#as we like to call him in France
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vertigoartgore · 9 months ago
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Wolverine on the road by Olivier Coipel.
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gender-euphowrya · 2 months ago
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so anyway france news nobody cares about
SO remember in summer when our president suddenly decided ''ehhh fuck our current government line-up let's start over let's have a vote" for no reason and leftist parties united to have better odds of beating the right and they won so the president was supposed to pick a prime minister from the left
and then he didn't and he picked Some Rightie that nobody had heard about in decades Anyway yeah that new government might get voted out again With potentially our president having to resign too
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blindedbystars · 1 year ago
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i reached too many tags so im writing the rest of my thoughts here hope you dont mind!
i loved the confrontation between heaven and tommy - like i said its born out of worry and comes from a good place initially but also because she's too unpredictable tommy can't control her the way he can everything else and that's one reason he doesn't like her
but also tommy believes himself cursed and maybe she represents that part of himself tommy is afraid of and her mentioning his son i know she's trying to help him but tommy is so untrusting it won't come across as anything other than a threat
and i know i keep saying this but i do like the little bits and pieces of her backstory she's such an intriguing character im looking forward to reading more about her
"you're here" / "told you id come back" 🥺😭😭 and "please tell me you're not scared of your arthur" this beauty and the beast situation but where they both think they're the beast "you look pretty with blood all on your face" so real girl i hear you
love that they both are same level of crazy for eahcother they want to eat eachother so bad love it
Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC
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Summary:  This is when things seem to get better with the Shelby family —at least with Polly— that a drunk client crosses the line with you at the Garrison. Haunted by his past insecurities and his burning jealousy, Arthur snaps. And he snaps very bad. For the first time since you've met, he reveals the beast he hides inside... And Tommy obviously uses the incident to blame you.
Words: 5k
TW: Angst, Obsessive behavior, extreme jealousy, graphic depiction of violence, murder, lot of blood, canonical violence, witch trial, allusions to smut, allusions to blood!kink, Arthur being an emotional and slightly psychotic mess
Notes:
✞ I don't condone Arthur's behavior. Also, keep in mind that Heaven is certainly a bit twisted too.
✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).
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PREVIOUS CHAPTER || Masterlist || NEXT
The sound of your heels hammering the cold pavement of Small Heath echoed in the nocturnal streets as you walked to the Garrison. Even though the expansion of the Shelby Company led the family’s interests away from the pub, they still hold the place dear to their hearts and sometimes they liked gathering there for old times' sake. Especially Arthur. Hence, rather than staying at home, reading in front of the fireplace, and dwelling on Polly’s odd behavior at the last family gathering, you decided to occupy your buzzing mind by surprising Arthur at the pub. A raven flew above your head and cawed, its presence stirring interest in you for he had followed you from the moment you had left your house. As you walked to the Garrison, you took a quick glance at the black bird’s silhouette, which was perched on a roof a few houses away. 
"Silly boy, want to tell me something?" You told to it, amused. The animal, dressed with dark feathers, replied with another caw. You chuckled and kept walking.
The white dress and fur coat you were wearing contrasted so well with the dull night that the few people you passed were not sure what they had just seen. Indeed, the moon's glow reflected its light on your porcelain skin, adorning your frail body with an almost supernatural aura. That was why some of them thought they had caught sight of an angel, just like Arthur did the first time you and he met.
When the dark wooden door of the Garrison opened, its noise overcoming the laughter, chatting, and sounds of glasses clinking against each other, a soft wave of warmth caressed your cold face. You had barely stepped inside when people almost all turned around, many pairs of eyes weighing on you. Curious and dumbstruck gazes looked at you, wondering what such a holy-looking creature was doing here — but you did not really care. Your petrifying aquamarine iris swept the room to become familiar with the place before you headed to the counter behind which you saw Arthur’s tall frame. The man was back to you, talking with his little boss-brother Thomas. Awesome, you thought, little King Shelby is here. Sarcasm filled your head at the mere sight of him. To be true, you were well aware that Thomas was always doing his best to avoid you, but it did not annoy you. Quite the contrary, you were more than satisfied with never seeing him — you still did not come to terms with him trying to strangle you after all. Nevertheless, you leaned over the counter, arms resting on its varnished wooden surface, and parted your juicy lips to speak. 
“Good evening, Mister Shelby. Care to serve me a drink?” 
Arthur’s whole being shivered with delight as soon as he recognized the enchanting and oh-so-peculiar tone of your voice — the same voice that had led him to you one bleak and sleepless night. Shaken to the core by your presence, he forgot about Tommy the moment you had started to speak and turned around to face you, the corner of his lips stretching in a genuine and blissed smile. Each time his steel blue eyes fell on you, it was as if God's grace struck him — even though you were living together. The thrills you gave him never left.
“Good evening, love. What is such a delicious little Angel like you doing here? It’s a bad town for such a pretty face ye know.” He almost cooed with his hoarse voice, his hands on the bar and his eyes sparkling with a teasing gleam.
“Fell from the sky and got lost in these streets, so I just followed the light.” Your fingers grazed the back of his hand and went up its skin, leaving pleasant tingles in their trail, until they reached one of the many rings he was wearing. The simple gesture, barely touching him, lit up a blazing fire in his soul. Thomas looked at Arthur and quickly understood that no matter what he would say or do, he held no power over his older brother anymore, “Evening, Tommy.” You said, finally acknowledging him.
“Thomas. It’s Thomas.” He retorted with a voice as cold as an arctic blizzard that could freeze Hell’s inferno itself. He stubbed out his cigarette in the nearest ashtray and left without any single word, his shadow disappearing in the streets as he left the Garrison, for your sole presence seemed to bother him. Well, at least his opinion about you did not change. However, the lack of peculiar reaction from him reassured you: Polly had not told him what happened to the tea party yet.
“Don’t mind him eh,” 
You did not.
“I should probably give you one hell of a strong drink if you fell from Eden… Miss?”
“Heaven Lavey.” You winked, enjoying his silly way of hitting on you as if it was the first time you met, “A glass of red wine would do the trick… And the barman’s heart.” Your teasing grin widened, unveiling perfect white teeth. Arthur let out a long exhale through his nostrils, enraptured by your whole being. From your smile to your bratty pout, you got him on his knees. Each time he would dive his eyes into yours, his heart would quicken in his chest and dopamine would rush through his veins — who would want to keep taking drugs after tasting you? Not even himself. He was already high enough by your presence in his life and God knew he never wanted to sober up from you.
“As you wish.” He leaned over the counter to lay a tender kiss on your forehead. The way his mustache gently tickled your skin made you chuckle. How sweet he was, not afraid to lavish you with sweetness even in front of other people. Then, he gathered all his strength to pull away from you and take care of your order — which was nearly impossible to do, for you were both attracted to each other like two powerful magnets. But still, he did and then poured the finest red wine the Garrison had in a glass before putting it in front of you. Then, he leaned a second time over the counter to bring his face close to yours again, “as for my heart,” he paused, his eyes abandoning yours to drop on your full lips he watched with utmost desire, “You already snatched it, angel.” 
“You’re incorrigible, Arthur Shelby.” You could not help but laugh when you noticed that, as you spoke, his focus was still fiercely anchored to your lips. The urge he had to devour them was almost palpable, electrifying the air around him. Yet, you resisted the need to kiss him, rather bringing your small hands to his neck to fix his bow tie with indescribable tenderness. The pair of eyes that were watching you since your arrival could not believe that you had managed to tame the brutal Arthur Shelby — how he behaved with you was so different from the way he was with the others it almost scared them, “I hope you like this little surprise.”
“You can’t imagine how much I do.” He purred, grabbing your hands and putting them on his cheeks. How he loved feeling your cold skin against his. You cupped his face, looking right into his fair eyes with a never-ending love, and he instantly melted. His eyelids half-closed, for you had brought peace to his scorching soul again, “Lemme clean a few things and we’ll go back home eh.”
“Take your time. Je t’attends mon amour — I’ll wait for you my love —“
“Yer comfy here?”
“Arthur,” Your eyes rolled, amused.
“Want a cushion to sit on? Want to wait in a quieter room?” 
“That’s okay.”
“Mmm’kay” 
You freed his face from your sweet grip, leaving him lingering for more. When he reopened his eyes he could not hold the little growl that escaped his lips for you had not kissed him. He blinked several times, trying to chase away the charm you had cast on him with your sole presence, and reluctantly left you. Stars still danced in front of his eyes because of your intoxicating beauty — so hypnotizing he struggled to come back to what he was doing before.
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Waiting did not bother you. In fact, you preferred to wait for hours here, in the comforting warmth of the pub and its hullabaloo, rather than being left alone with your thoughts in the quietness of your house. Sipping on your red wine, you were minding your own business when a man sat next to you, his body collapsing on the stool as if walking had been quite a struggle for him. Which was probably the case considering he was drunk. Only a few people were still at the Garrison, the others went home stumbling or dragged away by a fellow friend. The suffocating smell of whiskey and sweat that was emanating from the newcomer made you wrinkled your nose.
“Hey doll, all alone by yourself? ”  The man said, bringing the whiskey glass to his chapped lips to gulp what was left in it. You glanced at him and simply nodded, not really wanting to do any kind of conversation, “Your glass is almost empty. Lemme buy you another one.” 
“I really appreciate it but that’s fine.” You answered with a polite smile — but even when doing the bare minimum your angelic traits never failed to captivate your audience. The man noticed your strong accent and saw the opportunity to carry on with the conversation.
“You come from France eh? I fought in France! Bloody hell, still got the mud of this country under my nails!” 
Maybe he talked a little bit too loud, or maybe Arthur’s senses were as sharp as a wolf’s, but the fact remains he immediately raised his eyes from what he was doing to watch over you. His steel blue iris shifted their attention from you only to cast their furious fire on the drunk man that was talking to you. His woman.
“You know, I always thought it was kind of sad that all the people here only link France with the war. This is a beautiful country.” You answered, taking another sip of red wine. Somehow, you allowed yourself to talk with the man. At least time would probably fly faster that way.
“If France’s as beautiful as ya, I’ll rush back to it by tomorrow, doll. The name’s Jim.”
You silently replied to him with a light smile, gently shaking your head at the fella’s attempt to compliment you.
You smiled at Jim — And Arthur broke the glass he was holding in his hand. It had been crushed by the pressure with which he had tightened his grip around it until it shattered into bits. Sharp pieces of glass had pierced Arthur’s flesh, blood dripping from his palm, but the tormenting anger that was building within him was so overwhelming he did not even feel the pain. As seconds passed, his face contorted with rage and his eyes darkened with jealousy.  You. Smiled. At. Him.
That was definitely not okay — the man did not deserve your blissful smile. 
Deafened by the sound of his own heart pounding in his tight chest, Arthur swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat in a vain attempt to keep control. To not let his anger issue show. The rational part of his mind was telling him to keep calm, for he knew you loved him and only him. You had told him plenty of times, after all. And he trusted you, really. But the other part, led by his insecurities and his mental instability, whispered foul insinuations to his ear.
Why would she stay with such a criminal like you? You’re sick. You’re old. You’re broken — and no one loves broken men. 
You’re stupid, far less clever and charming than Tommy. HE is a real man. 
You either scare or repel women. Linda told you. You don’t deserve Heaven. 
Useless. So useless… Broken. Crazy, you’re fucking crazy. She’ll see what you are. A monster. Monster. Monster. 
Arthur’s jaw clenched as his mind spiraled into a never-ending maze of whipping thoughts and insufferable feelings. Self-loathing was becoming too much to bear — so messy it had started to drown him. He felt his sanity slowly slipping through the cracks of his skull and the only thing he could to do make it stop was to break things. And by things he meant Jim. 
“Listen, Jim. I think you should go back home and rest. This is the whiskey talking.” You stated.
“Only if you come home with me, doll.” He ought to say, his grin widening. 
Breathless with rage, Arthur felt the heat pooling in his face. A few drops of sweat beaded on his forehead as he shook his wounded hand to clear his flesh from the shards of glass.
“You really should —“
“Come home with me and I’ll make you beg.” He cut off before you had time to turn his invitation down , bringing his hand on one of your thighs to strengthen his point.
Destructive anger flowed through his veins like lava,  exploding at the moment the man laid a finger upon you. Agile like a wild cat, Arthur jumped over the counter and rushed toward you, his shoulders tensed and his arms swinging as he walked.  Earth shook under his feet, opening the gates of Hell more and more at each of his steps. 
“AL-FUCKING-RIGHT THEN,” He blurted out, standing fiercely behind Jim. Arthur’s thundering voice almost made him jump — and it was enough for him to take his hand off your thigh and turned around to meet the Devil’s eyes. You froze on your stool, astounded by your man’s anger.
His face distorted with both fear and confusion at the sight of Arthur Shelby, green with jealousy and maddened with fury, “What the fookin hell did ya say, pal? WHAT THE FOOK DID YOU SAY TO ME WOMAN?” He roared, blue eyes shining with a threatening glow. At this point, Arthur was almost choking with rage. 
“Oh my God Arthur, I did not know she was your woman. I’m sorry! I really did not —“ Jim could not finish his sentence for Arthur had grabbed him by the neck and dragged him away from you in front of the few last clients' terrified looks.
“You TOUCHED her! You bloody touched her, ME ANGEL. ME HEAVEN. I can’t fucking believe it,” He spat, his words coated with bitter venom. Swirling in the chaotic vortex of his own fury, he did not hear the man’s bargains. And somehow, he did not care. There was nothing he could say to stop him anymore. Jim tried to utter another apology.
He had barely opened his mouth when Arthur’s fist crushed his nose with such a violent blow the sound of broken bones echoed through the Garrison. The man, almost knocked out by the uppercut, crashed on the wooden floor, a jet of blood gushing from his face, “Oi! Thought you fought in France. Come on, bastard! Fight me!” He snarled, teeth bared like a wild animal.
He’s going to kill him. That was what crossed your mind when you came back to your senses, overcoming the shock of seeing Arthur in such a frenzy state. You got up from your stool, “Arthur… Stop it please.” You called him, trying to be as soft as possible not to fan the flames of his anger. 
“I AM NOT GONNA STOP!” He barked, looking at you.
He looked at you 
and you saw the Hell in his eyes.
“Heard how he dared to talk to ye? Ah, you wanted to make me angel beg eh?” Arthur kneeled over the whimpering man, almost straddling his quivering body, to grab him by the collar of his coat, “Yeah that’s what you said right. But trust me, you sonofabitch, I’m the one who’ll make you beg!” He yelled, sending another powerful blast to the man’s face with his fists as sole weapons, adorned with thick silver rings. “BEG, YOU BASTARD!”
“P-please—“
Another disgusting sound of torn flesh and cracking skull filled the room. “By order —“ A third punch. Breaking teeth. Jim spat three of them at your feet. “Of the —“  Fourth. Fifth. His knuckles bruised and split under the strength of his blows but Arthur could not care less. All he wanted was to reduce Jim’s face to an unidentifiable slop of flesh.  “Peaky —“  Dislocated jaw hanging loosely. The horrible sight was accompanied by the cacophony of bloody gurgles. “Fookin — “ Jim had lost count of the punches that rained down on him. All he knew was that his body was giving up. At one point Arthur Shelby had stopped beating him, only to unstrapped the combat knife he kept in his holster, “BLINDERS!” 
“ARTHUR NO!!!”  Running to the scene and falling on your knees, you managed to grab his hands and keep him from stabbing the drunk man, “Don’t do that, please I need you. Please, please stop it.” 
Please.
Your voice, like a light piercing the thick veil of his darkness, snatched him from his murderous craze. Waking up by the smell of blood mixed with your sweet spring-like perfume, Arthur stopped in the midst of what he was doing and realized he was holding a knife above his head, ready to plunge it into a man’s chest. He took a look at you, noticing the shocked expression on your holy face, and all his anger disappeared into a void. His fingers loosened around the knife, which fell on the wooden floor with a metallic noise, “please Arthur, calm down… Call down, Mon amour.” You whispered, begging him with your eyes. Silence fell on the Garrison, as well as in his mind. The maddening voices had stopped and the buzzing hatred had vanished. Arthur left the unconscious man and collapsed in your arms, panting and shaking. Adrenaline made you shiver too, but you gently hugged his frame, one hand stroking his hair, “That’s okay… I’m here …”  You repeated just like a healing chant as a few men grabbed the severely injured victim and took him away from the pub.
“I’m … I’m sorry— Heaven, oh my god —“ Arthur stuttered, slowly realizing what he just did. He buried his face in your breasts, for comfort as well as to hide the blood that had splattered on him. He barely dared to hug your frail body for fear of breaking you.  Sometimes, he swore he had hell in his hands and he did not want to bring you down in the flames with him. 
“Shhhh… Breathe in. Breathe out. You can do it.”  You said with a soothing tone. With divine softness, you ran your fingers through his hair, not minding the blood he smeared on your clothes and bosom, “that’s okay, you’re a good boy..” But as you were trying to chase away your man’s demons, a far too familiar voice echoed in the room.
“What the fuck is this mess?!” Thomas Shelby exclaimed for he had just entered the Garrison, John by his side. His freezing blue eyes looked at you from above.  The king was here and he hated what he saw.
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“John, bring Arthur home. Everyone OUT.” 
This was all it took to empty the Garrison from its remaining clients. When John gently put his hand on his older brother’s shoulder, Arthur’s embrace tightened around your tiny silhouette for he did not want to leave you.  “No,” he managed to beg between two heartbreaking sobs. His face still hidden, not daring to look at you for fear of seeing disgust and anger in your eyes, Arthur refused to let you go. Somehow, he was convinced you would not go back home — why would you after what you had just witnessed? “Don’t take me away from her!”  He said, a bit more fiercely, which resulted in John taking a few steps back and looking at you, silently begging you to help him. In the midst of the chaos, only you could bring him back to his senses. A brief sigh escaped from your lips before you gently forced Arthur to look at you.
“Listen, chéri. I need you to go back home and calm down. I’ll be very quick.” 
“No, no, you won’t come back.” 
“ I’ll do,” You wiped away his tears with your thumbs, accidentally smearing more blood on his face doing so, “and when I do, I’ll take care of you alright? I’ll keep you warm and loved.” Punctuating your sentence with affection, you slicked his hair back with a frail but oh-so-loving grin on your face. He finally accepted.
When he left alongside John, your smile vanished and you got up from the floor, legs still slightly shaking. Thomas was still standing in the middle of the pub, towering you with all his height, and looking at you with his cold eyes. His chilling stare followed your movements as you walked to the bar and poured yourself another glass of wine.
“I told you to keep a low profile,” He began. Thomas Shelby’s voice was dressed in an apparent quiet, but something in his tone was threatening — and even though he did not display any sign of emotion, you knew his blood was boiling.
“Oh come on Thomas, all I wanted was to make a surprise to Arthur.” You took a mouthful of wine — the much-needed alcohol calming your anxiety.
Thomas closed his eyes for a few seconds and pinched the bridge of his nose to stop his dawning headache, “ A surprise… I hope you like the result then,” He retorted, before shifting his eyes back to you,
“Listen, I know you don’t like me but — ” 
“He nearly killed someone for you. What the fuck are you doing to my brother, eh?” Tommy slightly tilted his head to the side, a spark of resentment lightening up his icy iris. You remained silent, still not believing Thomas was really blaming you for Arthur’s outburst. Of course, you had not reacted immediately, but the shock had petrified you for a few long minutes — but was it your fault if he had beaten the man? Certainly not. At this point, Tommy was just lashing out at you for all the issues his family was facing. It was far easier than admitting his own flaws and responsibility. Visibly infuriated by your silence,  Tommy walked to you and stopped only a few inches from you, trapping your body between the counter and his own strong frame. He was close — so close your breasts were almost pressed against his chest, “Look me in the eyes when I fucking talk to you, Heaven.” He spat your name with disgust, as if he had just bitten into an apple filled with maggots.
“Get my pretty name out of your mouth,” You looked dagger at him, anger rushing through your veins at such an unwanted proximity. Yet you did not flicker.
“You fucking white Devil,” He hissed through his teeth, his low voice still calm in spite of his blooming hatred, “Are you happy to spread chaos in our life? What do you want from us ey?” He leaned over you, bringing his face closer to yours. With his brows slightly furrowed, Tommy’s sky blue eyes were probing yours, trying to understand the mystery they hid behind their aquamarine wonders, ”What do you want from me?! After Arthur is this me you want to control??” He growled. Your heart raced in your chest — shivers ran down your spine, and goosebumps appeared on your porcelain skin, for his unpredictable behavior was starting to worry you.
“I don’t want anything from you Thomas Shelby. Whether you like it or not I’m being honest with your brother. You know Arthur’s emotional, you can’t blame me for that.  You take away his meds, turn him into a killer, and now you’re surprised he snaps?? How. Fucking. Unbelievable! Do you know what I think? Well, I think you need me to be your scapegoat . You need to blame me for your sins. For everyone’s sins.”
“Fucking burn in hell,” He spat again but could not find something to retort properly. It seemed like the skies gave you the gift of shutting Thomas Shelby's mouth. Instead, one of his hands grabbed you by the neck and forced your face to get closer to his. His breath fanned over your skin, as burning as a dragon’s fire.
“Be careful with the Rule of Three, Thomas. For each spell you cast always returns to you three times stronger.”  You whispered. Then you gathered all your remaining strength to push him away from you, his musky and peculiar perfume almost making your head spin.  Not wanting to stay here any longer — and also longing for a hot shower to wash away the blood from your skin —, you headed to the Garrison’s door. Obviously, Tommy’s eyes followed you but he did not say anything, muted by his resentment. Admittedly, he was torn between the urge to bounce on you and the desire to see you leave. You were about to disappear, the cold breeze of the night jumping at your face and rushing into the pub as you opened the wooden door. But your instincts kicked in. After a few seconds of hesitation, you finally decided to warn little king Shelby.
“By the way..." You looked at Thomas from above your shoulder.
"You should keep an eye on Charles. You really should.” 
He froze. Confused and infuriated.
You left. Hurt and bitter.
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When you came back home, you crossed your reflection in the corridor’s mirror.  Your body refused to work anymore and forced you to stop in front of it. Facing your own person was something you hated. With trembling fingers, you brushed the blood stain Arthur had left on one of your cheeks.
Mom! Mom, no!!
I’ll fucking kill you all!!
