker nods his thanks. 
“Is this?” 
“Don’t be silly. This is a snack. I’ll be back.” Nicky leaves as quickly as he came and Joe chuckles as he steals some meat and cheese.
“You really thought this was all he was going to feed you?”
“No.” Booker smiles as he drinks his water. 
“So you’re not going to tell me why you’re here?”
“Not yet. C’mon, I wanna watch France lose.”
Booker throws a pillow at him and Joe smirks. 
~~~
In what feels like no time at all Nicky is balancing three bowls of some kind of pasta salad in his arms as he comes back into the living room. 
“I couldn’t make a sauce like I wanted and I know you’re hungry.” Nicky says as he hands Booker his bowl and sits down next to Joe. 
“It’s okay. Thanks.”
“You need better pots and pans.” Nicky waves his hands towards the kitchen as Joe laughs. 
“He doesn’t really cook, Nicolò.”
“Still.” Nicky looks pointedly at Booker. “We taught you better.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Booker says around a mouthful of pasta as he shovels more food into his mouth. Nicky looks on disapprovingly but starts eating himself. 
“I didn’t expect to see either of you.” Booker says quietly, much closer to sober than when they arrived. 
Joe sighs, and figures they should just have the conversation now instead of putting it off for even longer. Nicky nods his head at Joe and Joe leans forward so his hands are on his knees. 
“We’re…” Joe starts and Nicky coughs so Joe starts again. “I’m still mad, but we want you to come back.”
“Why?” 
“Because you’re family.” Nicky answers.
“You still said a hundred years.”
“We were angry.” 
Booker scoffs and looks away. 
“Sebastien.” Joe says and Booker looks at him with surprise on his face. Joe hasn’t called Booker by his birth name in over a century. 
“When we were taken, Nicky wasn’t waking up in the van.” Joe clears his throat as Nicky squeezes his hand. Booker looks stricken but Joe continues. “Terror, like I haven’t known in hundreds of years, gripped me. And then, when we were fighting in the lab, Keane shot Nicky in the head.” 
Joe looks over at Nicky and leans his forehead against Nicky’s briefly before turning back to Booker who has tears in his eyes. 
“He didn’t wake up right away and I thought…”
“Joe.”
“No.” Joe wipes at his own eyes. “I need to say this.”
Booker nods at him and Joe continues.
“I don’t even know what I thought to be honest. It was just terror and anguish. He’s been hurt before, even by my own hand, but never like that.”
“Not by you.” Nicky murmurs and Joe smiles slightly. 
“I don’t ever want to feel like that again. And then I realized, through my anger, that you do feel like that. About your family, your wife, and your sons.”
Booker let’s out an exhale and slumps forward in his chair. 
“We still don’t trust you. And I don’t know how long that will take, but we need our family together, while Andy is still with us.” 
“Has she?”
“She doesn’t have to.” Nicky says and Booker nods. “But we can’t let our feelings keep you from her, when we don’t know what will happen.”
“Thank you.”
Joe nods. “You’re also the only one who can help Nile.”
Booker looks questioningly at Joe and Joe smiles sadly.
“We don’t.” Joe clears his throat. “We don’t remember what it’s like to have family still living and not be able to see them.” Joe scoots closer to Nicky and Nicky leans into him. “We don’t know how to help her.”
“And you think I can?”
“We were the ones who pushed for your exile. Andy said she’d already forgiven you and Nile said that the two of you had connected but left it up to us. So, if you want, I think you can help her.”
“Okay.” Booker smiles and Joe feels lighter than he has in months. “But first I need a shower.”
Nicky laughs, bright and happy. 
“You really do.”
~~~
Joe unlocks the door to the safe house and smiles when he hears Andy and Nile bickering.
“Honey! We’re home!” Joe shouts through the house smiling at Nicky’s laughter and Booker’s snort.
“You gonna tell us where you two went?” Andy says as she rounds the corner into the entryway and pauses mid stride when she sees Booker.
“Book.” Andy breathes out as Booker hugs her. Andy mouths ’thank you’ at them and Joe and Nicky nod in return. 
