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godmadeaterribleerror · 3 months ago

Text

I've Never Been Higher

Main Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, established realtionship, the tiniest amount of fluff and angst, just pure, raw smut (fingering, p in v sex, choking)

Summary/Warnings: Request from an anon! After you get drunk and expose your secret relationship with Ben, you know there will be consequences. Good thing they seem to be the fun kind.

Author's Note: I'm putting this one in the 60s-ish. It is very horny. Enjoy!

Word Count: 5k

This is a disaster.

You barely drink. It takes half a bar to get you drunk at all. You rarely have the patience or time to get to buzzed, let alone wasted.

Stumbling and tripping over your heels and words, the world is vibrant and bright but also a little hazy—like watching it through a thin, shimmering layer of fog—and loose-lipped, giggly, wasted.

Curled up in a booth with your normal, non-supe friends and whispering about nothing wasted. The room is spinning and turning but you’re too engrossed in how funny the word squirrels sounds wasted. One of your friends always keeping a hand on your shoulder, or an arm around your body, because one wrong ditzy smile or mention of him, and you’ll start to float upwards fucking wasted.

And they know that.

And you’d been really drunk. It was the weekend, and it was a celebration of something—you didn’t really remember what—and you’d been so fucking drunk, so when one of your friends asked how’s Ben with a teasing grin, you’d almost ascended just from the sound of his name.

You think you said he was perfect. Actually, you know you said he was perfect. Despite the entire night being hidden behind a shifting curtain of your drunken brain, you know exactly what you’d said about Ben, word for word.

Because it’s printed on the front page of the news. A massive quote of Soldier Boy settles down with B-list Hero? In big, black letters, accompanied by a very handsome picture of Ben, and a smaller, poorly lit photo of you.

An inside source tells us that, last night in uptown Manhattan, Vought’s own second list super-heroine Hurricane revealed that she and Soldier Boy have been going steady for over a year, and proved herself to be quite smitten with American’s Son.

You’d always hated that title for him. Ben was not America’s Son. He was more in line with America’s very grumpy father, and you were not a second list hero. You had the third highest save rate, and you’d only been at Vought for two years. You’d caught up with everyone in the first three months, and surpassed the rest by the end of the summer. You’d been warring back and forth with Liberty—the snide, conniving, weirdly possessive over Ben and hateful bitch—for second place for about a year now.

If fact, if you counted non-criminal saves—aiding people with their daily troubles, helping people who were in crisis, offering aid to charities and foundations—you were only a dozen or so behind Ben.

He says that’s why he noticed you. He says he’d seen how close you were creeping up behind him after only a year, how fast the gap between him and second place was closing, and he’d been furious but intrigued. Then he’d always say that he went to find you to snap that you should calm the fuck down and stop acting like you own this place, but you’d been so damn beautiful he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“I’d known you’d be mine right fucking there.” He’d grumble, his lips latched to your neck and his arms caging you against the wall. “I see a lot of hot fucking women, baby, but you’re the only one who’s made me look twice.”

You’d always giggle, run your hands through his hair, and try not smile like too much of an idiot into the air. “You know, you can’t be positive I didn’t just steal the air out of your lung on-“

Ben would swallow your words with a deep, rough kiss, shove his knee between your thighs, and chuckle at your high whine.

“I’m real damn sure,” he’d grunt your name, guiding you to grind against him as he spoke. “Because that shit doesn’t work on me, doll, and you fucking know it.”

“I-“ You’d gasp, pulling at his hair and squirming in his grip. “You’re getting cocky again-“

“You fucking love it.”

God, you did. You loved him. He’s full of shit, and you know he’s full of shit—he hadn’t been awestruck by you, he’d marched up to you, told you that you were a fucking problem, and then walked away—but you don’t love him any less for it. If anything, you love him more. He’s honest. You’ve never seen him be anything but himself, and it was a little like a sanctuary. Ben would tell you if you were being dramatic about something if you were in the wrong, or he’d threaten to chop off the balls of whoever had hurt you with such a violent fervor in his eyes if he knew you were right.

You feel bad a little for whoever one day pisses you off enough to let Ben loose on them.

He’d make sure your ideas were heard and implemented, when nobody was listening to you, then point at you when someone congratulated him on it and snap it was her fucking idea, you pussy-faced cock gobbler. Thank the lady then keep fucking working.

He’d bring you silent gifts every time he stepped over the threshold of your apartment. He’d fuck you like an animal in your bedroom, then hold you in the dark like you were something priceless. He’d put a hand on your thigh under the table, when meetings got too heated and you were in danger of quite literally flying at some dumbass who thought he was smarter than you.

And he did keep you secret, but you’d never protested. It had been your idea to begin with, and maybe you’d expected him to one day grunt at you that this dumb fucking secret shit is over, you’re my date to the movie tomorrow night, but he never had.

You’d go to all the red carpets separately, he’d track you down in the bathroom and fuck you on the sink—muttering low, dirty praise about how good you were taking him, how everyone was going to be able to fucking smell his cum filling you up, how you looked so fucking gorgeous in that dress and you were trying to damn kill him—before you parted ways and acted like co-workers for the rest of the night, right up until he showed up at your apartment as the after party settled down.

And you could’ve had him like that for a million years. If it was all he could give you, you’d take it and worship it and never try to make him more than he was. He was already, arguably, too much. But he was yours. He didn’t fuck other women—he hardly even looked at them—and it had never mattered what the vultures of the press said, you’d known Ben was yours, and that was all that mattered.

But now you’re staring at the paper, re-reading the article over and over like the words could suddenly change and nothing would be wrong, and for the first time, you’re afraid.

Not of Ben. Never of Ben.

Of how you’re going to lose him.

Because you’d been explicit. Vulgar. Incredibly detailed in ways you never were while sober.

Hurricane described in great deal her alleged sex life with the Golden Hero, claiming him to be a firm but generous lover, using a multitude of words not suited for publication. Our source details how she’d claimed that she reaches climax about “four times a night,” and that she wants to “marry his and have all his stupid, giant babies.” Multiple times throughout the conversation, Hurricane called Solider Boy the “best thing that ever happened to her,” and said she’d “jump off a cliff if he asked her to.”

If these claims are true, should the public prepare for an upcoming great American wedding? Or is Hurricane speaking of a one-sided obsession? Solider Boy has rarely been seen in public with the air-powered supe, and there is no evidence but her alleged word that they are anything more than co-workers. If Hurricane is lying-

You have to stop reading there, or you might choke on your own spit and fear. You’re not lying. It’s not alleged, it’s real and you meant every word of it, but Ben wasn’t supposed to know that. He was supposed to take the lead about where you went, and you were supposed to trail in his wake, admiring the way his skin seemed to sometimes be golden, and bask in how when he looked at you there seemed be something flaring and catching light in his eyes that was never there for anyone else.

You mean something to him. You know he sees you as more than a body. Ben calls you his girl, and his jaw twitches when a Vought suit or lower-level hero tries to flirt with you, and he has all the money in the world but he touches you like you’re the most valuable thing in his life.

You’re not sure how you’re going to face this. You have to face this—it’s the front fucking page, and it’s a mess, and you’re solely responsible—but you don’t want to. You want to fly up to space and never come down, or sink into the floor, or seal all the doors and windows and never leave.

And you know none of that would work. Ben would launch himself after you and you’d slam into his gravity because you didn’t know how not to. He’d pull you up from your self-inflicted grave without breaking a sweat. He’d kick and pry the doors open no matter how tight you sealed them, crashing into your apartment with an animalistic look in his eyes, his arms flexing and attention all on you, before picking you up and cradling you without a word because he was bad at them, but he did care.

Ben really did care.

And you can’t face him.

But you have to go to work.

And you hope you’ll just vanish off the face of the earth before you can enter the building, but the universe doesn’t seem to like you all that much today, so instead you’re barely a foot through the door before Legend his standing in front of you, brows raised and voice firm.

“Hurricane.”

“I, uh,” You swallow. “Yeah. Hi.”

His face doesn’t even move an inch. “I believe we need to talk, girl.”

“Do we?” Your voice is barely a squeak, and you really wish everyone would stop fucking looking at you. “I don’t- um- Look, I swear I didn’t-“

“My office.” Legend snaps. “Now.”

All you can do is nod and shuffle behind him, feeling a little like a child in trouble. You can feel all their eyes, almost hear the judgmental expressions and thoughts, the bitter and withering fears you’d been harboring in your chest since Ben asked you out—although it was more like he said you were smoking hot and he wanted to fuck you, you’d told him he’d need to try harder than that, and then the next day he’d shown up with more roses than you could hold in your hands and said you were hot, and interesting, and he wanted to fuck you put he wasn’t going to do it until you were begging him for it—coming to life in a loud and suffocating cloud around you.

You know he’s out of your league. Ben’s out of everyone’s league. He’s more than a god, he’s something primordial that crawled out of the earth just to guard it with his whole fucking existence.

And when you sit in Legend’s office, it feels even more certain that this is the end of more than just the love of your life. It’s so drastic, how much higher and better Ben is than you are, that there’s no way they’ll allow you to just say he’s yours. The public would never want him to be yours, because they can see it too. Everyone can see how unworthy you are-

“You get three minute to explain yourself.” Legend mutters, settling in his big, velvet chair, spinning a pen in his hands. “But you better have a top of the line reason for fucking around and claimin’ all that, or we’re going to be revisiting your tenure here. Go.”

Every breath you take is thin in your lungs. You need to speak, but no words are coming out. His chair is a throne, and the pen is an executioner’s axe, and you whole life is on a thread that depends on you speaking, but you can’t-

“I-“

There’s a crashing sound outside, a roar that sound like a lion or dragon or avenging angel, and Legend looks away from you with a shocked expression—which for him, means genuine interest flashing in his gaze and a twitch near his eyes—as Ben crashes through the door.

“Mr. Solider Boy, sir-“ Legend’s receptionist is scrambling behind him, her voice high and frantic. “You- He’s in a meeting- You’re not supposed-“

“Shut the fuck up, Mary.” Ben grunts, and the receptionist’s snaps closed. You mouth think she’s shocked he knows her name. “And close the damn door, Legend and I need to have a fucking chat.”

You swallow, starting to push to your feet, but Ben’s faster. His hands grasp your shoulders, pushing you back down into your chair, and they rest there as he glowers at Legend.

“Ben,” Legend sighs. “I told you we’d be meeting later-“

“And I told you there’s no way you’re talking to my girl without me there,” Ben hisses, his hands squeezing on your shoulders, and you’re a little dizzy.

His girl.

Not a secret, but still Ben’s girl.

And suddenly nothing really feels all that faraway or terrifying at all.

“I understand this is distressing for all of us-“

“Oh, fuck off and eat my fucking ass,” Ben rolls his eyes, leaning slightly over your body as he leers at Legend. He’s really warm. “You don’t know what in goddamn Christ you’re talking about, Legend, and you’re being a pussy fucking idiot-“

“Ben-“

“I said fuck off.” He growls your name, and it’s not at you. It’s like a wolf snarling and snapping at a threat to their pack. “She didn’t do a goddamn thing wrong, and you’re going to make her give herself a fucking aneurysm, so calm the fuck down and listen when I tell you to just fucking drop it, or I’ll carve your brain out of your skull and fucking feed it to you.”

Legend doesn’t flinch. He only tilts his head, scanning over Ben with an odd expression. “What have you been offered, Solider Boy, to defend her-“

Ben scoffs. “I can’t be fucking bribed, you dick-headed asswhore, I goddamn love this woman-“

It hits you like a freight train. Explosive and fast and brutal, irreversibly changing everything in your body until it all just a crumpled pile of Ben.

“You-“ Your voice is hoarse, and you lean back to look at him with wide eyes. “You love me?“

“Of course I fucking love you, shut up and-“ he grabs your hand, pinning it to the chair. The world had gotten so light, and you’d started to float, and Ben was keeping you there. With him. And he loved you. “Don’t lose your damn mind. Let me save your fucking job-“

“I love you too,” you whisper, and that manages to air its way through his fury.

“I know that. Stop flying.” Ben turns back to Legend, and you think he’s somehow taller. “You fire her, you lose me.”

That makes Legend’s face twitch again, and his eyes dart to you for only a second. You’ve seen that expression before, during meetings or negotiations that weren’t quite going his way.

He weighing his options. Trying to work out if Ben is bluffing.

Legend should know better.

Ben doesn’t bluff.

His hand still squeezing with carefully measured pressure on your shoulder, and his gaze is firm, and he’s not a liar. Ben has many, many vices—fractured and chipped and defunct parts of him you love just as much as the shining titanium that makes up the rest of him—but lying is not one of them.

If anything, Ben only ever doubles down.

“Don’t be a damn idiot,” he drawls, his words casual but his gaze on Legend a silent promise of violence. “The people fucking love it. They love her. She scores higher points with younger demos, and America loves love. They’ll love us. so I don’t know why you’re being such a pussy-brained motherfucker, but she is the best goddamn thing to happen to this company in fucking years.”

You think you’re going to ascend. That all the dizzying light and joy that Ben always silently plants in your body is going into bloom and rocketing up to the sun with his every word, and you have no choice but to rise up to that high, clouded but bright heaven with them. It’s a place born of Ben’s love. It hazy, pastel clouds, but they’re sturdier and more certain than anything else has ever been. You could build something here, known it would never crumble because Ben really, truly loves you. Even Legend’s skeptical expression and cool words can’t drag you down from down this.

And what they trigger only launches you further upwards.

“They’ll have to actually believe it,” Legend snips. “If we are going to allow this-“

Ben’s hand glide over your throat to grab your chin, he tips your head back, and kisses you. Deep and rough and heavy. The type of kiss he’s only ever given you behind a locked door, where he’s folding himself over you and invading your every sense, because now you’re pliant and moaning, and everything is Ben. Reaching up to try and tug on his hair and urge him further, grabbing his forearm for balance despite sitting down, making a strangled sound that’s meant to be his name when he presses his tongue down your throat-

He pulls back, presses a smaller, dangerously sweet kiss to your brow, and looks back to Legend.

