#French Doors Paris France
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galatea-cosplay · 1 year ago
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French Doors, Paris, France
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theoldbluerockpalaceshow · 9 months ago
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French Doors, Paris, France
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eden-eff · 1 year ago
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French Doors, Paris, France
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steph-photographie · 9 months ago
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Photo originale par Steph-Photo
Détails de la porte d'entrée du cimetière de Saint-Pierre de Montmartre par le sculpteur Tommaso Gismondi (auteur également des portes des archives du Vatican). Une oeuvre magistrale en bronze !
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sacralimplication · 2 years ago
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put some energy into this blog
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postcard-from-the-past · 1 year ago
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100 years ago:
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47 rue Vieille du Temple, Paris, France.
www.jcllib.tumblr.com
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ultralowoxygen · 1 year ago
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PF5-E189
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PF5-E189 by David Swift Via Flickr: Interior,Musee Rodin,Paris France-35mm Nikon FM2,Kodak Portra 400
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monovski · 1 year ago
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French Doors, Paris, France
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marlowedobbe · 1 year ago
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French Doors, Paris, France
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iamred-iamyellow · 2 months ago
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⋆ ˚。⋆౨ৎ˚ Dancing in the Courthouse
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♥ masterlist | request rules | part of my 1k event
♥ pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader
♥ synopsis: In 2021 you and oscar decided to elope due to your unpredictable schedules. now that you have more stability in your life, you were able to throw a dream wedding with the man you loved most in the world.
♥ smau + written - as always none of the pictures are mine <3
♥ warnings: swearing !!!
♥ a/n: first fic apart of the 1k event!
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-Paris, 2021-
The streets of Paris were bustling as you took a seat in your Uber. You could hear a Taylor Swift song playing faintly on the car's radio as you pulled out your phone.
You
hey osc I'm on my way back
Oscar checked the notification and panicked a little internally. He slipped the device back into his dress pants and shook his hands.
"Relax, tout ira bien," Estie assured Oscar. (translation: everything will be fine)
He sighed and turned towards the two French men, "Are you sure?"
All Pierre did was laugh.
"Call me when it's over," Pierre said with a smirk and guided Esteban out the door, into an elevator.
You were in France on a girls night out with your best friend Kika, whom you met through Formula 1. Little did the two of you know that Pierre and Esteban snuck over to your hotel room in order to help Oscar set up a surprise.
You tapped your keycard on your hotel door and called out your boyfriend's name. You set your purse down on a small marble table and kicked off your heels, making your way through the main room.
A small trail of pink rose petals guided you to the terrace causing your heartbeat to pick up.
Was this really happening?
You opened the glass doors to find more rose petals surrounding the floor and a very handsome Oscar. You strode over to him in complete shock until he grabbed your hands in his.
"Y/n you have been my best friend for as long as I can remember," he said as his thumb drew circles on one of your fingers. "You have stood by me since the beginning of my career and I could never imagine a life without you. I know we don't get to spend as much time together as we'd like to, but that is why I wanted to do this today."
He slowly got down on one knee in front of you and pulled out a black velvet box to reveal a silver ring.
"Will you marry me?"
You squatted down to his height and mumbled, "Is that even a question?"
You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him gently, "Yes of course I will."
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
-July 4, 2024-
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liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, lilymhe, and 300,572 more
ynln london girl
📸 creds: @/oscarpiastri
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user1 lmao the oscar picture creds
oscarpiastri I risked my life for that first pic
ynln @/oscarpiastri you were on another balcony?
user3 if anyone risked their life for that picture it's Alex
user2 speaking of alex she looks SO pretty there
carlossainz55 red nails for ferrari
ynln anything for you carlitos 😽
iamrebeccad so so true and real
user4 pretties
user9 lets all manifest an oscar win for this weekend
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
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✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
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liked by oscarpiastri, nicolepiastri, hattiepiastri, and 1,481,583 more
ynpiastri oops I guess the cat is out of the bag huh! the rumors are in fact true, oscar and I are married. we have been trying to keep it a secret since our elope in 2021, but it seems as though I slipped up with a photo on my insta. at least it was the perfect timing for the reception we're throwing this summer 🥰
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nicolepiastri see you at the sequel wedding!!
ynpiastri <3
user1 ...sorry?
user8 PARDON
user12 THEY'RE ACTUALLY MARRIED
user2 POOKIE YOU CANT JUST POST A SHIRTLESS OSCAR LIKE THAT
user7 her username change I am so endeared
mclaren how many of you knew...
logansargeant I did
alexandrasaintmleux I did
charles_leclerc I did
landonorris I DIDNT?!?!
landonorris @/oscarpiastri how come charles knew before me
charles_leclerc @/landonorris he's my son???
iamrebeccad I'm so happy for you!
ynpiastri tysm becks 🥹🫶
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
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liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, and 123,740 more
wagupdates the girlies pulling up to the belgian paddock
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user1 the color scheme 🛐
user2 PLS did they plan this for y/n’s wedding?
wagupdates @/user2 we think so!!
oscarpiastri I guess I need to step up my fashion game
charles_leclerc @/oscarpiastri I can help 😁
ynpiastri @/charles_leclerc no you cannot
user7 I love them
user4 they're GORGEOUS
francolapinto 😘
user8 ITS MR STEAL YOUR GIRL
user3 HAHAHA
user9 FRANCO Y/N IS MARRIED
charles_leclerc @/francocolapinto Te sugiero que elijas sabiamente tus próximas palabras (I suggest you choose your next words wisely)
francolapinto sorry sorry! its a joke its a joke 😅
user10 the threatening spanish 😭
carlossainz55 @/user10 I taught him that
fernandoalo_oficial @/carlossainz55 and I taught YOU that
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
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✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
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liked by pierregasly, ynpiastri, carmenmundt, and 563,885 more
francisca.cgomes rich bitch energy
tagged; @/ynpiastri @/alexandrasaintmleux
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user1 are you shopping for dresses
francisca.cgomes mayybbe
ynpiastri GORGEOUS
francisca.cgomes NO YOU 😚
aussiegrit @/nicolepiastri do i get to walk oscar down the aisle
nicolepiastri no 😐
charles_leclerc that’s right because i am
user2 the family seating is gonna go crazy lol
user5 so what’s the dog situation?
landonorris bark
ynpiastri @/landonorris NO 😭
user5 I MEANT LEO AND ROSCOE 💀
ynpiastri @/user5 leo we know is definitely going to be there! 🥰
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
-Wedding Day-
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liked by alex_albon, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, and 1,749,053 more
ynpiastri 💍
tagged; @/francisca.cgomes
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danielricciardo 🥹
pierregasly vous êtes tous les deux magnifiques (you both look gorgeous)
user6 the fact that kika is her maid of honor
user7 IM NOT CRYING
user4 the venue is STUNNING
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
There was a salty ocean breeze on a cliff-side of Monaco, the place you and Oscar picked for the wedding.
There were dozens of familiar faces along with beautiful greenery and pastel flowers decorating the space.
You were sat at your table with your husband Oscar as the toast’s began to start.
“Hi,” someone said into the mic with a smile. “I’m Kika.”
There were a few soft laughs from the crowd. She pulled a piece of paper out of her gold-colored dress.
“When I found out you eloped without me that day in Paris my first thought was ‘fuck you’.” she said causing some more chuckles to come from the guests.
“It was only because I wouldn’t get the chance to give you the speech I had planned—but here we are today and I’m so glad I finally get to say it. Over these past couple years you have been my best friend, in and outside the paddock. I have so much love for you and I couldn’t be happier for your relationship with Oscar.”
You got up from your seat and hugged her, eliciting a few ‘aws’ from the room.
Lando stood up next with the mic, “Oscar was the guy on the grid no one could shut the up about,” Lando spoke into the mic and everyone laughed. “I didn’t get it at first, but then I met him, and I got it. And I felt the same when I met Y/n. You two are lucky to have each other. Congrats, mate.”
He raised his glass of champagne causing everyone to clink their glasses and cheer.
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liked by lewishamilton, aussiegrit, nicolepiastri, and 1,937,954 more
ynpiastri wifey
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user1 this is so cunty
wagupdates we heard that y/n’s heel broke and oscar had to carry her to the car (hence the last picture) 😭
user7 she is SO pretty
patriciooward great to see you again osc!
user6 I. LOVE. THEM.
user2 omg they’re so hot
user3 y/n’s outfits today >>>
lilymhe the reception was beautiful
ynpiastri <3
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chqnified · 2 years ago
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"we should go on a backpack trip across Europe" ....... Excuse me?!