You clenched your jaw at the memory it triggered, but still, you kept looking at your tainted ivory skin as if you were slowly learning to come to terms with what you did and what you were. Your fingers trailed down your throat until they grazed the top of your bosom, where the blood had accumulated the most. Another painful memory assaulted your mind, replaying the aching, almost inhuman screams of your little sister when her flesh had been eaten alive by the hungry tongues of the pyre’s flames.
Only God knew how you managed to keep your mind from spiraling into the darkest pits of your trauma, but you did — maybe that was because Arthur needed you. That protective instinct was stronger than your own pain. That was why you tricked your body into moving away from the mirror and went upstairs to take a hot shower before joining your man in bed. John had probably managed to convince him to sleep. Or his body had collapsed on the mattress, exhausted by the energy poured in his latest outburst.
As the running water of the shower was filling the bathroom with its regular and soothing noise, you slowly let your white dress slip along your body until it fell on the floor, as well as your lace panties. You stepped over the pile of clothes and, without waiting any longer, you hopped under the shower and welcomed its warm water with utter joy. A sigh of relief escaped from your lips as you tilted your head back, water hugging your body and raining down on your long white mane that cascaded down your lower back. You almost managed to empty your mind when, suddenly, one gentle calloused hand brushed your hip. Jumping in surprise, you turn around and saw that Arthur had joined you under the shower. His hands, arms, and face were still splattered with half-dried blood he had not cleaned. To be true, he had been too busy curling up on the bedroom floor, panicking about at the idea of you leaving him after what you had witnessed.
“You’re here…” His gravel voice said, water falling on his naked body whose millions of freckles drew magnificent constellations on his skin.
“Told you I’d come back.”  
He smiled, softly. His steel blue had stopped avoiding you and was now firmly anchored in yours.
 He took a step toward you.
You stepped back in response until your bare body met the cold shower wall.
Your pulse quickened, fascinated by the way Arthur looked. He had something in his eyes — a mix of limerence and pure madness who, combined with the crimson stains on his face, made your legs weak. His breath was slow but yours soon became erratic, even though he had barely touched you yet. 
“You ain’t scared, love? Please, tell me you ain’t scared of your Arthur…” He said, his lower lip trembling as his body perfectly interlocked with yours. A small growl escaped from his throat at the intoxicating sensation of yours curves pressed against his skin. But despite his inextinguible desire, he still looked at you with hesitation and genuine guilt — his puppy eyes would surely break anyone’s heart.
“No, I’m not scared,” You replied, not shifting your gaze from him. The corner of your juicy and honey lips stretched in a small grin, “You…” You paused, bringing one hand to his stained cheek, “you look pretty with blood all over your face.”  
Arthur’s eyes lightened with both surprise and ravaging desire, for you had witnessed the beast’s violence but still thought he was attractive. A twisted wave of arousal shook you to the core when he bared his teeth in a vaguely dangerous but oh-so-seductive smirk.
“Oh bloody hell, angel…” Not finishing his sentence, his lips captured yours in a fury kiss for he could not wait any longer. The need to possess you, to feel you, was too devastatingly strong to resist. At first, his lustful kiss surprised you, and even though you burnt for him l, a part of you felt it was wrong to feel this kind of twisted attraction. Last thing Arthur needed was someone encouraging his violence — but your brain soon shut down at the thought he did it for you. Only you. Your arms locked up around his neck to deepen the waltz of your tongues, sending fireworks in your loins. It was far than enough to turn Arthur on who, all of sudden, lifted you from the ground as if you weighted nothing.
You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, already suffocating with the hungry way he devoured your mouth and the shower’s steam accumulating around you.
As water rained down on your two intertwined bodies, it washed away the blood from your skins. The tainted liquid disappeared down the drain, leaving pale red stains on the bathtub's immaculate marble. 
You kissed him harder. Rougher. Until his flesh dived into yours in an explosion of pleasure and shooting stars.
For you had seen the Hell in his eyes, and loved it anyway. 
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Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.
Each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alones but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.
Tagging those who might be interested: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08
#first off sorry i love that gif sorry if its weird#what is it about a man covered in blood#im with heaven on this crows are friends not bad omens leave them alone theyre just silly little guys#heaven is braver than me if i walked into a pub full of men and they all turned and stared as i walked in i would turn tf around#or just combust there on the spot eeewwwww dont look at me#little king shelby is such a cute name its like if tommy was one of the scrappy little dogs#i can only imagine them flirting like this and everyone else at the bar just starts staring off in other directions#two are looking down at the same pint ones counting the cracks in the wall one is just straight turned around#“ thomas its thomas ” bitch😒#you let billy kimber call you a tart and alfie called you a silly little boy but she cant call you tommy bitch#their back and forth banter is so cute and silly and soppy#it suits arthur is a funny way#“ want a cushion to sit on ” hes so cute like i can imagine him walking around trying to find the best!! pillow#as soon as that man sat down i just KNEW what was coming omg its like these people dont live here#“ i fought in france ” if arthur wasnt so angry hed walk over in a sarcastic voice like “ wE aLl FoUgHT iN fRaNCe ”#still got the mud under me nails is not a flex bro wash or something#arthur smashing the glass (me reading) here we go...#heaven: youre the most jealous man i know arthur: you know other men?!#the fact hes trying to keep himself calm is progress! b4 arthur would have just fucked the guys head off the man#and then bottled him for good measure#arthur mate shes clearly soooooooo into you like *squidward voice* we fuck monsters here sir#love how you describe his anger and how it affects him! i do think a lot of arthurs anger is internalised insecurity#arthurs anger is explosive and all consuming#but comes as quick as it goes and hes left weighed down by everything that hurts him thats hiding under his anger#“ thats okay youre a good boy ” .........😳.......no comment on that *clears throat*...moving on#arthur begging not to be separated from her 😭😭😭#tommy thinks what hes doing is for the best because its born from worry and him wanting to protect them#especially with their upbringing#and arthur despite being the eldest is arguably the easiest influenced#and vulnerable
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evilmenenjoyer · 13 days ago
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City of Love
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Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader
Summary: Months after winning the Squid Games, you receive an unwanted visit from the man who's been haunting you since the very beginning.
Word count: 5k
Warnings: smut (minors dni), drinking, sex in a public place, some murderous thoughts. Don't be fooled by the title, it's very much not a fluffy romantic fic lol.
*
The City of Love.
At least, that's what everyone calls it. It felt like the place to be after all the horrors you had endured in the past year – horrors you don't dare to say a word about to another soul. Friends and acquaintances have told you about how great it is, how beautiful, how magical. About how just a few days here will heal any woes in your heart.
Of course, it didn't work. Now you're just depressed in Paris.
It's not all bad. The Eiffel tower looks just as pretty as it does in pictures, especially late at night when it lights up and sparkles. The historic architecture and cobblestone streets are a nice break from the modern buildings you're used to from Seoul, so different it almost erases the memories sometimes. Never for too long. Just when you think you're slipping back into something resembling normalcy, they return in your nightmares in the shape of blood, pink jumpsuits and children’s games.
This afternoon, it takes the shape of a ghost – a tall, handsome man, whose face you’ve only ever seen in dreams and in the subway lines of Seoul.
All color drains from your face in a matter of seconds, all that pink winter flush.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
He smiles, like you're an old friend. It nearly throws you off your balance by how natural it looks, like he's not forcing it.
“Beautiful city, isn't it? Especially at this time of the year.”
This can't be happening. The whole reason you left South Korea was to put distance between yourself and those horrific games, and all the people associated with them. To just run into one right here, in a different continent, mere months after your victory; it makes you feel like you're about to pass out.
You stand up from your seat and walk right out of the patisserie, leaving your ridiculously overpriced hot chocolate nearly untouched on the table.
You knew, somehow, that he would follow you, but you still prayed he wouldn’t. That it had been your imagination, or the PTSD, or anything other than the Salesman himself crossing paths with you in Paris.
“I expected a warmer welcome,” a voice behind you says, making you pause your stroll down the street. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – you still haven’t completely lost track of what's real and what's not, and you can tell that voice is real, clear as day. He’s real and here and that terrifies you to your very core.
Turning around to face him, you hate how he still looks every bit as infuriatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him.
“What are you doing here?” you repeat, your voice shaky and not nearly as incisive ad you’d like it to be.
“Visiting,” he replies. He turns to gaze at the scenery around you. In your hurry to get away from him, you didn't even realize you ended up at the Pont Neuf, the old bridge crossing the Seine River. Dusk settles around the two of you, the purple-ish color of the sky reflected on the river, almost too pretty for this situation. “Like I said, France is quite nice during the winter.”
You scoff. “You expect me to believe it's just a big coincidence that you and I ended up in the same place, five thousand miles away from home, at the same time?”
“Small world, isn't it?”
“I’m serious. I did everything you people wanted. I beat the games, I took the money and I kept my mouth shut. You were supposed to leave me the fuck alone.”
“Did what we wanted?” Something in his smile changes, shifts from warmth to something more sinister. “We never forced you to do anything. Remember that. You brought whatever happened on yourself.”
Cold air rushes over you, drawing a shiver out of you. It's not snowing yet, but it start might soon. It's hard to remember you were once excited for it.
He reaches out, ignoring the warnings in your eyes as he runs a finger over the smooth fabric of your scarf, then wraps it around your neck one more time. It’s almost a tender gesture, if he was someone else entirely. It should have you flinching, or slapping his hand away. Instead, it only makes you freeze in your spot.
“Yves Saint Laurent,” he notes. “I see you’ve been making good use of that money.”
It doesn't sound accusatory, but it feels like it anyway. Even after months, it still feels wrong to use the money, despite all the literal blood, sweat and tears it took to get it. Like you should be gathering it all in a pile and setting fire to it in protest. But what would that change? Why shouldn't you be allowed to use it to build a new life for yourself?
So you stayed in five star hotels. So you bought a few more pairs of Louboutin shoes than necessary. Therapy was out of the question, so this was the next best thing you could come up with for the time being. Best-case scenario, a therapist would think you're a nutcase. Worst case, they’d turn you in to the authorities for confessing to multiple murders you had committed at the Squid Games. You didn’t want to take the risk.
“I thought that was the idea,” you say. The Salesman’s hands are still on the fabric, merely touching it, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing him gripping it, pulling on it until you suffocate in the garment you bought as some empty, mediocre sign of victory.
“It suits you.” He lets his hands fall with no damage to your throat or to your respiratory system. “Much better than those knock-offs you used to wear.”
It disturbs you that he even remembers that. As far as you know, you were only one of the hundreds of people who had played ddakji with him at the subway station. You remembered every second of it, replayed it in your mind over and over again, but there was nothing particularly memorable about you back then. You lost most rounds. You hoped against hope that he would ask you out, even after your cheek was red and stinging.
That was a different version of you. One that smiled more, even with all the hardships in your life. One that was too naive to realize she was selling her soul to the devil from that very first game of ddakji.
“Since the city brought us together,” the Salesman says, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”
It would be impossible to keep the surprise from your face if you’d tried. Those are words you would've loved to hear all those months ago, and now that he says them, you can barely draw enough air into your lungs to tell him to fuck off.
“Why? So you can kill me the second we’re off the street?”
He chuckles, like he finds your confusion amusing. “Why would I do that?”
“Isn't that why you're here?” Why else would it be, after all? Maybe it's part of their sick games; to give one person the illusion of victory, let them enjoy the money for a few months, then go after them and kill them. Or worse, pull them back in.
“If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anywhere.”
You suppose there's no arguing with that, but you're not sure if it makes you feel better. Good news: you're still breathing. Bad news: you're still breathing only until he allows you to.
“You still didn't tell me why you came after me, then,” you point out.
“Let's have a drink, and I’ll tell you.”
You must be insane for even considering this. The naive girl that had first seen him in the subway, coming home late at night from work, would be enthusiastically urging you to go. You’re supposed to know better than her.
“One drink,” you say. “Then you go home and never contact me again.”
His smile widens. “I know a nice place.”
*
He brings you to a piano bar just a few blocks away from the bridge. It's a fancy place, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in your designer clothes. He blends right in – not only because of the sleek, tailored suit, but because of his demeanor, the natural elegance with which he carries himself.
Not for the first time, you wonder if he was born into wealth, or if he was ever like you. Someone who had to claw his way out of poverty. You can't picture it, but there's so much you don't know about him. It's what makes him so scary and confusing to you, but also so damn intriguing.
He orders for you before you have the chance to open your mouth. Dom Pérignon, two glasses. You raise your eyebrows once the waiter walks away.
“Are we celebrating something?”
“Your victory.”
The response makes your stomach drop. “I don't want to celebrate that.” Not with anyone, but especially not with him.
He gives a small shrug. “Just a special occasion, then.”
The dimmed, warm lights of the bar make the place feel so intimate, almost romantic in a sense. You don't know what to make of it, so you force yourself to look away from him, even when you can still feel his stare unflinching on you. Luckily, the waiter shows up just in time, pouring you both glasses of the bubbly drink and leaving the bottle in a bucket on the table.
You turn back to the Salesman, glaring at him. “I said one drink, not one bottle.”
“You never specified,” he replies, fake innocence in his eyes. “Gives us more time to catch up. Maybe even play a game, for old time’s sake.”
The mere mention of a game makes you want to run away, to lock yourself in the restroom and refuse to come out. It has to be intentional; he has to know what kinds of things would be running through your head, after everything you’d gone through. You take a long gulp of the champagne, nearly done with the entire glass in one go. You can't let him get to you like this. You do your best to look unbothered.
“Do you walk around with ddakji tiles everywhere?” you ask. “Just in case you find someone who wants to play?”
That earns a soft laugh out of him. “No, not ddakji.”
He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a standard deck of cards.
“Have you ever played blackjack?”
You have, but hesitation is written all over your features. “What if I don't want to play?”
“Do you think I’d force you?” he asks, like you're a fool for even thinking so. “Like I said, you were never forced to do anything. It's your choice.” He sips his own champagne in a much classier, more contained way than you. Like he's happy to draw this out for hours, rather than wanting this night to be over as soon as possible. “But you’ve beaten much harder games before. This should be nothing for our big victor, right?”
There's a challenge in his voice, in his eyes. You should know better than to fall for it. So why is there a part of you that still feels like you have a point to prove? That feels like, with a little bit of luck and skill, you can finally beat this man at his own game?
“Fine.” You cross your arms over the table. “Let’s do this.”
Pleased with your answer, he shuffles the cards in his hands. You watch him, almost as mesmerized as you’d been watching him play ddakji at the subway station. It's so hard not to get lost in it, but you refuse to look away in shyness and hesitation again, keeping your eyes on him as you sip the rest of the champagne in your glass.
He refills it before placing four cards on the table: two facing upwards for you, one face-down and one face-up for himself, the dealer.
The rules are simple: your cards all together need to get as close to 21 without going over. Whichever one of you gets the closest wins the round. You have a nine and a four, totaling thirteen. The Salesman has a five, and a card that's invisible for you. 
“Hit me,” you say, figuring your odds can't be too bad.
He places one more card to your pile: a seven. Twenty in total. Your heart speeds up inside your chest, already triumphant even before the end.
He reveals all his cards to you: the five you’ve already seen, a nine, and a three. Seventeen. Your smile widens, relief washing over you like you’d just escaped a near-death experience. You don't think beating a game, no matter the kind, will ever not feel like this again.
“Not bad,” he compliments. He reaches into another pocket for his wallet, drawing a hundred euro note and pushing it towards you on the table.
You just stare at it with an eyebrow raised, baffled and, frankly, a bit offended. With the tip of your index finger, you push the bill back to him.
“Do you really think I still need your money?”
“It's just symbolic,” he argues, but still tucks the money back into his wallet. “Of course, we can bet on other things too, if you’d prefer.”
“What kind of things?”
“Whatever you want. You won.”
“Whatever I want?” A grin stretches across your lips as you lean forward on the table. “Like a dare?”
He leans forward as well, like he wants to meet you in the middle. His eyes never leave yours. “Like a dare.”
You wonder just how far he’d take this game, if he would do something outrageous or serious just because you told him to. Maybe not. But even this is the kind of power that you never, ever imagined you would have over this man.
“Okay. Let me see your wallet.”
He hands it over without a fight. You rummage through all of it, ignoring all the cash and instead looking for something else, anything personal. But there's nothing. No family photos, no old receipts, not even a condom tucked inside one of the pockets. At last you find his ID license, the name Park Ha-Joon listed beside a smiling picture of him that looks so normal you almost want to laugh.
“It's not your real name, is it?”
He smiles. “Smart girl.”
“It was worth a shot.” You close the wallet and hand it back to him.
He shuffles the cards, hands them over again. Seven and six. You tap the cards in a sign for him to hit you with one more.
“Do you really want to know why I came to see you?”
Your eyes snap in his direction, not even looking at the new card that’s placed in front of you. 
“I thought you’d be one of the first to die in a place like that.” He looks focused on the game as he talks, “When I found out you were the winner, I wanted to see it for myself.”
Your throat tightens, making it hard to draw in my next breath. You look around yourself, as if trying to make sure you're really here and not at that disturbing colorful scenario, or at the bunk beds in the dorm. Still the piano bar. Warm lights, soft chatter of conversation, piano notes ringing through the air. The mental image of that place still doesn't vanish from your mind.
“See what, exactly?” you ask, even though you know it would be better not to.  
“If you truly earned it, or if you’re just one more piece of trash who got lucky, like all the others before you.”
Your hand must twitch, an involuntary movement you're not even aware of, and the Salesman places another card to your pile. You look down at it in horror, realizing all the cards together total to twenty-three.
“I didn't say hit me,” you protest.
“You tapped. You know that's the sign.” He looks over the cards again, as if just noticing the source of your distress instead of directly causing it. “Too bad.”
It's not fair, and you both know it, but you doubt pointing it out will make a difference. You bite your tongue around any words as well as the lump that's formed in your throat, tears trying to rush to the surface. Your gaze meets his and holds it.
“Are you going to slap me?”
He’s still for a moment, considering it. It's one thing to hit you in the face in a mostly-empty subway station late at night, and another entirely to do it in this sophisticated bar, with all these people around as witnesses. Still, you don't doubt that he would do it. You hold yourself back from flinching when his hand comes out, bracing yourself for the impact.
It never comes. Instead, his hands merely cup your cheeks, tilting your face to face him fully. He looks at you like he's studying you, his expression unreadable.
“Not now. I want something else,” he says. “A round of shots.”
His grip on your face is firm, but he runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, like wiping away a teardrop that never fell. A gesture that can only be described as affectionate, and it's messing with your head way more than the slaps on the face did.
You nod.
He holds on for just a second too long before he lets you go. He orders the shots to the waiter – you pay no attention to the brand, or even the type of booze –, and you don't say another word until after they're placed in front of you on the table, small glasses so clean they gleam under the light.
“I crawled my way out of that hell,” you tell him. “You have no idea what I had to do to survive. You don't get to sit here and tell me I didn't fucking earn it.”
He looks more amused than anything. “To kill for necessity, anyone can do. It doesn't make you as special as you think it does.” He nods towards the shot on the table, reaching for his own. “Drink.”
You count one, two, three in your head before throwing the shot back, unable to suppress a grimace when the drink comes down your throat like liquid fire.
“Why do you wanna get me drunk so bad?”
He empties his shot glass as well. “Drinking together ensures none of us has an advantage.” He picks up the deck of cards again, before you ever have the chance to tell him you’ve had enough of this game. The words die down in your throat.
One more round. Your cards add up to seventeen.
It’s too risky to ask for one more card; anything higher than four would mean an instant loss. Only then you notice the sweat under your palms, the rush in your ears overpowering the piano music in the background. You force yourself to take a deep breath, to remember that your life is not on the line anymore and losing doesn't mean certain death, even though it feels like it.
He reveals his cards. Eighteen.
“Fuck.”
He seems pleased with himself, accessing you as you brace yourself for whatever he has in mind for you now.
“Come a little closer,” he orders.
You frown, but you find yourself obeying without much questioning, getting up from your chair to slide to the seat next to him on the booth.
He pours you both more Dom Pérignon, and this time he doesn't have to tell you to drink. You focus on the way the bubbles dance inside your mouth, if only to have something to distract yourself from his proximity, from the faint smell of his cologne or from the fact he still hasn't told you what he wants from you for losing this round
His hand lands on your thigh.
You jump in surprise, and his hand tightens its grip there, digging into your skin and keeping you in your seat. Your eyes widen and search for his, a question clear in them.
With his free hand, the Salesman pushes the cards in your direction. “You’ll be the dealer now,” he says, “and for each time you lose, I get to keep my hands on you for one more round.”
Say no, you tell yourself. Say something. A better, stronger woman would throw the champagne in the glass on his face and walk right out of this bar. Instead, you find yourself still as a statue, a sudden rush of warmth overflowing your senses – first, it rises to your face, coloring your cheeks red, then it travels lower to the pit of your stomach and down right into the space between your legs.
You can’t even tell if it’s the alcohol, spreading through your bloodstream and bringing a buzzing sensation to your head that’s not all unpleasant, or the fact you haven’t been touched like this in what feels like forever, or simply the man sitting next to you. How many times had you fantasized about this, until you realized that he was the catalyst of your ruin?
Maybe even a few times after that.
You take the deck of cards. He grins like he knew you would, like a master pleased with a dog following his command. You want to wipe that look off his face, but you can barely concentrate enough to properly shuffle the cards.
If you felt like you were fighting for your life before, it’s nothing compared to right now. The hand doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch until the very final moments of the round, when you realize the two of you are tied. A fingertip slides up the fabric of your stockings until it stops at your knee, your skin erupting in goosebumps following the movement. Your heart beats so hard inside your chest you can barely hear the chatter of people around you as the bar fills in with people.
You lose the next round, and the next, and the one after that. You can’t even tell if you’re doing it on purpose anymore.
With each passing minute that you don’t push him away, that you allow him to test and cross your boundaries, he gets more daring, drawing shapes in the perimeter of your leg and curling into your inner thigh. Your chest rises with a breath that comes tumbling out, the sound of it way too close to a whimper for your liking.
You can tell he notices it instantly, observant and apparently fluent in your body language like he’s spent years of his life studying it. He takes the opportunity to let his hand wander under your skirt, to the spots it hadn’t covered yet.
That’s enough. You need to win this next round.
It’s like, for once, God listens to your prayers. Your cards add up to an even, perfect twenty-one to his nineteen.