“Hey, kid.” Joe hugs Nile and she scoffs at the nickname before she goes to hug Nicky and then Booker. 
Joe’s about to ask Andy if they missed anything when the computer Copley gave Nile let’s out a shrill sounding alarm.
“Shit.” Nile runs over and furiously starts typing. 
“What happened?” Nicky says as they all crowd closer to her. 
Nile turns the computer around to face them and it feels like Joe’s been sucker punched. He looks quickly to Nicky and Andy, and they look the same as he feels, while Booker’s mouth is hanging open. 
“I set up alarms for the computer to notify me if it ever found anything. Keywords and such.”
Joe reads the article Nile has displayed on the screen and right there in bold letters it says:
“Fishing Boat Captain finds an Iron Maiden on one of their voyages.”
But that’s not what has them all staring. No. It’s the photo of the Captain with the Iron Maiden and off to the side there’s a woman looking at the camera. 
“Quynh.” 
401 notes · View notes
hooniee · 3 years
Text
 — ꒰‧⁺paris run away  *ೃ༄
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↷ heeseung x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ
↷genre: fluff | comdey ⋯ ♡ᵎ
↷ warnings: not proofread | none! ⋯ ♡ᵎ
↷ synopsis: (y/n) just graduates from high school and feel incomplete but doesn’t know what’s missing. a trip to paris might be able to fix that ⋯ ♡ᵎ 
↷ author note: this is @enhypenwriters​ event of the month! strangers to lovers <3 i think this was my favorite to write out of the three pieces but i feel like it’s lacking some flare :( i think it still turned out okay though. i hope you enjoy <3 ⋯ ♡ᵎ
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .*
you should have listened to sunoo when he said that it wasn't a good plan to travel to a foreign country on impulse.
you wouldn’t say you’ve ever been the most courageous person in your life. determined to break that trend, you planned this super out of the blue trip without much thought.
yeah. maybe this was a bit TOO courageous.
you didn't comprehend what compelled you yet here you were, arriving at paris charles de gaulle airport.
you stared at the large windows of the airport, viewing the plane that you had just left.
the gate for the concluding passengers had been locked by the flight stewardesses.
one of the stewardesses obtained eye contact with you, before shooting a smile and lightly bowing her head.
you absentmindedly returned the gesture, mind elsewhere.
bustling throughout the airport were people hurrying to their connecting flight or slumping into their lover's arms
people carried two or more suitcases with various bags strapped on their bodies, nothing on you besides a petite sling purse and one small carry on suitcase.
as weaved your way through the mass of stressed travelers, you briefly thought to yourself
how the hell did you get here?
2 days earlier
clusters of kids outfitted in blue gowns and caps could be recognized a mile away.
the graduation from high school to university.
your friend minji encloses her arm around your shoulder, your arm resting on her waist.
minji’s mom was stood in front of the both of you, gesturing wildly as she tried to take the ‘perfect graduation photo’ as she had put it
"okay pose! get a little closer, perfect. 1, 2, 3"  your friend's mom counts.
the camera shudders which creates a beaming light to flash, eyes faintly twitching.
shrieks could be heard throughout the campus as girls queued up to take their final photographs with the popular guys.
minji's mom draws back the camera and we check the picture.
"it's cute," minji exclaims, peering at it a bit more closer. you nod your head in approval.
you would miss minji, one of the friends you could constantly count on in math class when you neglected to do your homework from binging korean dramas.
"i'll send you the picture later (y/n)! don't forget about me alright? you have my socials and you can always talk to me," minji grasps your hands
you smile, feeling sad at the departure of your best friend, "of course minji, don't forget me either"
"i could never," she brings you into a secure hug.
"sweet pea perfume," you say and she chuckles. sweat pea was minji's preferred perfume and you would miss that aroma.
"i have to go now, but i'll see you around okay?" minji says.
you could notice tears well up in her eyes and she fans her eyes to prevent the tears.
"don't cry ji, i'll start crying," you joked. "i live near here and you can always visit me! my door will always be open."
she smiled, "the same goes for you." her mother shouts her name before she has to go.