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whorekneecentral · 1 year ago
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Tis' The Season
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Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader
Warnings: old friends reappear, flashbacks in italics, complicated relationships, expensive gifts cause it's lew lew duh, uses roscoe as an in, brocedes mention, alcohol and the consumption of, sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), degrading, the use of 'slut' in a sexual context, penetrative sex (p in v), choking, creampie, soft moments at be end.
Word Count: 2,668
Author's Note: love me some lew lew and he gives fuckboy turned lover boy so here we areeeeee
merry smutmas series
--
An old friend finds his way to your front door and no matter how much you try to get rid of him, you can’t. 
A knock on the door startles you as you hung the ornament on your Christmas tree. You shout that you're coming, grabbing your wallet out of your purse, as you jog to your front door. You assumed it was your take-out delivery guy and that's not who it was when you opened the door.
The man smiles at you, bags in hand and puppy between his legs. "Hi beautiful," Lewis smiles at you, bundled up in his winter coat.
You huff, looking at him. "Hi Lewis.. what are you doing here?"
He lifts the bags, showing you. "Happy holidays, y/n. I come bearing gifts."
"Seriously?" You hold back the urge to roll your eyes, Roscoe barks and gets your attention, you crouch down to pat his side, the dog leaning into your hand before waddling his way into the house. Lewis doesn't stop him, smiling at you.
"Are you gonna let me in, love? Roscoe is already inside, it'd be rude to let me freeze out here."
You don't have the heart to let them freeze, especially since you know how Roscoe loves him so much.
You let Lewis in, the man takes his shoes off by the door and follows you down the hallway to the living room. Roscoe had already made himself comfortable, shaking off the cold, and lying down by the fireplace. Despite you and Lewis not talking for years, you had left Roscoe's dog bed by the fireplace, as it had always been, picking it up to clean and setting it back in its spot.
Lewis sets the bags on the coffee table, hanging his coat off the arm rest of your couch. "I didn't know if you still live here."
"Well now that you do, I'll have to move, won't I?"
He chuckles, smiling to himself - nice to see your sense of humour has remained.
"Go on, open 'em." He nods towards the gifts on the table. You were adjusting an ornament on the tree, "I don't want it, Lewis."
"Oh hush, don't be annoying, y/n. Just open it."
You rolled your eyes, sitting across from him on the couch and picking up the first bag, the shape was a give away. Carefully, you pulled the bottle of wine out of the bag, some expensive French wine that you two had once upon a time when you took a trip to France. You read the label, setting it down on the table gently.
"Expensive," you eye him and he smiles. "Open the other one." He says quietly, watching as you tear the wrapping paper.
You freeze, the orange box staring back at you, the signature black and white ribbon around the box; Hermes Paris written across the top.
"Lewis.." You look at the man and he nods, waiting for you to go on. You carefully undo the ribbon, taking the lid off of the box. There's clearly a bag in the box, wrapped in a dust bag.
You feel underdressed and dirty, as if you should have showered before opening such a gift. You take the purse out of the dust bag, a Birkin in Bougainvillea - the same shade you had seen so many years ago.
His arm rested over your shoulders, the two of you cuddled on the couch as Lewis flipped through the tv channels. Formula One had wrapped up for the 2008 season and your dearest friend Lewis was now a Formula One world champion.
You, on the other hand, were still in med school.
Lewis had come home for the holidays, a yearly tradition of trashy Christmas movies and Chinese take out had commenced, Lewis picking out something for you two to watch as you flipped through the magazine.
"This one," you tell him, nudging him with your shoulder. "I want this one." You show him the bright pink Birkin bag - in the shade Bougainvillea. It's unrealistically, shockingly pink but it was the newest colour in the collection and you wanted it.
"I'm gonna get this for myself when I finish med school and I'm a rich surgeon."
Lewis smiles, "I'll get it for you, love. No need to wait so long, consider it your med school graduation gift." He kisses your head.
They don't make this colour anymore, you're sure it must have cost Lewis a fortune. "How did you even.. they don't make this colour anymore." You examined the bag, setting it back into the dust bag carefully.
"I know people, y/n."
You hum, "it's too much."
"It's your gift, y/n. I promised you, didn't I?"
You smiled, nodding as you carefully set the bag back into the box. "Thank you Lew, really."
The man smiles, it's been years since he's heard you call him Lewis. You two had a falling out a while back, right after his first championship win with Mercedes - you didn't like the way he treated you, pushed you off to the side as if you hadn't been there for him through it all. Lewis was and still is career driven, it has and will always take first priority to him but it ruined your friendship and it had ruined the same special bond he had with Nico.
In this moment, you let all that go.
The doorbell rings, intruding on your thoughts. "Expecting someone?" Lewis asks, glancing at you as you set the Hermes box on the coffee table.
"No.. oh wait yeah, the take out guy." You say, getting up. Lewis waves you off, getting up and fishes his wallet out of his pocket. "I'm not a broke med student anymore, Lewis. I can afford to pay for dinner."
"As can I, so hush." He says, making his way down the foyer to the front door, paying the man.
You can hear bits and pieces of their hushed conversation, the man thanks him before the door shuts.
The bags are taken to the kitchen and you see him looking around, clearly looking for something. You decide to put him out of his misery, getting up to help him look for plates. Lewis stops, leaning on the counter as he watches you get the dishes out of the cupboard.
"I'm sorry." He says, his words catching you off guard.
Your brows furrow, looking at him. "What for?"
"For everything. What happened in the past… That was between us and I know that it was my fault, and I shouldn't have said what I said, but I truly am sorry. You don't have to forgive me, but I would just like to start over if you give me the chance."
"Okay," you nod, setting the plates on the table.
"Okay."
He joined you at the table, the two of you sitting quietly and eating dinner like you've done many times over the years. Tonight was different though, there was a sense of relief in the air as if this tension had been lifted off your shoulders after so many years. The quiet sound of cutlery clinking against the dishes and Roscoe's snores coming from the fireplace filled the house.
At some point after dinner, you were putting the dishes in the sink and Lewis asked if he should open a bottle of wine that he brought. You shrug, reaching into the cabinet to get the glasses while Lewis pulls the cork out of the bottle before filling the glasses half way.
The house is quiet as the two of you sit on the couch, Lewis handing you a glass of wine. It's a comfortable silence, Lewis takes a sip of his wine as he looks over at you; he can't help but notice how you've aged beautifully over the years, not in a you look old sort of way but the maturity you've come into seems to suit you perfectly.
Next to him, you seem to make the same realization but with him. Lewis what is a baby faced, starting to find himself boy when you two had you falling out. Now he was grown, and even more handsome than the day you had walked away from him.
You take the first step, setting the glass down on the coffee table before reaching for Lewis's glass, setting it with yours.
The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife, the two of you sitting there in silence, inching closer and closer with each passing second until he finally closes the gap between the two of you.
Lewis's hands find your hips, the man pulling you onto his lap. You settle against him as if you had always been there. His lips trail down your neck, hands slipping under your shirt.
"No," you whispered, your hands wrapping around his wrists. Lewis looked at you confused, wondering if he had done something wrong.
"What?"
"We can't do this here."
"Why not?" He asks and you nod towards Roscoe, the dog still fast asleep by the fireplace.
Lewis can't help but laugh, his forehead pressing to your shoulder. "Love, he's asleep. It's fine."
"Oh my god," you smacked his shoulder, "that doesn't mean we're gonna fuck in front of him."
He raises an eyebrow, "we're gonna fuck?"
"Don't be a fuckboy, Lew." The man ignored your words, his arms wrapping around you, picking you up with ease, carrying you down the hallway to your bedroom. Despite the years he hadn't spent there, nothing's changed.
Lewis drops you on the bed and you propped yourself up, watching him get undressed before he sits next to you, his hand cups your jaw and you smile at him. “Hi,” you whisper. 
“Hi,” he smiles at you, leaning down to kiss your nose and you scrunch it in response. “You’re cheeky.” 
“You love it,” he says, kissing your nose again. 
Lewis leans down a bit more and kisses you but you pull away, sliding off the bed. “We can't.” You tell him, about to walk away but he grabs your hips, pulling you to stand between his legs. 
Your hands rest on his shoulders, sliding up to rest on his jaw. His beard tickles the palm of your hand as you look at him. Lewis doesn't have to say anything and all the worries seem to slip away in the moment, it was as if you hadn't spent a single day apart.