He retrieves his hand as if on cue. You thought you would be gasping in relief, but what comes out instead is a pitiful, almost desperate don’t.
He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t as in stop?” he asks. “Or as in don’t stop?”
Your body answers the question for him before your mind can even process what happened, grabbing his hand and pulling it to the spot where it was. Your skin comes ablaze the second he touches you again, like his touch is charged with electricity.
“Did you know,” you can feel his breath so close to you when he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “that you were the first person who ever challenged me to play ddakji at the subway? Usually it’s the other way around. Nobody but you ever made the first move.”
It’s hard to concentrate on his words like this, with his body leaning into yours and his hand that still touches you under the table and– whoa, that is not your thigh. The solid press against your core makes your whole body twitch, but you don’t jerk away. You try to focus on the memory.
“I didn’t give a fuck about the game,” you reveal. “I just wanted you to notice me.”
“I know.” He draws small, precise circles over you. “Do you ever think about how I would’ve left you alone otherwise?”
Of course you do, more than you would ever admit. But having him confirm it hurts. It’s bad enough to know you’re the one who caused all the trauma you’ve been through since meeting him, that you could’ve just carried on with your life, shitty as it as, if only you weren’t a foolish girl with a crush on a stranger. But to be in his arms right now, your head falling over his shoulder and your lips releasing a tiny whimper; it just makes it all the more fucked up.
“Was it worth it?”
The smile on your lips is devoid of any humor. “Never.”
“Let me prove to you that it was.”
Just like that, everything stops. He scoots away from you in the booth and stands up, bringing all the heat with him aside from the faint lingering warmth on your face. He leaves a few bills over the table, enough for the entire tab, and walks away.
He doesn’t head towards the front door, instead making his way to the opposite direction. You watch him, confused, for a few moments before you trail after him, past the kitchen and the restrooms until you see the red glow of an exit sign.
A chilly breeze rushes over you the second you step outside, and you expect to see him walking into the dark narrow street. But he’s waiting for you, leaning against the brick wall behind him. He raises his eyebrows in that same condescending way he’s done all night, daring you to make the next move.
You don’t hesitate for even a second longer. You grab a fistful of his impeccable suit jacket and pull him closer, crashing your lips together.
From the start, it’s not sweet or gentle. He digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, wasting no time before he lifts you up into the air and pins you against the wall. You gasp into his mouth, parting your lips and practically begging his tongue inside. Your legs part almost in unison, allowing him to settle between them and effectively trap you, his larger frame blocking any exit.
As if you would dream to get away.
In one swift movement, he reaches between your legs and rips at the fabric of your stockings, the sound echoing through the empty street. You’re already making quick work of his belt; or trying to, frustrated by your lack of mobility from his position. He doesn’t seem willing to let you go, so he does it himself instead, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself from the confines of his underwear.
You’ve soaked through your panties in whatever time it took to play all those rounds of blackjack. It felt like it was drawn-out for hours, but you know it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes. He moans when he feels it, before he even pushes into you – a heavenly, otherworldly sound, one you want to hear again and again. You push your hips towards him, feeling yourself throb when he rubs his length over you, burning hot where skin meets even though everything around you is cold. He rewards you with another sound that you drink right in as you deepen the kiss, happy to never have your lips separate from each other ever again.
He pushes the fabric of your panties to the side and thrusts into you without a warning, drawing a strangled, sharp gasp from you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the invasion, setting up a punishing pace that pushes you against the wall hard with every thrust. You claw at his back, losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, helpless to stop it as he all but consumes you like this is his last chance to.
“Ah– fuck,” you have to break away from his lips to attempt to draw in some air, your breaths and sounds interrupted by the rhythmic, vicious snaps of his hips into yours. He takes the opportunity to tilt his head and follow the line of your jaw with his lips, to mouth kisses and graze his teeth over your throat.
Hands find their way under pieces of clothing, trying to cling to as much bare skin as they can. He does most of the work, still holding you up in the air with the help of the wall (you curl your toes just to test the waters, the ones on the foot closest to the ground, and they barely touch the pavement), bouncing you on his cock however he sees fit, and it’s embarrassing how close you are already just from this.
“Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”
It’s intoxicating how vocal he is, all the grunts and moans he breathes into your neck, how it rips more sounds out of you than you would usually make. The street is completely silent save for the two of you, not another soul in sight. You could kill him right here and he would never see it coming. Gut him with the knife tucked away in your purse, leave him on the pavement gasping for his last breath. Who would catch you? You have enough money to run to yet another country, to give yourself a new identity and reinvent yourself as many times as you want.
The purse is on the floor where you’d carelessly let it fall, out of reach. Still you run your hands down over his bottom, feeling for any guns or weapons he may have tucked into the back of his waistband, or hidden in his pockets. There’s nothing, but you don’t have a lot of time to be disappointed about it before you’re coming with a high-pitched, broken shout, like your orgasm has taken you by surprise. He holds you up, squeezing you against the wall for support, the only thing stopping you from falling straight to the floor.
The Salesman follows right after, a stream of goods and fucks and your name falling from his lips as he spills deep into you. You wish you had it in you to be offended, to tell him off for it. But all you can think about is how much you wish you knew his name so you could shout it, gasp it, whisper it, for as long as he keeps holding you this tight.
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yazmarina · 5 months ago
Text
walk me through it
for the love circuit series
—you're used to being flirted with in front of the camera. but something about franco is really doing you in.
franco colapinto (f1) x fem!reporter reader
warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex (no condom, yes birth control), guided masturbation, lewd photography, lots of flirting, franco is shameless (naturally), some Spanish sentences and phrases
a/n: will resume hit play for a bit after this one! enjoy franco girlies mwa
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Your job was simple enough. Well, for today, at least.
Stand in the media pen, gather statements, and piece together a couple of stories later that evening for publishing first thing tomorrow morning. All in a day's work, like all the other days before.
You've grown immune to the charms of rich, adrenaline-seeking men. Didn't take you too long, the illusion breaking as soon as any one of them opened their mouths. Some you tolerate more than others, but some you'd rather steer clear of completely.
This isn't to say that you've brushed all of them off. You might have agreed to a date here and there but nothing ever stuck, the nature of your jobs a bit too similar and all too different at the same time. You've given up on the prospect that you'll somehow end up with one of the many Formula 1 drivers you've interviewed and spoken to. And you've spoken to a lot. You've had this gig since you were shipped off fresh from uni and one too many 'What happened there?'s and 'Tell me about qualifying's can put a damper on the romantic side of things.
But someone new's in town. Well, er, new in the paddock. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit excited.
He's charming, that much you can already tell. He walks into the media pen like he's done it thousands of times before and you have to actively suppress a smile as he walks over. Confidence is always a plus. For the interview, of course.
"Hola, Franco. Antes que nada, enhorabuena," you greet warmly, extending your arm over the barrier to place the microphone nearer to him. Hi, Franco. First of all, congratulations.
Franc's eyebrows shoot up, a wolfish grin settling on his face. "Oh. I thought this was an English interview?"
You smile back. "It is, but I know my way around Spanish, as well."
"Ah," Franco nods. "Gracias, _______."
"You know my name?" You ask, momentarily forgetting that you're being taped and recorded. You clear your throat, ignoring the quiet snicker from your cameraman.
"Yeah, I've seen you around and watched some of your other interviews," Franco confirms, a hand settling on his hip as he leans against the barrier, closer to you.
You can smell his perfume from where you stand.
"Thank you, I've heard and seen a lot about you as well," you respond, trying to return to your original train of thought.
"Which is why I want to ask you how it feels on your first day as a Formula 1 driver," you quickly follow. "Have you done anything special to prepare for this weekend? Other than the obvious, of course."
Another easy smile spreads across Franco's lips. "I've definitely added to my training and done some new things to prepare. I haven't done a full F1 weekend before so everything will be new."
"We definitely don't have reporters like you in the lower Formulas," he adds.
You feel a violent blush rip up through your neck all the way to your cheeks. As if the Monza heat wasn't enough.
"Well, I'm glad you could meet me here," you manage to get out.
The thing is, Franco isn't even the most attractive driver you've met. He's definitely up there, but not the most.
That's a discussion you have with yourself semi-weekly: ranking the drivers in terms of attractiveness, factoring in personalities and general attitudes towards the people around them, specifically the media.
Look, people love to shit on the media and press, calling journalism all sorts of derogatory words, but you're just here to do your job, like anyone else. And it gets pretty fucking hard when your boss is ringing your phone every five minutes demanding four stories by tomorrow and drivers are sassing you out as if you asked them if they've murdered their whole family.
So, naturally, the way they treat you determines a big chunk of how you think your day is going to pan out.
And right now, Franco seems to be lifting your spirits just fine.
"What are your goals for this weekend? Are points on the horizon for you at your first F1 race?" You continue, trying not to stare at the way Franco starts to rub at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden.
"We'll try," Franco begins. He plants both his hands on the barrier and leans even closer. You have to physically take a step back.
You gulp. Franco smiles.
"Anything is possible this weekend."
-
"You broke the internet last night."
You scoff, sending your cameraman a vicious side-eye. It's crowded in the paddock today, everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the new rookie, it seems. Such is the eagerness for this young driver that even that 30-second clip of your interview with him blew right up in your face. Your inboxes at capacity, your own voice speaking back to you with every other swipe on your TikTok.
It's not all bad, though. A tweet with one of your Instagram photos attached to it captioned 'TE ENTIENDO MUCHO FRANCO ES MUY LINDA PERIODISTA' did weasel out a chuckle from you.
Your cameraman shrugs, gesturing with a jerk of his head in front of you.
"There he is. I'm sure he knows all about it."
You look over to where he's pointing and lo and behold, Franco is right there, chatting with a few Williams team members, his race suit hanging undone around his waist. He turns to you even before you can fully register that it's him you're looking at.
But your training kicks in even faster. A megawatt smile appears on your lips and you wave enthusiastically at Franco.
"Hi."
"_______," Franco says, face lighting up at the sight of you. Your name seems to fall even more effortlessly off his lips.
You reach over and pull him into a half-hug with one arm, but both his arms wind around you and you have no choice but to squeeze back.
"You saw?" Franco asks, a gleam in his eye as he pulls away. His hand remains casually on the small of your back.
"Saw what?" You know what it is he's asking but you'd like to hear it from him.
"We went viral, no?" Franco says with a laugh, reaching further around you and squeezing your waist. You lean into his touch, heart jumping as his fingers graze just underneath your cropped top.
"That's all because of you," you reason, pointing an accusatory finger at Franco. "I bet you say that to all the other reporters."
The Williams team members standing nearby burst out laughing and even your cameraman affords a snicker. A deep blush spreads across Franco's face as he rubs your side reassuringly.
"No, no, I don't. Just you," Franco admits with another lighthearted laugh.
"Sure," you say with exaggerated skepticism. You pull away from his touch, catching his hand before he slips it fully off of you.
"I'll talk to you later," you say. And it's fully intentional, the words you choose to say. I'll talk to you later. Not 'I'll catch you later' or 'I'll see you later'.
I will talk to you later.
Franco understands, giving your hand a squeeze.
-
Later that day, you pray that no one catches you grinning behind your hand as Franco takes the chequered flag at qualifying.
P11.
Almost there.
-
"Hi. Come in."
Franco beams at you from across the threshold, stepping into your room with slow, measured steps.
"Great qualifying," you compliment, eyes traveling down Franco's body, noting the way his team kit hugs his frame just right, his hands shoved into his pockets, exposing just his arms, veins and all.
Your eyes snap back up to his face when you hear the door shut in place.
"Q2 on your debut. Not bad," you go on, taking a step back. Franco takes one toward you.
"You're just repeating what you said at the media pen earlier," Franco points out. He reaches out and gently circles an arm around your waist.
Always straight to the point.
Like this morning.
You tried not to make it so obvious when you ran into Franco earlier, but all you could think about was The Message.
You were doing your cursory social media checks a few minutes after you had woken up, still snug in your bed and unwilling to get up just yet. A message in your Instagram inbox caught your attention, sitting at the very top of your 'verified followers' tab.
Franco Colapinto: hola, hermosa 😉
It took a minute for your motor functions to return, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you pored over what to reply. You settled on a nonchalant greeting, asking if Franco needed anything.
You realized rather belatedly that this was looking a little familiar. You wished he wouldn't say the dreaded answer, the more-than-predictable response that every man liked to use.
Franco Colapinto: you, maybe?
You groaned into your pillow, not because you were repulsed by his answer, but because you liked it. If you were easy, then so was he.
You: i finish work at 9 pm tonight...? 👀
It's 9 PM now. Franco's in the room and your hand is running up his chest.
Easy.
"It's such an honor," Franco teases, backing you up further into the room. His hands feel heavy on your waist and your heart hammers against your chest.
"I get to work with people like you now," Franco continues, stopping right in front of the bed.
The kiss comes as a shock more so because of how good Franco kisses. One of his hands is now cradling the back of your head, keeping you in place while he licks into your mouth, groaning with every pucker of your lips.
You pull away for barely a second to get both of your tops off before you dive back in, seemingly too desperate and too starved for each other's mouths. Franco's hands are everywhere; they run down your arms, paw at your waist, tugging at the belt loops of your jeans.
You giggle as he pulls you even closer, your bare chests pressed against each other. Franco pulls back and peers down at you, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. You let it fall, already guiding one of his hands to your tits.
"Couldn't stop staring at them?" You ask, your voice rising with an innocent lilt.
Franco kneads at the mound beneath his hand, eliciting a moan from you. He grins.
"I wanted you to notice," Franco admits simply, kissing you again.
"Perv," you mumble against his lips. Franco laughs, already undoing his trousers.
You wiggle your own way out of your jeans, letting Franco get the shortest of glimpses at your baby pink underwear before you discard them off to the side.
"Mierda, you're so sexy," Franco compliments as you crawl backward onto the bed, laying back and letting your hair splay out beneath you.
Franco pounces on you like a man starved, bare atop your own naked body, his arms caging you in.
"Big moves from somebody so new," you whisper, carding your fingers through Franco's soft locks.
"I like to make a statement," Franco says with a shrug. He glances up momentarily, something piquing his interest off to the side.
"Is that your camera?"
You crane your neck to see where he's looking and sure enough, your personal DSLR is right there on the bedside drawer. You look back at Franco, an eyebrow raised.
"You wanna use it?" You ask, not expecting him to actually say yes. But a mischievous grin settles on Franco's face and you feel your heart skip several beats.
"Knock yourself out," you say.
Franco reaches for the camera and fiddles with it for a few seconds. His eyes scan over your body and you suddenly feel the urge to hide away with how hard he's looking.
"May I?" Franco asks, brandishing the camera. Your mouth falls open as you realize what he's asking.
"You can keep them for yourself. For your eyes only," Franco hurriedly adds, planting his knees firmly on either side of you.
You stare up at him, a million thoughts running through your mind.
"Just...touch yourself."
You gasp, stunned at his proposal. Franco watches through the LCD monitor, glancing up at you through his lashes. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, and as if on instinct, your hand inches down slowly between your legs.
"You're in front of cameras all the time," Franco reminds with a smirk. "This should be easy for you."
You suppress a whimper at his words, your fingertips swiping through your slick folds. You're already soaked and you start to wonder if it started even before Franco got here.
The shutter clicks and the lens whirs, sharp against the soft breaths you're letting out. Franco is concentrated, snapping photo after photo as you rub yourself closer to release. But it's not enough. You need more.
"Franco...," you implore, peering up with bright, begging eyes.
"Slowly, mi amor," Franco coos. "Just where you like it. Right there."
Click.
"Harder now, but still slow. Yes? Feels good?"
You whine, eyes fluttering shut as your pleasure picks up again. Several clicks. You're panting now, the tendrils of release wrapping themselves around you.
"Faster, yes, like that," Franco eggs on. Your fingers speed up against your sensitive clit and a litany of Franco's name spills from your lips. Before you know it, he's putting the camera away. You reach for him, gripping the back of his neck as he smashes his lips into yours.
Franco bites down on your lip and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a tide. You arch against Franco, feeling his own stiffness heavy on your thigh.
You blink, Franco's face coming into focus, barely an inch from yours. He watches you closely, pupils blown wide and plump lips even redder. You hook your legs around his waist, letting him know that you're not done yet.
Franco is quick to pick up, smiling as lines himself up with you. The groan that escapes him is nothing short of delicious as he pushes himself in. You gasp along, the stretch a welcome sensation.
Franco wastes no time and pounds right into you, catching you by surprise. You let your head fall back against the mattress, a long, drawn-out whine erupting from deep within your chest as Franco licks a stripe up your neck.
Your whole body quakes with how hard he's thrusting into you but you're clearly enjoying it if your wanton moans are anything to go by. Franco meets your eyes and you pull him down, wanting nothing more than to drown in those lips of his.
It's feral and it's unrestrained, spurred on by the knowledge that this is more than unprofessional in your line of work. Not illegal by any means, but risky enough to warrant warnings from your coworkers. Never sleep with a driver unless you're committed.
Oh, well.
Franco groans loudly in your ear, movements losing their rhythm as he speeds up. You're clinging to him as if he'd disappear if you let go, your own belly tightening once more with that familiar feeling.
Franco. Franco. Franco.
He kisses you just as he finishes. Passionate, eager, heady. You feel him inside you, a different kind of elation filling you as you release all over him.
Franco pulls away to allow yourselves to breathe. He pulls out, rolling over to your side. You hug your folded knees to your chest, too lazy to get up and find something to deal with the mess.
"No hagas eso. Eso es demasiado doméstico," Franco jokes, moving closer and planting a kiss to your shoulder. Don't do that. That's too domestic.
"Relájate, estoy usando anticonceptiva," you reassure with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. Relax, I'm on birth control.
Franco hums, laying an arm over you. He pulls you close and you face him, reaching up to brush away some of his unruly hair.
He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.
"Happy that you're a Formula 1 driver?" You ask, grinning.
Franco chuckles. "Very."
3K notes · View notes
darling-flora · 2 months ago
Text
feather
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max x yn!singer - social media au
fc: sabrina carpenter
part 2 : HERE
notes: im sorry callum turner for making you the bad guy please forgive me 🤞 also in this world dua lipa is not a famous singer 👍 my first max smau let me know what ya think !!! ❣ rt's are appreciated !!!
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enews
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enews Y/n L/n and Callum Turner seem to of called it quits after two years of dating, only a day after Callum Turner was seen making out with mystery woman. Turner was seen with the woman the following day while L/n was seen at the airport headed for Monaco to visit friend Taylor Zakhar Perez who is filming a movie. ➡️
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enews Y/n L/n was reportedly sent picture of Turner and the mystery woman (Now identified as Dua Lipa) by friends and L/n reportedly packed all her belonging and had them sent to Monaco to stay with a friend. ➡
↳enews NEW INFORMATION !!! Callum and Dua were reportedly hooking up before Y/n L/n started dating Turner and after they made it official Turner broke things off with Dua Lipa ➡ ↳enews Dua Lipa was upset by the split and "she resented y/n for being with Callum, so when Callum was at a party that Dua was also at, she made it her mission to win him back"
user2 the fact that dua likes y/n's posts and has publicly complimented y/n's music..... im sick to my stomach for her omg
user3 he is actually so dumb for cheating on her for 1 but also CHEATING ON A SINGER SONGWRITER ??????
user4 emails i cant send deluxe & the next album is gonna go CRAZYYYY
user5 he never really seemed to give the same energy she gave....
user6 going to a different country after a break up is kinda real
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yourinstagram
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Liked by taylorzakharperez, user1 and 9,559,944 others
yourinstagram It would be sooooo crazy if i moved to France 🤭
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user1 ITS BEEN A LIKE 2 MONTHS BABE WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?????
taylorzakharperez It's nice in Nice France 🤭
liked by yourinstagram
user2 MOVED TO FRANCE ???
whitneypeak an angel 😇
liked by yourinstagram
user3 making more songs to add to the album of the century ??
jennaortega pretty pretty pretty face 😍
liked by yourinstagram
user4 "Big is moving to paris" but it's "y/n' is moving to france"
user5 doing hot girl sh't !!
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dualipa
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dualipa he’s sooooooo crazy in love with my brown eyes 💌
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user1 this just pissed me off
user2 the letter emoji..... yall need to hold me back
user3 you really thought you ate this....
user4 the caption ? stream obsessed by olivia rodrigo
user5 he also loved her blue eyes girl, you are not special
user6 right..... anyways
comments have been limited
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yourinstagram
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yourinstagram I love Monaco nights, mornings in France with my babies Benny and Björn + a cute date night 🤍
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user1 HUH DATE ????
user2 shes on a date with me btw !!!
user3 the sheer white dress is eatttiinnngggg
user4 oh mother
user5 don't know if i wanna be you or with you ???
user6 y/n stays 🔛🔝 !!!
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deuxmoi
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deuxmoi Y/n L/n a popstar who has moved recently to Nice, France after a messy break up. While the singer's been fairly private about the outings, she has been spotted around Nice and Monaco on dates with a popular athlete.
Who do we think think the singer is seeing ?
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user1 pics ???? proof???
↳user2 i know someone that works at a place they got dinner at but they didn't see who she was with, but she left with a bouquet of flowers soooo she could be with someone but we don't know who 🤷‍♂️
user3 its an f1 driver because they are coming off break soon....
user4 i think its max verstappen, like two weeks after they were at the same party his posts on insta changed..... like for the better yk the past few months his posts have been eatingggg
↳user5 not the girlfriend effect having an effect on his insta 😭
user6 i wont believe it till is see it 🤷‍♀️
user7 both max and charles are in her likes so who knows ??
user8 deuxmoi could be LYINGGGGG but we'll see....
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yourinstagram
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yourinstagram im so sorry for your loss... ❤😊
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user1 the "the kind of girlfriend God gives you young, so you'll know loss the rest of your life" tee is so cvnty omfg 🤭
user2 LYRICS ???? THE 3RD PIC ???
user3 there are so many layers to the first and last pic
francisca.cgomes cuties ❤
↳yourinstagram allllll you 😘
user4 face economy mama !!!!
user5 in love with youuuuuu
user6 soft launchhhhh 🤭
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maxverstappen Close Friends story
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charles_leclerc ??????
maxverstappen what ?
charles_leclerc nothing.... 😏
landonorris maxjpg when ?
maxverstappen i could consider it 🤔
yourinstagram we have 4 children....
maxverstappen it's a full time job 😭 maxverstappen quitting racing to become a stay at home dad maxverstappen a chubby stay at home dad
yourinstagram i fully support that 😊 yourinstagram a happy max is all i want!!
maxverstappen god i love you maxverstappen wanna go on a boat ?
yourinstagram love youuuuu 🤭 yourinstagram yes !!!! mr rich man lets go 🌊
maxverstappen you are also rich....
yourinstagram well.....