"alright, see you around," you wave to her as she leaves.
on the opposite side of the garden, your mom signals to you with your bouquet of red roses in hand.
"are you ready honey?" she asks you and you smile, nodding your head.
the car ride was in pleasant quietness, light radio music fluttering in. you had taken off your cap and laid it in the car seat next to you accompanying with your bouquet. 
you had glimpsed outside to see your campus still arranged with your classmates, beaming and posing for additional pictures.
you bitterly smiled. 
for the first time, graduation didn't appear like one of those liberating scenes of a movie,
1 day ago
you sprawled on his bed, staring straight up. a fan in your hand, fanning the perspiration that threatened to come.
your eyes match the fan's speed directly above your neighbor and best friend, sunoo's, bed.
his air conditioner was broken. with the avail of those elementary paper fans and the only fan stationed in the house, you were able to find comfort
you questioned if he ever got frightened of it dropping on him when he slept.
sunoo occupies the bathroom that's joined to his room, applying some light powder.
your mind strays, more thoughts simmering in the back of your brain. you sigh for the 10th time and sunoo being exasperated, allows out a loud groan. 
it draws you out of your daze and you snap your head towards him."
"what is with you? what is on your mind sunshine?" he shuts his cushion, flinging himself on the bed.
"are you ever scared of the fan falling on you?" you felt the bed dip
"no, it's been like that for years, and don't change the subject. what's wrong?" sunoo retorted 
"what makes you say that? i'm fine, " you answer
"uh-huh," sunoo rolls his eyes
it's the blatant eye-roll rather than the hushed one, he implied business
"you've been sighing for the past ten minutes, spill," sunoo says
of course, sunoo could recognize your distress. what sort of best friend would he be if he couldn't distinguish your emotions?
you huff, " okay then"
"i don't know why but i just feel stuck? i just graduated high school and nothing feels different, i mean it doesn't have to, but what do i do now? maybe i just watched too many movies"
sunoo tsked, " (y/n). sweetie, i graduated last year and i'm still stuck here. i do nothing besides go out or stay in my room. no in-between."
"but you have something sunoo. you have a bunch of your friends, you're an instagram star and i don't know, it's just different, "
it was accurate, sunoo was extremely popular. he had a bunch of friends and acquaintances from being the vice president. 
sunoo inflated up on social media for his content from makeup to dance practices, a versatile instagram star.
you conceal your face with your hands before emitting a loud groan.
sunoo remarks, "i don't know how i can help you (y/n)? maybe you should try to rest a bit"
"easy for you to say, you, who isn’t dealing with a mid-life crisis, " you whine.
"this isn't a mid-life crisis, this is a post-graduation crisis which is totally normal. how about going out of town? obviously not to paris or whatever but maybe, what was her name again? minjoo's town!" sunoo suggested.
"obviously not to paris"
"not to paris"
"to paris"
"paris"
what about paris? paris was considerably away from your town and had a ring on the tip of your tongue. 
you had sprung up, grasping sunoo by the shoulder and shaking him, "you're a genius sunoo! paris is a genius idea."
sunoo's eyes widen and he shakes his head while attempting to pry your hands off of him.
"no, you have to think rationally-"
you released sunoo from your hold which let him stabilize his spinning head.
"and i am! i need something new. being in this town for my whole life makes me realize, maybe i just need a spontaneous trip. "
your words scarcely blur together, adrenaline rushing through your blood as you understood this could jolt you out of your post-graduation slump.
"but-"
"no buts! pass me my laptop,"
present-day
you are currently disliking your choice, anxiety rushing through your veins, but it's too overdue to have other opinions.
you had landed in france and this was a life-altering moment; a chance of a lifetime.
peering nearby, you squint at the tiny english translations of the signs. you pull out your phone.
you open up the camera to see if zooming in would improve it for your eyes. as if on cue, your stomach rumbles vaguely making you startled.
you panicked as the pocket that was previously supplied with snacks became loaded with empty wrappers.
maybe if you would be lost in this wonderful city, you might as well try some of their famous pastries.
your muscles had retracted, the result of finally getting some movement after being restrained in a metal machine that was adjacent to the fiery sun.
you stumbled across this petite bakery and enter, sparingly bowing your head. 
the owner was an older lady with her greying hair that designed it to resemble ashy highlights, pulled into a loose bun.