The man pulls you down on top of him, his hands sliding down your back to rest on your waist as you sit yourself on his lap. 
“We-” you go to remind him once more but he cuts you off with a kiss. Lewis flips the two of you over, letting you lay on your back when he gets off the bed, he pulls you to the edge of the bed. 
Your eyes fixed on the man between your legs, looking at him in awe. Something about Lewis always fascinated you; you could never put your finger on it but he was always an object of fascination, of desire.
He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the lace you’re wrapped up in under your clothes and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor. He shifts to sit on his knees between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt.
Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking; he wants you to look at him.
Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair.
Lewis knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more and Lewis gives in.
Two fingers pushing into you, Lewis glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit.
Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much. Lewis pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers on your thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness.
Your chest heaving, your grip on his hair loosening now that you’re right on the edge, you’re almost there and he just has to - he’s stopped. 
“Why'd you stop?” You sit up, a pout on your lips when you look at the man between your legs. 
“Shush, you love hanging on the edge,” Lewis tells you with a smile, unbuttoning his pants. 
He lines himself up with you, and Lewis lets you take him little by little, pulling out almost all the way each time before finally pushing into you all the way. He's in charge and you both know it, letting him set the pace; slow and steady and it was driving you insane.
You needed him.
You didn’t want slow, you wanted it hard and messy, the type of fuck where you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.
“Lew, come on.” Your hand reaches to rest on his hand that’s on your hip. “Need more.”
“Do you?” He hums, moving a little faster.
You know giving him attitude won’t help but you can’t help but roll your eyes, “more than that.”
“Needy,” he calls, pulling you closer by your legs.
Finally, you get what you want, Lewis’s hips hitting the back of your thighs, he leans over you and your arms are pinned about your head, both legs up on his shoulders now. The angle was enough to push you over the edge but he didn’t care.
“Lew please-” you tried to wiggle your hands loose but he didn’t budge. 
“What’s wrong baby?” he asks, mockingly, “isn't this what you wanted?” 
“It is, but-” your head tosses back, back arched when he hits the spot he was looking for. 
“Oh,” he coos, smiling at you. “Is my baby so fucked out, she can’t even tell me what she wants?” His thrusts are sloppy, you knew he was just as close as you were. 
“Gonna cum-” you barely get out between strangled moans. Lewis finally lets go of your wrists and one of his hands has wrapped around your throat.
“C’mon sweetheart, want you to cum for me.” He says, knowing it won't be long more.
He watches as your eyes flutter shut and he reaches for you with his other hand, holding your jaw and pulling you up a little, your elbows holding up the weight of your body.
“Look at me when you cum.”
You’re forcing yourself to keep your eyes open, focusing on him. A few more sloppy thrusts and between that and his fingers, you’re over the edge.  He kisses you, muffling the noise you were making. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, Lewis follows behind you. 
The two of you are still tangled together, laying in bed next to each other. Lewis looks over at you, you look back at him with a sleepy smile on your face.
"Should I.."
"Should you.." you trailed off, waiting to hear what he says. Lewis shrugs, "should I go home?"
You take a moment to think, not about kicking him out - that was never an option but perhaps the things that lead you here.
There's a noise from outside the door, a sort of scratching. Seems like Roscoe had woken up and came looking for you two. Lewis takes the hint, getting up to open the door for the dog. You put on your shirt and your panties and Lewis lets Roscoe in, the dog jumping up on the bed with some assistance from his dad.
Lewis gets under the covers with you, Roscoe settled at the edge of the bed. You look over at Lewis, his hand resting on yours.
"I think you should." You tell him quietly and Lewis's brows furrow, a pout forming on his lips. "I should?" He asks.
You nod, "you should stay."
Lewis lets out a soft sigh, smiling. His hand squeezes yours gently. "I'll stay."
---
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ghouldump · 4 months ago
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Your lestat x louis x claudia fic EATSSSSSSSS
If your are up to it could you do something with my pretty husband armand and his manipulative ways?
Beautiful Deception | Armand x Reader
ෆ moving to paris, the last thing you expected was to come across the ancient vampire.
lol thank youuu so much, i hope you like this 💕 sometimes i take a while to post because i rewrite my work over and over until i think it’s good. this was a great idea and i don’t mind taking more.
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“How long will you continue to claim that you are a vampire?” The interviewer, Daniel Malloy asked. Crossing your leg over the other, you smiled.
“It is merely one of many truths, but I will let you and the readers decide if it should be accepted,” you said.
It had been nearly a year since you turned 100. Since you made the blog, originally to share stories from your past. Despite all events being true, and the website becoming a success, it was all seen as fiction. You were seen as a character, an upcoming writer dedicated to your role, but it would be coming to an end. Daniel, someone you’d been studying for some time now, needed a story, something fresh. He was getting the raw unspoken truth, things you hadn’t shared before, publishing it along with an interview.
“Why now?”
“Why not now, Daniel? We live in a new age, where we people of the night should be known,” you smirked.
Just then, the door opened, and Armand, your partner of over 80 years entered. The sleek black turtle neck was perfect against his glowing brown skin. Turning to him, you looked up in admiration, as he placed a soft kiss on your lips, before sitting next to you.
“I hope you don't mind, my husband, Armand, joining us”
“Armand the vampire? You said some concerning things about him,” Daniel said, trying to get under both of your skin.
“We’ve moved past those times,” you said, as Armand intertwined your fingers.
“Alright, whatever that’s supposed to mean, shall we start?”
“Yes, let’s,” you smiled, nodding.
“Let’s start here…”
Run, run, don’t stop, keep running.
Your heart pounded, as you ran through the streets, gasping for air as you grew more tired. Afraid to look back, you kept going, you were sure you’d drop dead in fear seeing him behind you. Turning on nearly every corner, relief washed over, seeing a store owner closing his shop.
“Sir,” you called out, as you jogged to him.
“No, no, I’m closing,” he pointed at the sign.
“Please help me, he’s going to get me,” you cried, as the man finally turned to face you, genuinely concerned.
“Come in,” he said, letting you into the store. As you came in, he locked the door behind you. With the adrenaline coming down, you could feel pain in your foot from stepping in glass.
“We have to hide,” you told the man, tugging at his sleeve.
“You go,” he pointed to the back, before he went behind the counter, pulling a shotgun out.
Limping to the back of the store, looking back one more time, you screamed as the door burst open, the shop owner being killed instantly. As the elderly man fell to the floor, you cried out, before he appeared in front of you.
“Y/n,” his eyes softened seeing your tear stained face, all of your makeup running down, mixed with the tears.
“Please….”
“You’re moving ahead of yourself, Daniel, we have to start from the beginning, I had just moved to France-
“So Armand didn’t kill the shop owner and was about to kill you next?” He asked, as Armand clenched his jaw, glaring at the man.
“Daniel, you only get one session, you have to get this right, just let the story seduce you as it had done to me,” you said as he begrudgingly nodded, finally ready to listen.
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"Here are your keys, rent is due on the third of each month," your new landlord, Henri said, handing the keys to your husband, Phillip.
“Thank you, sir,” he muttered, while you giggled, your eyes exploring the place. Neither of you was the best at French, at least speaking it. Despite the previous months of studying and reciting, your articulation was still overwhelmingly, American.
He didn't say anything, giving you both a questionable stare, before leaving the small apartment. Compacted in size, and already cluttered with furniture, but it was your new home, and that's all that mattered. Shutting the front door, you walked over to the full-sized bed. This was the fresh start you needed.
“What do you think?” Philip asked.
“I love it,” you told him, jumping into his arms.
Living all of your life in the States, you were the youngest of two children. Your father, you never knew, not that it mattered too much to you. It was your mother who came from a wealthy family in France. Before she decided to move to its child, New Orleans.
She didn't talk about her time there much, only telling short stories about your grandparents or her early life in Paris. She was lonely as a child, and her parents were oftentimes neglectful, as a result of having her at an old age.
Having her own children, you and your twin brother, Elijah, from a hookup with an attractive soldier, she vowed to dedicate herself to both of you. She made sure neither of you ever went without, providing the best of your desires.
Around 9, you were certain you wanted to be a performer. It didn't matter how or what you did, the idea of being adored, captivating the crowd, your juvenile mind was set. Your mother soon paid for all sorts of lessons, dancing, singing, and instruments, she was just as determined that you would achieve your dreams.