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max1.jpg
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max1.jpg my jpg account is going to end up being a y/n fan page
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landonorris bros down bad
↳charles_leclerc Down tremendously ↳max1.jpg im not ashamed to admit it 🤷‍♂️
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YnLnUpdates
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YnLnUpdates In a recent interview Y/n CONFIRMS EMICS Deluex Emails i cant send fwd: Out March 30th !!!! talks about moving to france, traveling and confirms she's in a relationship !!
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user1 her saying her cats are the most important stamp of approval.... she is so unserious i love her
user2 “Or someone was holding you back ?” the interview kinda ate with that 🤭
user3 i guess deuxmoi was right....
user4 her smile when she was talking about him 🥰 !!!!
user5 but who is he mama 🙄
user6 i mean we knew that, i just wanna know who he is 😫
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maxverstappen story
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yourinstagram no one will ever know i took these pictures 🤭
maxverstappen i regret to inform you my love, but people are already making speculations....
yourinstagram HUH ???? yourinstagram FROM WHAT ???
maxverstappen no clue honestly maxverstappen maybe the vibes of the pictures
yourinstagram really max... yourinstagram the "vibes"
maxverstappen yeah, they have "my girlfriend took these pictures and wanted to post them but because no one knows we’re dating she cant post them, so she posted them on my story instead” vibes
yourinstagram i didn't know that was a vibe that could exist
maxverstappen it is !! maxverstappen and those pictures have them
yourinstagram cant stand you sometimes...
maxverstappen sure 🤥 maxverstappen you on your way ?
yourinstagram leaving soon..... 🫣
maxverstappen cant wait to see your face 😘
yourinstagram 😭🫶 yourinstagram stoppp your cute 🤭 yourinstagram omw 🏎️💨
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yourinstagram
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yourinstagram emails i can’t send fwd: is out now 💌 so is the feather music video !!!!! I’m very excited about these new songs and i hope u are too x love you all so much💗 tell me ya favorite part of the video!!
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user1 the way men never survive your music videos is so iconic
arianagrande wow wow wow the most talented girl !!! 🤍
↳yourinstagram ty ty !!! 😭❤
user2 things i wish you said and opposite HURT my feelings
whitneypeak HOTTIE !!!!!
liked by yourinstagram
user3 album of the century 😁
jennaortega ATEEEEEEE ❣
liked by yourinstagram
user4 feather is your next pop hit TRUST 🤞
user5 MOTHER 🤩
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MV1Updates
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MV1Updates During a Pre-Season testing interview when asked how his break Max causally mentioned he has a girlfriend !!
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user1 them giggling 😭
user2 of course this is how we find out he's got a gf 😭
user3 you missed were he said "I talk about her so much it just slipped out"
↳user4 stop thats so cute omg 😭 ↳user5 when they are "public public" he's gonna talk about her every interview i just know it
user6 but who is it ????
user7 "i did? oh shit" is KILLING MEEEE
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maxverstappen1
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maxverstappen1 P2 today 👊 A bit unlucky with the safety car but nevertheless, learned a lot and another One-Two finish. This is a very good team result here in Baku redbullracing SChecoPerez 💪
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user1 good race king !!!
yourinstagram i can feel a win coming in Miami !!
↳user2 Y/N ???? ↳user3 IS SHE GOING TO THE RACE ??? ↳user4 shes gonna perform in Orlando so i wouldn't be surprised if she went to the race !! ↳maxverstappen1 only Miami 😔 ? ↳yourinstagram is it to soon to say you'll win every race ? ↳maxverstappen1 Nope !! That sounds perfect !!! ↳user5 the flirting is gonna kill me ↳user6 chat is this flirting ????
user7 keep your head up 🦁👑
user8 MY GOAT
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YnLnUpdates
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YnLnUpdates Y/n's speech after singing a cover of "Hopelessly Devoted To You". "What a pleasure it is to here today, I feel so lucky to be here in front of all you beautiful people. There have been so many changes in my life recently that have been a blessing in disguise, so i wanna say a huge thank you for sticking by me I'm looking forward to all the good to com, so thank you for everything love you" after the speech then pointed towards the vip tent; waved and then made a heart !!!
Who do we think the heart is for ? 👀
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user1 WHAT ????
user2 there were so many people in the vip tent we'll never know 😩
user3 seeing her happy after the last few months makes me so happy
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YnLnUpdates
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YnLnUpdates Y/n and Max Verstappen (HUH?????) share an embrace after Y/n's performance in Orlando !
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user1 WHAT ????
user2 the emoji 😭
user3 now we know who the heart was for 😮
user4 WHO KNEW HE HAD IT IN HIM ???
user5 NOOOOOOOOOOO
user6 wait this is actually CRAZY ???
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yourinstagram
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yourinstagram ORLANDO !!!! The biggest festival I've had the pleasure of performing at and the energy was insane !!!! The first time I got to perform songs from the deluxe and to hear you guys sing every word was a special moment 😪 THANK YOUUUU all for the love , love love love you alllll ❤
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user1 the popstar levels are out of this world 🌎
user2 YOUR MAN IN MAX ????
maxverstappen What a show😘!!!
↳yourinstagram thank you thank you 😊 ↳user3 this is still crazy 😭
user4 you KILLED it !!!
user5 the best performance i've got to go too EVER
user6 it was an honor to see your face on the big screen 🧎‍♀️
user7 NEED more songs like feather !! such a good song live 😫
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YnLnUpdates
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YnLnUpdates Y/n's recent instagram stories!!
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user1 STOPPPP😭😭 they are so cute
user2 the cat.... he's so real
user3 #NEEDTHAT is CRAZZZYYYY (same)
user4 "who's this diva" oh she loves that man... 🥰
user5 crying watching max win is what i do too !!
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MV1Updates
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MV1Updates During Max's post race interview, Max was asked what it was like have Y/n L/n in attendance "It's nice to have her at a race, I've wanted her at a race for a while and our schedules finally lined up, [....] hopefully she'll come to more, [....] it gives me extra motivation to win, I wanted to impress her (laughs)."
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user1 he was sooooooo smiley talking about her omgggg 😫❤
user2 the way they giggle and blush when they talk about each other is so cute 🤭
user3 can't wait for they love songs !! he's so in love
use04r love this for him !!
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f1gossip
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f1gossip Max Verstappen and popstar Y/n L/n were seen sharing a kiss while on a date in Miami after his win.
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user1 bro they've probably been together for MONTHS
user2 they are so cute together 😫
user3 LEAVE THEM ALONE 😭🙏
user4 that should be MEEE (with both of them 🤫)
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yourinstagram
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yourinstagram Orlando to Miami !!! and what a drive by max from P9 to P1 BABY so proud of you, can't wait to see you win again and again !!!! 🏆🥇🍾
(also if i see pictures of me CRYING during the podium TRUST you will hear from my lawyer).........
(kidding😙❤)
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user1 she's truly living my dream life
maxverstappen Are we gonna ignore how i told you that you were gonna cry and you called me a liar....
↳yourinstagram yes 😁 ↳maxverstappen I'm not gonna ignore that I was right ↳yourinstagram booking a different hotel room 🙄 ↳maxverstappen WAIT ↳maxverstappen I'm sorry ❤ ↳maxverstappen I'll make it up to you ↳yourinstagram 😏? ↳landonorris WHOAAAA get a room 🤢 ↳user2 ik they get DOWNNNNN
user3 this is kinda my superbowl ☺
whitneypeak living the life mama !!
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user4 so pretty 🎀
lilymhe beautiful girl !! ☺
user5 max on the beach 😍
francisca.cgomes can max fight ? 😁
↳maxverstappen stop trying to steal my girlfriend.... ↳yourinstagram she already got me 😝
user6 max verstappen, i was not familiar with your game 😦
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maxverstappen1
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Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 8,201,933 others
maxverstappen1 Simply… lovely!
What a great time in Miami, I would like to point out I am looking at yourinstagram in the second picture 👍 Had to put on a show with her watching. 😁
But a very strong race 🙌
Thank you, Miami - You have been great🌴
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user1 MY GOAT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
yourinstagram hot 🥵
↳yourinstagram gnawing at the bars of my enclosure 😩 ↳landonorris 🤮 ↳yourinstagram you always got something to say 😒
user2 STOPPPPP he's gonna talk about her every second.... i love it 😝
user3 i gotta know if y/n is the one helping with the pics...
↳yourinstagram only a little.... ↳yourinstagram he wants my stamp of approval on them ↳user3 i bet he likes it when you approve of all the pics ? ↳yourinstagram well yes 😗 ↳user3 someone likes praise...... 😁🤫
user4 he's really setting the standard!! obsessed boyfriend is just too good!
user5 the first pic 🤯 what a man
user6 i kinda need them both 🙂
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Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1,335,690 others
max1.jpg best way to celebrate a win in miami is with you 🤍
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user1 im so single
yourinstagram love youuuuu 💞🌙💞
↳max1.jpg 😘😘
user2 BRO how did he bag Y/N L/N ?????
↳user3 he's a loverboy....
landonorris why don't you take pictures of me ?
↳max1.jpg you dont look like y/n and do what she does ↳landonorris okay i didn't need to know that.. ↳user4 😨😨 ↳user5 WAITTTTT HUHHHH????
user6 INSANE face card holyyyyyyyyyyy
user7 they are such cuties 🫶
user8 they’re truly the cutest couple 🥺
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part 2 : HERE
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sinner-as-saint · 1 year ago
Text
run for your life
Mob!Bucky x Reader 
Summary: He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with. 
Themes: slight stalker!bucky, possessive!bucky, mild degrading kink, smut, FLUFF, opposite aesthetics, mild daddy kink (nicknames only), cosy little town vibes 
a/n: some fluffy mob!bucky to end the year <3 Thank you so much for always supporting my silly little fics. Merry Christmas my darlings, and happy New Year!! See you soon ;)
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He didn't know where exactly he would end up locating you, but finding you in a cosy, small, coastal town in the south of France was not on his list. 
You being the owner of a gourmet bakery was not on his list either. Bucky was confused, surprised, but mostly confused. How did this happen? At first, when Sam came to deliver him the news of your location that morning, Bucky didn’t believe him. Had Sam not been Bucky’s oldest, most loyal friend Bucky would’ve never believed him at all. 
“I’m gonna need you to stop being a dumbass and go find this girl!” Sam, ever the voice of reason yelled at Bucky who had been drowning in his sorrows. “It’s been months, and I can’t keep covering for your ass. I have my own shit to do, my own men to command.” He used that cool, authoritative voice of his. “Pull yourself together, Buck. Go find her.” 
Sam was right. Of course he was. He always was. And it had really been months since that damned night… 
— 
Bucky couldn’t wait to get out of his plane the moment it landed. It was late at night, but the perfect time to go to the club. He had missed it. Well, not the whole club really. Bucky had missed you. 
He had a… special connection with you. His girl. His only girl. His favourite girl. 
This time, he thought, he would do whatever he can to solidify whatever was happening between the two of you. Maybe he’d even get you to go on a real date with him. Maybe that would lead to something more. He was smiling to himself just thinking about it. 
He often thought back to the night you met. He was at the club after a long day of being the dark ruler he was. All he wanted was a drink and a pretty woman on his lap. That’s when he found you. 
Right as he walked in, you caught his eye. Walking around serving drinks, wearing a little see-through red dress that brought every man you walked past to his knees. 
Once he got to his booth, Bucky called you over. You walked towards him sheepishly. 
“I’ve never seen you around here before, beautiful.” He said, patting his thigh. He noticed the way you hesitated. Must be new, he thought. 
You carefully perched on his lap, holding your empty metal tray to your chest. Bucky smirked as he looked at it, like you were putting a makeshift barrier between the two of you. When you remained quiet and squirmy, Bucky spoke up again. 
“Come on, babygirl. Talk to me, it’s okay.” He whispered at his nuzzled your neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely, then I might.” 
His warm breath against your skin tickled. You chuckled as you pulled away to look at him. “Um, I’m just a waitress. I’m not supposed to…” You trailed off. Both of you were aware of the no-contact ‘rule’. But there was a natural, unexplainable spark there that neither of you could ignore. 
“Hmm,” His chest rumbled. “How about we go somewhere private?” He whispered into your ear and noticed the way you shivered. 
You hung your head, clutching your metal tray. “Waitresses aren’t supposed to go into the VIP rooms, sir.” You said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear you above the sensual music. 
Bucky smirked. Then leaned in and whispered, “I suppose I can bend the rules a little given I co-own the club.” 
You froze and went to stand up immediately, already apologising but he wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you on his lap. 
“It’s okay, babygirl. You’re not in trouble, I promise.” 
The two of you ended up in one of the VIP rooms. Nothing happened, you just kissed and talked and kissed some more. Bucky promised to come back. And he did. For months. Again and again and each time he did, you were drawn to him like he was gravity from the very moment he walked into the room. 
And that night he landed after being away for weeks, he expected you to run right into his arms the moment he’d enter the club like you always did. He even got you a nice little gift to make up for the time that he’d been away. It was a rare, red diamond choker. He could already imagine how it would look around your neck. Like a brand. His. 
But then he got to the club. And he noticed everyone was avoiding his eyes almost anxiously. And his girl was nowhere to be seen. He searched for you in the main area for a while, then even searched the VIP rooms, vowing to commit horrible crimes if he ever found you in there with another man. 
But no. 
He called Sam, who co-owned the club, and Sam had no idea who he was talking about. Bucky asked the staff members, and one bartender finally told him that you’d resigned a few weeks ago. And no one knew where you went. He asked for your full name, but no one knew that either. 
Not even Sam. “I didn’t even know we had a new waitress, Buck. I have more important shit to worry about.” He’d said, adding to the burning sensation in Bucky’s chest. 
“She left me.” 
Sam had no idea what his best friend was babbling about. And during the many months that followed, Bucky was a mess. A mess like Sam had never seen before. Frantically scanning country after country, searching for a girl with no name. He was in love, and he wasn’t giving up. He would find his girl come what may. 
But now Bucky knew where you were. 
And he was more confused than ever. He had even more questions. 
Bucky spent a whole week in that little town. Watching you, learning your routine, observing and questioning. He disguised himself as a local and always kept his distance even though his hands itched to touch you. 
At first he was bothered by how you were fine with living the same day everyday. Your routine seemed boring at first, but the more he watched, the more he realised it was sort of therapeutic. The normality of it all. 
He rented an apartment on the other side of the street from your bakery, and he spent hours watching you. 
You lived right above the bakery. A quaint apartment, with flower pots all around the french windows. Sometimes when you forgot to turn the lights off at night, Bucky spent the whole night spying on you, counting your breaths as you slept on your couch in front of the TV. 
You’d wake up at the crack of dawn, then you’d feed your dogs. He noticed you had two. Lazy, both of them. Then you’d get downstairs and within half an hour, the cool air that entered his apartment carried the smell of the sea and baked goods. 
All he wanted was to cross the cobblestone street and drag you to his bed, demand answers while fucking some sense into you. But the more he watched you, the more his anger diminished. Temporarily. 
The genuine smile on your face as you served your loyal customers all day, especially the ones who always came early in the morning on their way to work. The occasional sound of your voice or your laughter that slipped past whenever someone didn’t close the door right. The sound of children squealing and laughing whenever you gave away leftover baked goods or donuts in the evenings. How you knew almost everyone by name. How sometimes you invited neighbours over for wine nights. How you went on little walks in late, cool evenings, forcing your lazy pets to walk but then ending up having to carry them on the way back. They were spoiled, he realised. He hated to admit that he was jealous of the damned dogs who got so much of your attention while he starved for it. 
He wasn’t angry by the end of that first week of spying, he was just hurting. How dare you live a whole new life without him? How dare you laugh and seem like you don’t miss him? He’d just spent months looking for you and here you were, just going about your day like you didn’t care? Like none of those nights you’d spent together mattered? 
Meanwhile he was shaking just reminiscing the way your touch felt across his skin. He remembered the first time the two of you crossed that line in one of the VIP rooms…
You were wearing that red dress again. Fucking tease, he hissed each time you moved or squirmed on his lap. 
“Baby, please,” He groaned. “Just… let me touch you. Daddy will make you feel good, so good babygirl, I promise.” He pleaded, hands caressing your soft, warm thighs. 
You shook your head, popping another one of those chocolates he brought you into your mouth and sucking your fingers after. Torturing him. 
“We can’t,” You insisted, with nothing but mischief in your eyes as you looked at him. “You made these rules yourself, remember?” You chuckled when he groaned again when you straddled him properly. 
“I don’t give a shit about rules.” He hissed, nuzzling your neck. Slowly, he kissed up and down your neck. “I just wanna taste you. That’s it. Just a taste.” 
That’s how he found himself on his knees, face in between your thighs. His skilled tongue making you whine and whimper as you tugged on his hair. Bucky hummed in appreciation the more he tasted you. 
“Come on daddy’s face, baby…” 
That’s it. 
Bucky decided he would go see you the next morning. He would drag you back home if he had to, but he wouldn’t spend another day without you. Who did you think you were? No one just tosses him aside like this. He’d remind you who he was and then you’d both go home right away. 
Bucky woke up to a thunderstorm. Weather around here was unpredictable. He got out of bed and immediately looked outside to find your bakery empty. No customers in sight because of the heavy rain, lightning and thunder. The golden light was on though. 
He decided it was time to go have a talk with you. He promised not to lose his temper. He would go in there calmly, talk it out with you. Ask you what the fuck you are doing here, and then he’d take you home. 
But that ended up not happening. 
Bucky crossed the slippery cobblestone street, walked into your comforting, sweet smelling bakery and froze. He froze right there at the entrance. 
As did you. Standing there behind the wooden counter, oven mittens in your hand and apron in another, you stared at Bucky with nothing but pure shock and surprise on your face. A thousand thoughts, mainly questions, crossed your mind. 
What is he doing here? How did he find you? Why is he dressed casually like a local, wearing soft colours instead of his usual suits? How long has he been here? What is he doing here? 
You let out a little gasp. “Bucky?” 
Wrong move, apparently. Because his demeanour changed in a nanosecond. His calm and collected-ness was forgotten instantly. Jaws clenched, with a murderous look in his eyes, he walked closer, more like charged at you, and around the counter before you could even get a word out. 
He had you pinned to the nearest wall before you could process it all. Knocking down a framed picture in the process. Towering above you, he looked like he was beyond pissed. 
“Bucky, I—,” 
“Shut up.” He hissed, voice cold with bitterness and anger. He watched how you shivered when he pinned your wrists to the wall on either side of your head. “Shut the fuck up.” 
He leaned closer, chest pressing against yours leaving no space in between. He closed his eyes and sighed for a moment, trying his hardest to see reason but he was angry. So angry he couldn’t think. 
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He spoke with such a low voice that you trembled against him, causing him to tighten his grip around your wrists, surely bruising them. You didn’t care. 
You winced, “I can explain.” Fuck, you’d missed him too. It had been months since you last saw him. He was just as handsome as you remembered. His hair was a little longer now, his beard a little thicker. But he made your heart race just the same. “Please Bucky,” You whispered, “let me explain everything to you.” 
“No.” He growled before pressing his mouth to yours, angrily. Like he wanted his kiss to hurt. And it did. 
His rough facial hair scratched your skin, his teeth nibbled on and bit your lips. His hands damn near crushed your wrists in his strong grip. And he didn’t give you even the briefest second to breathe. He kissed you just like how he imagined he would do once he found you. Ravenously. Pouring everything he felt into it. Desperation, anger, hurt, obsession. He couldn’t get enough. 
“Bucky…” You gasped against his lips when he finally pulled away. Breathing fast, you tried to get a look at him but he just seemed even more angry. 
“Turn around,” He mumbled, forcing you to turn around anyway. Fuck, the sight of you in that long, flowy, sundress was doing things to him. He was never this bothered when you used to parade around in your little see-through dresses, but somehow the sight of you in this pink, floral dress was making him act like a caveman. 
His movements were rash and angry. He almost tore your dress off of you while he shoved his rough hand in between your legs and touched you where you desperately wanted him to. You whined and trembled against the cool wall when he slid a finger in, fucking you with it while he hissed into your ear. 
“I should punish you for what you did to me,” His deep voice made his chest rumble against your back. “I should tie you up and fuck you however I want.” 
Your dress was partially off, bunched and only hanging on around your waist. Being so dishevelled made this even dirtier. You were moaning by now, hoping the heavy rain would blur your actions from anyone who walked by the shop. Or god forbid, walk in. 
“How dare you think you can just leave me?” He demanded, sliding another finger inside you and making your body come alive. 
You were embarrassingly wet at this point, and the sounds your body made as he finger-fucked you were lewd. But you couldn’t get enough. 
More, more, more. You mentally chanted. 
Bucky wasn’t having the silent treatment, so he smacked your thigh to get your attention. You yelped. Your skin stung as he smacked it again, on the same spot. Harder this time. You cried out even louder as he kept taunting you. “Answer me, you fucking brat!” His lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke. “Why did you leave me?” 
You cried as he kept fucking you with his fingers you even as you came. His fingers sliding in and out with ease now. The sounds you made were wanton. “You… you left first.” You tried to argue. But failed miserably. 
He chuckled in that dark and dangerous way of his. “I left for work.” He said, “And I promised you I’d be back.” He reached deeper inside you, curling his fingers just enough to make you mutter incoherent things. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” 
“Please, please, please…” You begged. “Please I need to come, Bucky please.” 
“Oh?” He chuckled again, slowing down his movements purposely. “No one touched you, huh?” He playfully bit on your exposed shoulder. “You’re so fucking wet it’s dripping down my hand, babygirl.” He boasted. “Is it because no one has touched you these past few months? Hmm?” 
“Yes…” You had tears streaming down your face, and you nodded breathlessly. “Please…” 
But instead of making you come all over his fingers, Bucky pulled away for a brief moment. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him undoing his trousers. And moments later, he was rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. You shivered in pleasure.
“I’m gonna teach you what happens to people who think they can run from me, babygirl.” He growled as he pushed his cock into you, making you cry out loud as he stretched you out. 