"que puis-je vous offrir?" she smiles.
"i'm sorry, i don't speak french?" you admit, embarrassed
as much as you assumed duolingo and rosetta stone could benefit you on a flight to paris, the only thing you could accomplish to say without messing up is "bonjour"
"that's fine mademoiselle! what can i offer you?" the lady shifts to englsih
you let out a sigh of relief, appreciative for blundering into this bakery.
"may i have your most popular pastry to go and a water bottle?" you smile, fishing out some euros.
you had looked down to the currency that you had exchanged before embarking on the plane.
"of course mademoiselle!" she says, reaching behind the counter and with her gloved hand, seizing a chocolate croissant.
"that will be 4.12 euros!" she rings you up in the cashier.
"is this the right amount? i'm not very good at counting euros," you revealed your hand where the money was.
she nodded her head and took the money, printing your receipt out. before giving you your receipt, she interviews you with a question that you weren't confident in answering"
"if you don't mind me asking, why are you here in france? not to sound rude! but i'm just curious"
you softly smile, sensing the kindness illuminating from her tone of voice. she wasn't rude at all and she was asking a simple question, but your brain struggled to obtain an answer.
"well, i would say i'm here to explore?  i just finished high school and life felt incomplete. my best friend jokingly said "go to paris" and so I booked a ticket."
you look back up at her to see her delicate gaze. the rustling of the paper bag stopped the moment of silence
"that's amazing mademoiselle! france is the city for that. you must visit the notre-dam cathedral while you're here, it's beautiful. and maybe even find some love?"
she winks at you and you engage with a small giggle.
just like the show "emily in paris," you could merely fantasize about living a life like hers but it was an altered universe. she was an employed woman and you; a fresh graduate from high school.
"maybe! but i'm not looking forward to dating right now"
it wasn't a lie nor the truth. you would love to date someone right now but dating someone from a foreign country with a language barrier? not the most desirable idea. the owner laughs, handing you your pastry and water bottle.
"thank you for dropping by here mademoiselle! please enjoy your time in france,"
"merci beaucoup" you stumbled out, providing a small wave out.
the airport seemed to be more crowded than before. slowly opening the wrapping, you take a bite of the chocolate croissant and let out an audible gasp.
unquestionably, one of the greatest pastries you have tried in your life.
you promptly pull out your phone, snapping a picture for your instagram story. it was an adorable picture with the bakery in the background with the chocolate croissant in hand.
with "just landed" as your caption, you posted it to your close friends story. almost a second later, sunoo request to video call you.
you were welcomed by a piercing shriek into the phone.
"YAH I WAS JUST GREETED BY YOUR PARENTS WHO SAID YOU WERE AT A SLEEPOVER FOR A COUPLE DAYS? SLEEPOVER MY FOOT? YOU'RE IN PARIS-" 
sunoo screeches over the phone and you timidly grimace, turning down the volume as people begin to stare.
"sunoo, i'm currently in a public airport with no earbuds plugged in, can you please STOP screaming?" you whispered audibly to him.
"OH, I FORG- sorry," sunoo sheepishly responds.
"my parents would never let me go this far so i just had to lie that i was going to a sleepover at minji's house which is out of town. plus i'm only going to be here for two days," you consult him.
"you saw me buy the tickets sunoo. why are you scolding me now? shouldn't you have tried to stop me while i was in the middle of buying the tickets?" you added.
"well now i want you to come back, who am i supposed to hang out with for the next 2 days?" 
though it was dark in the setting sunoo was in, you could practically see his pouting face.
"you could hang out with jake? or sunghoon? aren't they both your friends?"
jake and sunghoon went to the same school as sunoo and you're buddies with them. you've known each other since middle school but jake and sunghoon were always closer to each other just like you and sunoo.