While you were striving for your goals, your brother, Elijah, struggled with living in your shadow. You took up most of your mother's time, which is how she didn't notice the bullying. He had always been introverted, harmless as a butterfly, nose deep in a book. While you were holding onto hopes and dreams, your brother was guaranteed a successful life with how smart he’d always been.
However, there was a problem, jealousy. She was a demon, stronger than most, willing to compel whoever that would allow, to do whatever their deepest desires were. This is why, on that Saturday evening, on your 14th birthday, you and your mother left for the market, intending on baking a cake for the two of you, she attacked.
Bullies from his class saw him as he was taking out the trash. They never liked the boy, coveting the lifestyle he had been fortunately given. Attacking him, they only meant to roughen him up a bit, until he fought back. Then, filled with that ancient spirit of jealousy, one of them picked up a rock.
Thankfully, one of the neighbors heard the commotion and came running to save him, but the damage had been done. From that point on, your brother was different, as was your mother.
The life that he was once guaranteed to have was gone and your mother spent all of her time focused on caring for him. She still paid for your classes, but you were no longer a priority.
At 18, you met and eventually married Philip, a 22-year-old, journalist. He was very handsome with the most alluring brown eyes and soft wavy hair. He didn't have much money, but once he settled somewhere and established his career, he promised to give you the world.
Your mother disapproved of the marriage, how could you carelessly marry a poor man trusting his empty promises, she screamed at you. Which is why, out of spite, you told her you’d be moving to Paris. You watched as the hardened expression dropped, and sad memories flashed through her eyes. Throwing her hands up, she gave up with her argument, letting you leave, sending a parting gift of a few thousand dollars, before you were out of the country.
Now in the beautiful city, Phillip’s future seemed to be already looking up to be just as bright, as he had already been hired by a popular news corporation. Securing the apartment was simply the final step in your new life, at least that's what you thought.
Immediately, Philip worked day and night, hoping to begin to provide you with the life you deserved. Dates weren't as frequent as they once were in the States, but intimacy was just as regular as before, if not more.
Meanwhile, you oftentimes left home, looking for work. Not many places would hire women and the people who did expected their workers to work twice as much as they were paid. Until The Grand Cabaret, Edward, the head director of the restaurant/theatre was in dire need of new performances.
He'd stopped you on your way home from the store, captivated by your looks, giving you his card. Telling Phillip about the man, he agreed that it could be a good idea. Perhaps even a step towards becoming the big star you always wanted to be.
The next night you went, Philip was going to be out a little later than usual, finishing work. Anxiously, you made your way to the address on the card. Stopping in front of the building, you were surprised by the lack of guests. The establishment was nice, a few people were seated eating, and slow music was playing, but people continued to walk past.
“Ah, mademoiselle,” Edward smiled, as he stepped out.
“Not a busy night?” you asked him.
“People are more willing to eat with an equally lovely performance,” he said sheepishly, his eyes shifting to his left.
Following his eyes, you stared at the theater, Théâtre des Vampires. You could see the line of customers, excited to get into the theater. Although, the workers looked extremely rude and intimidating, dressed in the vampire costumes.
“I’m sure you just need the right act,” you told him, making eye contact with security, catching his brash expression.
“Do you sing or dance…?” He asked, waiting to hear your name.
“Y/n, and yes, I’ve been trained in both, I will admit, I am still not the greatest singer,” you laughed, as you accepted his hand.
“Please allow me to offer you a job here, as one of our employees. I trust your word, I am desperate, you’ll be paid weekly-
“I-when would I start?”
“Tonight…I mean, if it is possible,” he said.
“I can only stay for a while, my husband isn’t aware that I am away”
“Yes, of course, come right this way,” he said, leading you to the dressing room, allowing you to set your things down.
The cast members were all kind, introducing themselves as you glanced at yourself, checking your makeup.
“We have our newest act of the evening, the lovely and beautiful, Y/n,” Edward said, introducing you, before leaving the stage. He could already see the attention shifting to you, excitedly he opened the door, along with the windows, allowing potential guests to see.
“Just follow my lead,” you spoke to the small orchestra before you began singing a song you’d heard back when you lived with your mother. As the audience grew more interested, you felt your confidence rising by the second, as you danced freely, shutting your eyes, thrilled to finally be performing.
That night, for the first time, The Grand Cabaret was a full house. Everyone who passed wanted to see and hear more of your talent. As everyone clapped for you, and you could see now, you would be a star.
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“What is the meaning of this?” Santiago frowned at Sam, wondering why he hadn’t been notified about any signaling of the play starting.
“Well…” Sam faced their leader, who stood, waiting for an answer.
“They’ve all gone to that stupid cabaret,” Estelle crossed her arms.
“Cabaret?”
“Apparently there is a new girl, American, she’s bringing them a bit of attention with her…performances,” Celeste told him.
Not saying a word, Armand furrowed his eyebrows, leaving the theater. His steps held a steady stride as he approached the building. Never since the theater had been opened had the place been empty. He had to see with his own eyes, this person, what had you done to take all of the loyal guests.
As he approached the entrance, the first thing he noticed was everyone wearing all black. The Dance of the Dead, starring the beautiful lead, Y/n,” his eyes skimmed the sign.
“Excuse me,” you said, brushing past Armand, and nearly running to the dressing room.
It had been a little over a month since you began working and although at first anxious, you were more than grateful for the opportunity. Edward was incredibly generous, wanting to keep his main act satisfied. You began to recommend themes, scenery, and new music, the guest needed to be able to visualize the show further than what you were giving.
The Dance of the Dead was a mockery of the vampire theater but with your own twist. A few people you'd grown familiar with had gone, telling you about how real everything seemed. How they’d managed to pull off some sort of screenplay, like movies. You never took the time to visit yourself, but saw the action as simply a little fun competition.
As the lights dimmed, Armand sat down, unintentionally gulping as you sauntered onto the stage. Immediately, the music started, along with your dancing. Armand watched as everyone focused, hypnotized as you were oozing in sex appeal. He nearly second-guessed himself about you, it shouldn't be possible for a mortal to captivate so many people in such a way, Armand thought to himself.
Going to your knees, as your head went back, he couldn’t help but think of how supernatural your beauty was, how luring your essence was. Going further to the floor, you faced the audience, your eyes meeting his. He smirked slightly, nodding at you, while you bit your lips.
As the song came to an end, you stood up, bowing your head. The audience cheered loudly, clapping and whistling.
‘Beautiful’ you heard, your eyes going to Armand, as he stood up.
“Thank you,” you blew kisses at the crowd, before going backstage.
He watched in amazement as they still cheered for you, the way that you moved ingrained into his thoughts. Coming from the dressing room, you looked almost different, blending in with the audience. He walked to the door, as you talked with your boss, accepting the envelope, along with a quick hug.
Moving outside, he stayed not too far behind you. Seeing that no one was around, he sped up, intentionally bumping into you.
“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, as his hand brushed against your waist.
“No, it is my apologies, I may be mistaken, but do you work at the Cabaret?”
“Yes, I do,” he watched as your eyes twinkled with joy.
“I’m Armand, I am the director of Théâtre des Vampires,” he held out his hand.
“Y/n,” you went to shake his hand but froze as he lifted your hand, placing a soft kiss near your knuckles.
“I…I have to get home, my husband is waiting,” you told him, emphasizing the title, as he stared into your eyes. You couldn't deny the mysterious man was quite the sight.
“Allow me to walk you home,” he offered.
“Oh no, I wouldn't want to take up your time-
“Nonsense, a woman of your caliber should be escorted, perhaps we could talk business,” he said, making you smile.
“Okay,” you nodded.
“Ladies first,” he motioned for you to lead the way.
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Armand was unnaturally enchanting in every aspect, a forbidden fruit your heart told you to stay away from, but your flesh tingled in his presence. It was an unspoken understanding that you could only see him at night at these shows. You anticipated seeing his youthful face, every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. He'd sit within the audience, watching your every move. Then backstage, approaching you, he'd always have a fresh bouquet. You would give him a look and he’d say something along the lines of how a star deserves flowers.
“Knock knock,” Armand said, catching your attention, turning from the vanity.
“Hi,” you smiled, standing up, and closing your robe.
“For you, the beautiful star of the show,” he said, handing you the bouquet.
“Thank you, Armand,” you told him.
“You never have to thank me,” he shook his head, reaching for your hand, and placing a soft kiss on top. Pulling away, as your heart leaped, you shifted your eyes.
“I have to get home soon,” you said.
“Right, your husband…it is a shame he doesn't come out to support you,” Armand said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“He works a lot”
“Unfortunate, I mean for him, because I get to have you to myself,” he said, smirking.