“That fucking believable enough?”

You’d like to see Legend’s expression, but your gaze is trapped on Ben. His hand is still on your chin, grip relaxed as his thumb trails over your lower lip—you’re not sure he knows he’s doing that—and you can see the exact place on his jaw that you want to try and suck a mark on, even if it’s never worked before. His brows are raised in a challenging question as he stares down Legend, and his hair looks soft, and when he licks his lips slightly it sets off a million little sparks in your lower stomach-

“Ben.” You whisper, and he looks down at you with a frown.

“Wha-“

“Please.” You squeeze his arm, and he tenses behind you. “I- Please.”

A smirk creeps over his lips, and you think someone coughs, but they’re not Ben so it doesn’t really matter.

“You need me right now, sweet girl? Can’t even fucking wait, need me to fucking ruin you in the goddamn office-“

“I- You-” you squirm in your chair, reaching up to try and tug him back down to your level. “Stop being mean-“

He chuckles, but doesn’t move an inch. “You know I’m not being mean. You’ve seen me be fucking mean,” he drawls your name, and if he doesn’t move soon, you’re going to explode. “I’m just waiting for you to beg me fucking properly-“

“Please, Ben, please-“

“Please what.”

You’re past dignity, or trying to spar back and forth with him on this. He said he loves you. He said it, then kissed you like that, and nothing in the world is more important than feeling him all around you and over you and in you-

“Fuck me, Ben, please-“

There’s that same cough again, but you don’t really hear it. You can’t really hear anything but your heartbeat in your ears as Ben’s face splits into a wide, almost feral grin, and you won.

He slams his mouth back down to yours, grabbing you by the waist in a second and hauling you up to his chest—your legs wrapped around his torso as you shamelessly grind onto his stomach—and holding you there as his kiss turns starved and brutal, like he hasn’t done this almost every night for the past year.

You’re not complaining. With just his mouth almost molded into yours, one hand fisted in your hair while the other holds you steady against his body, and grunts that you can feel vibrate in his chest, you’re wrecked and whimpering in his arms. You need more. He’s everywhere but it’s not enough, and you’re aching and burning under his touch but it’s not enough-

Ben breaks the kiss when you start to scratch at his shoulders, and you take a ragged, sudden breath. You’d forgotten you needed to breathe, and the rush of air is sending you so high-

He starts to attack your neck and shoulders, tugging at your supe costume to continue his dizzying assault on your skin, and you wrap your arms around his neck in desperate attempt to not fly out of his hold. Ben’s own grip tightens in response—he knows how close you are, just from his kiss and touch, he always knows so you so well—and you squeak his name when he bites at your neck-

“Alright. I got it.” Someone’s talking that’s not Ben. Legend. You’d forgotten he existed at all. “It’s not fake, you’ll be dating, fine. You two can stop now-“

“Get out of my office.” Ben grunts, and Legend sighs.

“We’ve been over this, Soldier Boy, it’s not your-“

Ben pushes you down on the desk, rips off your shirt, starts to kiss over your breast with a possessive growl that sends a shiver up your spine, and Legend groans.

“Fine.” You’re vaguely aware of something shuffling around, but Ben’s rubbing a thumb over your nipples through your bra, and you’re incredibly focused on just holding on. “No messes.”

Neither of you make any promises, and you don’t think no messes is possible. Not as Ben shoves his hand into your panties the moment the door closes, tearing off your bra and lowering his mouth to suck and bite along your breasts.

“I-“ You gasp, your hands shooting to grip at his hair when two rough fingers shove right into your cunt, starting to pump in a smooth, unyielding rhythm. “God, fuck-“

“Say my name, baby,” he grunts, flicking his tongue over a nipple, working you into a frenzy as his fingers bump that deep spot and crook against it- “Say my fucking name and I’ll ruin you like you fucking deserve-“

“Please-“ You squeak as his thumb finds your clit, just pressing as he starts to kiss down your stomach. “Ben, please-“

“There she goes.” Ben nips at your stomach as he lowers himself further, an arm wrapping around your waist to pin you down when the remainder of your clothing is torn from your body and his fingers still, leaving you grinding hopelessly against his hand and gasping for air as a warm breeze picks up in the room. “Want my cock, sweetheart? Going to fucking beg for it like the pretty little slut you are, so fucking needy-“

“I’m-“ You gasp as he bites at your inner thigh, and you can feel his grip tighten again as your hair starts to float around your head. “Just for you, Ben, just need you, please-“

“Such good manners,” he drawls, pressing one, mockingly sweet kiss to your clit as he shoves your knees further apart. “So fucking wet, too. Anyone else get you like this, sweet girl-“

You shake your head, bucking your hips up into the air. “No- Never anyone else, just you-“

“That’s fucking right.” He growls, his thumb pressing to your clit, his breath warm over your cunt. “You’re all fucking mine-“

“Yours,” you gasp. “Ben, please-“

He rises back up, pinching your clit as his mouth crashes back into yours and groaning your name when you writhe against him.

“Christ on a fucking cross, baby-“

“Ben-“ Your snake your hand between when his body is wrapped over yours, palming at him through his pants. “More, need more-“

“Always fucking give you more,” he grunts, pulling your hair until your head tips further back with a whine. “Need to wait, use those pretty fucking manners-“

He cuts himself off with a groan as the wind starts to tear through the room, and you shove your hand into his pants, wrapping your hand around his dick and stroking it until his hips rut up into you-

Ben catches your wrist, and before you know what’s happening you’re flat on your back, your hands pinned over your head and Ben’s face hovering inches over yours.

“I said fucking wait.” He hisses, and you swallow. “You pull that shit and I’m going to blow all that cum you love so much on your fucking hand. Is that what you want?”

You shake your head, grinding up into where you can feel him, pressed right on your inner thigh.

“Words-“

“No.” Your words are breathy and desperate, and you don’t care. “Ben-“

“What do you want?” His tone is mocking, a smirk pulling at his lips, and God, he’s such an asshole but you fucking love him-

“You, want you, Ben-“

He hums, dropping the full weight of his hips over yours and chuckling at your high whine when the head of his cock bumps at your clit. “What do you want me to do-“

“Fuck me,” there’s no hesitation in your voice. With Ben, there never is. “Want your cock, Ben, please-“

It’s all he needs. Ben slams into you with one movement, but doesn’t move. He just splits you open beneath his and grins at your dazed expression, the head of him pressed right on that spot and fuck, he needs to move-

“Need a second, pretty girl?”

“I- move-“ You squeeze around him, pride glowing in your chest at the low, rumbling groan it draws from his chest. “Ben-“

He gives one rough thrust, pulling all the way out before slamming back in, and you let out a high, strangled sound of need.

“Say you’re mine.” He growls, repeating the movement, a little faster. “Tell me who fucks you this good, who you fucking love, who makes you a cockdrunk, needy little slut-“

He’s makes another thrust with every demand, and the euphoria of Ben all around and in you is like a truth serum. If you wanted to lie, you couldn’t.

This feels too fucking good.

“Yours Ben, I’m yours, it’s only you,” you gasp as he bruises against that one spot, his mouth diving down to suck at your neck. “Always you, just you, I love you, please-“

That snaps him. Ben starts to fuck you, really, properly fuck you, your hands still trapped above you and his cock bruising your cervix as he hammers into your dripping cunt, letting your scratch and claw at his broad, muscled back and whine his name as his balls slap on your ass and his free hand plays with your tits until you’re writhing and gasping below him-

“Fucking mine.” He grunts, his thrusts never breaking pace as you hurl towards release. “So fucking desperate for me, baby, nobody’s gonna fuck you like I do, fucking love you, love this pretty fucking pussy, such a good girl for me, squeezing my cock so fucking tight-“

You make a strangled sound that’s supposed to be his name, and Ben swallows it with his mouth over yours.

“Need to cum in you, baby,” he growls down your throat, his hand gliding your body to rest over your throat. “Need to fucking fill you up, let everyone know you’re fucking mine-“

You nod a little stupidly, a white-hot coil wound so tight in your stomach, so close to snapping-

Ben pushes up off of you, reaching an inhuman, abusing and perfect pace in your cunt, and right as the coil burst like starlight through your body, he squeezes his hand around your throat with just the right amount of pressure to drag the mind-numbing pleasure on and on, letting you ride your orgasm as he roars your name and comes with one last slam of his hips.

He tugs you back to his chest as you both come down, knowing far better than you let your body go when you’re still light-headed and drunk on how warm you feel. Full of Ben and used by him in the best possible way, and he loves you, he’s said it two times now and that’s real.

Ben drags two fingers through your dripping, still fluttering pussy, stuffing his cum back inside of you—a tiny ritual he always seems to do for himself, because you’re on the pill but he always glows with pride after, so you let him indulge—as he kisses over your collarbone, and you bury your face in his neck with an easy hum.

“Are you,” you sigh, clinging to his body like a baby as his rubs firm circles over your back. “Were you serious?”

You can hear the frown in his voice. “I’m always fucking serious-“

“I know, I just mean-“ You sigh, leaning back to scan over his handsome, solid features. “About us. Are we- Is this public now?”

His jaw clenches slightly. “You’re the one who was calling me the best thing that ever happened to you-“

“I- you are, I just want to be sure you’re sure-“

“I’ve been sure since I fucking saw you,” Ben says your name, his voice firm, and you just stare at him. “The secret shit was your idea, and I’d move a fucking mountain for you, so I did it, but it’s always been fucking dumb as shit.”

“Oh.” You swallow, offering him a small smile. “Sorry.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up. We’re public, sweetheart, and every single fucking pussy in the world is going to know you’re mine.”

“Good,” you hum, resting your head back on his shoulder. “You’re mine too, you know.”

“I’m damn well aware.” Ben kisses the side of your head, tracing a hand up your spine. “All fucking yours.”

End Note: I never have more fun than coming up with Soldier Boy insults. Channeling all the swearing I can't do at work into this.

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jackhues · 1 year ago

Text

...and maybe it's not love... | oscar piastri

note: here's part 2 <3 i think this will have 3/4 parts, but they might be split up if i reach the picture limit.

prev || next

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader, logan x best friend!reader, one sided!enemies to lovers

faceclaim: various, from pinterest

youruser

liked by oscarpiastri, y/bffsuser, landonorris & others

youruser: what can i say? i'm a busy gal

user: bae... are you soft launching someone or is this just logan again? -> logansargeant: it's not me -> user: LOGAN MY GLORIOUS AMERICAN KING! WHO IS THIS??

user: why are the f1 boys here?? -> user: bcz she took a picture with oscar and i guess they're all friends now -> user: and it's only lando. quite overreacting

yourmomsig: too busy for family dinner -> youruser: ma if it was only our family i'd have been there. i just wasn't in the mood to deal with aunt griselda -> logansargeant: yeah thanks for that, i had to take ur place -> youruser: love you logie

logansargeant: you know you idiots are so cute it almost makes up for making me have dinner with aunt griselda -> user: stop he calls her aunt, 'aunt' - those two are siblings your honors -> youruser: i already told you i love you... what more do you want?

user: GIRL ARE YOU BACK WITH YOUR EX? -> youruser: ew no

user: come home the kids miss you

user: bae who is this man you're taking pics with? do i have to be jealous? -> youruser: nah we're just friends -> user: YOU MEAN YOU'RE FREAKING US ALL OUT TO TELL US THE MAN DIDN'T EVEN MAKE IT OFFICIAL YET?? -> youruser: i'm actually crying at this comment this is the funniest fucking thing i've ever read- -> oscarpiastri: she has literal tears streaming down her face -> user: ARIANA? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

oscarpiastri: too busy of a gal to answer your texts? -> youruser: depends on who it is -> user: guys stop logan's besties are becoming besties- i love this!

youruser

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, oscarpiastri & others

youruser: signin' out

oscarpiastri: photo creds? -> youruser: no -> user: wait... oscar was at the graduation??????? -> user: i don't think so... he took the first and/or third picture and neither of them are at the ceremony itself. i think he was just invited to the party -> user: quit crushing my dreams girl

logansargeant: proud of you 🤍 -> youruser: love you logie 🤍

landonorris: just in time for hot girl summer -> youruser: 🤪🤪

user: wait i thought she already graduated -> user: this is her law school graduation i think -> user: isn't she like 23?? how?? -> youruser: max course loads + studying during summers! wasn't fun, but i'm FREEEEE

user: girlBOSS

y/bffsuser: i love you !! so so proud -> youruser: i adore you 😘

yourmomsig: love you sweetie, i'm so proud of you -> youruser: love you more ma

user: wait where's the 'friend' she was soft launching a while back -> youruser: we're still going good, trust -> user: lowkey think it's oscar

yourprivuser

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, y/bffsuser & others

youruser: fun night with fun people

tagged: y/bffsuser, oscarpiastri, logansargeant, friend2, friend3, friend4

oscarpiastri: probably the closest i'll be to graduating -> youruser: it's why i graduated twice, once for me, once for you

y/bffsuser: girl my face was not nice in that last pic -> youruser: puhleasee you look hot

logansargeant: i feel like there's someone you need to thank for all of this -> youruser: uhhhh god? -> logansargeant: girlllllll -> youruser: ugh thank you logan hunter sargeant, the greatest american to have ever lived

f1gossip

liked by user, user, user & others

f1gossip: sources say that oscar piastri was in fort lauderdale between the canadian and brazilian gp. he was most likely there for y/n y/ln's graduation, but we cannot confirm if he attended the ceremony or only the party afterwards. the two know each other through their best friend logan sargeant, and we can confirm that they've only become friends during the miami gp, which is around the same time y/n began soft launching someone she calls a 'friend'

many think her and oscar piastri have started or are starting a relationship, and the belief has been cemented by him attending her graduation party. these pictures look like oscar and y/n going out for dinner with her friends, holding hands at one point, and then hanging out at oscar's hotel afterwards. we cannot confirm or deny that any of these pictures are in fact oscar and y/n as they aren't clear, but they do look similar to them.

for more information on y/n y/ln, check out the link in our bio

tagged: oscarpiastri, youruser, logansargeant

user: i ship them

user: bro who even is she??

user: how much y'all wanna bet she's not even really friends with logan?

user: that doesn't even look like oscar, y'all wilding

user: maybe he's just there to support a friend (in denial)

user: she doesn't look good

user: i don't like them together

user: oscar's too good for her

user: y'all hella interested in people who don't give a shit about you

youruser: wow my very own post on f1gossip- mom look i made it -> yourmomsig: congrats baby -> user: HER MOM ACTUALLY COMMENTED LMAOOOOO -> user: i changed my mind i stan her -> user: guys i really hope she's with oscar -> user: i don't think she is 😢 otherwise she'd probably ignore this post

user: y'all as much as i love them, i doubt they're together- most wags ignore these posts and this chick's out here commenting and calling her mom 💀

Y/N STARED AT THE MCLAREN CAP, unsure if she should wear it. It shouldn't mean anything to the public, just her showing support to one of her new friends. Because to them, that's all Oscar really was. Her friend.

