15 février 2017, 09:44
Julian had a lot of nicknames for Marcelle. He's never settled on a certain on, always going back forth between at least fifteen of them.
But he also has a nickname for himself, and it's something Marcelle think is absolutely disgusting.
"I'm a God."
"No, you are fucking not."
She fucking hates it.
"Marcelle, you're supposed to love me. You're supposed to be on my side."
But that's not the only nickname she hates. She particularly hates this one that he only uses while they're having sex like on this beautiful, cold February morning. Post-Valentines' day, they had woken up with heart eyes for each other after a romantic night out, and they immediately got it going.
Coming home with his hands gripping her hips tightly, let's just say he didn't waste any time before letting things get steamy in the bedroom.
"Right—oh, fuck me. Right there, Julian."
"Mar—" sigh, "if you keep doing that, baby girl, I'm not gonna last any longer."
"What if I don't want you to last longer?"
That was it.
Baby girl.
Marcelle wasn't one for cute or so-called adorable nicknames, but she sure wasn't a fan of this one. Baby girl?! Like, she knows that she's about the size of an eleven year old, but c'mon—baby girl? Not a fan of that one at all.
She wouldn't express her feelings towards the name during sex, as that would diminish the feeling in the room. Anyways, it wasn't like she acknowledged it in the first place.
But the time she did notice it, it was during the post-sex cuddles.
Julian laid on the bed with Marcelle's head on his bare chest, her fingers drawing a giraffe on his arm. "Happy Valentine's Day, baby girl."
"Stop right there."
He looked at her, frozen. ....What? "Um, bab—"
"Don't call me baby girl. Not a fan. Nuh-uh." She waved her finger around in the air like she was making a point. "I don't know what kinks you have, but I'm gonna have to stop you there, Ju."
"Wha—what do you—huh?" Julian's lost for words because never in their one year of dating has she ever disapproved of his nicknames. Usually during sex, he'd call her babe or baby in the heat of the moment but baby girl was different. "Marcelle, I literally just—"
"I don't like it."
//
16 février 2018, 12:24
Another nickname Marcelle doesn't like is the term love.
Love, do you want waffles or pain perdu?
Hold up, hold up, hold up. That's not how you're supposed to do that, love. Let me—
I miss you so much, love.
It makes Marcelle's emo heart melt into a mess of mushy, red stuff while she's at her knees begging for more. She can't help it, it makes her feel weak.
He always uses it when he's at away matches or the plain fact that he wants something, but it's usually when he's homesick from not having you in his arms. It was a classic, the second nickname he started calling her.
But why doesn't she like it if it makes her weak all the time?
The term of endearment love seems to be something Tom Holland would say, and Julian is certainly not Tom, so he can't say it. That is her explanation.
You see, while Julian takes up a good amount of her heart, there's a special spot for our Spider-Man, our Peter Parker—Tom Holland.
But she's going to fight against it, no.
She'll just fight fire with fire.
"Hey," she smiled at him through the screen, FaceTime connecting them both when Marcelle's in Marseille and Julian's back home in Paris. "How's life without me, love?"
It's weird because Marcelle never calls him any terms of endearment. Only nicknames that demoralize his nonexistent ego.
He raised an eyebrow at this. "Very...well, love. How—"
"Very well?" Now it's her turn to be suspicious. "—Love."
"I—uh, no! I meant no!" he scrambled to get his words together. "Life is....I don't have a life! What is with you calling me love? Like, are you on drugs or something? Did the aliens finally come?"
"God, I wish...love."
"Woah..." Ellie walked out of the bathroom, hearing the term love loud and clearly from Marcelle. "What the fuck?"
//
18 février 2018, 14:09
"Good morning, wifey."
"Yo, wifey. What time is our reservation at? Seven?"
"Wifey? Where are you? I almost set the kitchen on fire."
So Marcelle's not completely against this one.
She actually find it quite cute even if she's not his wife...yet. It's better than fucking baby girl, but there's always a perk to it.
"Wifey?" She walked to Julian who popped his head from the open doors of the refrigerator, eyebrows furrowed. "I want to eat Thai tonight."