“Are you walking me home?” you asked, your face burning at his shameless joke.
“I'm ready when you are, angel”
You admired Armand, greatly, how confident, bold, intelligent, handsome-wait. Being around Armand, you oftentimes had to remind yourself you were married, as well as him. He had no problem blatantly flirting and laughing as you froze up in embarrassment. The two of you were growing closer than you should have been, while, it seemed like your marriage was crumbling.
“I don't want you working there anymore,” Philip told you, as you replaced the water in the vase, setting it near the window.
“Why? The extra money is helping…” you said, still staring at the flowers, Armand crossing your mind.
“My colleagues have been talking about the place nonstop, they think you’re some exotic whore,” he grumbled.
“Okay? There opinions aren’t paying us,” you told him.
“I don’t need them having you as a subject in the paper, you’re quitting,” he began to raise his voice.
“Philip, the money is great”
“I told you, I would provide the life you deserve-
“When? We’ve been out here for nearly a year and you have no signs of a pay increase. Am I supposed to sit around and hope? My mother was right about you,” you spat.
“What did you say?” He stalked towards you, your hands went up defensively as he walked towards you, as if you were prey. Raising his hand, he held it high, ready to strike you. You’d shut your eyes, waiting for the blow, but it never came.
Opening your eyes, you watched as he stood still, realizing what he was about to do, he shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” he began to repeat, reaching for you before you ran out of the building. As you made it down the flight of stairs, you mentally cursed yourself, realizing you forgot to grab your coat, but were too afraid to go back.
Instead you walked the streets, stopping in your tracks, seeing the familiar faces. The cast members dressed as creatures of the night. You were about to walk towards them when a hand lightly pulled you backward. Gasping, your face relaxed as you bumped into Armand.
“Hi,” you said, breathlessly.
“What are you doing out here, in the middle of the night?” He tilted his head at you. You could ask the same thing, they were all here, a good distance from the theater.
“Just walking around, clearing my mind,” you said, shrugging.
“Something happened?” He asked, a concerned expression on his face.
“I’ll be fine, it’s nothing,” you shook your head. Armand was the last person you wanted to burden your problems with.
“Then allow me to join you, we can clear our minds together,” he intertwined his arm with yours.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to-
“Shall we go to the park? It’s quiet around this time,” he thought, leading you in the other direction.
“What are you all doing out here, in the middle of the night?” You asked him.
“Finding…inspiration,” he smirked.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course”
“Do you think it is wrong to regret big decisions you’ve made?”
“I think there are no coincidences, your mistake can lead you to your biggest culmination, regret is unnecessary, stress about something from your past, but tell me, what is it, you wish could have been done differently?”
“Maybe stayed home, pursued my dreams there, found a husband who was a man of his word, who supported my ambitions despite if others thought negatively of me,” you said, you hadn't realized you were crying until you felt Armand's finger brushing the tears away.
“This is nothing to be ashamed of, your dreams are coming to reality and I am a man of my word, I couldn’t care what anyone has to say when you’re on stage,” he smirked as you started laughing.
“And why is that?” You stopped walking.
“Because my eyes are blessed to see an angel and I don’t want to miss any parts of your beauty,” he said, as he gazed into your glossy eyes. Stepping closer, he pressed his lips against your own, and your arms guilelessly went around his neck.
“Where have you been, all my life?” you peered into his eyes.
“Waiting for you,” he said, kissing your lips, once more.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you giggled as the kiss broke.
“You’ve been worth the wait, come, it is getting late, I’m sure there are still some hotels opened-
“I can go home”
“Y/n-
“Trust me, I’ll be fine at home,” you smiled, as he redirected the walk to your apartment.
“Are you sure you want to stay here tonight?” Armand asked, as you both stood outside your door.
“Knowing Philip, he left,” you reassured him.
“Come to my theater tomorrow night”
“Okay,” you nodded.
“See you then,” he grinned, pecking your lips, before turning away.
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“Edward, I don’t understand?” You frowned, trying to fathom what he was saying.
“I think it’s better this way, I’ve been more than grateful for the business you’ve brought to us, but we can’t risk having the article released, it will do more damage than anything,” he explained, his eyes full of pity.
You had extra time on your hands, stopping at your job, when Edward gave you the news. He was firing you, not because you had done anything wrong, but because he had received an anonymous tip about the cabaret soon to be in the media, and not for anything positive - going as far as being compared to a brothel.
All coverage wasn't good coverage in Edwards's eyes and he knew the target audience would turn away from the establishment in an instant.
“I'm sorry, Y/n,” he said, as you sighed, before putting on your best smile. You wouldn't cry now, sometimes this happened to big stars, you told yourself.
“It is alright, I wish you nothing but the best, goodbye,” you told him, leaving the cabaret.
You never looked back, keeping your eyes forward as you approached the ticket collector. His eyes snapped to you as he slightly frowned.
“There is a line,” he told you matter-factly.
“Is Armand here?”
“You can find out after you get in line just like everyone else-
“Y/n,” Armand walked outside, giving him a look. You watched as he lowered his gaze, almost in submission.
“Come,” he motioned, reaching out. Smiling, you accepted his hand, letting him lead you to his booth.
“Is there a reason you look like you’re on the verge of tears?”
“Just trying to figure out why everything is going wrong in my life,” you said, with a chuckle.
“Perhaps your culmination is closer than you realize”
“I hope you’re right”
“I’m in love with you,” your eyes widened at his words as you spoke at the same time.
“Armand, I-
“Since the moment you graced my eyes, I’ve been bewitched by your presence and…and I don’t want to leave it. I can give you the life you deserve, a stage to perform, love unlike any other, and pleasure beyond comprehension, choose me,” he told you, his eyes went to your lips, before he turned, watching as the lights dimmed.
Throughout the play, you could hardly focus, as your finger interlocked with Armand’s. His thumb caressed your warm flesh, bringing your hand to his lips. You could agree with your former colleagues, the play seemed real, almost too real. If it wasn’t for Armand’s swooning, you would be panicking.
You watched as the girl screamed, begging to be saved, but death came to collect. Surrounding her, her shrieking faded away as the curtains closed.
“That was…intense,” you gulped, as Armand laughed.
“It is all apart of the show,” he reminded you.
“Yes, doesn’t change that it was a little scary”
“You would look ravishing on that stage, whatever you'd like, singing, dance, it's yours,” he told you.
“I have to go,” you bit back your smiled, flattered by his bold promises.
“Stay, for tonight”
“I can't, it has been on my heart to write to my mother, so I want to get a head start,” you told him.
“Then will I see you tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night,” you nodded, accepting his kiss, before you left, making your way home.
Thinking of the steady decline of your marriage, you worried for your future, if you were headed towards a divorce. Your mother was the smartest woman you knew and although she was disappointed, you knew she would never turn her back completely. Like the prodigal son, you’d return home if it meant better circumstances, and your mother like the father, would accept you with open arms. Your heart wanted to believe Armand, but you couldn’t allow yourself to fall for more empty promises.
Settling back into the apartment, you sat at Philip’s desk. You wouldn't consider yourself nearly as good as a writer as he was, but he had taught you a few things to better your craft. Grabbing a pen, you started a bit formal, it had been a while since you'd seen your mother after all.
As your writing progressed, you poured your emotions out into the paper. Dealing with the suppressed feeling of being the reason for your brother's condition, your failed attempts at marriage, and your career, since leaving home. Glancing at the clock on the wall, you raised your eyebrows at the time. Had it already been two hours of writing? Albeit, there was a pile of crumbled papers.
Suddenly the door burst open, Philip rushed in, terror covering his face. Locking the door, he immediately went to the small kitchen, pushing the stove in front of the door.
“Philip?”
Hearing his name, his head jerked around as he met your gaze. Rushing over to you, he stopped, seeing you back away nervously.
“Y/n, please, I won’t…just let me explain,” he said, opening the manila folder.
“It started when you wanted to work at the Cabaret, I was so excited for you, I started an article, you were going to have an entire page. But…but then my brain began to get distorted and fuzzy, I could hardly think. Before I knew it, the article was on fire. I came to your show and I noticed someone”
“You came to my show before?”
“Always, after the first time, you came home gushing, I promised to try to make it,” he said, pulling out the stack of photos he continued.
“This man, he came to every show, front row, bringing you flowers,” he showed a series of pictures of Armand, some of the photos you were in. His arms around you, his lips pressed against your own.