They didn't know about the constant texts, the late night face times, the movie dates while across an ocean from each other. They didn't know about the way her heart would race whenever she saw his text, how he'd make her giggly and blush just by calling her a cute little nickname. They knew nothing.

Besides, she was wearing a Williams Racing shirt in support of Logan. Why should a simple McLaren cap - not even fully papaya colored - mean anything to the public?

"Oh my God, just put the cap on," Logan groaned, making way over and putting it on her head for her.

Y/N rolled her eyes, fixing the cap so it didn't ruin her hair.

"Shut up," she muttered. "I'm just nervous."

"You have no need to be," Logan promised her. "Oscar's going to lose his mind when he sees you in person, turn into a stuttering, stumbling mess, and you're going to be so touched by his awkwardness that you're going fall in love. All in all, it's a win-win situation."

"I don't like you," Y/N rolled her eyes, following Logan out of the hotel and in the car. She had arrived in England a few days ago, but kept a low profile. She missed the first two practices, before deciding to arrive on track for FP3 and quali. She'd also make her way over for the race tomorrow.

The two best friends shared TikToks and reels with each other during the short drive, making their way out of the car and towards the paddock once they arrived. Y/N tried to keep her hands at her sides, away from the McLaren cap on her head. No need to make it obvious. Cameras flashed and recorded videos as her and Logan walked down, making her incredibly nervous.

She felt hot, really hot. And... was she sweating? She resisted the urge to smell.

"You're fine," Logan promised, sensing her inner anxiety. "Nobody's focusing on your cap, they take videos of all the drivers arriving at track. Stop spiraling."

Y/N blinked back to the present at Logan's words, realizing that she was indeed falling into a spiral. It was all going to be okay. Logan was going to be there no matter what.

"Thanks Logie," she smiled. "You're the best."

"Yeah, I know," he nodded to himself.

She rolled her eyes, swatting him in the arm. Arriving outside the Williams' garage, she waved at Alex Albon.

"Hey, Y/N," he jogged over from inside. "How are you? Logan never even told me you're coming."

"I'm great Alex, thanks," she grinned. "And it was a bit of a surprise. I didn't want people to know I was coming here today. I have a job interview in a few days, so I decided why not come early and watch the GP in person."

"Good decision," he laughed. He looked at her cap, "Are you heading inside or heading to McLaren?"

"Uh... I think I'll head over to McLaren," she decided. "I don't want news of my arrival reaching Oscar before I get to surprise him."

Alex raised his brows, before fixing his expression, "Right, you guys finally met at Miami. I take it you became friends, right?"

"Yeah," Y/N nodded, trying not to let her heart eyes show. "I probably should've taken Logan's offer to meet his racing friends years ago. Most of them are pretty cool."

"I hope I'm one of them," Alex joked.

"You're at the top of the list," she winked. "Anyways, I'll catch you guys later on. Don't leave without me Logan."

"Same goes to you," he waved.

Y/N flipped him off, turning to make her way to McLaren garage. She could hear Logan's laughter behind her, making her smile to herself. Who knew when the last time he genuinely laughed on a race weekend even was?

Over the last few months, she'd seen lots of clips of Oscar and Logan hanging out together - more than usual - and usually joining them was Lando. It seemed that the Brit was interested in becoming friends with Logan after Miami, which honestly made her happy.

She arrived outside the McLaren garage, debating if she should head in or wait outside, or maybe just head back to Williams.

Before she could make up her mind, she heard someone make a surprised little noise.

"Y/N?" Lando asked, exiting the garage once he saw her. "You're here? Oscar that little brat, he never even told me you're going to visit."

"That's because he doesn't know," Y/N laughed. "It's a surprise. I kind of insinuated that I wouldn't be able to watch the race at all, but... well, I'm here!"

"Ugh you two are just so absolutely adorable," Lando sighed, slinging an arm over her shoulder. "C'mon, I'll take you to him. He said he's going to talk to his dad, I think."

"His dad's here?" She asked, stopping in her tracks. "Why did no one tell me his dad was going to be here?"

"Quit freaking out," Lando rolled his eyes. "His real dad's not here, I don't think."

"Then who is he — Charles?" Y/N asked. "They're still doing that little bit from Monaco."

Lando pointed to where Oscar was, indeed talking with someone in Ferrari gear. Y/N stood on her tiptoes, recognizing Charles Leclerc and his girlfriend, in the middle of some conversation with Oscar. Leo slept soundly in Alexandra's arms.

"Let's wait for them to finish their conversation," Y/N suggested, feeling bad for coming up to them while they were talking.

"Nope," Lando shook his head, leading her across and closer to Oscar.

"Lando, no, no, no, Lando, I will throw you under one of the cars, no, Lando—"

"Quick, laugh like I said something funny," Lando whispered.

Y/N was so surprised by his request, that she stopped trying to plot his murder.

"Laugh, woman!" Lando muttered.

"Oh, right," Y/N responded.

Trying her best to seem somewhat genuine, she thought of that time Oscar texted her because he walked into a pole. Which made her laugh so hard, she walked into a door.

She giggled at the memory, laughing as the duo approached the others.

Lando, seeing Oscar's head whip over immediately at the sound of her laughter, began giggling too. The two had to stop a few steps away from Oscar, Charles and Alexandra because of how hard they were laughing.

"Did you see— the way he—" Lando couldn't get a sentence out without bursting into another round of laughter.

"Lando, get your shit together," Y/N wiped her eyes, straightening up.

Charles and Alex raised their eyebrows, entirely confused by what was happening a few steps away from them, while Oscar stared at Y/N like she was a mound of gold.

"Okay, okay— never mind, I can't do it," Lando fell into another round of laughter every time he remembered how quickly Oscar looked at her.

"Oh my God," Y/N muttered, sending an apologetic smile towards the trio near them.

She grabbed Lando's arm and dragged him the final few steps, smiling at the small group.

"I'm so sorry about that," she apologized. "Lando here doesn't know how to behave."

At this point, Lando's laughter, which was finally beginning to stop, starting up all over again.

"I'm sorry guys, I'm so sorry," Lando got out. "I'm not laughing at you guys, I promise. I'm laughing at Osc."

"What did I do?" Oscar asked, finally snapping out of whatever trance he'd gone in after hearing Y/N's laughter.

At his question, Lando's laughter came back, this time high pitched and bringing on some tears.

Y/N leaned closer to Oscar, whispering, "Is this normal?"

"Just ignore him," he responded, hoping she couldn't hear his heart beating all over his body. "It'll stop eventually."

"If it doesn't it'll give the rest of us an edge in the race," Charles offered.

"Right, uh Charles, Alexandra, this is Y/N," Oscar introduced them, the group now choosing to ignore Lando as he sat on the floor and laughed some more. "She's uh, a friend of mine, and also Logan's best friend. She usually only comes to Miami, but apparently is here today."

"Surprise!" She grinned.

Oscar smiled, the feeling of her happiness radiating towards him. Maybe he liked surprises a lot more than he realized.

"Logan, uh..."

"Sargeant," Lando supplied to Charles from his spot on the floor, wiping his eyes to clear up some tears. "The one who drives for Williams."

Y/N's smile dipped slightly at the reminder that Charles was another driver who wasn't quite close with Logan. But she brought the smile back immediately, doing her best to be nice.

In fact, it was only because Oscar had his eyes on Y/N the entire time that he noticed the small dip. He didn't know just what it was about, but he remembered her make the same expression when she first met Lando.

"Right, yeah," Charles nodded. "I just wanted to make sure I had the right one. It's nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Charles, and this is my girlfriend Alex."

"Nice to meet you guys," she smiled again, and it was as if nothing was wrong. She cooed at Leo asleep in Alex's arms, "Aw, cute dog. I've been more of a cat person my whole life, but I love puppies."

"His name's Leo," Alex introduced the dog.

"Oh, he's adorable," she grinned.

"Well, it was nice to meet you Y/N," Charles nodded in her direction. "We've got to go now, but hopefully we'll see you later on. Bye Lando, bye son."

"Bye dad," Oscar laughed.

"Bye," Lando waved at them.

Once they were gone, Y/N looked back at Oscar, only to see him already looking at her.

"Hi," she smiled.

"Hey," he breathed out.

"Oi, you two are being too lovey dovey in front of the cameras," Lando warned them. "Go to the motorhome or something."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but he wasn't wrong. There were much more cameras around McLaren than Williams, and people would be dissecting Y/N and Oscar's every move. Considering they weren't even dating, she wanted to keep the secret for a little while longer.

"Right, uh... you wanna come along, Y/N?" Oscar asked her.

"Sure, I'm not due back at Williams until the end of the day," she shrugged. "I got to return my paddock pass then. Coming, Lando?"

"No thank you," he shook his head. "I like my spot on the floor, and I'd rather not accidentally be a cockblock."

"Lando, we're not going to have sex in Oscar's motorhome," Y/N rolled her eyes.

"We're not?" Oscar asked, a joking glint in his eyes.

"Take me out on a date first, then we'll see," she responded in the same tone, turning towards the motorhome and making her way there.

"Hey, I already asked," he reminded her, catching up. "It's up to you to decide when you're cashing in the rain check."

Y/N tilted her head at him, a small smile making its way to her face. "Tell you what, you win the race tomorrow, I'll go on a date with you the next day."

Oscar smirked, "Well, I have to win the race now."

"Nice to know where your motivation factor lies."

The two arrived outside the room, and Oscar opened the door for her.

"What a gentleman," Y/N grinned to herself, entering the small space.

She took a seat on the bed, while Oscar sat in the chair by the desk.

"Are you okay?" Oscar asked once it was just the two of them, no cameras, no Lando, no one else.

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, there's something bothering you," Oscar noted. "Or it did bother you at one point. When you were talking to Charles and Alex, you frowned at the start of the conversation. Right after I'd introduced you to them. Like, as if you were upset by something they said or did, I don't know."

Y/N frowned again at the reminder of that interaction, before shaking her head quickly to clear her thoughts.

"Nothing, I mean... like it's not a big deal," she tried to explain. "It's just this weird thing about me."

"You know you can trust me with anything, right?"

"I know, Oscar," she sighed. "It's just... it's complicated, I guess."

"If you want to talk about it, I've got time," he responded.

Y/N stared at him, remembering how she thought she hated him just a few months ago. She saw him as an egotistic prick, who'd left her best friend in the dust after stealing him from her. And here he was now... telling her he'd listen to her if she wanted him to.

"I didn't like you for a long time," she confessed.

At Oscar's hurt look, she continued quickly.

"Wait, no, that didn't come out the way I wanted," she closed her eyes. "I mean, like when we were kids, a long, long time ago. Because, for our entire lives, it'd been Logan and I. We did everything together, always. And then he got serious with racing, and he made other friends. Which was fine by me, because I'd always been his best friend. The only one who managed to come close to my position in Logan's eyes, was you. You were the one who'd managed to be one of his closest friends, because of racing, and you were the one who was closest to taking my place. And... well I was jealous. Which was why I often ran away after Logan's races, never stopped to meet you or talk with you, or any of the other drivers.

"And, you know, the years passed, and Logan and I remained close, and the jealousy faded, but then, I don't know. I guess I was embarrassed to talk to you, because I'd been jealous for so long. And then you both went into F1, and I told myself I'd be happy for both of you... but I wasn't, really. You just— I mean, you came into F1, and the love for you was immediate. The fans, your team, the other drivers. They all loved you, and they wanted to talk to you. And Logan... Logan got stuck with a shitty car and a shitty team, and none of the drivers even wanted to talk to him."

She took a deep breath, continuing, "and I know it's not your fault, but I love Logan, okay? Like I'd quite literally give up my life for him, and seeing him constantly in a place where he wasn't being treated fairly, where he wasn't happy.... it hurts. He's here because he loves racing, but every time people talk shit about him or act like he didn't put in so much work to be here, it makes me upset. I was... I don't know, envious of you on behalf of Logan, if that makes sense. And so I kind of ignored you during F1 as well. But then I began talking to you, and that first time I heard you speak, stumbling over your words, I think that's when I realized you were human. Just like Logan. You didn't choose it to be this way and you can't help it. And you know, a lot of times I can forget most of the people out there have never acknowledged Logan, because he's asked me to forget it so many times, but then they remind me that they haven't... and it hurts, Oscar. It hurts to see that. So you know, I'm sorry for judging you before ever even meeting you. That was stupid of me."

Oscar stared at her for a moment, feeling sick at her words. He'd never had someone who he was that close with, not outside of his family. He couldn't even imagine what went through her head every time she saw him, or the other drivers. He didn't blame her for her feelings, she had every right to hate anyone out there.

"Oscar?" she began hesitantly. "Are you... are you alright?"