"jake and sunghoon hyung are busy on a vacation together in the bahamas"
you stifled a laugh in, "good luck being alone for the next two days."
"not funny (y/n)! besides that point, what if you get caught?"
"don't worry, i won't get caught because you're the only one who knows about this .as long as you don't rat me out sunoo," you scowl at him.
"i won't, i won't, i promise but you have to buy me something? deal?”
you roll your eyes, "deal mr. sunoo-shi, i have to go now. i need to try to find my hotel"
"be safe, love you!"
"i will! love you too"
you sulk after the call ends. without your best friend on your side, you felt a little feeble and lost but it's not time to be pondering like that. 
paris awaits and you couldn't linger at the airport the whole day.
first challenge 
getting to your hotel was a struggling. wandering around a city with no basis of the language besides "hello" and "thank you so much", didn't do enough for you.
first, you had to find a taxi that could converse in english. most people had turned you down as you couldn't speak french.
thankfully, it was a fortunate day and you met this kind lady who had coffee-colored curly locks, gentle chocolate eyes, and light freckles scattered around her face.
"do you speak english?" you crisscrossed your fingers, your legs close to giving out after scrambling for taxi drivers
"yeah, i do mademoiselle! would you like to hop in?" she extended a friendly smile and you had never felt bricks lift off your chest faster.
she opened the back of the taxi and you scouted in, permitting your purse to lay on your lap.
the women examined both directions of the road, looking out for passing cars and entered the driver's seat.
"where are you heading mademoiselle?"
you swiftly pull out your phone to your notes, "hotel le walt paris?"
you corked your eyebrow, making sure it was the right name before she nodded her head. 
"a very famous hotel huh? right near the eiffel tower. i recommend that you wait till it gets dark and sit on the balcony to see the eiffel tower with lights. it's beautiful"
you smiled at the kind words of the lady, "i will surely try that! thank you miss..?"
"elena! elena is fine and you mademoiselle?"
"i'm (y/n)"
"it's nice to meet you"
"likewise"
the entire ride, you felt at some peace finally conversing with someone who understood english,
 after a 30 minute drive, you had arrived at your destination.
feeling a sad departure from this mellow woman, who turned out to be 19 seeking to make some pocket money in the summer, she was one of the first people that you had grown connected with throughout this ride.
"elena, though it was a short time, thank you for keeping company"
you present her with a warm smile as she unlocks the door for you. you exit the taxi, clasping at your phone.
"here, give me your phone."
you softly planted it in elena's hand. you were perplexed about why she showed you your home screen until you realized you had a password.
you enter your password, giving it back to her. she did a bit of clicking and you could see her hands typing something in before returning the phone back to you.
"that's my instagram, stay in contact with me alright?"
you felt the sides of your lips curve into a slight smile. you dragged her into a soft hug.
"thank you elena"
she visibly hesitant before easing into the hug. she softly rubbed your back.
"i have to go, i might get fired if i stay here too long"
you bided her a fare-well. thirty minutes was an extended time to get a know a person.
and that was the first friend you met in france.
second challenge
checking into your hotel wasn't as difficult. most people could speak english and besides the uncanny looks that you received from the clerk, check-in was pretty smooth.
"here you are mademoiselle" the bellman lowers your suitcase in front of your hotel door.
"merci beaucoup,"  you smile and he returns the gesture before leaving you.
you look down in your hand where you are grasping the card tightly. you scan the card against the door meter and it flickers twice. 
red, green
the door clicks before you push on it and reveal your hotel room.
at first glance, your mouth dropped.
the hotel room seemed better than it did on the online photographs which was a rare possibility.
though it was a small room, it was renovated beautifully.
overhead the king-sized bed, there was an extensive painting of the eiffel tower. a blue chair that held a place directly by the bed along with a little wooden table.
the hotel was fine but you definitely weren't
"(y/n) shut down in,"
"3"
"2"
"1"
before thinking, you throw yourself on the bed having the jet-lag kicking in. the bag offers a 'thump' sound as it connects with the ground.