After months of not having him, right now he felt huge inside you. Just like that, memories of nights spent with him came flooding back in. You moaned as his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts. 
His hand gripped you by the hips, holding you against him as he sped up into you, fucking you like he hated you. Like it was punishment. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and licked, and bit on your skin as he fucked into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.
“Did you think I’d never find you?” He asked, fucking into you. “I bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me, hmm?” 
You’d missed him too. He could tell by the way you were starting to clench around him already. Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how good he felt inside you. 
“See, it didn’t have to be like this, baby…” he mumbled angrily against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “I could be nice and gentle with your body, but you just had to be a fucking brat and leave me with no warning.” He spat, growling in your ear as he pounded into you, your chest slamming into the wall with each thrust. It hurt in the best way. 
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly.
The pleasure, the pain, the heat of him… was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. 
“Bucky–,” You choked on your words as you came undone, walls clenching around him, and a loud moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. It was almost blinding. 
His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He came while biting down hard on your shoulder. So hard that even you cried out, still coming down from your high as you felt him spill deep inside you. 
That bite on your shoulder hurt. And like a chain reaction, everything began to hurt. Having him here hurt. Memories of being with him in the city, in the dark rooms of that club hurt. Realising how fast your life changed hurt. 
You didn’t realise you were sobbing quietly until you heard Bucky apologising profusely. Suddenly no longer angry. No longer feeling betrayed. 
“Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.” He kissed that sore spot softly, his bite mark on your shoulder repeatedly as he wrapped his arms around you, securing you in the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t know what came over me, babygirl. I’m so sorry, please look at me. Hey, hey,” He pulled away and turned you so you faced him, still with tears in your eyes. “Babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, wiping your tears away, then kissing your face repeatedly. 
You remained like that for a few minutes. Arms wrapped around one another, standing there against that wall while it rained like hell outside. Bucky didn’t stop apologising. 
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been an animal like this with you, I—,” 
You cut him off finally, “Shh, it’s okay.” You pulled away from his warm chest to look up at him. “I needed this.” You said, sniffling as you gently cupped his rough cheek, caressing his face with your thumb. “I needed you like this.” 
He just hugged you close again, kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry.” He apologised one final time. “I’ll listen, I promise. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.” 
You smiled faintly at him. “Then I should lock up down here and we can go upstairs. I don’t want to scare my neighbours by risking them finding us like this.” You looked down at your partially torn dress and Bucky’s unbuttoned trousers. 
Much to your surprise, Bucky said, “You go ahead, I’ll close and lock up.” 
You frowned at him even as you desperately tried to get the top of your sundress to cover your chest. “You wouldn’t know how to…” You trailed off as realisation set in. He was a calculated, smart man. He didn’t just apparate on your doorstep with no planning. “You’ve been watching me.” You stated, raising an eyebrow at him. 
Bucky gave you a rare, guilty look. 
You sighed and shook your head. “I guess I chose this life by getting involved with you.” You gave him a faint smile. “Alright then, lock it. Leave the key in the little basket by the door.” You started walking towards the stairs, then turned around again and said, “Make sure the windows are properly locked too, because of the rain and stuff.” 
“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded.
You smirked at him. 
With that you took the stairs and Bucky watched you go with a fond smile on his face. No one ever ordered him around. He hated it. But coming from you, he quite liked it. 
Bucky chuckled at himself because never in his life had he ever imagined he would one day be closing up a bakery in a small town, all for the woman he’s obsessively in love with. But he didn’t mind it one bit. 
After following your instructions and double checking the windows, he made his way upstairs as well. Again, he didn’t know what he expected your place to look like – and all that spying only allowed him glimpses of your apartment – but he never expected your space to look so… 
Pink. With occasional gold accents. Pale pink couch, the one you often fell asleep on while watching TV, and fluffy white pillows and rugs to go with. Paintings hanging on even paler pink walls. The kitchen he couldn’t quite see but he assumed it’d have to be all white. Pink dog beds, with fluffy balls of brown fur sleeping on them – wearing pink collars no less. 
He couldn’t see your bedroom from the living room given the door was closed but given the pink, fluffy robe and socks you wore he could imagine just how pink it must be. 
“It’s so girly.” He commented, as if surprised. Maybe he was a little. After all, he knew you as the seductive goddess he met almost every night at the club. He never realised that it was all just a show, that it was all just a persona at work. In a way, stepping into your space felt so intimate. He liked it. 
You chuckled. “Coquette, please.” You corrected as you handed him a glass of red wine while he took a seat beside you. He did look a little out of place in your apartment, a dark and broody man like him. But then again, he was here and that’s all that mattered. 
He turned to look at you and couldn’t resist holding your hand and pulling you onto his lap again. “Come here,” He said, “I’ve missed you.” 
As you straddled his lap, your robe exposed some of your shoulder and Bucky saw the very noticeable bite mark he left on you. He grimaced when he saw it. He placed his wine glass to the side and traced the bite mark with his thumb carefully. 
“I’m sorry, babygirl.” He whispered, leaning in to nuzzle your neck and kiss the bite mark. And breathe in your scent. Fuck, he’d missed it so much. “You smell a little different. Fruitier.” 
You giggled when his hair tickled your skin. “I made blueberry compote earlier this morning. Perhaps that’s why.” 
You could feel him smiling against your skin. Then he pulled away to look at you. His hands shamelessly slid under your robe, eager to touch your skin. Relishing it this time, not in a feral hurry like he was earlier. He seemed visibly calmer too. 
“We used to spend hours like this at the club, remember?” He spoke, and immediately you were overwhelmed with nostalgia. 
Hours, days, weeks, months. Some days back then you would wake up in the morning already excited to see Bucky in the evening. And it wasn’t because it was all sexual. So many nights all you two did was drink, laugh and talk about everything. He once told you that apart from Sam, you were his only real friend. 
Bucky kissed you, breaking you out of your reverie surely thinking of the past as well. It was a slow, gentle kiss. It was consuming you. His hands caressed your thighs which were still a little sore from earlier. You winced in pain when he massaged the spot where he spanked you. 
Bucky pulled away from the kiss, apologising again as he kissed down your chin. “I’m sorry, babygirl.” 
You smiled at him after taking a sip of your wine. “Stop pretending as if we were always vanilla or that this is scandalous in any way shape or form.” You chuckled as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “We both know this was nothing compared to how we used to be.” 
Bucky smiled, a little sadly. “I missed you.” He repeated. “Tell me,” He said, “Tell me everything.” 
You finished your wine. “What do you want to know?” 
“Why did you start working at the club?” He caught the look of sadness that suddenly appeared on your face upon hearing the question.
“I… I had to drop out of uni because my grandparents fell sick.” You explained. “Mom and dad were travelling for work at the time, and I was the only one who could take care of grandma and grandpa. The treatments and all ended up costing a little more than what we had so I needed a job that paid well, I also needed one that would allow me to be flexible with my time so I could take care of my grandparents.” 
Bucky nodded, “Hence the club.” 
You nodded in confirmation. 
“Your parents never intervened? So you could finish your education?” He questioned. 
“No.” You said, almost emotionless. “When they found out what I was doing, where I was working to earn the extra money we needed… they kind of disowned me. And vowed to never talk to me again.” You chuckled, humourlessly. 
“They don’t deserve you.” Bucky said quickly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close. “You were so brave baby, I wish you would’ve told me all of this.” 
You slid your fingers into his hair and massaged his scalp gently. “You were already taking care of me.” You said, “You mended my heart a little each night when I saw you.” 
“I wish I could’ve done more.” He kissed along your collarbones, then froze again as if he remembered something. “I almost forgot,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sleek black box. “I got you something.” Then clarified, “Well, I got you this months ago. I would’ve given it to you had you not run away from me.” 
You rolled your eyes at him, “I didn’t run from you, I–,” 
He cut you off with a finger on your lips. “Tell me about that part in a minute,” He opened the slender black box to reveal the red diamond choker inside. “I had this made for you.” He watched your face intently. 
“Bucky…” You hesitantly reached for it, running your fingers over the beauty of it. It was a simple design. Elegant, timeless. Way too expensive. “I can’t take this,” You began protesting, “It’s too much.” 
Bucky made a face and said, “Oh shut up.” He was already clasping it around your neck before you could protest any further. “It’s a gift from daddy,” He whispered against the corner of your lips. “You deserve it, babygirl.” 
When he pulled away to look at you, his heart almost broke again at the sight of the tears in your eyes. 
“What is it?” He asked, wiping your tears away for the second time today. “Is it that ugly?” 
You laughed through the tears. “No, it’s the prettiest thing I own.” You sniffled. “The only piece of real jewellery in fact.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” 
“Remind me to get you a whole collection.” Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you deeply. 
Then it turned into something more and by the time the afternoon rolled around, the two of you had lost count how many times you’d made love on your pink couch. Slow touches and cuddles, and soft kisses always resulted in the two of you fucking again. 
In the late afternoon, while snacking on random things Bucky realised you still hadn’t explained how you ended up here. 
“Grandma and grandpa’s bakery.” You explained, watching the rain pour outside. “They left it to me. They died within weeks of each other,” You said with a melancholic smile on your face, “I always knew that would happen. They loved each other too much to live without one another for too long.” 
You turned to look at Bucky who pulled you onto his lap again and held you as tightly as possible. You weren’t crying this time, but being held felt nice. 
You continued, “I had funerals to plan, I had to pack up my life and move all the way here, I had to take on the responsibility of the bakery and renovate this apartment. And you were already gone at the time so…” You sighed. “I didn’t know if I should leave a note or not. I didn’t know if you were actually coming back or–,” 
“I would never abandon you. I thought you knew that.” Bucky said, a little annoyed at that. “I made you a promise, did you not–,” 
You couldn’t help but argue, “Yeah well, I didn’t know if what we had was real enough for you to come back to.” 
Bucky frowned. “Baby…” 
You gave him a small smile, and pressed your forehead against his, rubbing your noses together. “I know now. It is.” 
When you finally pulled away from his addicting embrace you said, “I’m gonna get started on dinner. You can shower in there,” You pointed at your bedroom door as you got up from the couch. Bucky tried to grab you again but you pulled away laughing. “The weather is clearing up, we can have dinner outside on the patio.” 
You threw him a wink and made your way into the kitchen. 
Bucky finally got up and walked into your bedroom. Just as he imagined, the place was all white, gold, and pink. He actually laughed when he walked into the bathroom and found it pale pink as well. He’d grown to love it too by now. 
You were busy at the stove, making your best seafood pasta, when you felt strong arms wrapping around you from behind. 
“How’d you like my bedroom?” You asked, smirking already as you pictured him in your very girly space. 
“It’s very pink. The bed looks comfy,” He whispered into your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you in it later.” 
You chuckled and passed him another glass of wine. As you turned to face him again, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. There he was, one of the scariest men you knew, standing in your grandma-core kitchen, wearing a fluffy white robe with pink clouds on it. 
Bucky rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t comment on it. I can already hear Sam laughing his ass off and he’s not even here.” 
You laughed even harder before you kissed his cheek. “It suits you.” You said. Then you handed him a couple of plates and pointed at the patio which could be seen from the kitchen window, “Can you set the table?” 
He finished his wine and then mumbled on his way out like a grumpy old man, “First close the bakery, now set the table,” He shouted from outside, “You know, if this whole thing was your elaborate plan to hire me as your domestic helper, you could’ve just asked, babygirl.” 
You laughed at him from inside the kitchen. You shook your head as you watched him. Wearing your fluffy robe, setting the small table on your patio. The view of the ocean from that patio was to die for, and the setting sun was just sublime. The golden lights you’d hung above the cute little dining area added to the cosy atmosphere. Now with the weather a lot nicer than it was hours ago, you could hear the small town coming alive again. Voice and laughter, children cycling down the cobblestone. 
And Bucky. Bucky was here too. Winking at you from the patio. And you thought your life had ended when your parents disowned you. You scoffed at the thought. Then you thanked whatever god was listening for bringing Bucky back to you. 
— 
During dinner, Bucky filled you in on what he was up to while you were gone. And you did the same. One bottle of wine turned into two, then you and Bucky laughed at random things while you did the dishes. 
Then you found yourselves in your bed. And like he promised, Bucky made love to you there as well. 
His muscular body hovered above yours. He looked down at you with nothing but love and desire in his eyes as you undid the ridiculous robe to let his cock out. He was hard already. 
“Think I like you a lot in this robe.” You teased. 
Bucky laughed before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck as he parted your legs and slid into you.  
You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly. He was nice and snug inside you, stretching you out in a way that had you whining and whimpering under him in no time. 
Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head on your pink covers as he sped up into you. Your eyes rolled back once he started moving in and out of you. Taking his sweet time, loving the way his warm skin rubbed against yours. 
He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly. “I love you.” He breathed against your mouth. “So fucking much.” He kissed along your skin and moaned into your ear as he sped up. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” 
“Oh Buck,” You smiled up at him, “I love you.” 
“You’re mine.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you as he made you come again. 
“And you’re mine.” 
— 
You woke up some time in the middle of the night, thirsty after all that wine from earlier. But the moment you sat up to get out of bed, Bucky woke up too. Asking in his groggy voice, which you had never heard before but concluded that it was kind of hot, “Where are you going? What is it?” 
You smiled and kissed his forehead while getting out of bed, “Just thirsty. I’ll be right back.” 
Bucky got up after you, getting out of bed as well. “I’m coming too.” He said, “I worry this girly room might engulf me if you leave me here alone.” He joked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he followed you out and into the kitchen. 
Truth is, he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second. 
You handed him a glass of cold water while you put some water to boil to make tea. Some green tea should put the two of you right back to sleep, you thought. 
So there you were in your cosy kitchen, wrapped in a soft blanket. Bucky leaned against the counter watching you. He was shirtless, just in some white, cotton pyjama pants that you lent him. They didn’t fit him at all but something about him in your clothes made him seem adorable. 
You were both quiet. But you could feel Bucky thinking. He looked like he was trying to find the right way to ask you something. You didn’t know what. But he had that little frown on his forehead. You wanted to kiss it away. 
“What is it?” You asked. 
Bucky avoided your eyes, choosing to stare at the floor instead as he asked, “Do you think… I mean, would you ever come back home?” 
Ah. The few moments of silence which followed were heavy. You didn’t like how that question put some kind of metaphorical distance between the two of you. 
So you took a few steps and leaned into him. You placed your hands on his muscular, toned chest and said, “This is home, for me.” You gave him the truth. “That city was never home now that I think about it.” You smiled faintly, “The only good part was you.” 
Bucky nodded. “So,” He began, then stopped to clear his throat and spoke again, “You won’t ever leave this place?” 
You slid your hands up across his skin, feeling the warm, strong muscles underneath your palm. You traced his collar bones, then his neck and finally cupped his face in your hands. He wrapped his arms loosely around your middle. 
“I love it here, Bucky.” You stated. “It’s quiet, and peaceful. It looks boring at first but it’s what I’ve always wanted.” You said. “Plus my grandparents left me this, it’s all I have of them.” You paused for a while, hating that look of hurt in his ocean blue eyes. “I won’t leave. This is my home now.” 
Bucky was quiet. Even his breathing was slow. 
You let go of him, took a step back and said, “Maybe you should head back.” It felt like the words sliced you from the inside. It hurt to even utter them. “You have a life there.” You gave him a sad smile. Followed by a faint chuckle. “Unless you want to take up fishing then I’m afraid there’s nothing for you here.” 
He scoffed. “There’s you.” He said as if that was more than enough. 
“Bucky.” You warned. 
He shook his head, then reached for his phone which he’d forgotten in the kitchen earlier tonight. “Sam will probably fly out here to beat me up when I tell him.” He spoke, none of what he said made sense to you though.
“What are you–,”
“And he’ll have to work twice as much. But he’ll do great, I know. He’s Sam after all, strongest man I know.” Bucky carried on, ignoring your questions as he typed away on his phone. “I’ll do as much as I can from here, maybe fly back to the city once or twice a year to show my face.” 
“Bucky,” You warned again, “What are you talking—,” 
Bucky continued, cutting you off each time you tried to get a word in. “I’ll have to call my people, actually I have a lot of phone calls to make if–,” 
You cut him off this time, stepping closer to him again and grabbing him by his broad shoulders. “What are you talking about?” 
Bucky gave you a lovesick smile. “Well if you’re not going back to the city, neither am I.” He answered. You froze. He continued. “I’ll have to buy us a bigger home somewhere around here. We’ll keep the apartment and bakery of course, but maybe we could use some staff to help with maintenance and to keep the bakery running.” 
He made a mental, makeshift plan while you had silent tears streaming down your face. 
He continued, “We’ll get you back in uni, whichever one you want and whichever offers distance learning because there’s no way I’m letting you live on some campus away from me.” He paused, then said, “I’ll have to actually take up fishing. Maybe I’ll buy a few boats, you know I always wanted to be a yacht broker.” He sounded almost… hopeful. “Retirement sounds nice.” 
You sniffled. “Buck…” 
Bucky kept talking while he gently caressed your back. “I’ll have to learn French,” He groaned, “At this grown age.” He added. “I’ll have to know what's a chocolate croissant and what’s a pain au chocolat if I want to occasionally help out with the bakery. I can’t be uncultured while my wife is this connoisseur, you know? The locals will laugh at me.” 
“Wife?” You questioned through tears and a faint, barely there smile. 
He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I’m wearing your clothes, sleeping in your girly room, eating off of your floral plates.” He explained, “If you don’t marry me, I will lose my reputation.” He joked. 
You laughed, and sobbed as you threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could. 
“You don’t have to do this.” You spoke through tears. Your heart felt so full, you didn’t know how to handle a man like Bucky changing the course of his life for you. All for you. 
Bucky hugged you back, kissing the top of your head. “I want to.” He said, “I have to. Otherwise you’ll run away again.” He teased. 
You laughed quietly. “I won’t.” You said firmly. 
“Good,” He sighed, squeezing you tightly in his arms before letting go. “Now I have to tell Sam.” He looked genuinely worried. 
You giggled, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Tell him in the morning.” You whispered, your hands already trailing down to the waistband of the pyjama pants. 
Bucky chuckled before leaning in to kiss you, deeply. “Okay baby,” He whispered, forgetting everything else as he got lost in you all over again. 
He made love to you right there in the kitchen, sliding in between your legs as you sat on the edge of the counter. Slow and gentle. Kissing you softly, making a mess of you as he made you come over and over and over again. Whispering against your heated skin, your wet, open mouth, “You’re mine…” 
“All yours,” You answered, holding him tightly. Your nails scratching down his back, your skin burning in all the best ways as his beard scratched it each time he kissed you. 
This time, he made you a different promise. 
“If you chose to run again, you better run for your life and pray I never find you, babygirl…” He whispered into your ear as he slid inside you again. His cock made it hard for you to focus on anything else but you tried your hardest to hear him out. “Because I won’t be this kind if I ever have to hunt for you again.” 
You laughed, but ended up moaning as he bit down on your other shoulder this time. Marking you as his again.
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iamred-iamyellow · 4 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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sincerelybubbles · 5 months ago
Note
could you write something where the reader is listening to reid going off on his tangents and when he gets insecure, just straight up saying. "no, go on. i like the sound of your voice." ? ty! 🤍
Don't shut up // no warnings as far as i can tell? lmk if not <3 pure fluff!! ty for the request <333
"They usually called her the Limping Lady but there's really no way to tell how many pseudonyms she used," Spencer is saying, dragging his hand through your hair where you lay on his lap, His other hand is busy grasping at the air while he talks.
"Because of the prosthetic leg?" You ask, urging him to continue talking. You're nearly asleep, eyes heavy and chest loose with the comfort of his proximity.
"Yeah. She actually nicknamed it 'Cuthbert' when she got the wooden prosthetic. It's actually pretty interesting - people have been using prosthetics for a really long time. We don't know exactly when people started using them in modern medicine, but the first evidence we can find of them dates all the way back to ancient Egypt where they found a prosthetic toe."
The documentary Spencer put on over an hour ago about World War II has long since been paused, Netflix's blinking "Are you still watching?" hovering uselessly on his laptop screen. He paused it ages ago to discuss the inaccuracies about Hitler's past, then Italy's involvement in France and the parallels between the almost French famine and the Irish famine, leading him to Virginia Hall.
All in all, you're in heaven. He's been stroking your hair, blunt nails scratching every so often, voice rumbling through his chest and stomach where your ear presses against. He's talking calmly, even, if not slightly rushed, like he can't wait for even a breath to keep telling you about everything he knows.
"I just want you to know all of the things I know, too, you know?" He told you once when you urged him to slow down. He's learned to take his time with you, eventually, realizing that you're not waiting for your opportunity to jump in. You don't spend your time with Spencer figuring out when it'll be your turn to talk next; instead, you lull in the comfortable space of listening while knowing he'll return the favor the moment you have something to say.
"Sorry, are you trying to sleep? I can shut up and turn the movie back on," Spencer says suddenly, hand stilling in your hair.
You open your eyes slightly to find him looking down at you, lip caught between his teeth, a hesitant look in his eyes.
Spencer doesn't often get insecure like this around you - you've spent plenty of time convincing him that there's no need - but moments like this still happen. You suppose it's a natural product of constant teasing and bullying through childhood.
"I don't mean to ramble," he mutters when he catches your eye.
"No," you say, interrupting him and reaching up to brush your fingers across his cheekbone and up to his eyebrows. "No, Spence, I literally love the sound of your voice. Please, keep going."
You watch him melt, afraid for a moment that his liquid brown eyes will start to water. You make a concerned noise, about to sit up and comfort him further, when his hand moves to press down on your collarbones. He holds you in place as he looks at you for a second, heated gaze causing you to feel warm. Slowly, he bends to press a kiss on each of your eyelids, right below your eyebrows. He rests his lips on the bones there for a few moments before moving to the next.
"I love you," he murmurs, the truth of the statement oozing out too sincerely to ignore.
He doesn't give you a moment to breathe before diving right back into his explanation of how ancient prosthetics were integrated into modern medicine, hand resuming its path in your hair and voice slowly bringing you to a calm half-nap.
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agoodflyting · 8 months ago
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Why Aziraphale is completely ridiculous in the Bastille scene (and I love him so much for it)
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A while ago I posted a comparison of Aziraphale and Crowley's costumes in the 1793 flashback in Good Omens and I wanted to add these little tidbits. (Because they haunt me.)