He got up from his chair, standing in front of her and pulling her close. She immediately wrapped her arms around his waist, melting into his hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry that I let it happen."

"Oscar, it's not your fault," she said, her voice muffled by his embrace. "I realize that now, and it's something Logan's always known. He's never blamed you, I don't either. It's just the way life works."

"It's not great," Oscar commented.

"Nah, not really," she agreed. "But it won't stay like this forever."

She wouldn't let it.

liked by youruser, logansargeant, y/bffsuser & others

f1: and it's the FIRST career GRAND PRIX WIN for oscar piastri! a daring move by the aussie in the final laps of the race put him ahead of max verstappen and as the leader of the race, where he led quite comfortably to the checkered flag

mclaren: that's our guy!!

user: OSCARRRRR GO OFF

user: LOGAN IN POINTS SOMEONE TALK ABOUT LOGAN IN POINTS -> user: your honor they're boyfriends

youruser: wow a race winner -> oscarpiastri: it was nothing

user: OSCAR OSCAR OSCAR OSCAR

user: someone check on y/n -> user: ???? -> user: well her and oscar might be dating no one knows. but she's besties with logan, and one of them won and the other's in points so she might be celebrating

oscarpiastri

liked by youruser, landonorris, logansargeant & others

oscarpiastri: winning the race ➡️ winning in life

user: OSCAR JACK PIASTRI!! WHO IS THIS???

user: mans just dropped a whole bomb and left

user: boy isn't responding to ANYONE -> user: he said 'look at my girl' and then dipped

user: y'all that's y/n i'm calling it -> user: no she looks too tall in the second pic -> user: i think she's wearing heels

user: oscar get your ass back on this app and answer the peoples' questions -> oscarpiastri: no.

youruser: ugh i love her nails -> oscarpiastri: 🙄 she said thanks babe -> youruser: your girl loves me more than you -> oscarpiastri: i'm afraid it may be so

user: NAH IT AINT Y/N! LOOK AT HER COMMENTS

user: y/n bestie boo tell us who oscar's new girl is -> youruser: no.

user: y/n and oscar are hilarious bcz she's been soft launching her 'friend' for months and now oscar's hiding a whole girlfriend from us -> user: i see what logan meant when he said they're too similar but also completely opposite

user: i still think the girl's y/n

youruser:

liked by y/bffsuser, logansargeant, landonorris & others

youruser: summer of 24... you were definitely one for the books

tagged: oscarpiastri

user: YOU'VE BEEN SOFTLAUNCHING OSCAR ALL ALONG????

user: the way i didn't actually see this one coming

user: I FUCKING KNEW ITT

oscarpiastri: best summer yet 🩷 -> youruser: got me blushing and shii

logansargeant: i'd like a written thank you card for being the reason you two are together -> youruser: no 🤍

user: i just KNOW logan's been their biggest shipper

yourmomsig: cutiess

oscarpiastri

liked by youruser, charles_leclerc, logansargeant & others

oscarpiastri: it's been ten years in the making

tagged: youruser

user: SHUT UP

user: wait they've been dating for TEN YEARS??!! -> user: no i think he had a crush on her for like ten years

youruser: i adore you 🩷 -> oscarpiastri: it's hard not to adore me

youruser: s i m p -> oscarpiastri: are you complaining? -> youruser: no

logansargeant: again. am i getting a thank you at all??? -> oscarpiastri: sorry my future wife said no -> youruser: jasdjfakhfrshgous -> user: nah she real for that- i'd do the same if oscar said that about me

user: she needs to lose some weight

user: ew why does she smile like that

user: MOM AND DAD

landonorris: i'd also like a thank you for not being a cockblock -> oscarpiastri: no.

f1gossip

liked by user, user, user & others

f1gossip: well it's officially been confirmed by oscar piastri and y/n y/ln that they are dating and have been together for at least the summer. it's unclear when they began dating, but we can assume it was after the miami grand prix, where it is believed that they met for the first time.

y/n y/ln is the childhood best friend of logan sargeant, and has took to social media multiple times to defend him. she has completed law school, and we believe she works in england, which is where oscar is located at the moment. for more information on y/n y/ln and the timeline of her and oscar piastri's relationship, check the link in our bio

user: bro who cares

user: i thought this was a driver gossip page not the wags

user: what does oscar see in her? -> user: right like she has to have bewitched him

user: i love her she's such a girlboss

user: idk how oscar does it. my brain would stop working once she smiled at me

user: something about their relationship screams pr to me -> user: like wdym they only met in miami bcz fans wanted them to and now they're dating -> user: nah that's sketchy

notes: well here's the anticipated part 2!! i hope you guys enjoy it! if you'd like to be added to my tag list, please comment on part one of this series just so all the comments are in one place. let me know what you guys think of this part in the comments + reblogs <3

NEXT PART!

and again my tags don't always work, so you might want to follow my writing tag 'naqia writes!' or the tag for this short series 'the bsf of my bsf! series' so they show up on your dash at some point :)

don't forget to like AND reblog!!

tags: @ravisinghs-wife , @urfavsgf , @mxdi0 , @lemon-lav , @lilipiggytails , @stinkyjax , @blckgrl-sunflower , @littlemisssummer , @dreamsarebig , @k-pevensie28 , @themislovesf1 , @hellowgoodbye , @chezmardybum , @5sospenguinqueen , @charlotte1697 , @stylestastic , @sie17136 , @2lsargeant , @softpiastri <33

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marzipanandminutiae · 6 months ago

Note

would you have any reading suggestions to learn more about the earrings are evil era??? I've never heard of that aspect of fashion history and I am curious

Oh man, it was wild

you saw the first stirrings of it in the 1890s, when you started to get (mostly white and middle-to-upper-class) proto-feminists arguing that ear piercing was barbaric- keep an eye on the racist undertones there; they will come up again-and forcing women to suffer for fashion. I cannot emphasize enough that, until that point, ear piercing had been pretty much normal for this race/class/gender group. For centuries. You see criticism of the practice here and there, but nothing that really stuck.

The objections slowly increased until roughly the mid-1920s, when everything reached a tipping point and pierced ears became largely taboo for most white Americans and Brits of northern/western European descent. If that sounds HIGHLY specific, it is- communities from southern and sometimes eastern Europe retained cultural practices of ear piercing, to the point where it was often used as a point against them by mainstream society. It was also associated with Latino people, Black people, and the Romani, which. Yeah. I don't need to tell you how that went down.

It also developed associations with sexual immorality and/or backwards thinking. One newspaper letter I read came from a teen girl in the 1940s, wondering why she shouldn't pierce her ears if her very respectable grandmother had piercings. The response was something like "well, they did all sorts of things in the Bad Old Days that we shouldn't do now." True in many ways, or course, but...piercing your ears? That's the hill culture decided to die on as far as antiquated behavior that we should leave behind? Apparently yes.

Earrings themselves never went out of style, which led to the birth of clip-ons and screwbacks. Ironic that the "don't surfer for fashion" crowd was so eager to embrace screwing tiny vices onto your ears, but there we are. My own mother (born 1953) remembers her mother (born 1926) always taking off her screwback earrings immediately after getting home from a party, literally in the foyer of their house the second the door shut. There had been adaptations for unpierced ears before- Little Women, published in 1868, describes Meg March hanging earrings from a flesh-colored silk ribbon tied around the base of her ear -but they'd never caught on like this before.

However, the pendulum was soon to swing back. After just 40 years of Piercing Panic, in the 1960s, girls began piercing their ears again in droves. As piercing moved from the slumber party or summer camp back to the professional jewelers whose families had been early professional piercers in the 19th century- and to befuddled doctors who had no idea what they were doing yet still received piercing requests -cultural commentators had no idea what to make of it. Some decried the new trend while most took an air of bemused neutrality. My personal favorite article expressed surprise that "Space Age misses" were adopting these "Victorian traditions."

(In 1965, my grandmother took Mom to the anesthesiologist down the street who was offering to pierce his young daughter's friends gratis, and got it done. My grandfather had strongly disapproved of the idea, but in the end it took him a week to notice the new earrings.)

As to sources...honestly, I've just gone to Google Books, specified a time frame, and typed in "ear piercing," "pierced ears," "pierce ears," etc. Tons of primary sources at your fingertips, though I'm not always great about documenting or saving what I find. There's not much written about it formally, I've found- no books or scholarly studies. It may just be too close in history to attract much academic attention, though I find it fascinating.

This little blip where something that's been normal for most of western history suddenly became taboo for a hot second.

Also my ear piercings just turned 20 five days ago, commemorating the date that I was taken with much ceremony to Piercing Pagoda (and that horrible gun; it's a wonder I didn't get keloids) to get me out from underfoot while the Thanksgiving feast was being made. Grandma got hers pierced on the same day, at age 78. Happy Birthday, Marzi's ear piercings!

#ask #anon #fashion history #history #piercing #ear piercings #long post

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emjayewrites · 6 months ago

Text

The Year I Turned 25 • JK + AT (3/10)

SYNOPSIS: Grammy-winning R&B artist Y/N Y/LN, 25, is closing out the North American leg of her tour, riding high on the success of her sophomore album "The Year I Turned 24" - a raw, emotional project born from her public breakup with an NFL player. As she prepares for six weeks in Europe before the international leg of her tour, she's determined to have her own "hot girl summer," yet she’s unaware that she's about to get entangled with not one but two professional footballers - Jules Koundé and Aurélien Tchouaméni - sparking new public interest in her love life and forcing her to confront her fears about dating athletes again.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Y/N Y/LN (fc: Ayra Starr) x Aurélien Tchouaméni

WARNINGS: cursing, football b.s., not so glamorous life of a celebrity, mentions of mental illness/misogyny/slut shaming/cheating, drug use (marijuana), drinking, rotational dating, eventual smut, paragon partners/polyamory — 18+ only

TAGLIST: @irishmanwhore, @sucredreamer, @judesvirtual, @saturnville, @peyiswriting, @greedyjudge2, @pepfectionary, @alika-4466, @julescpu, @lettersofgold, @hopefulromantic1, @a-moment-captured, @serpenttines-library, @f1-football-fiend, @purplelewlew, @enretrogue, @judesprxncess, @yeea-nah @127hydrangeas, @sunfairyy, @pinkcatcus, @muglermami, @bbgkoo, @greyishbach @sinflowersugar @cranberryjulce

CHAPTER 3: Another One, Thank You!

Hamburg greeted YN with unexpected sunshine and a hotel room with a view of the harbor. She'd barely finished unpacking when her phone buzzed:

Aurélien 🌹 Settled in? I'm taking you somewhere nice tonight

YN Define 'nice' 🤔

Aurélien You'll see. Wear something that shows off what you want me to touch later 😏

YN's mouth went dry. The man did not believe in subtle flirting.

YN And if I want you to touch everything?

Aurélien Then why did you wanna get dinner? We could've just chilled in my room

"Touché," she muttered.

Her phone buzzed again, this time the group chat:

Jules 🇫🇷 You good YN?

Aurélien 🌹 Taking YN to Heimat tonight

Jules 🇫🇷 Good choice. Those views 👌🏾 Treat her well but not too well, I need her tomorrow 😌

YN I'm right here! 🙄

Aurélien 🌹 We know 😈

These men are going to be the death of me. She was about to respond when an Instagram notification caught her eye:

deuxmoi: SPOTTED: Grammy winner YN_YLN with French football star Jules Koundé at froyo spot in Düsseldorf! A source says they looked "very cozy" 👀 [Fan photo attached]

view all comments...

popculture_daily: The way he's looking at her though! 🔥 ynglobaldom: MY QUEEN WINNING chartdata: Her power>>> gossipgirl2024: Wait didn't you say you saw her with TWO French players? Drop the tea sis

Shit. I have to keep this lowkey.

For what? her intrusive thoughts challenged. Men get seen with different women all the time. Did Damari hide his fun?

That makes you no better than him! her rational side countered. Keep it under wraps.

She had to agree — the potential scandal of being seen with both of them...

Though part of her wanted to say fuck it. Why should she hide?

"Because being famous is annoying sometimes," she muttered, unpacking her suitcase and arranging her outfits in the closet. She plugged in her essential oil diffuser — lavender to calm her nerves — and lined up her skincare on the marble bathroom counter.

The challenge: what to wear for dinner with Aurélien? Something that said "I'm sexy but not desperate for dick" even though she was, in fact, kind of desperate for his. After twenty minutes of trying on different options, she settled on a black silk slip dress that hit mid-thigh – classy but with enough potential to make his eyes darken.

A quick shower to freshen up, then she wrapped herself in the hotel's fluffy robe and started her getting-ready playlist. Her favorite songs filled the room as she did her makeup, singing along while blending her eyeshadow:

"I might kill my ex, not the best idea… His new girlfriend's next, how'd I get here?"

She switched to Beyoncé as she curled her hair: "I'm warning who I bring to this dinner…"

How appropriate, she thought, pinning half her curls up to show off her neck.

By 8PM, she was applying a final coat of lipgloss when a knock echoed through the suite. Her heart, and pussy, jumped.

She opened the door to find Aurélien looking edible in a fitted black button-down and slacks. His eyes did that slow drag over her body that made her feel like prey - in the best way.

"Beautiful," he said, his signature smirk appearing. "Ready?"

"Let me grab my bag."

His hand found the small of her back as they walked to the elevator - always touching, always claiming space.

Heimat had good lighting and harbor views, and their corner table was intimate without trying too hard. Aurélien pulled out her chair, then sat close enough that his knee pressed against hers.

"So," he reached for the wine list, "besides being an incredible singer and looking gorgeous, what else should I know about YN?"

"You tell me what you want to know."

"Everything." No hesitation. His directness made her flush.

Over wine and appetizers, she learned he was obsessed with basketball ("Knicks till I die, but Lakers when they're good"), played the piano, and had strong opinions about American culture.