'ouch that hurt'
you fish through your pocket, pulling out your phone. it was hardly twelve pm and you were already fatigued.
what was your strategy? you were in france for two days and you don't have a plan to do anything.
first things first, you needed to sort out this jet-lag.
 1) taking a shower
showers are always a great way to awaken and could shake you from this daze. you endured a scream as your water turned to be ice cold. someone must be utilizing the hot water. that shower unmistakably woke you up
2) skincare
after getting out of the shower, skincare was the secondary way to wake up. cleansing with toner, dropping essence into the skin, and implementing a nice coat of moisturizer to lock-in.
3) fueling with food
food can beat anybody out of slumber if they're fueled with enthusiasm but you didn't have any food on you? that indicates it's time to go out and explore france.
unfastening up your suitcase, you drabble on what you can wear.
reconciling with a simple pair of denim shorts and a light pink tank top, you catch a fast mirror selfie.
being content with the ultimate product, you smile to yourself.
"phone, key, wallet," you whispered, securing the thoughts of having everything. 
everything was arranged to go and it was time to tour paris.
third challenge 
cruising through paris would be by notably the toughest challenge while you were here.
you had your phone to navigate solely with wifi and you couldn't be that favorable to be able to meet people who could speak english all the time. 
you had entered a small restaurant, where you worked to communicate with people in defective french but they moderately understood what you wanted.
after that fiasco trying to order a chicken frricassee, you were able to appreciate your time there along with sending a picture to sunoo who reacted with,
"can that be the souvenir you bring back to me TT?"
you chuckled at the message, knowing typical sunoo, and finished up eating.
eating wasn't the one exclusive thing available in france. there were various activities but you were too afraid to venture any future for the hotel. getting lost too was easy.
that being said, eating after eating all you could do was roam around the city. it was around 2pm and you could spot a diverse crowd of people.
you could see kids. in uniforms that just got out of school or a cute couple that was experiencing their date.
you slightly squint and cover your eyes as the sun is at its highest point.
yes, paris was lovely and you would prefer to travel more but but you didn’ toriginally have a plan
for a couple of hours, you completed wandering around the area where your hotel is. you wished at moments like this that you would have jungwon, sunoo's friend, with you to help navigate you.
 jungwon was also a friend you guys met in middle school but he went to your school. very mature for his age and great at preparation.
before you knew it, the sun had died down and it was time to retreat to the hotel.
'ah right! elena told me to look out at the eiffel tower as it gets darker'
you softly tread back to your hotel, observing the blisters at the back of your foot.
you could clearly sense the entire day of walking take a toll on your body.
you scan your key card and fling your bag to the floor as soon as you get inside. you open up your suitcase to change into suitable sleeping clothes.
you briskly cleansed your face and tied your hair back.
you had approached the balcony, guessing how to cautiously open the glass door.
you gradually shift the handle to the right and the door made a scanty creek. you gingerly put more stress on it, opening the balcony wide.
a distinct gasp could be heard from you.
subsequently taking a step onto your balcony, the frail breeze made you quiver in the long black tee that adorned your top half and the sweatpants that settled on your waist.
the balcony was small, barely able to move besides staying still.
you had peered to your right, glancing at the eiffel tower.
elena was correct. the eiffel tower was breath-taking at night. for the first time when landing in france, you could feel in harmony. below you was a crowded street.
it was only 8 pm yet you could feel your eyes droop as opposed to the bouncy pair of kids that ran through the moobs of people.
the radiant yellowish glow of the eiffel tower was able to save you from dozing off. you softly hum 'fly me to the moon,'
'fly me to the moon,' didn't have significance, it felt appropriate in the second.
you hadn't regarded it but a figure had gently peeked out of the other balcony, attentively listening to the silky melody that you were humming.
"nice song"
a voice interrupts and your humming had come to a halt, eyes widened.
you had turned to the origin of the voice and discovered the culprit
the balcony alongside you.
"thank you"
you glanced over, granting him a slight smile before he returns it.
"new to paris?"
he questioned, now you guys facing each other.