I feel like most people know this but IF YOU DON'T, Paris in 1793 is right in the middle of something called La Terreur.
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HISTORY LESSON If you didn't learn this in school the French Revolution was when, after years of escalating social tension, a coalition representing the working classes of France revolted against the monarchy, violently overthrew King Louis XVI, and declared France to be a republic.
The new National Convention governing France ruled that King Louis XVI and his wife Marie Antoinette were traitors to the people of France because of how they had spent ridiculous amounts of money on luxuries for themselves while vast numbers of the lower classes were literally starving to death. (keep the bold in mind - wealth and class disparities were one of the key causes of the whole-ass revolution)
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In 1793 (year of the flashback) both the King and Queen were executed by guillotine for their crimes.
This kicks of something called The Reign of Terror (La Terreur if you want to be French about it). A multi-year-long period in which the National Convention goes on a bloody witch hunt for any and every member of the middle or upper classes who could even possibly be considered a traitor by those same standards.
If you A) had money or privilege, and B) had ever used your money or privilege to treat yourself, you were getting executed. Over 25,000 people died during the Reign of Terror, half of them by guillotine. In fact, the iconic guillotine was used because it was physically impossible to keep up with the sheer number of people they were executing in Paris every single day.
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Some things that could get you killed (actually and completely seriously) during the Reign of Terror:
Implying in any way you were sympathetic to the monarchy
Having a noble title
Having expensive things
Wearing expensive, luxurious clothes (*cough* AZIRAPHALE)
helping or sympathizing with anyone who did any of the above
a working-class person saying you were mean to them once
And then there's this bitch...
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I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME So we have established that Paris in 1793 is in the middle of a frenzied, state-sanctioned bloodbath in which the working classes are massacring everyone even remotely nobility-adjacent. And in the middle of this frenzy, Aziraphale proceeds to roll up in Paris in this outfit:
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How will this outfit get him killed? Let me count the ways...
First off- at this point everyone with even the tiniest shred of self- preservation is hiding the fact that they are in any way associated with the monarchy. The wealthy are straight-up abandoning mansions. The middle-class are plastering over decorations to make their house look 'poor'. The only people dressed remotely decent are the guys leading the National Convention and that's just because nobody can stop them. Everyone else is in 24/7 peasant cosplay or else they are covering themselves in cockades and sashes on to show they're pro-Republic.
Aziraphale is basically a giant shiny white sign saying I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME.
First off the lace jabot and lace cuffs are both associated with the old-school wealthy in the 1790's.
His coat is also decorated in gold braid and silver buttons, which are both marks of wealth and luxury.
He basically looks like he works for Louis XIV - not just rich, but old school rich.
We know it's his natural hair color, but hair powdering (with clay and starch) had been a big trend with the rich all throughout the 18th century to get that clean white venerable look . To someone who doesn't know it's natural, it would very much look like he's wearing hair powder.
He's wearing shades of cream and white, which are very hard to keep clean and clearly states that the wearer is rich and can afford the upkeep necessary to keep an outfit like that stain-free.
He's wearing white knee-breeches and stockings, also called culottes. See above about laundry and how rich you had to be to wear white, but also working-class men wore long pants like this:
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A large faction involved in the Revolution were the Sans-Culottes (no-culottes aka we wear long pants LIKE GOOD OLD WORKING MEN). Culottes are specifically associated with everything the revolution hated. That's right - Aziraphale is literally wearing The Fanciest of Fancy Pants in a city where a group called The Men Against Fancy Pants are running around murdering people.
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And then there are his shoes.
Oh god his shoes
I could do a whole post about Aziraphale's blessed little white satin pumps and how ridiculous they are.
Actually I might just do that because this is getting so long and I still have to talk about the brioche.
So I can't remember if it's in the script book or if it's from Neil Gaiman's tumblr, but it's apparently canon (?) that Aziraphale was going around in that outfit asking people where he could get crepes and brioche when he was arrested.
The Affair of the Brioches
So... uh... we've all heard the line attributed to Marie Antoinette- how when she was told that her people were starving because there was no bread left in Paris, she famously said...
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It's morphed into 'let them eat cake', but the line is first recorded as, "Then let them eat brioches."
While it's unlikely she ever actually said it, the important thing is that... people in 1793 would have thought she said it. It was used as political smear to show how arrogant and out of touch the monarchy was. Marie Antoinette in particular was reviled by the people of France, who thought she was the main cause of their economic problems. That's why she was executed too.
Bread and brioche and the lines between poverty and privilege were a big thing in Revolutionary France. There was a lot of political connotation to what you ate. The French Revolution came about because of decades of suffering among the lower classes of France. It wasn't something that some dudes just decided to do. The people of Paris have been through years of the absolute worst, most oppressive poverty and starvation you can imagine, all while watching the rich throw money around crazy.
So let us recap.
Aziraphale is dressed so ridiculously posh that he looks like a joke parody of a nobleman... and he is bumbling around Paris during the Reign of Terror. Asking people. For brioche. How I imagine everyone looked at him:
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It is so astoundingly tone deaf and tactless. He is basically cosplaying as Marie Antoinette and then going around asking the poor for cake.
I just.... Aziraphale. babygirl. no. oh no. You're lucky they even bothered to take you to prison. I am amazed Crowley ever let him live that down.
I have no conclusion other than this. Aziraphale is ridiculous and I love him so much.
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YES YOU REALLY SHOULD SIR.
2K notes · View notes
sunrizef1 · 5 months ago
Text
Bed Chem
Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Reader
Warnings: None
Authors Note: Im working lateeee cuz I'm too busy pretending Logan has a seatttt | this took so long actually wtf
TWITTER
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MESSAGES
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INSTAGRAM
yourusername
📍Paris, France
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liked by iamrebeccad carlossainz55 and 12,888,999 others
yourusername what a show @givenchy
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user1 mother
user2 my queen
user3 prettyyyyyyyyyyy
user4 🤭
iamrebeccad my fav girl 💋
liked by yourusername
user5 hot
user6 ❤️❤️
user7 I'm in love
user8 the sheer is giving
user9 I love you pls reply 😭
user10 my favvvvvvv I love HERRRRRR
user11 NEW MUSIC PLEASE BAE
carlosainz55 do you know your dress is see-through 😓
yourusername its givenchy!
user12 I need that dress 😭
user13 Y/N WHATS YOUR OPINION ON LOGAN SARGEANT
theweeknd 🔥
liked by yourusername
user14 MY pop icon
——
MESSAGES
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INSTAGRAM
yourusername added to their story
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iamrebeccad
🫶
yourusername
ilyyyy 💋
——
carlossainz55
y do u insist on calling me father so much
yourusername
Mama y papa
carlossainz55
what
yourusername
Papa y mama
carlossainz55
Okay
——
MESSAGES
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TWITTER
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INSTAGRAM
yourusername added to their story
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user1
NEW MUSIC???????
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user2
IS THAT JACK????
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iamrebeccad
Wait!!! What!!!
Can I hear it 🤭
yourusername
Ofc love 🤞
iamrebeccad
Is it about a certain American….
yourusername
Ahhh
Can't say 😶
iamrebeccad
That's a yes to me
——
MESSAGES
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INSTAGRAM
yourusername added to their story
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user1
ARE YOU GOING TO THE RACE QUEEN
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user2
Logan????
——
carlossainz55
Are you finally coming to a race???
yourusername
I have to be in Paris Sunday for a shoot 🫣
But I will be there the other days
But secretly
So don't tell anyone 😶
carlossainz55
Your secrets safe with me 🤐
——
TWITTER
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INSTAGRAM
yourusername
🎵Paris - Taylor Swift
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liked by logansargeant carlossainz55 and 12,999,888 others
yourusername je pense que vous souffrez d'un manque de vitamine moi
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user15 oui oui oui baguette
user16 viva la France
user17 someone call char lechair
user18 I thought she was gonna be at the race 😓
user19 BESTIE YOUR BOYFRIEND FINISHED 8TH DID YOU SEE
liked by yourusername
user19 SHE LIKED THIS COMMENTTTT
user20 “I think you're suffering from a lack of vitamin me” lmfao the caption
user21 wait what does the paper say????
user22 “I'm so fucking sick of having to hide how deeply I feel and how passionately I love you”
user21 WAIT THATS ADORABLEEEE
user23 my francophile queen
user24 I didn't know the Eiffel tower was so small
user25 this is so aesthetic core
user26 the yellow Parisian lighting really makes it
user27 I can name a certain American who's probably suffering from a lack of you
oscarpiastri oui
yourusername ok
user28 Oscar and y/n: my fav deadpan icons
user29 ooh la la huh huh huh 🥐
user30 are you happy to be in Paris?
yourusername oui
user31 y/n whats your favourite part of Paris
yourusername smells of piss. Constantly.
user32 pretty pretty pretty girl
logansargeant 🇫🇷🥐
liked by yourusername
user33 THE SONG FOR THE POST BEING PARIS BY TAYLOR???? IM SO IN LOVE THAT I MIGHT STOP BREATHING DREW A MAP ON YOUR BEDROOM CEILING???? She's in love!!!!!
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TWITTER
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INSTAGRAM
yourusername added to their story
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user1
LOGAN??????
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user2
boyfriend spotted
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user3
Soft launch?????
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user4
don't be shy
Post him on the feed
——
carlossainz55
you're welcome
I was the messenger
I did this
——
yourusername
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liked by logansargeant maxverstappen1 and 15,999,800 others
yourusername surprise! My new single “bed chem” is out now… come sleep with me 💋🛏️
load comments…
user34 WOOOOOO
user35 its so good 😭🫶😭😭🫶
user36 LOGANNNNNNNNN
user37 no tag????
user38 the first verse just being the most thinly veiled reference to the givenchy show… like girl 😭
user39 “I was in a sheer dress the day that we met” we've all seen the black dress 🤭
user40 “we were both in a rush we talked for a sec” that one video of them lmfao
user41 “your friend hit me up so we could connect” I say that's Oscar.
user42 Ive chosen to believe its Alex
user43 THIS SONGS ABOUT LOGAN?????
user44 “manifest that you're oversized” I'm going to pretend this isn't about Logan so I still see him again
oscarpiastri a lot of words I don't want to hear about my friend btw
yourusername well… idc
user45 who's the cute guy with the wide blue eyes? 😍
carlossainz55 ive finally made it into a song
liked by yourusername
user46 ok wait but the Paris pic is so cute 😭
user47 those messages are so funny 😭
user48 he only has eyes for his girl 🤭
iamrebeccad SO GOODDDDDD
yourusername 🫶
user49 I sense logie bear
user50 Logan Sargeant hard launch on the feed
logansargeant 🔥
yourusername 💋
——
logansargeant added to their story
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yourusername
Ily lo 💋💋💋💋
logansargeant
🤭🫶
——
Taglist:
@c-losur3 @llando4norris @lokideservesahug @casperlikej @evie-119 @awritingtree
1K notes · View notes
astonmartinii · 5 months ago
Text
match my freak | yuki tsunoda social media au
pairing: yuki tsunoda x fem rugby player reader
there's only one person who can match the yuki tsunoda radio freak...
MAIN MASTERLIST | TIP JAR
.・゜゜・ part of the aston martini summer olympics ・゜゜・.
yukitsunoda0511
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liked by pierregasly, danielricciardo and 384,098 others
tagged: yourusername
yukitsunoda0511: spa was fine i guess, time to spend my summer break in france (ew) supporting the love of my life (yay)
view all comments
user1: 'fine i guess' as if we didn't get YOINTS
user2: tbf if my gf looked like that, points also wouldn't matter to me
pierregasly: FRANCE (EW)??? DID OUR HOMOEROTIC TENSION MEAN NOTHING???
yukitsunoda0511: oh so when i diss france we had homoerotic tension but when i said we were boyfriends i went too far 🤨
pierregasly: diss me all you want but not the homeland?
yukitsunoda0511: fine, i will from 5pm tomorrow
pierregasly: ???
yukitsunoda0511: because y/n will be there and therefore it will be the ONLY country in existence
pierregasly: i give up
user3: i need a man this down bad for me asap
user4: maybe it's time to lower my height requirements :(
yourusername: it's not how tall you are but how you are tall
user5: idk what the fuck that means
yourusername: IT MEANS SHORT KINGS PUT IN A LOT OF EFFORT WHY DO I HAVE TO SPELL OUT EVERYTHING? WHERE IS THE MEDIA LITERACY? THE READ COMPREHENSION?
user6: okay i think i now know ^^ why y/n and yuki are so good together
user7: i need someone to edit together their most iconic on field and radio moments together please for my mental health
yourusername: that's a crazy coincidence because the love of MY life will also be in paris 🤨
yukitsunoda0511: well i bet i love my love of my life more than you love your love of your life
yourusername: NUH UH
yukitsunoda0511: yep :PPPPPPP
yourusername: u wanna fight?
yukitsunoda0511: yes actually!
yourusername: well soz babe i can't get all hot and bothered before competing 🤷‍♀️
yukitsunoda0511: BORING
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yourusername
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liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly and 318,905 others
tagged: yukitsunoda
yourusername: seeing yuki again: 10/10 ... realising he's not allowed in the olympic village and there's only cardboard beds anyway -100,000/10
view all comments
user12: so i suddenly understand why they give out so many condoms at the olympics
user13: why do they all go so feral?
yourusername: have you seen my man?
yourusername: AND THAT'S A RHETORICAL QUESTION TO SHOW OFF MY HANDSOME LITTLE MAN NOT AN INVITATION FOR YOU BITCHES TO THIRST
user14: noted 😔
pierregasly: i'm the one with a bad digital footprint but you're out here being just as horny as me on main
yourusername: i am allowed to ?
pierregasly: and i'm not allowed to?
yourusername: no
pierregasly: so fuck me i guess?
yourusername: let me be a woman in a male dominated field (being gross online)
yukitsunoda0511: yeah pierre stop trying to minimise womens' voices
pierregasly: how am i the bad guy again?
yourusername: man ❤️
pierregasly: yuki is a man?
yourusername: he's MY man which means he's been closely vetted and is basically one of the girls now
user14: i know visa cashapp rb or whatever the fuck they're called hate to see them coming
user15: it's the fact she's taller than most of the mechanics and she is always watching over them
yukitsunoda0511: i missed you so much but i can't wait to watch you beat the shit out of the competition
yourusername: for you, anything
yukitsunoda0511: a gold? so at least one of us can be world champion 🥺
yourusername: i'll win gold for you and then schedule in a friendly visit to see helmut
yukitsunoda0511: i think your mere presence could give him a heart attack
yourusername: oh well
user16: so real of her
olympics
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liked by yukitsunoda0511, landonorris and 1,209,678 others
tagged: newzealandrubgy
olympics: the women's rugby final saw gold go home to new zealand!
view all comments
user17: okay yuki i am SEEING THE VISION
user18: i watched this game to see her and i am a changed woman
user19: i am no better than a man
danielricciardo: my personal favourite moment was when y/n clotheslined that poor girl, laughed in her face and said if she tried to get past her again she'd make trinket dishes out of her knee caps
yourusername: why thank you, i think my wit is my least appreciated part of my game
danielricciardo: i think we should honestly get you in the commentary box
yourusername: i'd make mince meat of crofty, he'd never say anything about yuki's radios again
danielricciardo: can you tell them to stop telling me to retire while you're at it?
yourusername: sure, i'm feeling generous
danielricciardo: a gold medal will do that to you
user20: so they weren't joking when they said that her and yuki are just the same person in different fonts ?
user21: my commentary team apologised about 20 times for her swearing on the broadcast but then they kept bursting out laughing whenever she said anything
yukitsunoda0511: HOLY FUCKING SHIT
yukitsunoda0511: GOAT GOAT GOAT MY GIRLFRIEND IS THE GOAT
yukitsunoda0511: i'm so proud, i love you y/n 🫶🏻🥹❤️‍🩹
yourusername: i love you too boo
yukitsunoda0511: can they let me in the room now? i'm getting withdrawal symptoms :(
yourusername: of course, i can't celebrate properly without you
yukitsunoda0511: 😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄
user22: picturing yuki waiting outside the team room is so cute
user23: the nz team instagram posted a pic of it on their story he had flowers and balloons (∩˃o˂∩)♡
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yukitsunoda0511
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liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 893,401 others
tagged: yourusername
yukitsunoda0511: she matches my freak :)
view all comments
user25: oh believe me we know
user26: i'm like a confusing mix of scared AND turned on
yukitsunoda0511: you keep that to yourself
user27: okay sir 🤨
yukitsunoda0511: you can look but you can't touch :P
yukitsunoda0511: actually don't even look
yukitsunoda0511: don't even think about her ( 。 •̀ ᴖ •́ 。)
user28: this man is insane, i love him
yourusername: you LIKE HIM YOU APPRECIATE HIM FROM AFAR YOU MAYBE HAVE A PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP YOU DON'T LOVE HIM THAT'S FOR ME AND ME ONLY
user29: oh they weren't joking about matching each other's freaks
yourusername: there's no one else i'd like to be a lil gremlin with :3
yukitsunoda0511: gremlins forever with you <3
yourusername: sounds like paradise to me !!
yukitsunoda0511: i'm on it ✍🏻
user30: is he going to propose ???
user31: hopefully (ㅅ •᷄ ₃•᷅ )
pierregasly: yeah i guess you guys are kinda cute
yukitsunoda0511: kINDA?
yourusername: i know this man ain't speaking on us
yourusername: kika is the face economy in that relationship
yourusername: her back must hurt from carrying the style in this couple
francisca.cgomez: well 🥹
pierregasly: WHAT ? HOW ?
yukitsunoda0511: don't call my girlfriend kinda cute then 🤨
user32: good lord
fin.
note: she's back !!!!!
1K notes · View notes
aeribbon · 6 months ago
Text
you ready ? | carlos sainz
summary; when one time in ibiza, you made a deal with a random spanish man that if if in 5 years you weren't dating someone you would marry him... it's been 5 years !
pairing; carlos sainz x diplomat!reader
warnings; swearing ?? english isn't my first language !
an; also i'm taking requests pleaseeeeee give me scenarios i would gladly make them
fc; chiara king
navigation / masterlist
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yourusername - 2016
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liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, and 235 others !
yourusername me after doing handstands in the pool to impress him but see ya in 5 years ig
view all comments
carlossainz55 I hope so !
yourbestfriend that is a crazy bet but i'm here for it
yourfriend1 damn you're stunning
yourfriend2 okay period girl that tan ate
yourfriend3 yummy
username mmhm why is carlos liking and commenting ??
▮ username literally ahaha no way the f1 gossip pages still haven't found this
(yn's pov)
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5 years later
yourusername - 2021
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liked by yourbestfriend, yourfriend1, carlossains55, and 789 others !
yourusername single life means gno everyday !!!
view all comments
yourbestfriend thank god cause i couldn't stand that ugly rat
▮ yourfriend1 and he had the audacity to cheat !
▮ yourusername gotta get that rebound tonight
yourbestfriend i need you to stop traveling, i can assume you pookie no need to work and leave me every monday
▮ yourusername ily babe but i'm not gonna fuck up 10 years of studies for you <3
▮ yourbestfriend well i tried, ...
▮ yourbestfriend GIRL HOLD ON HOLD TF UP CHECK YOUR MESSAGES
y/n's pov
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yourusername - 2021
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liked by yourbestfriend, yourfriend2, carlossainz55 and 1290 others !
yourusername i love my job
view all comments
carlossainz55 so... it's been 5 years ! you still up ?
▮ yourusername omg carlos hi
▮ carlossainz55 yeah hi y/n (liked by author)
▮ maxverstappen1 ☕️
▮ username WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF
yourfriend2 when i'll buy france you'll be my prime minister and minister of international relationships
▮ yourusername how much will you pay me ?
yourbestfriend can i pls come with you next time
▮ yourusername no youre gonna distract me and yk i can't say no to you
▮ yourbestfriend i promise we'll go out only the last day !
▮ yourusername ok we might have a deal
yourfriend1 stunning
username let me spell gorjus right !
yourfriendwhichisamale loveeee never knew what i was missing
▮ yourusername bro if you don't shut up you're gonna make me fumble
▮ landonorris ouh 👀
▮ carlossainz55 cabron leave
carlos' pov
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carlossainz55 - 2024
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liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, alex_albon and 3m others !
carlossainz55 fell in love with her way before that deal trust me ! can't believe i actually get to call you MY wife after 3 years of relationship and the best years of my life, i love you y/n more than you could ever imagine ❤️
view all comments
yourbestfriend WELP I LOVE YOU GUYS
yourusername i love you too carlos and i think you've got an idea of how much i love you
maxverstappen1 congrats guys, i'm so proud of you guys and also for being part of that deal 😆❤️
▮ carlossainz55 shush that's a secret
▮ yourusername YOU WERE INVOLVED ?
landonorris my parents awww ily
username carlosy/n nation we are so alive omg
username i'm such a proud mom omg i love them so much
rúbendias congrats mate (like by author)
username their history is so wattpad coded please it's too cute for me
oscarpiastri can you please adopt me now ?
▮ charles_leclerc WHAT ??? NO WTF
▮ yourusername ofc my cutie osc anything for you my love
▮ carlossainz55 oh
▮ landonorris they're already my parents move and i'm y/n's favorite
▮ oscarpiastri i'm gonna hold your hand when i'll say this
▮ yourusername yeah sorry norris
yourusername - lake como
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liked by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 12k others !
yourusername made the deal for the plot but actually found my soulmate on the way, i love you carlos ! you're the love of my life ❤️
view all comments
yourbestfriend the way this story ended is my roman empire
username she's beautiful
username i knew this wedding wouldn't disappoint after seeing y/n's aesthetic
▮ username she's literally a diplomat and he's literally an f1 driver i was excepting something as big as they served us !
▮ username fr love them for this !!!!! this is so iconic imagine having your wedding in lake como
lilymunihe my baby i'm so happy for you awwww
▮ yourusername ily lily
carmenmmundt wedding of the year !! thank you for inviting george and i it was an incredible experience !
▮ yourusername awww thank you for being here carmen ily
username oh to be marrying the y/n
username idk if i want to be carlos or y/n
▮ username trust me i would kill to marry y/n
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
i tried ahaha pls i would love to have your feed back or any ideas for an smau !!
1K notes · View notes
sissa-arrows · 7 months ago
Text
The homeless man who was killed by a cop in France that I mentioned in this post?