He's completely unresponsive, looking at her like she was the Pope or Jesus or something.
Did my girlfriend just call me "wifey"?
//
18 février 2018, 17:44
God, Marcelle has so many feelings about this one.
"Angel, did you leave the clothes in the dryer before we left?"
His hands are on the steering wheel as they drive to the same old Japanese restaurant they went to on their first day. His eyes are on the road, and his other hand rests on Marcelle's thigh while she's sunken back into the passenger seat.
She's...not against this one either, but she's not exactly a fan of it.
When he says it, the term sounds eccentric to her ear because all she ever calls him is bitch and the various forms of Julian. But Angel? Oh, sign her the fuck up. It makes her feel like a princess. It makes her feel like a literal angel.
Julian only uses the term when he's in an extremely delightful mood. Whenever he's won a match and didn't go all baby girl on her, or whenever he wakes up to find Marcelle cuddled up next to him in the cutest way possible, her head resting on his chest and her hair sprawled out and disheveled.
He'll especially use it when it's two in the morning and they both have the day off—they'll dance under the kitchen lights to The Night We Met by Lord Huron, and then going to get a midnight snack afterwards.
It was only after Julian realized he loved Marcelle that he started using the term Angel.
Because he saw that Marcelle Yseult Vaugrenard was a real-life angel, someone who just played football like a beast and went around the field knocking people down, and who called him by the most embarrassing names. He loves that.
She nodded. "Yeah, also I threw out that extremely tight shirt of yours."
"You did—what?" Julian almost swerved onto the sidewalk. "Angel, I actually liked that shirt!
"Well, it kind of made you look like Satan."
It was Julian's old Real Madrid shirt.
//
18 février 2018, 21:21
"Darling! Wait up!"
Julian scurried over to Marcelle, who was walking ahead of them to his car parked on the curb. They had finished their weekly date night—going out to eat at a restaurant and then dessert (today, it was gelato), and Marcelle was pooped. She wasn't mentally tired, but her feet hurt, and she just wanted to prop her feet up on the dashboard of Julian's hella expensive car.
She turned around to find the German's hands on her waist, keeping her against the car door. Their foreheads met, and Marcelle could feel her heart beat faster just like the past thousand times before.
"Hey, darlin'." Oh God, the way he left off the 'g' at the end, he make her knees weak and her heart even weaker. God knows what else got weak when he said that. "How's that for a date night?"
He kissed her cheek and then her lips, leaving them there to linger for a couple seconds longer.
This was their first big date night in a while with Julian having the disastrous Champions League run with PSG, and Marcelle on the road with the girls lately. They haven't found the time for each other, but they managed, and they hyped up this date night so much, they were a little too excited.
(And who knows, tonight might just end in a good way).
Marcelle cupped his cheeks and smiled at the way it made him look like an egg. "Why is your face so fat?"
"Okay!" He stepped back. "I was trying to be romantic, but noooooo! Marcelle, you—"
"No, no, no. Call me darling."
//
19 février 2018, 01:34
Who doesn't love cuddling on the couch with your loved one—whether it be a significant other, a pet, a family member, a friend—while watching a movie. Under the blankets on a chilly February early morning with hot cocoa in your hands?
For Julian and Marcelle, it's a recipe for disaster whenever they stay up past midnight, but she really wanted to watch Spider-Man: Homecoming because her poor teammate Ellie is going through some tough times, and this is the movie that she liked to watch all the time. That, and Julian's gone all Tom Holland on her these past couple of days, she needs some relief.
Her heads rests on her shoulder while his hand is wrapped safely around her waist, the other on her knee. He pulls her closer, her French lavender shampoo mixing in with the smell of the hot cocoa to create a sort of Christmas-y smell, but it's so nostalgic. It's something that mades him feel at home.
Marcelle, movies, cuddling, hot cocoa, and Julian.
This is home.
"Schatz, if I started wearing the Spider-Man mask whenever I score a goals, will you finally marry me?"
"No, I might actually divorce you if you did that."
And let's not forget Schatz. The only nickname Marcelle will ever go by.
"I love you, too, Schatz."