“Philip-
“Just listen,” he shook his head, stopping you.
“I went to his theater, to confront him, to win my wife back, but then I found this, in his office,” he pulled out more photos.
“He has been watching you since we came here, from the time we arrived, there are photos of you taken. Then, I looked around, and what I saw, they aren't human, none of them. Those aren't plays, they're actual murderings,” he cried, showing the hardly developed pictures of the coffins and corpses in a box full of rats.
“I think he has been getting in my head, since I began to suspect him, I’ve felt like another person is living inside of me,” he said, wiping his tears.
“I waited until they all settled in for rest and I set the hell house on fire, we have to leave, now, we can go home, start fresh, leave all of this behind us,” he stressed.
Moving to your shared closet, he began to rip all of your clothing from the hangers, throwing them on the bed. You stood with your hand on your stomach, trying to process the photos. Indeed, there were photos of you from the moment you stepped off the boat. You didn't want to believe any of these bizarre claims, but here was the proof right in your face.
Unexpectedly, the stove was pushed out of the way, as the door burst open. Armand walked in, his hair slightly disheveled, the scariest glare set on Philip.
“Armand?” you called his name, hesitantly.
“Y/n, run,” Philip told you, as you jumped away from the table, the paper catching ablaze.
“Philip-
“Run, now,” he shoved you, right as Armand grabbed him. His hands around his throat, lifting him off the ground. Philip struggled, trying to free himself, gasping as fangs came out. Armand seemed to be growling at him, before sinking his teeth into him, determined to drain every ounce of blood from him.
“Run,” Philip strained, as you covered your mouth, rushing out the door.
Run, run, don't stop, keep running.
Your heart pounded, as you ran through the streets, gasping for air as you grew more tired. Afraid to look back, you kept going, you were sure you'd drop dead in fear seeing him behind you. Turning on nearly every corner, relief washed over, seeing a store owner closing his shop.
"Sir," you called out, as you jogged to him.
"No, no, I'm closing," he pointed at the sign.
"Please help me, he's going to get me," you cried, as the man finally turned to face you, genuinely concerned.
"Come in," he said, letting you into the store. As you came in, he locked the door behind you. With the adrenaline coming down, you could feel pain in your foot from stepping into the glass.
"We have to hide," you told the man, tugging at his sleeve.
"You go," he pointed to the back, before he went behind the counter, pulling a shotgun out.
Limping to the back of the store, looking back one more time, you screamed as the door burst open, the shop owner being killed instantly. As the elderly man fell to the floor, you cried out, before he appeared in front of you.
"Y/n," his eyes softened seeing your tear-stained face, all of your makeup running down, mixed with the tears.
"Please, don't kill me,” you cried, shaking your head.
“Shh, shh, there is no need to cry,” he consoled you, forcing your head into his chest.
“Why did you kill him?”
“Because he married you,” he admitted.
“What are you?”
“A vampire,” he shifted his eyes as you looked at his face.
“They weren’t acting,” you shook your head, trying to shove him away.
“Not at the end, no,” he confessed. Wrapping his arms you, he walked you out of the store. You continued to try to fight him, but he was much stronger, holding you effortlessly.
Lifting into the air, you gasped, realizing he was floating, no flying! Wrapping your arms around him, you shoved your face deeper into his soft coat. He smiled as one of his hands held your head.
“We were out hunting, when I noticed you, stepping off of the boat. I could hear your precious thoughts, you were sure you'd be the next big star. You had dreams but weren't putting yourself out there, so I sent Edward to you, and I made sure he paid you like the star you are,” Armand said, as his feet landed on top of the museum.
“I showered you with praise and gifts of all kinds, and yet you left every night, going back to him, what is it that he could possibly have that I couldn't give you?” he asked, a gloomy look in his eyes.
“He was my husband, he didn’t have much, but I loved him,” you cried.
“He wouldn’t have given you the opportunities you can have. He would work himself to death, not without cheating on you to fill the void within himself because he knew he could never give you the life he promised”
“You killed him,” you continued to cry. Rolling his eyes, he felt himself growing frustrated with you.
“Because I love you, I can love you better than his wretched human mind could ever think to fathom. I could give you the eternal gift, lavishing you, treasuring you, why can’t you see, has your love for me left that quickly?” he asked, as he grabbed your face, forcing you to look into his eyes.
Glamouring you, he hoped to find the truth, that your heart had turned cold at the sight of him. Wiping your eyes softly, his hand trailed to your lips, brushing against them softly.
“No,” you said, breathlessly.
“Then choose me, you have no need to fear me, we will be companions, equals, I, your maker, and you, my angel,” he said, a bloody tear slipping out of his eye. As he looked away, you snapped out of the trance, your heart ached to see Armand this way.
“I don't think I can forgive anytime soon, but I love you and I want you,” you told him, as you began to cry all over. Reaching towards his face, you wiped the blood away, before cupping his face in your hand. Searching your face for reassurance, you nodded.
“This will hurt for a short moment, but our eternity together will make up for it,” he told you, softly pecking your lips. Swiftly dipping you, you held onto him, as his fangs sank into your neck.
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“Then what happened?” Daniel raised his voice, leaning towards you.
“I drank from him, and became his fledgling. I would say the rest is history, but it’s on the blog,” you laughed.
“You forgave him, just like that, after what he had done to Philip?”
“She actually took nearly a decade before I didn’t hear anything anymore,” Armand said, lifting your hand to his lips.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to a few things,” Daniel said, writing on his notebook.
“Okay, let’s hear it”
“Philip said that he came to your shows, nearly every single one, up until you were fired. But, during your time with Armand, he always seemed to working”
“He was saying a lot of things that night, him showing up to my shows was the least important thing to me at the time, but it was like 80 years ago, I don’t remember it like it was yesterday,” you laughed.
“I understand, Philip and Edward both spoke about an article, did this said article ever come about?”
“No-
“The fire was talked about, it took any attention from Y/n,” Armand interrupted.
“And what of the Cabaret? The Vampire Theater?”
“As far as we know, no one made it,” Armand said.
“The Cabaret went out of business a few years into my new life, I hear it’s a bakery now, you should visit,” you told him.
“If I’m not busy, I will think about it. What about your mother and brother?”
“I checked on them a few times, but the bloodline has ended with me,” you said, your smile faltering.
“I see,” he nodded, writing a note down.
“I trust you will do well with my story Daniel, reflecting on my past, I was a child, I didn’t have a real grasp of love and what it meant. I cared for Philip, he is who influenced my writing, but I can finally understand how much I didn’t actually love him,” you told him before he stopped the audio recording.
“Well, that’s it,” he sighed, saving the contents, before closing the computer.
“Lovely, would you like to stay for dinner?” you asked, as Daniel rubbed his head.
“No, I already made plans,” he said, his head feeling distorted and fuzzy.
“Awe, too bad, let me at least walk you to the door,” you stood, leading him to the front door of the spacious penthouse.
Sitting alone, Armand clenched his jaw, his eyes sharply piercing the air. Years upon years, nearly reversed in a single session. He could tell by the way Daniel was asking these questions, he wanted you to remember the obvious, but the truth was far too blurred for you to ever remember things how things were.
From the moment he saw you, he wanted you, filled with jealousy seeing you kiss him. He immediately began to find information about the two of you, watching from a distance. He did hear your thoughts, about how you wanted to be a star, which is why he sent Edward to you. The Cabaret had been nearby for some time now and hardly got any attention, you could work there for a while until you were ready for his stage.
Philip had been to nearly every show, but Armand was too far into your mind for you to ever notice him. Dancing and singing for the vampire alone, he had changed your memory too many times for you to even recount your performances. His breaking point was after stalking you, approaching your apartment, his heart shattered hearing you moan for him. The man he despised.
Lastly, he wished him turning you was as romantic as you made it out to be. After you told him you didn’t love him anymore, he promised that you would learn to love him again, before draining you. The thought of the fire infuriated him, his hate growing towards him. Philip ruined his plans and for that, he paid with his death. You were supposed to be turned, in the most beautiful way, becoming the lead actress at his theater. All of his plans, plans for you, the both of you, went to waste, because of him.
Armand knew some would come to this conclusion, and begin to question why. The answer was simple, so simple that many would hate him for his actions. He was jealous, seeing someone have what he wanted, so he took it. He had lived too long to care about his decisions hurting others and he held no regrets.
“Hey, are you coming to get ready for bed?” You asked, coming back to the entrance of the living room. Standing up, in an instant, he stood in front of me.