Well the updates are making it so much worst.
Like I said he was Algerian. He was 32. His name was Amar and he was killed by a cop cause he was sleeping in the backyard shed of the cop’s grandma. At first we were told he was illegally sleeping there, threatened the cop with a gun then the story changed to a knife then to a weapon and ended up getting shot.
Except the investigation is showing something entirely different. He was actually sleeping in the shed because he had a deal with the grandma… she was old so he helped her around when she had to hold groceries, fix small stuff… and she let him live in the unused shed in exchange. So he wasn’t squatting the shed at all. He had a glue gun in his hands that shit does NOT look like a gun or a knife or any type of weapon especially not if you are a trained cop. The piece of shit show him 7 fucking times. 1 in the head 2 in the back. The one in the head was at point blank range suggesting that the cop started shooting Amar tried to run, the cop shot him twice in the back and then executed him. The piece is shit also proudly took a pic of Amar after killing him before he called anyone.
The police refuse to consider that the motive was racist despite the fact that Amar’s family lawyer say that the words used by the cop to qualify Amar during his testimony clearly show his racism. (I guess he used one of the dozen of anti Arab slurs the French have)
1K notes · View notes
waves-against-a-cliff · 1 month ago
Text
After the End - Post-Apocalypse Omegaverse AU
Summary - The final obstacles.
Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader, injuries, masturbation
Masterlist
Support me and get early access!
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For the next two nights they dote on Gaz and Soap, the two most injured of their pack, despite their grumblings and huffs. Though Soap can’t hide his chuffs as well as Gaz can and he earns a cheeky wink from his fellow mask alpha. Of course sitting in enemy woods is less then ideal while getting cozy and romantic but that hardly stops Gaz from being sat in Price’s lap while he dotes on his fellow alpha.
“Price, really this isn’t necssary,” Gaz insists but Price shakes his head and pushes what’s left of his rations for the night to Gaz.
“Please Kyle?” He damn nears begs for his partnered alpha to take the last half of the portions.
“John-” Gaz sighs and gingerly takes the portions from Price. “You know you’re playing dirty with those puppy eyes,” he snips but Price smiles and gives Gaz a little nuzzle to which he chuckles from.
Soap meanwhile is completely passed out, leaning against Ghost with his head on his shoulder and his injured shoulder rebandaged and treated with some salve they had learned to make from a fellow group of survivors. Sometimes Gaz wonders if they made it or if they ended up zombie flesh. They were really kind people. The kind don’t often make it he thought blearily as his eyes began to droop before a familiar scent filled his nose.
He immediately perks up and sniffs the air a few more times before his head snaps to the north where the wind is blowing from. “Do you smell that John? Simon?” He asks and gets silent nods as Soap wakes from his slumber as well.
“Aye, I smell it too,” Johnny says and shares a look with Ghost. “We’re close.”
“That we are. What do you say men? Ready to get going tomorrow at sun rise?” Price asks and the three other men give their affirmations. “Tomorrow at sun rise it is.”
The sun rising the next morning never felt so refreshing. Gaz, though he hardly slept because he kept catching small whiffs of the scent on the wind just enough for him. Just for him, it felt like a sirens call. Come to me Kyle, the scent whispers and there’s an extra sweet tinge to it around the edges, that if Gaz is recalling correctly means one thing and one thing only.
Heat.
They traversed together, practically holding hands. Hell, Soap might’ve actually held hands with Ghost for a little while until Gaz started to look a little too closely. They were not going to be split up this time by different traps or scents. They followed Gaz who was the one who was leading them towards where their precious, if not sadistic, omega was. Several times they, mostly Soap, almost fell for another trap but was yanked back by a member of their pack.
They were silent otherwise, their boots crunching the snow beneath them and it made some of them wince. Well, it made Ghost wince as he thought about how important it might be to get the element of surprise on such a vicious omega. Ghost had never encountered an omega so vicious and territorial. Then again, he thought, I’ve never met an omega who’s been alone for years. Truly alone.
Ghost could vaguely recall how he had been once he had been picked up in Mexico after digging himself out of that grave. Violent, baring his teeth at anyone who came near and he had needed to be sedated by the end of it. An unpleasant experience overall. As they walk, he tries to relate that to the omega. Alone in the woods for years, maybe even years before the end of the world as they knew it. It had taken them a while to get this far up north after being stranded in the country side of France.
He did not want to think about that time.
Then as they pushed through a few bushes there it was. A log cabin, the chimney did not emit smoke. “Clever girl,” Price comments as he observes the state of the cabin. “Windows boarded up and I’m willing to bet there’s a bar or something preventing us from opening the door easily,” he says, mostly to himself before he turns to the rest of his pack.
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You can hear them. Even though they tread quietly, underneath them you can hear every foot step after they finally opened the door. Certainly surprised to find it only locked. You wince as you think about having to replace that lock and venturing into town again. It’s such a long hike and you’ve been worn through the last few days.
The never ending anxiety and… well you’ve been trying to avoid the truth of it all. But it seems impossible at this point. And this on coming heat. The cotton stuffed into your nose only does so much and your inner omega whines and begs to take it out. To just breathe in their scents, that aroma that makes your head spin and heat go straight to your core.
Against your better judgement you do so. As if your hands aren’t your own, you take out the cotton stuffed up your nose and breathe in deeply. Their scents, this close, hits like a freight train. You cover your mouth right before a whine escapes and you rub your thighs together as an ache between them forms. You can’t possibily be quiet enough to eek another orgasm out, you’ve already had five in the last two hours. You keep waiting to hit a wall but it doesn’t come and the ache persists. Like an itch you cannot scratch yourself. Your omega purrs again at the thought of one of them. Or two. Hell maybe even three of them surviving the traps you have laid out for them in the cabin.
One last test, your omega purrs as you slide a hand between your legs as you lay in the nest you had built a day before. One last test and we can see who is fit to be our alpha. Or alphas.
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marsdql · 1 month ago
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𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ p. childhood boyfriend!sim jaeyun ⤫ 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳﹒wc: 9.2к﹒g. romantic drama, emotional romance, angst, slowburn, light fluff﹒cw. emotional distress, ghosting and abandonment, suidical thoughts, mental health struggles, manipulation, past trauma, reconciliation and healing, triggers of emotional abuse, toxicity, high levels of angst and emotional intensity, mild references to past toxic relationships. @wheretheheckis-ssaki
𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ synopsis ﹒During middle school, you and a boy in your friend’s class—named Sim Jaeyun—were inseparable, you both had your own friendg roup, he was a popular guy on the soccer team while you were a normal girl, yet would talk to each other on the phone everyday the second the bell rang. You both eventually fell for each other but had to keep your relationship private due to drama with girls. A year later—after everyone found out about you guys, he unexpectedly distanced—then disappeared. 10 years later, when you move to France for a few weeks due to a project in uni, you and Jake cross paths once again. (NOT PROOFREAD)
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Sim Jaeyun, he was the best boyfriend I could ever think of having, he was my first love, definitely. It started in the seventh grade, when he was in class 7G—the same class as my friends. I remember when my bestfriend first told me about how he’d catch people playing Roblox in class and signal it to the entire class—that’s when I started teasing him—he was my best friends locker buddy, so I’d see him everyday.
Everytime id see him—when he would be arguing about something stupid with his classmates, I’ll snarl at him, “shut up Jake! Go play your Roblox!”. For some odd reason, he was REALLY talkative, but the second I’d say that, he’d just shut up. He’d smile at me and continue packing his things to get to the bus, forgetting about the entire conversation he had with the people next to him.
Until one day, another normal day of me telling him the same line, he actually responded this time. ‘How about you go play Roblox, huh?’ He said. ‘Okay, I will then, make sure you join me in jayjay simulator!!!’ I replied—I don’t know why I said “jayjay”, it just came out—soon enough, that would be the name all the girls would start calling him—because of me. As I walked away with my bestfriend—heading to the bus, I whispered to her, “hey, you know, Jake is kinda cute.”
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Later that day, I decided to add him on my phone, message him—tease him a little bit more, he was funny—his reactions. He wasn’t like other boys, when you’d argue with him, he’d do it in a goofy way, he wouldn’t say actual harmful stuff—not to me Atleast.
- Jake: who is this?
- You: You didn’t join me in jayjay simulator. :(
- Jake: Hehe, yes I did!!!
He was so cute, even his messages were adorable. Whenever I’d playfully roleplay and fake random situations, people would call me childish, but with him, he’d play along, fully convincing eachother that everything we said was real.
I was determined to talk to this guy everyday, I’d find a random topic that has been spreading around our grade so that everyday, after school, I’d message him, using it as an excuse to talk to him. And it worked! I noticed that he’d even find some stuff too, so that he could message me. Once, he asked me for anime recommendations even though everyone knows him and his friendgroup hated anime, they made fun of it—except for blue lock of course—since it’s football related.
During my pe class, his friends that were in my class were destroying me in badminton—they weren’t that good…..but I just sucked at the sport! He peeked in, hoping to waste time from his class, and I screamed “Jake!!! Help me, your friends are bullying me…”
he was such a nice person to me, I’d tease him and say that he was rude in order to keep talking to him—in my mind, if I was accusing him of something, it’d be another reason for him to keep responding to me— and of course, it worked, I’m just a genius.
We were genuinely so funny, we both wanted to talk to eachother whenever we had the chance, but didn’t know how. Our biggest highlight was when we’d send random emojis to eachother for 4 hours straight just because we had no conversation anymore.
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On February 14th, at the valentines dance, we were pressured to hug by the crowd. At this point, I had the biggest crush on him but nobody knew. Since he was popular and quiet talk compared to the other boys(puberty hit him the earliest), most of my friends fancied him. I was stuck, how could I tell my friends that I liked him first, when I never told them? Anyway, we didn’t hug, we’re both so awkward and to be honest, I’m glad we didn’t, it’s too cringe hugging like that!
When we got home, he messaged me, telling me he’s sorry he didn’t hug me because….. his teacher was watching and didn’t want him to tell his parents??? What a stupid excuse… That’s not the point, Y/n get back into the topic! I don’t remember how we got to the conversation but we were talking about crushes, who we liked. I kid you not, it took us 3 hours to confess, and it was so obvious we were saying we liked each other! We kept asking each other for hints, obvious ones. But eventually, we both said each others name at the same time. I remember so vividly that I was playing cards with my brother, unable to focus because of the joy I was feeling after reading my name pop up.
Now that I look back at it, I realize how mature we were for our age, even though we confessed, we didn’t do anything about it, we didn’t start dating or anything—just got really awkward, stopped talking in real life after that…
Fast forward the summer of 7th grade, when we got together July 2nd at 2am. To be honest, it wasn’t the way I expected it to be.
A girl from my grade messaged me:
- g/n: Hey! You’re close to Jake, right?
- You: Hi g/n! And yeah, I am, why?
- g/n: well… me and him have been messaging for 2 weeks now and I kinda like him. I was hoping you’d help me?
I beg your pardon? Me? Help you? I don’t even know this girl, all I knew was that she was some popular girl in a big friendgroup. That friendgroup was always around jake’s, they craved their attention so much—it disgusted me. But, it’s not like he’s my boyfriend, who am I to say no, maybe he likes her.
I helped her that entire night—telling her to text him certain things that only I knew he’d enjoy. They started doing the same thing me and him did on Valentine’s Day, guessing each other’s crushes, it took me aback, I self sabotaged myself—for no reason at all. During all of it, he was messaging me at the same time, acting a sweet to me. For no reason at all, he sent me this out of context message, “Y/n, I enjoy messaging you a lot.” Seconds later,
- g/n: He was taking too long to tell me his crush so I just told him I like him and asked if he wants to get together!
What? Did I just read that right… I acted as if I didn’t see her message and went to respond to jake’s instead. “Oh really?” I questioned him, my heart was beating so fast at this point, I didn’t know what was going to happen, it has been months and we’re still in a talking stage, surely he wouldn’t get with a girl he started talking to just 2 weeks ago, right? That’s what I thought until another message popped up.
- g/n: GIRL OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU HE JUST SAID YES OMGOMG.
the second she said that, he responded to me, “yeah, I really do, you’re my favourite person to talk to.” Oh heck no. I’m hysterically sobbing—what the hell?
Okay I can’t do this deep detail stuff, fast forward again—he told me and the girl goodnight—well actually, he only told the girl goodnight, I’m the one who told him goodnight before he could say anything else because I was so close to blocking him. But, I couldn’t hold it in, I had to confront him.
- You: Jake, I know you’re not asleep, respond
- Jake: What’s up?
- You: Tell me now, who’s your crush?
- Jake: you already know who
- You: no I don’t, who is it
- Jake: you
- You: then why did you just ask out g/n?
- Jake: who told you
- You: it doesn’t matter who told me, answer me.
- Jake: I promise you I’ll tell you when you tell me who told you
I tried so hard to keep my composure, but I told him everything. Then, I asked him politely, “who do you want? Me or g/n?” no intention in making him choose between us, I genuinely wanted to know because I didn’t want to be lead on if he liked g/n—and I didn’t want g/n to be lead on in this relationship if he liked me. I never made him choose between us, I simply asked him who he liked because he just agreed to dating a girl 2 hours ago and is now telling me he likes me, anyone in my situation would’ve done that, right?
- Jake: you I pick you
- Jake: I want you
- Jake: I’m so sorry I was just desperate for someone and I thought you liked one of my friends at this point, I was so desperate I just agreed to her.
We got together right after he broke up with her the following morning—maybe it was kind of stupid of us to do it so soon, but we were both waiting in eachother since the day we confessed all those months ago, it was summer, everything felt right, we had a huge conversation that night and talked about eachother and all our hidden secrets til 4am. In that conversation, we also made it clear that we would keep our relationship private because he had friends who liked me and I also had multiple who liked him.
Riingg ! — back into reality.
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8:00am, you get up, brush your teeth, and your hair, wear a basic outfit you barely looked at before picking, and walk to the train station—waiting a few minutes for it to arrive.
There goes your alarm, woah, you just experienced your entire love story with Jake again, in a dream—you almost thought it was real. You're now 22, can’t believe that all happend 10 years ago. It feels as if it happend yesterday. Although, a lot has changed since then, You're not the same as before, you arent in middle school, or high school at all—but rather studying medicine in one of your dream universities. Your personality has changed a lot, the way you act has matured a lot aswell—you now know that you don’t need to be a brat in order to get people’s attention, hah…
Although your life has changed, the place to where your mind wanders hasn’t. You still remember the time you and Jake risked a day to go on a field trip downtown to a haunted house in the 8th grade—right after summer. You remember all the stares you got as you walked together—not even holding hands or anything, just simply walking. Everyone would ship you guys together—yet got so mad when they suspected that you two were dating.
A few days—not even—a few hours after the field trip, pictures of me and him were spreader everywhere. I was officially done for. My friends had left me a little before it all, I was already dealing with that loss—and now, I had to deal with the entire population of girls in my grade hating on me—simply for hanging out with a friend everyone knew I was close to.
I just didn’t get it. Everyone would ship us, everyone knew we were close, we didn’t even kiss—or hold hands—or hug—or anything! Why did everyone get so mad? They didn’t know or get the confirmation that we were dating—so why did I get ignored by everyone so secretively? Nobody talked to me about it, rumours spread about me and only me—about Jake—just me. The worse thing was, I didn’t have a say in anything. Nobody could say anything to my face, it was all behind my back, nobody dared to say anything while I was around, I never found out what they said—only small details of my last remaining friends that would overhear small stuff from crowds.
That’s basically how my entire 8th grade was like. I know some people would see it as a compliment that nobody could say anything to my friend—not even humiliate or bully me for it, but I felt as if it was the biggest curse ever. I never had a chance to speak about it, talk my feelings.
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The worse part is—Jake said it was going to be okay, he didn’t care about what people thought about us. But just a month after the entire incident—he ghosted me for two weeks, came back to say sorry then did it again for two weeks. Then, it became a month and came back later to talk about how he was moving to France at the end of the year. I knew about it already, I was the only person he told, but it felt so much wise because he was talking about it during a period where he was just constantly ghosting me.
It was soon going to be his birthday so I decided to send him a huge paragraph:
I’ve deleted every single person off my Snapchat to make sure we keep that “you and Jake have been each other's number one best friend for 2 months!” Even though it’s been almost a year since we had it, you know it only changes from 2 weeks, 2 months and two years. Yet still, you lost it. So so busy of you to lose that feature, texting someone else. I saw you online for a good 3 hours. How are you busy?
I said I don’t mind if you’re busy because we each have our own lives, but you’re completely ghosting me.
I can’t take a single apology from you anymore it makes me even more angry and frustrated I hate how much you take advantage of me because you know I’ll be the first to say “it’s alright” or “don’t think about it too much, I forgive you” and completely forget about every single breakdown I’ve had because of you.
I hate all of your sorry messages I hate the way I felt so happy each time you apologize even though you never changed, I hate when I begged you to stop calling you a bad boyfriend even though you are not only a bad boyfriend but the worst newest person that entered my life, I hate how much I can’t stop loving you despite all of the pain and hatred I’m getting from you, I hate how much I miss the times you were actually excited to text me, I hate it when I actually believed that you’d love me forever, I hate it when we talked about our future together and how we both prayed to be soulmates, I hate how you’re always the first thing that comes to mind when I wake up, do something, cry, laugh, lay down, work, and every single other thing I do in my life. I hate how much I love you more than you love me and I hate even more how much I’m aware of it. I hate the night you killed me inside and still found a way to make me happy in the end with your tricks. I hate how happy you look in real life when I see you with your friends knowing I have one friend and always have to plan ahead if she’s not here, how I have problems with everyone and even that current friend I’m not happy around, compared to you and your amazing friend group where everyone loves you and you love them.
I hate how you still manage to have a smile on your face even when we’re not texting. I don’t understand how much I hate you right now but it’s not hate as in how much I hate my old friends, it’s a hate of sadness and of “how could you do this to me” hate. I hate you so much I can’t get rid of you. I love you too much and that’s why I hate you. I hope to one day look back at my 8th grade and hopefully say that all this pain was all worth it in the end because I’ve ruined my childhood so much 7-8th grade because of you.
Tomorrow January 12 2024 will be the day me and you met last year. We’ve known each other for a year. Why does it feel like I’ve known you my whole life and I’ve felt miserable since birth? I can't do this anymore.
I wish I could be as happy as you when you’re with your friends, I wish I could be as careless as you, I wish I could go months without texting their partner just like you, I wish I didn’t need to worry if someone’s going to leave me or not, I wish I could have peace and calmness in my life, I wish I had friends I actually enjoyed, I wish I didn’t need to feel so lonely all the time, I wish I didn’t have to look down whenever I see you in the hallways so that I don’t embarrass myself, I wish I wasn’t always so angry, I wish I didn’t care so much about everything, I wish I wasn’t sensitive, I wish I was crying right now, I wish I could leave and forget everyone I met last and this year including you, I wish I didn’t start talking to you, I wish I was your first and only option, I wish I didn’t think of you everytime a song came up, I wish I didn’t think of you when I see something that I know you like, I wish I could find an end to all the things that come up to mind that don’t stop flowing when I’m writting these, I wish I didn’t waste all that money on you, I wish that Snapstreak I paid back for because you lost it, wasn’t lost again because you just didn’t feel like doing it anymore, I wish I didn’t cry to sad songs because they remind me of you, I wish I didn’t see myself in every mentally unstable situation, I wish I could go to sleep peacefully, I wish you were there when I needed you most, I wish you felt the way I felt, I wish you experienced the stuff I went through, I wish you could understand how I feel, I wish you would listen to me for once, I wish you’d understand the things I feel, I wish you knew how much I’m hurting, I wish I could tell someone about all my problems without feeling guilty afterwards, I wish I could shut my mouth up and stop talking so much especially when nobody enjoys it, I wish you’d snap-text me the way we used to, I wish you’d randomly tell me how much you love me like before, i wish you would beg me for forgiveness when you’d forget to reply for like 5 mins unlike how you leave me on delivered on purpose for 2 days now, I wish you felt grateful for me still being here, I wish I could move places and forget everything, I wish my sins weren’t all on my back even though I’m trying to move on, i wish I could move on from you, I wish I could forget about you the way you so easily forgot about me, I wish I could go to sleep without crying, I wish I could stop listening to my thoughts, I wish everyone would like me like you, I wish you’d understand everything and everyone I lost because I was with you, I wish you’d see how much people hate me because I’m with you and they were jealous, I wish you realize that i didn't care about how I have no friends because I knew I’d be able to talk to u when I get back home, that’s why I’m hurting so much now.
I wish you could ignore the girls that try to hit you up, just like how I do with the boys that simply want to be my friend, I wish you understood how stupidly I miss you, I wish you could treat me how I wish a man could treat me, I wish you’d never leave to France, I wish you never find a new person in France, I wish you’d understand how I can’t live without you anymore and it’s all your fault, I wish you’d see and understand that I feel so worried because I don’t want to lose you, I wish you’d comprehend that I wouldn’t get jealous for no reason and that I was overprotective but rather that you’re my first love and I’m scared of losing you, I wish you’d understand how much I try to talk to you and be around you, I wish you know and see how I finish all my work early or do it later just to try and be able to talk to you as much as I can, I wish you’d know how I’m writing all of this right now instead of revising for my test tomorrow. I wish I wouldn’t feel so tired after crying about you for just a few minutes, I wish my eyes weren’t always heavy because of you and crying because of you, I wish I could stop loving you forever.
Happy birthday Jake! Whenever I write ur name it always pops up as “JAKEEE” and it might sound stupid but I smile everytime I see it. I’m writing this at 11:19pm, on a day where you’re ghosting me, again for the second time. I don’t know what’s the reason this time, knowing you couldn’t keep your promise of not doing it again that you said not even a week ago.
I hope you’re aware I’m not stupid, I see when you’re online, I know you’ve left me on delivery for two days on purpose. When I said I don’t know about your reason “this time”, I in fact don’t know a lot of things that you do. When you’re in trouble I know you go on your phone for a couple minutes, you just decide to not even check up on me with that time. It sounds pathetic and unimportant but in my point of view it’s the most gut wrenching thing to know because I would, without a doubt, pick you out of everyone to talk to if I was going to die and had one last chance to talk to someone.