His hand had migrated to her thigh, but his touch wasn't purely sexual – he squeezed gently when she talked about her music, traced patterns when she mentioned her mom, and pulled back when she tensed discussing her past.

"That's why the Browns are gonna have a trash season," he said when Damari came up.

"You follow American football?"

"Enough to know your ex is gonna be riding the bench," Aurélien said simply. "But his loss is my gain."

"Our gain," she corrected.

"Ah yes, can't forget Jules." He grinned.

The conversation flowed easily - from childhood dreams to current goals, favorite books to worst dates. He was surprisingly funny, dropping deadpan jokes that had her snorting into her wine.

"Did you know," he said seriously, "that Jules sleepwalks?"

"No way."

"Once found him trying to make a sandwich in his sleep. Completely naked."

By dessert, she'd learned more about him than she expected - how his eyes crinkled when he really smiled, how he gestured with his hands when excited about a topic, how his thumb would stroke her skin absently while he listened.

"Want to take a walk?" he suggested after paying. "The harbor's pretty at night."

"You just want to get handsy."

"Always." That smirk again. "But I also want to explore with you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Explore what exactly?"

His hand found her lower back again. "Whatever you want, ma belle."

The harbor lights danced on the water as they walked, Aurélien's hand never leaving her waist. He stopped at a quieter spot, turning her to face him.

"Been wanting to do this properly," he murmured, cradling her face. His kiss was different from the hungry ones he usually gave - slow, deliberate, commanding in its patience. He took his time exploring her mouth until her knees went weak.

When he pulled back, she couldn't help the foolish grin spreading across her face.

"Look at that smile," he teased, thumb brushing her bottom lip. "Cute."

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes, still grinning.

"Would it be crazy if I asked you to spend the night?"

Her first instinct was yes, but then memories of Jules from last night flooded back. Did this make her… a whore? Going from one man's dick to potentially another's?

Girl, who cares? her intrusive thoughts chimed in. It's YOUR hot girl summer.

"I should be honest," she started. "Jules and I…"

"I know," he said softly. "Saw you both in the elevator, remember? Look, this is a lot - physically, emotionally. We go at your pace."

She nodded slowly. "Then… yes. I'd like to stay."

They swung by her hotel for essentials - bonnet, skincare, tomorrow's clothes (and maybe some sexy underwear, just in case).

The Westin Elbphilharmonie towered over the other side of the harbor, all glass and waves meant to mirror the water below. Aurélien's suite was minimalist luxury - cream furnishings, huge windows, and a balcony that made the city look like scattered stars.

"Make yourself at home," he said, taking her overnight bag.

Her heart raced. No turning back now.

Aurélien set her overnight bag on the chaise while YN slipped off her sandals, placing her purse on the bedside table.

"Ever seen Pineapple Express?" he asked, scrolling through the hotel's movie selection.

"Obviously. I'm not uncultured."

His laugh echoed off the suite's walls. "Good. Because I quote this movie way too much."

He turned the movie on and then made his way to the kitchenette - his gait full of unwavering swagger - to place a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

They settled into comfortable silence on the bed, sharing buttery popcorn while Seth Rogen descended into drug dealer chaos. Around the time James Franco started saying "Thug Life," YN decided to start her nighttime routine.

Opening her overnight bag, she grabbed her essentials: makeup wipes, CeraVe cleanser, toner, essence, vitamin C serum, moisturizer, and face oil. But as she started removing her makeup in the bathroom, the anxiety hit like a wave.

Whore. Slut. Can't even wait a day between men.

Her hands trembled as she tried to remove her lashes. The DeuxMoi post kept flashing in her mind - what if people found out about both of them? She wasn't really a whore, was she? Just... exploring. Finding herself. Why did that make her bad?

"YN?" Aurélien's soft knock startled her. "You good? Been in there a while."

"Yes," she squeaked, but her reflection showed panic in her eyes. She gripped the counter, trying to count breaths like her therapist taught her.

The door opened. Aurélien took one look at her and his whole demeanor shifted - the cocky swagger replaced by gentle concern.

"Panic attack?" He stepped closer, fingers finding her pulse point. His protector mode was sweet, though she wished she wasn't seeing it like this.

No shit, she thought, but couldn't speak.

Without a word, he reached for a shower cap, carefully removing each bobby pin from her curls. "Sit," he guided her to the toilet seat.

The shower started running, steam slowly filling the room. He disappeared, returning with her bonnet.

First the shower cap, then the satin bonnet, his movements impossibly gentle for such large hands as he placed them on her head, ensuring each tendril of hair was securely covered.

His eyes met hers. "Can I take off your clothes?" She gave him a look. "It's for the shower," he explained. "Warm showers will help."

She nodded, letting him care for her in this unexpected way.

Aurélien's hands reached for the zipper of her dress. His usual intensity was replaced by something softer - each movement careful, protective.

"Arms up," he murmured, and she complied, letting him pull the silk over her head. Instead of his usual hungry gaze, his eyes held only concern.

This man who looks like he could break hearts for sport, her rational thoughts marveled, is treating me like I'm made of glass.

He unhooked her bra with practiced ease, but there was nothing sexual in the way he helped her step out of her underwear. His touch remained clinical, respectful.

"Temperature good?" he asked, guiding her toward the steam.

She nodded, watching as he rolled up his sleeves to test the water himself. This was a different Aurélien from the one who smirked and made suggestive comments, who exuded raw sexuality. This was the big brother who protected his siblings, the friend who looked out for Jules.

"You don't have to stay," she managed.

"I know." He helped her into the shower. "But I want to."

Maybe, her rational thoughts whispered, we've underestimated him. Maybe there's more here than just physical attraction.

The warm water began to calm her racing heart, and with it came a new understanding: Aurélien Tchouaméni was full of surprises.

"Can I join you?" he asked softly.

She bit her bottom lip, nodding. Her eyes couldn't help but follow as he undressed, appreciating how the muscles in his chest flexed, how his dark skin seemed to glow in the bathroom's soft light, and how gorgeous his penis and testicles were when his boxers fell to the floor. But where normally he'd smirk at her obvious appreciation, now he remained focused on her well-being.

He stepped into the shower, reaching for the hotel's body wash. The scent of lavender filled the steam as he worked the soap between his palms, then started with her shoulders. His strong fingers found knots she didn't even know she had, drawing a contented sigh from her lips.

Working down her arms, then her hips, his touch remained therapeutic rather than teasing. He squatted to massage her thighs and calves, his hands firm but gentle on her tired muscles.

"Better?" he asked, looking up at her through wet lashes.

The anxiety was melting away under his careful attention, replaced by something warmer, deeper than just attraction.

Oh, she thought. This could be dangerous in a whole different way.

YN woke to Aurélien's soft snores in her ear, his arm heavy around her waist. His t-shirt swallowed her whole, smelling like his cologne. Last night after the shower, she'd barely managed to pull it on before passing out, emotionally drained.

At least I didn't drool, she thought, becoming very aware of his morning wood pressing against her ass. She stretched - trying to reach her phone on the nightstand.

His arm tightened, grinding closer. "Ne bouge pas, ma belle," (Don't move, beautiful) he muttered, voice impossibly deeper and raspier in the morning. His stubble scratched her cheek as he nuzzled closer.

Even sleeping he's cute as fuck, both her thoughts agreed.

She rolled her eyes despite smiling. Being little spoon was nice, but she needed her phone. One more stretch and - success!

7:30 AM. Notifications lit up her screen:

Mama 💕 Baby girl your crystals told me you had anxiety last night. Did you use that lavender oil I packed? Mercury isn't even in retrograde so this is weird. Light some sage when you can 🌟✨ Also use protection! 😘

Big Kyle You good? Haven't heard from you. These European men treating you right or do I need to catch a flight? 🤨 Send me your location just in case. Love you kid

LewLew Bean Hope Hamburg's treating you well. Saw that DeuxMoi post, don't stress about it. People always talk, let them. Roscoe says hi! [photo of his dog attached]

She smiled at their different approaches - her mom's spiritual advice, Big Kyle's protectiveness, and Lewis just being... Lewis.

Last night's panic attack embarrassed her; breaking down in front of Aurélien wasn't exactly hot girl summer behavior. But seeing his gentler side, how naturally he switched from sexy to protective…

His snoring hitched, arm pulling her closer. "Dors, bébé." (Sleep, baby)

Man has a point, she thought, putting it back on the charger.

YN snuggled deeper into Aurélien's embrace, letting his snores lull her into that peaceful space between sleep and wakefulness. It reminded her of how Damari used to—

No.

No more thoughts about that untalented bench warmer. Her summer was for better things now. Like the way Aurélien's arm tightened around her whenever she moved. Or how Jules' kisses made her dizzy. Or whatever other adventures Europe had in store.

Four weeks left. The thought nagged at her. Maybe she should make the most of it - take a little detour before the semi-finals? Visit Lewis early, see what Silverstone was about? Or maybe hit up another city first, then see Lewis?

What about our French boys? her intrusive thoughts demanded. Can't just leave them hanging!

But she wouldn't be leaving, not really. Just… expanding her horizons. She'd be back for the semis, back to see which of them could make her toes curl faster. Besides, wasn't that the whole point of hot girl summer? Freedom to do whatever - and whoever - she wanted?

I'll tell them later, she decided. After I figure out where I want to go.

Aurélien mumbled something in French against her neck, pulling her closer.

But right now, she thought, closing her eyes, right now I'm exactly where I want to be.

______________________________________________

The Hamburg Arena hummed with pre-match energy as YN made her way through the VIP corridors. She spotted Aurélien talking to Cama, catching his wink when she waved.

Then she saw Jules - or rather, felt him before she saw him. He rounded the corner in his pre-match warmup gear, dreads pulled back, all focused energy until his eyes landed on her. That intense game face melted into a smile that made her legs wobble.

"There's my girl," he said, closing the distance between them. His hand found her waist immediately, guiding her toward a private alcove. There was something different about match-day Jules — a coiled energy that made him seem even more dangerous than usual.

"Are you doing okay?" His eyebrows creased with worry. "Auré told me you had an anxiety attack last night."

"Wow, you guys run your mouth too much," she snapped without thinking.

Jules let out a dark chuckle that made her stomach flip. "What part of 'our girl' don't you realize, YN? Of course, we're gonna talk about things regarding your well-being. Now, answer the question: are you good now?" His hands rubbed up and down her arms. YN nodded. "Open that pretty mouth of yours and use your words," Jules said, voice dropping into an authoritative tone that made her swoon.

Okay Daddy Jules, her intrusive thoughts purred. Oui, oui...

"Yes."

His grin was wicked. "I missed you. Did you miss me or did you have too much fun with Auré?"

"Yes, only a little bit though."

"Only a little bit?" His eyebrows rose. "Well, I guess I have to change your mind then." His lips captured hers again, one hand cradling her face. "You. Should. Spend. The. Night. With. Me." Each word punctuated with a kiss.

"I like that but..." she managed as his lips found her collarbone.

"But?" Those brown eyes looked up at her.

"I'm catching a flight... to London."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Want to visit your other man?"

"Nah, nah. Lewis is a friend. Yes he's fine as fuck but I don't do older guys. Not my type."

Jules chuckled. "Yeah, that's cool. Are you leaving me and Auré?"

"No, never, at least not right now. Four weeks from now, yes." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "But it'll be two days max. Hell, I don't think I'll even be there for the race. Just wanted to drop in and catch up and see his dog. Have you seen pictures of Roscoe? He's a cutie."

"I follow Lewis on Instagram. He's the GOAT."

Of course he does, she thought.

"But I'm happy you're coming back. It's good to explore different cities. Broaden your horizons." He waggled his eyebrows before kissing her again. "You told Auré?"

"No, not yet, but instead of one-on-one dinner... maybe something for the... uh... three of us?" His look said we're doing this? "No, not like that...." His eyes widened. "Maybe. We'll see. Just figured it'd be great to talk and chill before I'm off to London."

"Sounds good to me. Let's go before Coach has a conniption wondering where I am."

They walked back toward the locker room. Players and staff bustled around them, some nodding at Jules, others pretending not to notice how close he stayed to her. Outside the locker room doors, he turned to face her. The intensity in his eyes was different now - part pre-match focus, part something else entirely.

"See you after the match?"

"Of course."

He leaned down for one more kiss, this one slower, like he was trying to memorize the feel of her lips. Then he pulled back, that game-face sliding back into place as he disappeared into the locker room.

YN headed toward her seat, trying to focus on the match ahead and not on how dinner with both of them would go.

Focus on football, she told herself. But even she knew that was a lost cause.

______________________________________________

The match ended in a 0-0 draw against Portugal, and YN's two baguettes were visibly frustrated, discussing the game in rapid-fire French across the restaurant table.

"L'attaque était horrible!" (The attack was horrible!) Jules complained, stabbing at his salmon.

"On aurait dû gagner," (We should have won) Aurélien added, gesturing with his fork. "Ces putains d'arbitres..." (These fucking referees...)

They caught themselves, noticing YN quietly eating her steak.

"Sorry, belle," Aurélien switched to English. "How's your food?"

"Really good," she cut another piece of her medium-rare steak. "Though y'all are scary when you're mad."

"Not mad," Jules corrected. "Frustrated. Big difference."

"Speaking of differences," she started, "I'm heading to London tomorrow."

Aurélien took a sip of Coca-Cola. "To visit your man Lewis?"

Jules giggled - he'd made the same assumption earlier.

"He's just a friend," YN snapped. "And if he wasn't, I thought you didn't care anyway."

Aurélien glanced at Jules. "Son attitude? Elle est sérieuse?" (Her attitude? Is she serious?)

"Elle fait sa bratty," (She's being bratty) Jules replied as he spread his legs wider.

Their gazes cut to YN.

"My bad, belle," Aurélien said, making her smile. "You coming back?"

"To y'all - yes."

Aurélien's signature smirk appeared. "I like the sound of that."