"yeah, just arrived this morning, and you?"
you asked before he softly smiles.
"not really, i've been here multiple times but the feeling is something i'll get used too."
you hum as a response
"how did you know to speak english to me? do i really act like a foriegner?"
you were growing more drowsy but this stranger was fascinating. who else could say they met someone and talked to them from a balcony romance?
"english song, random guess"
you nodded your head, not certain if he could see you but that was all you could muster up.
there grows stillness beside the bustling street below until the stranger breaks it.
"i know this sounds weird but since you're new here, would you like to go out with me tomorrow to travel the city?"
that question felt like ice water was just splashed onto your face. the proposal startled you. 
the stranger didn't appear like a bad person. been to paris varied times, can acknowledge good music and good at conversation.
as much as this stranger flatter you, how could you trust him?
"as much as i would love to, how do i know that you're not trying to kidnap me, even worse, kill me?"
he stifles a laugh.
"hey knock it off, this is a very serious question, balcony boy"
you snicker, desiring to know the answer than anticipated.
"i promise you that i won't try to kidnap OR kill you. i'm just offering and you can even pat me down before we go out together."
this was by far one of the most peculiar offers you had received but this was THE stranger offer you came to france seeking.
you know sunoo would not advocate for numerous reasons and you can hear his voice already 
"number one, dangerous"
"number two, dangerous!"
"number three, DANGEROUS!"
but sunoo isn't here right now. you chose to grab the opportunity. france had provided you luck today.
"alright then"
a moment of silence goes by before you hear him clearing his throat.
"you're serious right?"
he glances at you and your eyes lock. though you can't see that well due to the absence of light, you nod.
the eiffel tower gave you enough light that you could make our curious eyes, tall nose, fair skin that radiated in the soft lighting, and full lips that were curved into a smile
"i'll see you at the lobby at eight,"
next morning
to say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. you agreed to a stranger who claimed to know paris like the back of his palm. you met him off your balcony and now you were agreeing to go a date with him? 
"you must be out of your mind!" sunoo exclaimed through the phone.
"well yes i must have been at 8 pm last night when fatigue was hitting the hardest but how can i say no now?"
"i don't know maybe, I DON'T KNOW YOU STRANGER DANGER?" sunoo shouts
and like you foretold last night, sunoo was not a big supporter of this idea. over the course of fifteen minutes, you had been continuously scolded by him.
you cringe, " sunoo, i promise that i'll be fine. i just need you to help me pick out an outfit"
sunoo rolls his eyes, "what are your options?"
though sunoo wasn't supportive of this, he couldn't let you go on a date without style.
you held up two choices; a blue floral dress that settled to your mid-thigh and a pink tennis skirt with a white cami shirt.
"well do we like this guy or do we like LIKE this guy?" sunoo questioned.
"what- well i literally met him last night? so i don't even like him, we're just going out for this one day since he offered"
"uh-huh, then the blue floral dress, it's hot there right?" sunoo says
"super hot," you groan.
you glance at the time, 7:00 am.
"i have to start getting ready sunoo, i'll update you later alright?" you smile
"alright, try not to get killed but have fun too! love you"
"love you too," you say back before hanging up.
you quickly hop in the shower and make sure to not take too long.
doing skincare, putting on the outfit, and spraying a little bit of perfume, you are ready to head out the door.
one last check to make sure you have all the things.
7:58 am
you quickly head down to see several people in the lobby.
a bellman, a pair of teenage girls who seemed like they were dragged here, a couple around the mid-40s trying to check-in, and a teenage boy that rested on one of the lobby seats.
it was evident who the balcony boy was but you just called out to be safe.
"balcony boy," you say.
the teenage boy that was seated turns around before flashing you a smile. 
"miss singer,"
you airly chuckle at the nickname.
observing him in person was a lot different. you could see his long body proportion, bright eyes, sharp jawline, with fair skin that complimented his rich brown hair.
a distinct experience from seeing him on the balcony.
"i'm (y/n)! and you?" you ask
"i'm lee heeseung"
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