I’m typing all of this and I’m not even sure if we’ll make it till your birthday but, I’ve decided to completely forget about you when it hits 2024 if you still kept ghosting me because I wanna turn into a new person and throw away my past and all my old mistakes behind me that have been affecting my present. I try so hard to give myself excuses about you not texting, maybe you’re doing something with your parents like you said you were doing, maybe it was a surprise trip! But then I think more and realize that if you wanted to text me and say why you couldn’t text, you would’ve and if you couldn’t, you would’ve tried.
I hate how much I love you and I hate how much I’m aware that you don’t love me the same amount. My December is the absolute definition of “Hell”. I decided to wait for winter break to talk to you all about it and make myself better. What a fool I was for waiting and thinking you’d still text me the same. I hate how we text now, I don’t care about anything I just wanna feel special texting you the way we used to.
When I used to always tell you how tired I am based on how tired you are(like when you weren't tired and I was, I’d lie and say I wasn’t either, don’t know if you know what I’m talking about) I’d say it because I know myself, I know how if you were sad I’d be sad, if you’re happy I’m happy, when you’re not around I’m sad and when you’re around I’m happy.
You don’t understand the times I Thanked god each time you texted me back, even when it turned into an argument. I rather argue with you instead of no contact. That's how much I enjoy texting you. No matter how much I’ve cried and felt miserable being with you at times, I can’t seem to let you go. No matter how many boys that have liked me and I’ve never told you about, I decided to ignore and move on with my life. No matter how handsome they were, I myself don't understand why I see something in you that I don’t see with anyone else. Not being able to let you go is what kills me and I physically cannot live without you.
I can’t live a few hours without you, especially when I don't know the reason why you’re gone. When you told me you leave the people you don’t like texting on delivery, you told me that February 2023, a few days before the Valentine’s dance. If I told my February 2023 self that I’d be one of those people you keep on delivering, I’d laugh and start talking about how you’re such an amazing person.
And what’s worse is, I still laugh at myself and talk the best about you, even when I know deep down all the things I would rather swallow glass than go through again when I was with you.
I remember all our memories like it was yesterday, Jan 12, the first conversation when I added you on discord and you asked me “who is this” and i replied with “why didn’t you join me in nana simulator”. That day when going in the bus I told ____ “hey that Jake guy is kinda cute” but didn’t think it would get this far.
The time you made that stupid lie about not hugging me because mister ____ was there and u didn’t want ur parents to know.. I knew it was a lie, and I wasn’t upset that you didn’t hug me, I was uncomfortable as well at that moment, I was upset because someone hit me.
The night you got with g/n that was the same night you got with me. Every single conversation we had I remember it, even the stupid moment when you said you only liked g/n 40%. You say a lot of stupid things that turn out funny, that’s why I try to make myself feel better thinking you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, but I forget that you’re not a child and you know everything you do.
I seriously wish I was lying when I say I never cried this much in my life except when I met you, even now. Right now, you’re even active on Instagram and of course I’m still on delivery. I’ve never felt so pathetic and embarrassed in my life, just looking at that “delivered 2D” thing on ur name. How I watched your name go from “jake” to “Jake❤️” to “jaeyun” to “j” to your original name on snap that you have on default. “⚽️”.
I love you so much that even my mother loves you. Whenever you weren’t texting me (practically the entire December), my mother would ask me about you a lot, I knew she loved you so much and I didn’t want you to have a bad look to my mother so I’d lie to her for you and tell her that you just texted me that you couldn’t text and whenever she’d ask me again, I’d tell her that you were saying the truth and u haven’t went online ever since, even though I knew that you were online half of the time.
I’ve tried seeing you all the time at school just to look at you and act if we are still texting, even if it meant crying a bit in class while thinking about you because I was left without explanation and you always look so happy, despite my absence in your life.
I keep lying to myself and saying that you mean the words you say to me but I know you don’t try to see me in every person you come across the same way I do, you don’t think of me the second you wake up at night the way I do, you would never look for me In a room full of girls.
I wake up from dreams in the middle of the night and even if it was a nightmare my first thought would be you, even if most likely the nightmare would have something to do with you. When my phone is next to me and I wake up, the first thing I do is put my phone down and in my head I say “please say you texted” knowing that each time it’s never you. I go back to sleep and wait for a message knowing I’d never wake up again if it were the case. I say I wish you could communicate more so I could understand how much you love me but, do you not love me as much because you lack communication or do you lack communication because you don’t love me as much.?
I don’t really know how this happy birthday thing turned into a whole story about my love life with you and how miserable I’ve been ever since school started again. It’s 2:01am now and I just can’t seem to fall asleep when you’re on my mind. My head hurts thinking so much about you, my head goes dizzy and my eyes start to pump as if they have their own heartbeat, disgusting..
I love you so much I wish I could forget about you for my own well being.
7 snaps in the morning, none of them are you. So many boys on my phone yet you're still the only one I wish would text me. My head knows ur bad for me but my heart doesn’t wanna leave you, I’m scared of losing every opportunity of being able to be with you, but I guess I’m just wasting that time with my own well being.
3 days doesn't sound like a lot but when you’re always online and ignoring me on purpose, it sure is a long time. I wish I could leave you on delivery for that long. I tried to ignore you a few times but I couldn’t last more than 4 minutes. It hurts how much we are different in this relationship and how much love is we feel is unequal
I tried as much as I could to keep you as my number one best friend on snap. I told my entire best friend list that I couldn’t talk so that nobody would go up, and it still managed to get ruined. Lina spent her days spamming me and making me reply to stories she posts so that she could take the number one best friend list on my list, and it worked. I doubt I was still yours anyway.
I tried as much as I could to keep you as my number one best friend on snap. I told my entire best friend list that I couldn’t talk so that nobody would go up, and it still managed to get ruined. Lina spent her days spamming me and making me reply to stories she posts so that she could take the number one best friend list on my list, and it worked. I doubt I was still yours anyway.
It’s funny because it’s news years and 2 years ago, this was the day i met the online friend who left me.
The one I was attached with for 2 years and ruined my entire mental health throughout 6 and 7th grade. The one that YOU replaced. The one I talked about for hours with you on TikTok, the one I told you I would tell everything and ever since he left, you were the new person I started acting as if it was him.
That guy, that nasty guy I was best friends with, blocked me for fun and ghosted me just to see me suffer without him, and you’re just repeating all of it.
I know you’re never going to message me, yet I realize I keep checking my lock screen every 5 minutes, your Instagram status, your reposts, your snap score, everything. I keep myself on not disturb but keep checking to hope that maybe, just maybe, you would’ve decided to check my messages and reply.
If I knew that night was gonna be the last time we were gonna talk to each other, I would’ve listened to my gut and begged you to stay. I’ve repeated many things, this entire “paragraph”(more like a book lol.) is in scrabbles because I don’t know how to explain myself, I write so much each time and just keep feeling the same, no happiness.
I know I said if you don’t text before it hits 2024, I’d forget you and erase you from my life because I’m trying to change, but the truth is, I’m sure that even if you text me after, I’d reply the second I see your name. Although I might be still a little too confident thinking you’d text at all. I don’t want to leave you, even when I know it’s better for me. I want to text you “I wanna break up” so you could make some sense when you’re half swiping my message and quickly reply, but I’m scared that you wouldn’t question it and instead just say okay and leave for good.
I hate always being the one that gets attached in relationships, especially when the other isn’t.
I hate how when you came back after ghosting me for 2 weeks before ghosting me again this time, you were acting as if you were embarrassed and very guilty about what you did, you made me feel bad for you. While I was the one suffering and crying every chance I got, I was the one comforting you. “You don’t need to say sorry, I knew you wouldn’t do this without a reason, I know you wouldn’t mean it.
Even before you came back and said sorry, I had forgiven you. I just want you to focus on yourself but please, communicate with me next time, I’ll understand you.” Those were the words I told you. Why can’t anyone comfort me the same way I comfort people? Why were those the words I wanted to hear? Why are you, the one who makes me smile and who makes me wanna die as well, why are you the only reason I wanna keep living? Why do I see my life only as Important because I know if I died I wouldn’t be able to text you anymore?
I see you use Snapchat by your snap score going up, gosh it feels so pathetic to know I’m still on delivered. Stop doing this to me please I beg you it hurts too much I can’t handle any of it anymore. My eyes are constantly stinging and it hurts so much, I don’t deserve this, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy, with me, not at the look of me going crazy over you not texting me. I’ve been crying for hours and usually I’d run out of tears to cry, why is it that I keep gaining more this time?
Oh please, come back to me, I bear seeing anyone else with you. Our stupid conversations about getting married and lasting forever with eachother, why have you forgotten all of it?
I would’ve never thought i'd feel this way, i thought I loved my life and the only stress I had was school, why am I on winter break and going absolutely insane in the bathroom and in my room over a person like you.
I would’ve never thought id ever wanna die, why do I feel like it’s my only option to peace right now? Suicidal? No way! But I seriously can’t escape from the thought of you, I need you out of my life, but that would be worse, I just wish I never met you, that’s also a lie. I wish you never changed, I miss the times you would care about how I felt.
This month, December, is my worst year. I needed you most at this time, why did you make it harder for me, purposely? Remember when you got mad at me for playing with ___? Haha I was so sad you were ignoring me again and you admitted you didn’t wanna talk, I loved how overprotective you were acting, but why were you jealous about him when he treats me better than you? Why do I love you more than someone who treats me so much better?.
Wow, when I finished writing that, you checked my message. Dec 31 7:14. Opened. Let me guess, you’re gonna start apologizing “MY BAD MY MAD IM SO SORRY I GOT IN TROUBLE.”
And would you look at that, I wrote in my notes app:
Yup, just as a I thought, Jake: MB MY PARENTS TOOK MY PHONE. I sent this to him, all he had to say was he needed time alone and said “see u” when I said “byeee” what the hell. If I killed myself it wouldn’t be enough for this man..??? He doesn’t text me properly for almost a month and he needs TIME ALONE??? Ugh! Happy new years! I told him happy new years on 12 exactly and all he said was “thanks u to” and I said I was gonna become nicer and he said “cool” so I’m going to be straight up with him and ask if we are breaking up. I don’t wanna wait anymore t’il HE'S READY. All he said was no. Wth — His last words were; I love you so much, I'm sorry, I'll message you when i get the chance.
It’s safe to say, I really was going insane. He never texted me again in 8th grade after that—until, the summer before 9th grade. I remember how he asked if we could talk when I have time, he was in France by now by the way. I told him that I was surprised that I’m hearing him again, and said sure. All he had to say was, “I’m sorry for everything I did, I’m sorry for ghosting you and all, I was really going through it” I beg your pardon?
That’s all he wanted to talk about? Quickly, I respond with:
- you: No, Jake. I want to know what happend , why did you do that?
- Jake: I promise you, It was personal problems y/n
He was so stubborn, I know it wasn’t the reason, we would go through things but we’d go through them together—not the way he did it. But, i always saw the good in him, even in that moment, i wasn’t angry at him. When I was with him, he was amazing—so I always wanted to keep that image of him and not swifch up so quickly just because he ghosted me for practically a year now. But still, i had to do what I had to do so—I asked him the big question:
- You: you know, we never properly broke up, so, what is it? Do u still like me? You haven’t talked to me in forever, you’re supposed to answer this.
- Jake: you first
Not this again.
- you: Jake no. You’re the one who left so you’re the one who answers it.
- Jake: no no just please you first
- You: Jake. What do you want from me? opened.
There he goes again, that was for real the last message. I never heard from him again-
“next stop, _____ university” —
There’s the train—perfect timing.
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Today’s a weird day—maybe because it’s snowing, maybe because its the month he first started acting weird. Usually, you think of him before bed, not during the entire morning… You miss him, it’s been a while—You still wonder where he is now.
Sometimes, you wonder if you should drop out of university and become a famous model—maybe then he could recognise you and reach out.
You can barely remember his voice, you lost all my old videos from before you even started texting—those were the times you actually heard him speak, the rest was small talk and then completely no contact. Even when you guys were dating, you never spoke in real life—too scared and nervous.
You're finaly off the train—heading to class now, exams are coming up. You never got to experience it with Jake since he left to go to high-school in France, did I mention that already? You say to yourself. Actually, he had never removed his name from your school so when you had attendance on the first day of nineth grade, he was called in every single one of your classes. What a coincidence, you had never gotten in the same class for two years but then could’ve got all your first semester classes with him if he hadn’t left—what a way to play with your reason to live.
University isn’t like highschool anymore—it’s quieter, people are more focused on themselves than things that people have to say about eachother. You have a small group of friends that you met In highschool, you're glad you're still in touch despite how many years it’s been.
9:09am—huh??? Your class starts in a minute, shoot!
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You dont know why you rushed to get to class so quickly… it’s too boring, You're bout to fall asleep. As you were about to lay your head on the desk and doze off—you heard your professor mutter something a little interesting for once.
“Okay students, this doesn’t have to do with our major but the board entered my name to do a small project out of context. Today, and for the following month, there will be 15 people from this class and the class that starts in 2 hours who will travel abroad—more specifically to France-“
That’s all you needed to hear—you didn’t care about the rest, you heard France and knew that you were going to be participating in this activity. It’ll be fun, you say, i'll get to experience how Jake lived in France, you say. You say it all, with no intentions of actually meeting Jake. You just wanted to experience what he experienced, maybe it'd make you feel a little closer to him. Like always, you made everything in your life, about him. It’s like he was famous in your mind.
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You needed a break from your current place anyway, everything was all over the place, you felt as if you’ve been living the same days over and over again. Maybe this was an opportunity to change things a bit—get you out of your comfort zone.
You signed up so quickly to the program my teacher talked about a few days ago. You already found a roommate to stay with for the time you'll be staying there.
The guy you arranged to live with was a little bit younger than you, but you didn’t mind—you just needed a place to stay for a bit. You soon learned that he goes to the same university that you’ll be studying in, which is nice—you’ll have someone to help you around everything.
You’re counting the days until you leave—you called with the roommate and found out a few extra things about him. His name was ni-ki, he was also a foreigner except he’s permanently staying there. He’s in the same major as you and as you exchanged schedules, you saw that you guys had 2/4 classes together—that’s nice, already got a buddy to be with for half of your classes!
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You're now in France, heading to your apartment—ready to meet Ni-ki. Right before you can manage to knock, he opens the door—as if he was waiting for you by the door. "Hey," he speaks, his voice low and deep. He was tall and slim—it reminded you of Jake. You don't know how he looks like anymore, you haven't in a while. The last time you saw him, he was tall, above all the boys in your grade, you don't know anything about him anymore actually.
Before you could continue being lost in thought, Ni-ki speaks up once again. "How about you go get some rest, you look tired. You can tell me about your trip in the morning. Sounds good?" You nod, you were exhausted, the trip was long and you could barely close your eyes in the plane.
'Oh and, y/n, by the way, i'll invite some friends over for a bit, if that's alright with you?' 'yeah that's fine don't worry, I bet you i'll be so deep in sleep that I wouldn't even wake up if you guys bomb the place.' What a lie. You couldn't fall asleep at all.
right as you thought you were going to fall asleep, you heard the door burst open, the people Ni-ki invited finally arrived. You could hear like—five people? Oh wait—no—a sixth one—who.. Sounded a lot like—Jake.
You couldn't remember his voice but when you heard something like him—you just knew. What a great discovery, even if you were going to finally get some sleep—you definitely aren't now. You sat in the bed you were assigned to sleep in, listening to the boys downstairs chatting—the guy who sounded like Jake wasn't really talkative, maybe its not him—actually, you're sure its not him—you're just eavesdropping so that you could pretending that you're listening to Jake's voice.
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In the morning, Ni-ki had to wake you up for your class because you were still used to your old timezone. 'y/n... we have class in like 30 minutes...' 'Five more minutes... Get off of me, let me sleep!' 'I'll rip up all your clothes if you don't get up.' 'What? What! Okay, okay I'm up!'
You both ran to class, your apartment wasn't on campus but it was still close. You were introduced to the first two classes with Ni-ki by your side, you followed him everywhere for those first two periods—but now, you two next are alone—and you have no idea where to go.
Luckily, you spotted one of your teachers from your morning classes, they had to go fill out some papers and correct tests so they couldn't give you a tour of the school—but guided you to Ni-ki's class so that he could be excused out of his class and help you.
You walked into his class behind your teacher, not bothering to look at anyone to try and find him—too scared you'll make awkward eye contact with anyone who isn't him.
"I'm sorry for interrupting your lesson, Chanelle, but could we please steal your student Nishimura Riki for a period? We have a new foreign student who knows him and needs a tour of campus." Your teacher said to the one who was currently teaching Ni-ki's class. "Oh why of course, and don't apologise, i needed this few second break..." She responded. "Nishimura, get down here"
As she called him over, you follower her eyes—trying to spot Ni-ki. Then, you found him, laying back on a chair with his feet on the table, surrounded by 6 boys—probably the ones from yesterday.
'Hey ni-ki, whos that girl next to the teacher? You know her?' The purple haired boy asked. Just as you were going to smile and wave at him, your eyes spotted one of the boys who stood out a bit brighter than the rest—due to his immersive stare at you. Jake. There he was. Yes you haven't seen him in a while, but those eyes never change. it really was him—right infront of you. It was Jake.
You didn't utter a single word—turning quickly and just waiting for ni-ki to get down. You always imagined what you'd do when you saw him again—you just didn't expect it ever to be like this.
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In the afternoon, after both you and ni-ki got back to your apartment. You built up the courage to ask him, 'Hey, ni-ki, who were those boys you were with when I came into your class searching for you?' 'Oh them, those are my best friends. Heeseung, the purple haired one you heard, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon and Jake. We've been friends ever since i got here, but they've been childhood friends since they were little—except Jake, he came during highschool, but that's still a while ago! Y/n? Are you listening-' 'Yes! Yes! I am indeed!' 'Oh okay, well yeah. Actually, they're coming over again—i'll properly introduce you to them then!'
Excuse you? Coming over? Again? How many times do these boys come over? They just visited yesterday... "Again?" you spoke, voice a little lower than you hoped it'd be. "Yeah, they come over all the time, you'll love them, trust me!" He said, love filled in his eyes as he spoke about his friends—completely unaware of what you were currently thinking.
Minutes passed and suddenly, the doorbell rang. You instinctively froze, Ni-ki jogged to go get the door, leaving you in the living room alone, awkwardly waiting. "Guys, this is the girl from earlier, this is y/n, shes my roommate" One by one, they entered the room, you got up and kindly greeted all five of them—until it was turn for the sixth one who took a little longer to remove his coat after hearing ni-ki's words.
When it was Jake's turn, your heart sank, you looked at him from close up—he was different. His face had matured, his hair had thickened, He body looked a lot fuller and grown up than you last remember. A lot changed—but it was still so easy to tell it was him. Perfect nose, flawless face, the same eyes you fell in love with.
"Y/n?" Jake spoke, in a questioning tone, way lower than how he used to speak. You were surprised that he even said something, if you two were in 8th grade, he wouldn't even be able to look your way, head down as he walks past you to make it seem like he didn't see you—while you would stare at the lockers, the opposite direction of him. "Long time no see" was all you said, though your mind was saying alot more.
"You two know each other?" Jungwon asked as you both nodded. "What a small world!" Sunoo added.
The rest of the night was awkward, both you and Jake sneaking glances of each other, trying to admire everything that changed. We haven't seen each other in 10 years, It's normal. For a split second, you both had eye contact—his eyebrows lower than usual, his eyes in a weird shape, like if it was an apology.
He used to be so active, so energetic—but tonight, he was even quieter than when I heard him yesterday from upstairs.
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Sunghoon and Heeseung requested to watch a movie. You tried distracting yourself by helping Jay pick out snacks from the pantry, but his gaze was burning you, you could feel it no matter what you do. All of a sudden, ni-ki requested Jake to go grab some drinks. As he walked past you to the fridge he whispered, "Y/n, can we talk?"
It was starting to get late, each member leaving, keeping you and Jake alone. You didn't want to talk in the apartment with ni-ki so you both requested going outside the apartment, take a little walk as you talk.
It reminded you of when you went on that field trip, walking downtown with lights everywhere, as if you were in a movie, as if the world was only you and him, nothing else mattered. After minutes of silence, he broke it, Jake finally spoke.
- I didnt expect to you again. He said
- I didnt either.
- I wanted to apologise for everything, I know i said that the last time we spoke, but i really mean it this time. I know that whatever the reason was, I should've never acted that way.
- But Jake, how many times have we been through this before? Its been 10 years and yet you still say the same thing. I don't even know why I'm still here, listening to you say all of this, even after all the time that passed.
- I know I was always wrong, i know. My parents forced me okay? They didn't think I'd be able to focus on my education if I kept talking to you. My graders were dropping and they thought it was because of you when really it was because i was fooling around with my friends. I know you asked me if it was because of my parents and I said no but I was just so scared I didn't know what to do, I didn't want to disrespect my parents either and tell you that they were telling me to leave you.
As you were trying to find the words to respond to him, he continued.
- I know i was a jerk, and i dont expect you to forgive me so easily especially that im saying all of this so late, I didnt know if you would want to ever see my face again anyway. I needed to say this all because i cant keep it in anymore.
At this point, he’s sobbing, unable to even walk anymore—he just sat there, on the side of the road. His hands covering his face and trying to wipe his tears as fast as he face—now, avoiding your gaze at all times.
You’ve never seen him like this, he never cried, never spoke about his feelings, he never thought he should because he wanted to look strong all the time. “okay Jake, I forgive you, I forgave you a long time ago, just please, get up Jake. Let’s go to your place, I can’t leave you like this, please.” You pleaded, feeling sorry for him. You knew he had a kind heart deep down despite everything, your heart ached at the scene in front of you.
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You got to his place, helped him wash his face, his face flushed, embarrassed that he did all that after seeing you just once aft all those years. Everything was weird, despite the entire scene, everything was still unspoken, leaving plenty of things to discuss about.
As you sat him down on his couch, he said, "Y/n. I promise you for real this time, i'll tell you everything, I'll explain everything right now, I want to fix things even if it takes another 10 years to cure it all."
"Okay." you said, everything felt like the day you two confessed, explaining the unexplained, answering the questions you both were wondering about each other's actions back there.
Maybe it was going to take a while to get everything adjusted again, but you didn't mind, its not like you waited 10 years already, you know how to wait. None of that mattered right now, you were just relieved that finally—you have answers.
Maybe, it was worth it—having you famous in my mind.
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