“Am I forgiven for my choices, my angel?” he asked, rubbing his face against your hands as you held his cheeks.
“You don't have to ask, don't let this story get to you, it's in our past,” you told him, furrowing your eyebrows at him.
“I love you,” he smiled, kissing your lips.
“I love you too,” you told him, kissing him once more.
“I'll join you soon,” he said, watching as you turned, walking away.
Armand would never admit how prideful and monstrous his nature could be. Selfishly, he has taken you away from any and everything you knew, keeping you all to himself. However, none of these things mattered, he had won, in the end. You were a star, only meant to perform on his stage.
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otmaaromanovas · 2 months ago
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A French writer recalls meeting the Romanov sisters
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During WWI, French journalist and writer Amélie de Néry, who went by the pen name Marylie Markovitch, was invited to have a private audience with Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna. During this meeting, she was introduced to the four Grand Duchesses by the Tsarina.
In January 1916, her recollections were condensed and published in multiple newspapers throughout America and Europe. She wrote:
With a charming smile she took my hand and told me she was very happy to receive a representative of the women of France, who, like their sisters in Russia, had so bravely borne their burden of anxiety during this cruel war. 'Let me introduce you to my daughters,' she said as soon as I thanked her for granting me an audience. 'This is Tatiana.' Grand Duchess Tatiana also shook hands with me and said she was very much interested in meeting a woman journalist for the first time. She is a beautiful girl, with big blue eyes, full of life, illuminating her fair, young face. At this moment the door opened and a young girl, also in the garb of a sister of mercy, entered the room. 'And here is Olga, my little French daughter' said the czarina. Grand duchess Olga is no less beautiful and charming than her younger sister, but she is more calm and there is something of the serenity of the mystic about her. As the czarina referred to her stay in Paris, it seemed to me as if a dreamy expression came into the daughter's dark soulful eyes. ‘Colonel de Vitchkowsky will introduce you to my two other daughters,' said the czarina, as she parted from me to take up her duties in the operating room; and once more I felt the firm grip of her hand. The two little grand duchesses, Marie and Anastasia, were in the convalescent ward. I found that both, wearing plain white dresses and red hats, standing close to an officer who, seated on the window sill, was playing the balalaika. They both shook hands with me and the music went on.
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📍SOURCES: Amélie de Néry; LA Raconteuce, ‘Find Writer Finds Czarina Hard At Work’, El Paso Herald newspaper, 6 January 1916. Her full recollections can be found in Amélie de Néry, ‘L’Imperatrice en Voile Blanc’ in Revue Des Deux Mondes, (1916), p. 566
📍PHOTOS: Photograph albums of the Grand Duchesses, public domain; Photographs of Amélie de Néry: Portrait de Mme Marlie [sic] Markovitch, Femina publication, 122, February 1906, p. 75, public domain
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kelstey · 10 months ago
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get him back!
mattheo riddle x reader
warnings : none
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❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃
i met a guy last summer and i left him in the spring
"hey," you shielded your eyes with your hand from the sun, squinting at the figure in front of you.
"hey," you replied. you allowed your eyes to adjust, realising that a literal god of a man was standing in front of you.
"i'm mattheo," he brung his hand out in front of him for a hand shake.
"i'm y/n."
he argued with me about everything he had an ego and a tempter and a wandering eye
"you're such a dick! you were fully undressing her with your eyes!" you shouted at him, heated, absolutely enraged he was gaslighting you.
"staring at who?! you're making things up," mattheo ran his hand through his stupidly soft, brown hair.
"oh making things up?" you laughed at the stupidity that was coming out of his mouth, "i have eyes! i could see you checking her out as if i weren't right next to you!"
"yeah, whatever," he scoffed and walked away
he said he's six foot two
"and i'm like dude nice try," you giggled to pansy, gossiping about all the juicy drama to her.
"you love tall guys, he seems perfect," you blushed at her words, knowing she was right.
but he was so much fun, and he had such weird friends
"why do you have a ferret?" you questioned mattheo.
"it's just draco, i'm taking him back to snape to see if he can fix him," he chuckled and handed the white animal over to you.
"and how exactly did he get in this predicament?" you giggled as the little thing tried to bite
and he would take us out to parties and the night would ever end
another song, another club, another bar, another dance
you were pressed up against mattheo, grinding on him as the music deafened you. his hands were glued to your hips, gluing you to him.
"another drink?" he shouted in your ear.
"fuck yeah!" you shouted back, heading over to the bar to order another 10 shots.
and when he said something wrong he'd just fly me to france
"c'mon darlin, drivers here and he's taking us to my family's villa," you stepped off of the plane in paris, feeling like some sort of royalty.
"i can hardly speak french," you giggled, heading over to the personal driver who was parked, awaiting your arrival.
"i'll speak it for you, sweetheart," he winked, opening the car door for you.
so i miss him some nights when i'm feeling depressed
you laid on your side, mascara smudged all under your eyes as you continued to stare off into space; your mind on one person, and one person only.
you rolled onto your back, staring at the still ceiling as you reminisced the times he held you in his arms, the way his soft lips felt against your lips - and everywhere else on your body.
til i remember every time he made a pass on my friend
your eyebrows furrowed, frustrating growing through your body when you remember the one time mattheo hit on astoria right in front of you.
"hey," you watched as his hand was placed on the arch of her back.
"hey mattheo," she smiled and you frowned.
"you look gorgeous tonight, mind if i get you a drink?" be was now dangerously close to her and you felt as if steam was coming out of your ears.
do i love him? do i hate him? i guess it's up and down
if i had to choose, i would say it right now i wanna get him back i wanna make him really jealous wanna make him feel bad oh, i wanna get him back
cause then again i really miss him and it makes me real sad
oh, i want sweet revenge and i want him again i want to get him back, back, back
so irerite bim all these letters and i throw
them in the trash
"dear mattheo,
i hate you, but i love you. and i hate you again. you're a piece of shit. i never want you to speak to me again but i don't want you to ever stop trying to reach out. you confuse me so much. i know we're bad for each other but you're the only one i want. cause i miss the the way you kiss, and the way you make me laugh."
yeah, i pour my little heart out but as i'm hittin' send
i picture all the faces on my disappointed friends
"you did what?!" pansy screeched in the middle of the hall.
"girl shut up! pineapple might hear! plus, i only wrote it in my notes. merlin, do you really think i'm stupid enough to hit send?" you scolded her.
"i wouldn't put it past you," she began walking again and you rolled your eyes, knowing she was right.
because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do
"he's not the type of guy you should be with, y/n,"
theo spoke to you, his thumb rubbing circles over your hands as you told him the things he did.
"he said i was the only girl but that just wasn't the truth," you felt your eyes water, theo giving you a pitiful look.
and when i told him how he hurt me, he'd tell me i was trippin'
"you keep giving me mixed signals, mattheo," you were now beyond exhausted of the arguing.
"you're trippin'," he couldn't even look you in the eyes as he knew what you were saying was factual.
you titled your head, "you're a fucking cunt." you poked your index finger into his chest, pushing past him as you headed to class.
but i am my fathers daughter, so maybe i could fix him?
your fingers were tangled in his hair, calming him down as he had yet another argument with his father.
mattheo was laid on your stomach, his body between your legs, hands wrapped around your back.
"i just hate him so much," warm, salty tears fell from his face to your stomach.
"i know baby, i know. i'll do my best to help you."
i wanna get him back
i wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad
oh, i wanna get him back
'cause then again, i really miss him, and it makes me real sad
oh, i want sweet revenge, and i want him again
i want to get him back
i want to get him back, back, back
i wanna key his car
"c'mon, hurry," you waved pansy over, the two of you disguised with all black, baggy outfits, and balaclavas as you hopped over the riddle's manor.
"which one is it?" pansy pulled out her endless assortment of keys.
"that one," you pointed over at the black mercedes.
"posh twat," pansy muttered and tossed you some keys.
"i wanna get him back," you smirked. you carefully went over to the parked car, trying to make as little noise as possible.
quickly you began to run the keys across any surface area of the sleek black car, ruining it as much as possible.
"this is for making me listen to y/n rant about you 24 fucking 7," pansy mumbled to herself.
i wanna make him lunch
"hey love," you gave mattheo a sweet kiss on the cheek as you handed over the bowl of pasta, his absolute favourite of yours.