They continued eating, YN appreciating the space across the table, though their long legs sandwiched hers underneath. When dessert came around, they split a chef sampler that included the best cheesecake YN ever had in her life - sorry mama!

As usual, the boys paid the bill and the walk back to her hotel was comfortable, both men flanking her sides as they strolled through Hamburg's evening streets. In the elevator, Jules pressed her floor while Aurélien's hand found its usual spot on her lower back.

They walked her to her door and YN reached up on her tip-toes to kiss Aurélien goodbye, but he gently pushed her back down.

"Aren't you gonna invite us in?" The hell?

"Yeah, we have to discuss something," Jules added.

YN glanced between them. "About? I have to pack, boys."

"We know and we'll even help." Aurélien said.

"Just five minutes," Jules promised.

"Max," added Aurélien.

YN muttered "okay" and let them in, Jules closing the door behind them.

"Your attitude's been trash lately," Aurélien started.

"What the hell?"

"If we're gonna be doing this, we shouldn't get snappy with each other. That only makes things worse. We know that seeing all the shit on the blogs is tough but there's a better way to voice your frustration," Jules said.

"Especially since it deals with all three of us," Aurélien added.

Uhn-uhn, not them giving you an intervention! her intrusive thoughts said.

Yeah, who do they think they are - you don't pay them to read you to filth like this, her rational thoughts agreed.

"Now hold on a second–"

"Let us finish, chérie," Jules held up a hand. "This is why you had that panic attack? The bullshit on the blogs?" Both sets of eyes bore into her until she nodded. "'Member what we said about using your words?"

I know this nigga is not...

"Yes - I had a panic attack because of that. Because of what may happen if they found out that I'm also hanging out with Aurélien."

The boys exchanged words in French. She really needed to get on her Zoom on Duolingo...

"Maybe you should hang out with one of us then? If you're scared of–" Jules started.

"No!" she surprised even herself. "We're not - I don't want to do that. I like Aurélien."

"Oh, belle," he said cockily, then sobered. "If it worries you though, it might be best. I don't want you to have another panic attack."

"We just have to be careful, okay?" she suggested. "Just be mindful of our surroundings. I don't want to stop hanging out with you, Aurélien. Really."

More French consultation, then Jules: "Okay, if you think that's best. We just be careful then."

"So maybe no more matches?" Aurélien said. Before YN could protest, he continued, "because they will keep trying to figure out who you're with, so no more matches and we hang out in each other's rooms. Sounds good?"

"Good," Jules said.

"Fine," YN replied defiantly, folding her arms.

Aurélien kissed his teeth. "Your fucking attitude."

"I swear," Jules shook his head. "We may have to do something about it."

"We might," Aurélien agreed, their gazes turning hungry. YN gulped.

"Take a seat on the bed, chérie," Jules commanded. YN remained frozen. "What did I say?" The bass in his voice made her sit immediately on the edge.

"Take off your shoes then scoot up to the headboard," Aurélien said. Again she froze until his arched eyebrow basically said I know you heard me loud and clear.

She did as told, removing her mules and scooting back against the headboard. Jules and Aurélien toed off their sneakers, the soft thuds against the floor echoing in the room. She couldn't quite believe what was happening. The way they moved — their confidence, the unspoken understanding between them — made her breath catch in her throat.

Jules was the first to climb onto the bed, taking his place on her left. Aurélien followed, settling on her right. They were close enough that their warmth seeped into her skin, their combined presence intoxicating.

"You can back out at any time," Jules murmured, his voice low and soothing as his hand rested lightly on her knee. "We won’t push you to do anything you don’t want."

"Whatever you want," Aurélien added.

YN swallowed, trying to calm the swirl of emotions in her chest. She didn’t feel pressured — just overwhelmed in the best way possible. "Just kissing…for right now," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Because anything besides that, I think I might combust...

Both men nodded, their acceptance of her boundaries making her exhale in relief.

Jules leaned in first, tilting her chin gently with his fingers. His lips brushed against hers, warm and soft, the kiss starting slow. YN sighed into him, her hands hesitantly resting on his chest. Jules then deepened the kiss, his thumb caressing her cheek, coaxing small, breathy moans from her lips.

Aurélien’s hand slid up her thigh, staying over her clothes but sending sparks through her body. She broke the kiss with Jules, turning toward Aurélien, who was already leaning in. His kiss was firmer, more demanding, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck as he took control. YN moaned into his mouth, her body tingling as his thumb traced slow circles against her nape.

The feel of both their hands on her, their energy so different yet equally electrifying, had her melting. Jules pressed a kiss to the side of her neck while Aurélien nibbled gently on her lower lip, pulling away just enough to murmur against her mouth, "You know I should spank you for talking to me like that at the restaurant, don’t you?"

YN’s eyes widened. His tone was teasing, but the heat in his gaze said he meant every word.

Aurélien smirked as he kissed her again, this time slower, savoring the moment. "But I’ll save that for another time," he added, his words a rumble against her lips.

That sounds like a promise, sir! her intrusive thoughts chimed in, but she pushed it aside.

Even though she had a really nice — and it was really nice — time with Enzo and Carina, doing two guys at once was too much for her at the moment, yet that didn't go without saying that she hadn't dreamt about it, dreamt about them.

For now, this was enough. This was perfect.

Jules' hands slipped up to cup her breasts over her blouse, his touch confident but not demanding. Aurélien followed suit, his large hand settling on her waist, his thumb brushing the edge of her rib cage.

YN let herself get lost in the sensations — their mouths on hers, their hands exploring. Her moans filled the space between kisses, soft gasps escaping as they found ways to make her tremble under their attention.

Aurélien broke the kiss, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "You’re incredible, belle. Perfect."

Jules hummed his agreement, pressing a lingering kiss to her jawline. "Just say the word, and we’ll stop," he reminded her.

YN shook her head, her voice breathy as she replied, "Don’t stop. Not yet."

And with that, she gave herself over to the moment, letting their kisses and touches drown out every doubt. For now, she didn’t have to think about anything else — just the feeling of being cherished by both of them, right here and now.

The heat in the room thickened as their hands and lips explored, each movement a blend of curiosity and simmering passion. YN found herself caught between their bodies, Jules’ lips brushing against her neck while Aurélien captured her mouth in a kiss that left her breathless. Her hands, trembling with a mix of nervousness and desire, wandered over Jules’ toned chest. Her fingertips skimmed over his defined muscles before dipping lower, where she felt his erection straining against her touch.

Jules let out a low groan, his lips momentarily pausing on her neck. His eyes fluttered shut as her hand pressed more firmly. "Should I stop?" she asked, her hand stilling.

Jules shook his head, his voice rough with desire. "You’re good," he assured her. His words sent a thrill through her, and she bit her lower lip, the action catching Aurélien’s attention.

Aurélien pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching her face. "You good?" he asked, his voice soft yet firm.

"No sex tonight," YN declared, her voice steady despite the warmth pooling in her stomach.

Both men nodded immediately, their agreement firm. "No sex," Aurélien echoed, his lips brushing her cheek.

"But…" she started, her voice trailing off. Jules raised a curious brow, silently encouraging her to continue. "I wouldn’t mind more kissing… and touching. If you’re okay with that."

Aurélien smirked, his hand cupping her face. "You should already know that I’m down," he teased, causing her and Jules to chuckle softly.

Jules grinned, his hand brushing lightly over her waist. "That’s fine. This is all about you, chérie."

"Exactly," Aurélien agreed, his warm gaze settling on her.

YN’s lips curved into a half-nervous, half-excited smile as she let their words sink in. "Good," she said, feeling a surge of boldness. Her eyes flicked between them before she clapped her hands playfully. "So… take off your pants. And those drawers."

Aurélien let out a laugh, his brow arching in mock indignation. "Damn, not you treating us like your little sluts," he joked, but he slid off the bed nonetheless. Jules followed, both of them making quick work of their clothing.

Aurélien unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, letting them drop to the floor. His shirt followed next, revealing his broad shoulders and toned chest, and then his boxers, leaving him gloriously bare. Jules mirrored his actions, peeling away his shirt, then his jeans and briefs in one fluid motion.

Both men stood before her, naked and unapologetically confident, their skin glistening under the dim lighting. The way their muscles flexed as they moved, the unapologetic confidence in their stances.

Bless you, Lord…

Bless Him indeed, praised her intrusive thoughts.

YN couldn’t stop her appreciative gaze from lingering. She exhaled deeply, her hands trembling slightly as she began to undress herself. First, her pants slid off, pooling around her ankles. Then came her halterneck top, revealing her bare shoulders and curves. Her panties were next, followed by the pasties she had carefully applied earlier. By the time she was finished, both men were back on the bed, flanking her sides as before.

"Okay, don’t make this awkward," she muttered, her cheeks warming at the vulnerable position she was in.

Aurélien chuckled, leaning in close to brush his lips against hers. "You’re the one making it awkward," he teased before capturing her mouth in a deep kiss.

"Very awkward," Jules added with a grin, his lips finding her neck again, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine.

Her hands moved on instinct, exploring them both — Aurélien’s firm chest and the ripple of Jules’ abs. Their touches grew bolder as well, Jules’ hands cupping her breast firmly while Aurélien’s lips wandered to her collarbone. YN’s head fell back against the headboard, a soft moan escaping her lips as their attention left her dizzy.

Jules gripped her jaw gently, tilting her face toward him so he could claim her lips. His kiss was deep, deliberate, his lips moving against hers with intoxicating intensity. Meanwhile, Aurélien scooted lower on the bed, his mouth latching onto her breast. The warmth of his tongue flicking over her nipple sent jolts of pleasure coursing through her, and she arched into his touch, her body responding instinctively to the sensations.

Jules’ free hand wandered downward, his fingers skimming the curve of her thigh before massaging the soft flesh with firm, slow circles. His touch was unhurried, as though he was savoring every second. With a gentle nudge, he pushed her thighs apart wider, creating more space for him to explore. His fingers grazed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, his knuckles brushing against her clit in the faintest tease that made her gasp against his mouth.

"Can I touch you here?" Jules asked, his lips brushing against hers as his hand hovered at her center, waiting for her permission.

"Yes…" YN breathed, her voice trembling with need as her hips arched slightly, granting him better access. At the same moment, Aurélien’s mouth moved to her other breast, his teeth grazing her nipple before his tongue soothed the sting. The combined sensations left her head spinning, her body aflame with desire.

Jules’ fingers pressed against her folds, sliding through her wetness. He hissed softly, his reaction sending a thrill through her. "You’re so wet," he murmured, his lips barely moving from hers.

"How wet is she?" Aurélien asked, pulling back from her breasts, his voice rich with curiosity and amusement.

Jules didn’t hesitate, his hand moving briefly from her body. "Soaked," he replied, holding up his fingers, which glistened with her arousal. Without thinking, he brought them to her lips. YN didn’t need instruction — she opened her mouth, her tongue flicking over his fingers before she sucked them clean, her gaze locked with his.

"Putain," Jules muttered, his brown eyes darkened with lust as he stared at her. There was a raw hunger in his gaze, an intensity that made her shiver under his scrutiny. She moaned softly when his fingers slipped from her mouth, her body still tingling from the taste of herself on his skin.

"You sure this isn’t weird?" she managed to say, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Foot, meet mouth, yet again.

Aurélien chuckled lowly, his large hands sliding up to cup her waist. "Yes. Now be quiet and enjoy it," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The logical part of her brain — the one still vaguely aware of social norms — tried to remind her of the surreal nature of the situation, how the two of them had undoubtedly seen each other naked countless times before, not to mention this clearly wasn’t their rodeo. But that thought quickly dissolved when Jules silenced her with another kiss, this one gentler, almost reassuring, yet no less passionate.

Aurélien’s fingers joined the mix, his touch grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh before moving to where Jules had left off. Jules’ hand slid downward again, his touch more assertive now, parting her folds with practiced ease. His fingers stroked her clit in small, deliberate circles while Aurélien’s fingers plunged into her slowly, stretching her.

The two worked in sync, their movements seamless and perfectly timed, as though they’d rehearsed this. Jules’ fingers teased her clit with increasing pressure while Aurélien’s plunged deeper, curling slightly to hit just the right spot that made her cry out, her hips rolling to meet their touch as the pleasure built to a near-overwhelming peak.

Aurélien’s lips found her neck again, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear. "You feel so good," he murmured, his voice low and reverent. His fingers quickened their pace, his thumb brushing against her clit in time with Jules’ movements.

Jules watched her intently, his free hand tracing lazy patterns over her thigh while his other continued its rhythm. "This is all for you, chérie," he whispered, his voice laced with heat. "Just cum."

YN’s breaths came out in ragged pants, her body trembling as the sensations threatened to consume her. She was lost to the pleasure, her mind a haze of touch and desire and soft, murmured words. "I can’t…" she gasped, her back arching off the bed.

"You can," Aurélien assured her, his lips brushing against her jaw as his fingers hit that spot again. "And you will."

With a strangled cry, YN finally gave in, her body shuddering violently as waves of pleasure washed over her. Jules and Aurélien didn’t let up, their hands guiding her through the high until her body relaxed, boneless and sated between them. Both of them leaned down to kiss her softly — Aurélien on her cheek, Jules on her lips.

YN slowly came down from her orgasmic high, her body resettling after the aftershocks had dissipated. Letting out a sigh, she glanced down and spotted their erections – both of them still hard beyond measure, desperate for release.

"Should I suck–"

"No," Aurélien said whilst Jules simultaneously shook his head.

"I’m fine," added Jules. "We’re good."

Her eyes traveled back onto their penises. Don’t look fine to me… "You sure?"

"Positive," they said in unison.

"There’s always next time," said Aurélien as he slipped off the bed, grabbing his phone before making his way to the bathroom. "I’ll be back."

And with that, he closed the door behind him and YN was briefly consumed with her thoughts.

Kinda mean to have him rub one out when you have perfectly capable mouth and hands. Shameful, her intrusive thoughts chided.