"you truly have my heart," you fake smiled at his
comment.
i wanna break his beart
you straddled theo's lap, his large hands going under your skirt as he massaged away at your ass. his lips were hungry for yours, the kiss was rough but it was everything you wanted and needed.
you had thought because of the dark lighting, and crowds of people, that mattheo wouldn't see. but oh he did.
his heart shattered, dropping at the sight of you with his best friend. he downed the rest of his drink (aka straight whiskey) before heading over to the two of you, ready to fuck some shit up.
you moved your hips against theo's, grinding on his boner, his lips still eager for more of you. he knew it was bad - betraying his friend. but you wanted to get mattheo back, and theo was only there for some very 'moral', moral support.
you were ripped away from theo, landing on the foor with a thud, you looked up to see mattheo going ham at theo, punching him over and over as the fight broke out.
you stared in horror - enzo pulling you away from the horrific sight.
then be the one to stitch it up
"hey matty," you walked into mattheo's room. he was sat at his window ledge, head in his book which he was reading intently.
"what do you want?" he didn't even glance up at you.
"i'm sorry about last night," you made your way to him.
finally, mattheo looked up at you. his heart nearly bursted out of his chest seeing you in his hoodie - the one you always wore when you stayed over.
"baby," his voice was now softer, his eyes staring at you in adoration as the memories of the nights you spent together came back to him.
"i'm really sorry," you pouted your lips, knowing it was all so fake.
wanna kiss his face
you held mattheo close, his face rested on your chest. you leaned down, peppering kisses onto his face 'lovingly'.
you smiled down at him, "i love you."
"i love you too," you said, he put his face back in your chest. you looked up, the smile wiped immediately off of your face.
with an uppercut
wanna meet his mum
just to tell her her son sucks
"hi mrs riddle," you smiled at the older lady as she opened the door.
"hi, and who might you be?" you tried your hardest not to let the disappointment take over as you realised mattheo clearly had never talked about you at home.
"i'm y/n, and i'd love to tell you all about mattheo. i suppose he's clearly not mentioned me then?"
oh i wanna key his car
"what the fuck?!" mattheo yelled, his arms flailed up as he stared at his car, freshly bought and freshly keyed.
"what are you - oh," his father stepped out of the house, face dropping at the scene in front of them.
wanna make him lunch
mattheo was crouched over the toilet seat, uncontrollably puking over and over as draco rubbed his back.
"mate what the fuck is wrong with you?" draco was both disgusted yet trying not to laugh.
"y/n made me lunch. think she's poison-" he threw up, yet again into the toilet.
"suppose she's got to get you back somehow." mattheo shot draco a glare. "apologies," draco held up his hands in defence.
i wanna break his heart
"hey tom," you wandered into mattheo's older brothers room.
"what?" he turned around from his desk.
"oh nothing," you held your hands behind your back, innocently walking over to tom. "just wanted to see you, is all."
you sat on his lap, fixing his loose tie. tom's hand supported you on his lap, a slight firm grasp on your thigh too. you finished sorting his tie, your eyes flickering up to his eyes.
"have i ever told you how much hotter than mattheo you are?" tom smirked at your comment.
"my very own brother, hm?" his face was close to yours, millimetres away from each other.
you nodded, looking from his eyes down to his lips. "i do prefer older guys," you closed the space between you and tom.
as if on cue, mattheo walked in.
stitch it right back up
"mattheo, i don't know what got into him! he just pulled me onto his lap and you just walked in," you explained to mattheo.
"do you promise me?" he looked up at you, sadness in his eyes. you felt bad, but he felt nothing when you were depressed over him for months.
"promise, sweetie, you know i'd never," oh yes you absolutely would.
wanna kiss his face, with an uppercut
"oops!" you covered your mouth with your hand as you accidentally 'nudged' mattheo's arm as he was mid falling asleep in class, his face hitting off of the table.
"want me to kiss it better?" you asked him.
"please."
i wanna meet his mum, and tell her her son sucks
"oh he did not," his mum was appalled, hand covering her mouth as you told her about the year long situationship with her son.
"oh he did, and then, he had the audacity to be like "you're trippin',", ugh the cheek!" you took another sip of your tea.
"oh and don't get me started on the time he was flirting with my friend in front of me! but then he got upset cause i kissed one of his friends as payback."
i'll get him, i'll get him, i'll get him, i'll get him back
get him back
i'm gonna get him so good, he's not even gonna know what hit him
he's gonna love me and hate me at the same time
he didn't know wether to hate you or love you. but what he did know, was that he was undoubtedly obsessed with you.
"please, y/n, i'll do anything," he was on his knees in front of you, begging for your forgiveness.
you really wondered how he even had feelings towards you - you keyed his car, made him lunch that was poisoned, broke his heart by kissing his best friend and brother, told his mum all the shit he did and how he sucked.
but here he was, willing to give up anything and everything for you.
you had finally got him back.
❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃
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octuscle · 3 months ago
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Expats
Gabriel was quite a freeloader. Of course he didn't come to Dubai as an expat because he was stupid or lazy. But he also knew pretty well that he would have had a much harder time in France affording the life he could afford here. Life in Dubai was luxury, pure luxury. He had a cool house with a pool, a gardener, a housekeeper and a chauffeur, and he earned a huge amount of money. He didn't necessarily work nine to five, but he didn't necessarily work himself to death either. In short, for him, life here was pure paradise!
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Gabriel had heard the news that the climate had turned a little against the privileges of expats. But he wasn't interested in it. He would do his job here, he was saving a lot of money, which was safely invested in Switzerland, if necessary, he would be on the plane back to Paris tomorrow and look for a job in Riyadh or Kuwait. The United Arab Emirates were not the only place on this planet where he could make money. And besides, he didn't really care about it today. It was Saturday. Tomorrow he would have to sit in the office again, today he wanted to work out at the gym and then hang out with a few friends at the beach club for the rest of the day. A few cocktails, lobster for dinner and then to bed. The only problem was: his driver had the day off. And even though Gabriel had been living in Dubai for several years, he couldn't drive a car himself! He had forgotten how. That's why there were drivers. So he ordered a taxi.
The porter at his community had announced the driver. Gabriel took his sports bag. A quick check in the mirror: yes, he looked good. He opened the door. The brand new Toyota taxi was parked in front of the door. The driver got out and asked in English if Gabriel wanted to put the sports bag in the boot. Gabriel barely looked up from his phone and just shook his head. He didn't feel like having any more contact with the driver than absolutely necessary. The driver opened the back door for him, Gabriel got in, repeated his destination once more and continued playing with his cell phone. The driver remained quiet at first. But then he started talking. First in English. About the weather, about football, where Gabriel came from, whether he liked Dubai. Gabriel simply didn't react. The driver just kept talking. That he had fled from Syria. That he had been in Dubai for four years. That he had two children. He showed Gabriel pictures in his wallet. His English became more and more incomprehensible. A mixture of English and Arabic. Gabriel continued to pretend to be deaf. The driver kept talking. In Arabic. He was ranting about the expats. About the arrogance of the infidels, who thought they were better than everyone else, even though they were dependent on the mercy of Allah, who had given the Muslims oil.
Gabriel was annoyed. He wanted to work on a few e-mails and not talk about politics. What did he care about politics? So he snapped at the driver, "Rakkiz 'ala al-siyaqa, ana mashghul!" The driver smiled. He looked in the rear-view mirror. God's plan was working.
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The taxi driver's language began to change again. Arabic with a French accent. Gabriel sat in the back on the worn imitation leather seats of the old taxi. In the front, Ayoub couldn't stop getting worked up about the last few games of Olympic Marseille. Djibril grinned. He knew the feeling. When Ayoub was in a rage, he was in a rage. Fortunately, they were almost at the wholesale market, then his brother would let him out. Ayoub would drive his shift to an end. And Djibril would see what kind of job he could get. He and his pals ironically called themselves the expats. It was true in a way… His brother and he had immigrated from Morocco ten years ago. They had family in Marseille. Djibril had really tried hard at school, but at some point he stopped going and started working as a day laborer at the wholesale market. He was doing well. By now, Djibril had his network, he knew his way around. And he was strong and fast. He saved what he earned. He was proud of his brother Ayoub, who made it to get a taxi license and his own taxi, which was also Djibril's goal.
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He checked his messages. It was still dawn. Ayoub was on his way to the banlieue to sleep. It was good when he drove the night shift, then he and Djibril didn't have to share the small bedroom. So far, no one had contacted him to request Djibril's services. If necessary, he could help out in his aunt's café in the kitchen. There was no money for that, though. But a café and a lunch. Life as an expat wasn't so bad.
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