No - you stood your ground on your boundaries. This is a win-win situation, countered her rational thoughts.

"If you keep staring at it, you’ll just make it harder," Jules’ voice pulled her out of her reverie and her gaze connected with his. As usual, Jules was cool and collected – relaxing comfortably in bed with his arms tucked behind his head.

"What?"

"My dick," he explained. "Keep staring at it like that and it’ll just get harder. Come ‘ere and cuddle."

Ooh, yes!

YN smiled brightly at his words and scooted beside him, snuggling deep into his side and hummed when he wrapped his arms around her.

"Are you doing okay?" he wondered after a few silent moments of her lying on his chest. "I know that this is a lot for you, but I want to make sure you’re good with…everything….Auré and I at the same time."

"I’m good, Jules."

"Seriously?"

YN lifted her head up from his chest to stare at him. "Yeah…just getting used to it. The possibility of–"

"Fucking us both?"

Even though that was exactly what she thinking, it still made her cheeks warm upon hearing it aloud. This time that they’ve spent together was nice and it did make her curious about how she could handle being so…full. Unlike her disastrous – and perhaps questionable – porn choices, no one has had the pleasure of being inside her other hole. Not like there hasn’t been any instances on trying; it just never panned out correctly. Perhaps she wasn’t doing it the right way (as if one needed extra instruction on anal sex) or maybe it wasn’t with the right partner (which seemed like the case). Either way, she never given it much thought besides now, that is.

"How did you guys do it before? With that girl from Bordeaux?"she wondered and Jules’ eyebrows furrowed. "I just want to know the positions–"

"We Eiffel Tower’d her." Direct. To the point. No hesitation.

YN tried to suppress a giggle at the double entendre, but failed miserably and a small chortle managed to escape. "Two French guys Eiffel Towering a girl?"

Jules dawned onto the gist of what she was saying and he even let out a chuckle himself. "I know, the joke writes itself." Then, he cleared his throat and exhaled a breath. "I mean….shit…we were so young. No anal sex though, just her mouth and pussy. We can just do that if it makes you more comfortable."

Interesting. "Have you tried it before?"

"Once," he said, the edges of his mouth curving upwards into a mischievous grin as he reminisced. "Not a personal fave, but lots of lube can help with that."

Then, they heard the toilet flush followed by the sounds of running water. Seconds later, Aurélien made his way out of the bathroom and sauntered over to the bed, sliding back onto his side as if he never left.

"You good, bébé?" Her overly caring — lover? situationship? — asked as one of his hands trailed down her spine.

"Yes," YN said, doing her darnedest to not moan as he caressed her soft skin, yet she did allow a shiver to go down her body upon feeling his slightly damp fingers.

"YN's curious about anal sex," said Jules, and she shot him a warning look, which caused him to laugh.

"You’re a freaky girl," was all Aurélien said as his hand continued its route downwards, moving from her back to the top of her ass. "I don’t think you’re ready for all of that yet."

"How do you know if I’m ready for all of that?" she retorted, accusingly, turning over to the other side to give him her full attention.

Instead of answering verbally, Aurélien’s hand skimmed lightly over her ass cheeks and then gently coaxed them apart until he came in contact with her virgin anus. She flinched at the feeling, and Aurélien scoffed.

"You’re not ready for all of that," he repeated then moved his hand to her lower back. YN rolled her eyes despite herself and a grin appeared on his annoyingly handsome face.

"Anyways," she started, turning around once more to Jules. "what time is it? I should get some things packed."

Jules removed one hand from behind his head to grab his phone from the other bedside table, tapping the screen to check the time. "Almost midnight."

Shit. She had six hours before she had to be up and ready to head to the airport.

With a groan, YN carefully slipped out of bed, scooting all the way down to the bottom edge and then walking over to the closet to take out her carry-on. Meanwhile, the boys didn’t move an inch – just lounged there like the sexy predators they embodied, naked as the day they were born.

"I’m surprised that you guys didn’t put on clothes or boxers…something," she muttered as she began to rifle through the closet for clothes to wear in England.

"We saw each other naked too many times to count," Aurélien said as he picked up his phone to scroll mindlessly through it. "Why? Should we put on some clothes?"

"I think she might be kicking us out," proclaimed Jules as he watched her pack then unpack her clothing selection from his side of the bed. "Pack a jacket, chérie. It’s supposed to be fourteen degrees Celsius in London tomorrow."

Celsius? What? "Huh?" That definitely made her halt her movements.

"Ah, you gotta say it in American, JK," explained Aurélien with an amused chuckle.

Jules muttered a curse under his breath. "Fifty-seven degrees your temperature."

Then why don’t they just say that? "Oh, thanks." YN scanned her closet for that jean jacket her mama packed, found it, and then place it inside the carry-on – along with another coord set, a maxi dress, two linen shirts, a pair of jeans, her mules, and some underwear. Doing the most for two days, of course. Always. But she needed options. "And for the record, I’m not kicking y’all out. Just…noticing."

"Noticing bad or noticing good?" This came from Aurélien, who finally shifted his gaze away from whatever he was watching on his phone to her.

YN shrugged nonchalantly. "Just noticing." Both of them let out a barely audible utterance. Hmm… "Sleepover?"

"Always."

"Of course."

Satisfied with both her clothing choices and their answers, YN decided to leave packing her skincare and makeup until tomorrow morning then grabbed her bonnet from the dresser and place it over her head before padding inside the bathroom to do her nightly routine.

She cleaned her face quickly, removing her makeup and then brushing her teeth. YN pulled on an oversized t-shirt and panties after she left the bathroom, climbing back into bed and in her designated spot in the middle.

They popped on her like grease out of a pan – arms wrapping around her (they definitely rehearsed that move), lips on either side of her neck, phones forgotten. The urban nightlife filtered through the windows, its sounds and lights scattered across the room to create the perfect ambiance as YN basked in being sandwiched between the two of them, enjoying the way both of their bodies molded next to hers, their scent wafting through her nostrils.

I could get used to this.

"Night, boys."

"Night, chérie." A little grumble from Jules, cuddling close.

"Bonne nuit, bébé." A low, yet deep murmur from Aurélien.

Her boys. YN flashed a wide grin in the dark, feeling cozy and relaxed. With the warmth surrounding her, she let sleep take over, happily drifting into dreamland.

______________________________________________

The alarm blaring jolted YN awake. She found herself sandwiched between Jules and Aurélien, both still deep in sleep.

"Turn it off," Aurélien groaned.

"Working on it," she sassed back, looking around the room. "If I could find it…"

Her phone had somehow ended up in her purse near the armchair. Among her notifications:

LewLew Bean: Text when you land tomorrow x. Roscoe's excited to see you!

BallerAlert: YN_YLN's ex-boyfriend spotted with Victoria's Secret model at LA hotspot

She chuckled at how they didn't even use Damari's name anymore.

"Where you going?" Aurélien's hand caught her wrist as she headed to the bathroom.

"Getting ready for my flight or did you forget?"

He kissed his teeth, muttering something before rolling over. Jules continued snoring, pillow still covering his head.

They're annoying, she thought, watching them sleep, but damn if they aren't cute. After last night, everything felt… different. Maybe juggling two French best friends wasn't as complicated as she'd thought.

After showering and packing her toiletries, she pulled on her airport fit - half-zip pullover, cropped tee, wide-leg sweats. She was lacing up her Nikes when they finally stirred.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauties."

"Morning."

"Mmmhmm."

"We can order breakfast before I go."

"Boo," Aurélien pouted.

Jules giggled, licking his lips. "Sounds like a plan."

While Aurélien used one of the hotel toothbrushes, Jules beckoned YN over with a crooked finger. Like a good girl, she sashayed to his side of the bed, letting him guide her down until they were eye-level.

His lips met hers softly - the kind of kiss that said don't forget us. All gentle pressure and sweet promise.

"Be safe over there," he murmured, fingers trailing from her shoulders to her neck, thumb stroking her cheek. "I don't know if I like your hair better up or down." He studied her low-maintenance bun.

"I prefer it down," Aurélien said as he returned to his side of the bed.

"Yeah, might be my favorite too," Jules agreed before heading to brush his teeth.

They shared breakfast - eggs, pastries, fruit - stealing bites from each other's plates like they'd done this a hundred times.

After getting dressed, they followed her as she got on the elevator, their hands filled with her bags. Both men hugged her goodbye in the lobby - Jules kissed her forehead while Aurélien squeezed her waist.

"See you Sunday," she promised.

"See you, cherie." Jules' response was sweet as usual, his eyes filled with longing.

"Don't have too much fun with Lewis," Aurélien said with a wink - ever the jokester but YN could tell that he was going to miss her too.

She gathered her carry-on and tote, handing them off to the driver before slipping inside the back seat, watching them wave as her Uber then pulled away.

Different, she thought again. But good different.

______________________________________________

"You really didn't have to pick me up," YN said as Lewis loaded her carry-on into his Mercedes SUV.

"Please, what kind of host would I be?"

A fine as hell one, her intrusive thoughts noted, appreciating how his t-shirt stretched across his shoulders. But for once, the attraction stayed purely aesthetic - like admiring art in a museum. No urge to touch, just respect for the craftsmanship.

A happy bark interrupted her thoughts. Roscoe's wrinkled face appeared between the front seats, tongue lolling out.

"Oh my god, he's even cuter in person!" She reached back to scratch behind his ears. The bulldog immediately flopped into her touch, making Lewis laugh.

"He's usually shy with new people." Lewis glanced over as he pulled onto the motorway. "You must be special."

"Nah, animals just know good people. Right, Roscoe?"

Another enthusiastic bark.

"So," Lewis's gap-toothed smile flashed, "tell me about these French boys of yours."

YN groaned, but found herself smiling. There was something comfortable about Lewis - like talking to a friend who'd seen it all and judged none of it.

"Well," she settled in for the drive, Roscoe's head now resting on her arm. "Last night was... interesting."

"Oh?"

"Let's just say there was some three-way kissing involved..."

"Holy shit!" Lewis nearly swerved. "You really out here living your best life!"

"The French are wild though."

"And you're just now figuring this out?"

Frank Ocean's "Pink + White" played softly as they drove through London's posh neighborhoods. Finally, they pulled up to a stunning Georgian house, complete with climbing vines and white gravel drive.

"This is so British," YN marveled, following Roscoe up the path.

The door opened to reveal a petite white woman with cropped hair. "This must be YN!"

"This is my mum, Carmen," Lewis said casually, slipping inside with her bags in tow.

First I'm staying here, now I'm meeting his mother? Does she think we're—

GURRRRLLLL! her intrusive thoughts screeched.

"Hi Miss Carmen," YN opened her arms for a hug, breathing in cookies and peonies - the most British smell ever.

"Come in! How was your flight?" Carmen ushered her inside. The house was gorgeous - checkerboard foyer tiles, winding staircase, wainscoting, and family photos everywhere. The kitchen was all navy cabinets, marble counters, and brass fixtures. "I've made some lunch. Would you like fish and chips?"

"I love fish and chips!" YN burst out enthusiastically, making Carmen's eyebrows shoot up. "Sorry, I tend to get—"

"Don't apologize. I love the enthusiasm. It's cod, okay?"

"Sounds good." Carmen plated the food and set it before YN. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, you're so polite. And pretty."

Lewis finally appeared, leaning against the counter. "I'll show you your bedroom in a second. How is it?"

"She didn't try it yet, love." Carmen urged YN to take a bite. The fish was perfectly seasoned. Carmen beamed at her reaction. "It's my famous seasoning blend. Bit different than what you'd expect from a pub, but it's good right?"

"So good," YN agreed, trying the fries. Then YN's foot-in-mouth disease struck: "So… who do you think I am to Lewis?"

"I know you two are good friends," Carmen smiled. "Besides, this one is making me wait to become a grandmother unfortunately."

"You have Roscoe, Mum," Lewis said with a small smile playing on his lips.

"A human grandchild would be nice."

"You have those too. Four of them to be exact," Lewis pointed out.

"I want more!"

"And you will. When I retire."

"In three years!" Carmen harrumphed.

YN shrugged, taking another fry. "I mean, you are forty with no kids. Seems sus."

Lewis's jaw dropped while Carmen cheered. "Thank you!"

"He needs a nice woman to date. None of those model types. We've been there, done that too many times over," his mother continued.

"Maybe a businesswoman?" YN suggested.

"Ooh yes! Do you know any single women, preferably ages thirty-two to thirty-seven?"

"Okay, mum, that's enough. YN's not here to play matchmaker."

"I do, actually," YN said, making them both exclaim: "Really?!"

"I mean, she's divorced and has two kids - six-year-old twins but they're so cute and well-behaved."

"I don't know about becoming a stepdad," Lewis said apprehensively. "I don't want to overstep."

"Lewis, love, you're so great with kids!" Carmen insisted.

I think she's just willing to take on anyone at this moment.

"What she look like?" Lewis asked.

"Oh? You're taking it seriously?"

He shrugged. "Just curious, is all."

"Mmhmm," YN took out her phone, opened Instagram, and typed in 'Sabine Wurley', her label's A&R exec - a gorgeous Trini-Canadian with toffee skin, doe eyes, and all the Caribbean curves to match.

"Holy shit she's gorgeous," Carmen gasped.

"She's nice looking," Lewis said flatly. YN stared at him like he had three heads. "Give me her number."

"If I'm going to throw the alley-oop, don't fuck up her heart. I love Sab a lot."

"I won't."

"Promise me," YN pressed. "I'm deadass."

"Fine, fine, I promise. Dang."

YN forwarded the contact with a smirk. Sabine and Lewis? She could work with that.

🌹🇫🇷 Group Chat:

Aurélien 🌹 Miss you already 😘 These hotel beds are too big without you

Jules 🇫🇷 Speak for yourself. I'm spread out like a starfish

YN Y'all are so dramatic 🙄

Aurélien 🌹 Says the one who needed us both to sleep last night

Jules 🇫🇷 Exactly. Training bout to start. Talk soon.

YN Have fun! Be careful...

Jules 🇫🇷 You worried about us? Cute.

Aurélien 🌹 Very cute. Tell Lewis we said hi but not too enthusiastically 😏

YN smiled at her phone, scrolling through the group chat with her French baguettes. Twenty-four hours felt longer than it should.

Girl, you're down BAD, her intrusive thoughts teased as she pocketed her phone, letting Roscoe lead her around Silverstone's paddock. The bulldog stopped to sniff literally everything before finally choosing the perfect patch of grass.

"Is that YN?"

"Who's she?"

"The singer!"

"Why does she have Roscoe?"

The paddock photographers weren't confused at all - their cameras clicked away while she tried to wrangle an overexcited bulldog who'd spotted another driver's water bottle.

"Roscoe, no — that's not yours!" She tugged gently at his leash.

Too busy texting Jules back ("Show them what that ass do 😏"), she crashed right into someone in an orange racing suit - McLaren? "Oh shit, sorry!"

"No worries!" Blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. "I'm Lando."

She introduced herself politely, taking in his cute boyish features. Her horn-o-meter, usually quick to jump for any attractive man with an accent, stayed firmly at 0. Maybe she was catching feelings for her French boys if this British cutie wasn't doing it for her.

Or maybe, her intrusive thoughts suggested, you just have a type now: tall, dark, and speaks French.

Back at the Mercedes garage, Lewis scooped her into a hug. "Thanks for dog duty."

Rosa, his comms personnel, led Roscoe to his bed in the corner while Lewis started suiting up for qualifying.

"Good energy today," he said, zipping up his race suit. "I can feel it."

"You sound just like my mama with all this energy talk."

"Your mama knows what's up then."

YN rolled her eyes, checking her phone again.

"Missing the French boys already?"

"Mind your business!"

"Not very hot girl summer of you," he teased, pulling on his gloves. "Thought you weren't catching feelings?"

"I'm not!" But even she heard the uncertainty in her voice. A little 'missing you' doesn't mean anything, right?

Whatever you say, both her intrusive and rational thoughts weren't too convinced.

"Mhmm. Sure." He grinned. "Keep telling yourself that while you check your phone every two minutes."

"Shouldn't you be focusing on qualifying?"

"I am. And you're focusing on your messages from Jules and Aurélien."

She watched him qualify - still clueless about what was happening but proud of his P4 position based on everyone's reactions. But even as the garage celebrated, her mind wandered to Hamburg, wondering if her French boys were doing well at practice.

After qualifying, YN and Lewis walked arm in arm through the paddock, Roscoe trotting beside them. She pretended not to notice the cameras clicking or hear the whispers.

"They'd really lose it if they knew about your French situation," Lewis murmured.

"Don't you dare—"

"I would never. But it's funny watching them try to figure out who you're with."

Back at his place, they ordered Indian takeout and sprawled on his massive couch, Roscoe snoring between them.

"You're leaving early tomorrow?"

"Miss my boys," she admitted, shoving another piece of naan in her mouth.

"Oh, really?" he teased, but his smile was kind. "Though I once drove six hours just to see this model for like... two hours max."

"Lewis Hamilton, you dog!"

"I heard women do crazy things when they're dickmatized."

"I am NOT dickmatized!" She threw a pillow at him. "I just... miss them."

"Mhmm." His knowing look said everything. "It's cool though. Young, free, exploring. Just be careful with those feelings."

"I know." She got up to hug him, ready to head to her room to tuck in for the night. "Good luck tomorrow. Show these young boys how it's done."

"Always do." But she could tell he was a bit sad she'd miss the race. "Text me when you land?"

"Of course. And thanks for... everything."

"Anytime, Lil' Bit."

She pretended not to notice how soft his smile was. Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, was a whole teddy bear underneath all that swagger.

_______________________________________________

The next morning, scrolling through her phone in the airport lounge, she saw:

PopCultureDaily: YN's European Tour continues! From Monaco clubs to Silverstone with Lewis Hamilton - sis is LIVING 🔥 [Photos: YN dancing in Monaco, walking with Lewis at Silverstone]

view all comments.... celebtea: Hot Girl Summer: Achievement Unlocked ↳ ynglobal: First French footballers now F1? We stan a versatile queen ↳ tsrfans: Better than that NFL bench warmer mayegurl: Still waiting for tea about those TWO French players 👀 ↳ maggiegerty: Wait what? TWO?? sportsgossip: Lewis Hamilton and YN dating? ↳ f1insider: They're just friends y'all ↳ fanpage: The way he looks at her though!

"Now boarding flight 2847 to Hamburg…"

She made he way to board her plane and settled into her aisle seat, already thinking about seeing Jules and Aurélien, when a deep voice interrupted:

"Excuse me, that's my window seat."

YN looked up - and up - into warm brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. The stranger was gorgeous in that intellectual way - tall and lean but solid, perfect fade, skin like dark honey, full lips curled in a gentle smile. His navy Tom Ford suit and Cartier watch screamed tenured professor with family money.

Her horn-o-meter jumped to 9.

Another one for the roster? her intrusive thoughts suggested.

Finally, not an athlete, her rational side approved.

"Javaughn Taylor," he introduced himself as he settled in, his Northeast accent surprising her. "Heading to Hamburg for work."

"YN," she replied. "What kind of work?"

"A conference. Economics at Hamburg University. I teach at Columbia."

They talked the whole flight - about music (he played jazz piano), books (they both loved Octavia Butler), travel (he'd just been to Cape Town). His laugh was rich, his intelligence obvious but not showy. He really reminded her of that hot professor everyone had a crush on in college but never dared to approach.

When they landed, she had his number and a flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with turbulence.

The universe really testing my French situation, she thought, watching him stride away in those perfectly tailored trousers.

TO BE CONTINUED......

#emjayewrites #aurelien tchouameni #jules kounde #jules lore #Jules x YN X Aurelien #The Year I Turned 25 #footballer x black reader #footballer x you #fc barcelona fanfic #real madrid fanfic #tchou lore #aurelien tchoumeni x you #jules kounde x you #jules kounde fanfiction #aurelien tchouameni fanfiction

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jocelynscrazyideas · 9 months ago

Text

I think of you, always || Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

inspired by the song affection by cigarettes after sex

Summary: After bit being able to tell the family if your bf, you meet his ex at a Christmas dinner. Getting jealous is super easy after hearing her get called pretty, you finish dinner and storm off.

Warnings: NOT PROOF READ!!! Smut, unprotected, language, harsh words towards someone.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』『 °*• ❀ •*°』『 °*• ❀ •*°』

Meeting the family is difficult, meeting the friends is awkward. Have you thought about meeting the family when you’ve broken up a million thousand times?

Or worse, maybe the thought of being a very close family friend that is now dating one of three brothers, and now you have to “meet the family.”

Sounds easy, but once you realize the family wanted you to end up with the other brother, maybe it’s different.

Ellen and Jim, the Hughes parents, have always seen me with Luke, even Trevor. Trevor zegras is one of Jack’s hot friends that I can’t call hot. I’m 22. Fairly young. It’s forbidden to date older men, especially people the Hughes know.

The only reason why I have been chosen to have a future with the younger brother is because I’ve hung out with him more. I’ve always seen Quinn as another parent. He’s always watching out for me, he’s like another source of parenting. I didn’t hangout with him very much, until he had gotten into Michigan.

I graduated years earlier than I should have. My parents were moving to somewhere in Europe, but they were going to travel the world before they settled into the new home. So in order for me to move with them, I went homeschooled.

I got into Michigan, and I only applied to American schools, because being in Switzerland, and traveling to Monaco back in forth wasn’t fun.

Europe was only cool until my parents got a divorce. My dad also was moving to Italy after selling his home in Switzerland. Which kind of made me excited to see him. Italy is the place the Hughes spend some summers in.

The Hughes have been to my Monaco and newly Italian home several times. They love it there, but I get tired of it. My French is terrible, but Jack always tells me that I have an accent when I talk now because I’ve spent over half of my life in Europe. Apparently, I have a thick accent. Most of it is Italian, and a quarter of it is French, the rest is terrible English. “Say something in Spanish.” Luke mocks me.

For some reason they don’t believe me when I say I can speak four languages, “I told you, I speak French, Spanish, German, and Italian.” I roll my eyes and place the mashed potatoes onto the well decorated table.

Quinn touched my wrist, he sees that I have his very expensive watch on. I push my legging hugged ass back into his hips, he pushes back into me until Jim walks into the kitchen.

It’s an amazing Christmas break, the Devils have Christmas break at the same time as The Canucks, so everyone decided to come to Michigan and celebrate. Luke and I went down to Target to grab some cranberries for Ellen.

“I dunno why she always makes these, you hate them!” Luke laughs. He purchased the cranberry jar and stuffs it into a bag. I laugh and run my fingers through my cold brittle snowflake filled hair. “She likes them, she’s the cook, I don’t need to ask questions about her highness Hughes.” I bow and joked.

The thing about Luke, is he’s always laughing, he always understands me. Maybe that’s why Jim and Ellen love him for me? I’m not sure but I’m basically like their daughter. Somehow the boys were never my “brothers.”

I moved into their house for a year in Toronto because of my parents divorce. Jack was always at hockey, Luke never left my side and Quinn never hung out with me.

As soon as we got to the house I jumped out, and ran inside. I had the bag in my hand, Jack’s stupid shoes were sitting in the middle of the entry way.

I slipped and fell. I got up right away. The cranberries had spilled all over me from the jar. Glass crushed my hand. I don’t feel the pain, but as soon as Ellen comes rushing over from the kitchen I feel sharp tense pain in my wrist, and ass.

Luke runs in after me as he locks the car. He holds me up. He goes to grab the bandage kit they store in a closet. Ellen goes to grab the broom, and Quinn runs over to me to clean me up. Jim and Jack run out to get more cranberry jars for tonight’s big dinner.

I don’t question to holding onto Q for support, he brings me upstairs to his room. He sits me onto his bathroom counter and I feel my now bruised ass press agisnt the cold counter top.

Luke left us some bandages for Quinn to use on me. Luke left to go help his mother clean. Quinn and I are left alone.

It’s been 2 months of Quinn and I’s relationship. We haven’t told anybody, but it’s Halloween and I wnat a couple costume. Obviously I want to post the costumes for this year, so I’m left to wear something by myself.

Quinn kissed my cold cheek leaving a warm impression on my flushed face. He wraps my hand in pink bandage, and he helps me take my shoes and leggings off. Quinn changes me into some of his sweatpants, and a large shirt he has.

“Do you what them to know?” I ask.

Quinn pulled me into a warm hug. “Not yet, I’m not sure if my dad would be happy I’m the one you chose.” He rested his chin on top of my head.

“Well they will know because I have your clothes on, and they reek of your strong cologne.” I laugh. He holds my head as if i have a terrible headache.

He kissed my lips and carried me out of his personal bathroom. I walk to my room, and change into this gorgeous red dress, nice and lacy. I grab an ugly sweater and pull it over my head. Quinn changed into fancy- casual clothing to match my outfit.

We walk downstairs into a beautiful dining room, with a large Christmas tree that hangs fabulous ornaments that hold pictures of our childhood pictures. I notice that Ellen has labeled our sitting spots at the table.

I’m next to Jack, Luke next to my left, and quinn across from me. Ellen faces Jack, while Jim is sitting at the head, and the table is pressed up to the wall. So no one is sitting at the opposite side of Jim. There is an empty seat, I thought it was weird- Ellen never has an empty chair for family gatherings.

We stay eating, we pass peas, toast, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cheese on a stick. Then we hear the door bell ring.

I thought, “Christmas carolers.”

“Mom?” Quinn gets up quickly. Ellen has been outside for a few minutes. She finally comes in. She grunts in frustration.”hey Quinn.” One of many the pretty girls Quinn has had a relationship with says. She walks up to him, hugs him and sets her bags down.

“You can sit here, and I’ll take Quinn’s seat.” Ellen nods,

“Mom! You knew about this?” Quinn drags her over to the Christmas tree. He lowered his voice.

Am I nervous that Quinn’s ex-girlfriend is here- while we just kissed upstairs, and to mention… He’s my boyfriend.

yes. Yes I’m petrified.

“Of course I did Quinn. She loves you still. I’m your mother. Switch seats with me.” Ellen walks him back to the table, straightening his ugly sweater on him.

“No. I like where I am.” Quinn sits down at his original seat. He places his foot on mine, letting me know he’s with me.

“Pretty.” I mouth to Quinn. He nods his head in agreement. He winks at me and he starts playing footsie with me. My dress folds right at the cut of my hip and thighs. Very short dress for a winter party.

Classical winter music continues over our dinner. Jim laughs at everything Jack says, Luke looks at me when I eat. I look at Luke when he eats. It’s just as if we’re still little and we fling Mac and cheese at eachother.

“Grub bub.” Luke laughs while drinking his apple cider. I laugh so hard I snort, Quinn starts laughing at me. Jack holds me in and sways me around. Yep, he’s drunk.

Ellen noticed the few glances Quinn and I make.

“Why don’t you help me clean up?” Jim waves Ellen up. We dismiss ourselves and we go back to our rooms. Quinn, well he takes his ex’s bags up to the guest room.

While they walk up here, “oh. I love that room, may I stay in it?” She walks into my room, and lays on the bed. “Comfy!” She giggles. I walk out if my closet, I suck my teeth this selfish bitch is in my bed.

“what. the. fuck.” I laugh in a rude manner. I see Quinn astonished, his mouth open. And so were her legs.

I push quinn out. I yell in his face, “get her up, or I’ll handle it myself.”

You could say I get jealous, but why did he seemed to enjoy it?

Ellen came running upstairs, “oh my!” Ellen grabs the girl out from her arm. She takes her bags and leads her to the basement guest room.

I was angry, I walking away. I had on a lacy black thong, and a navy blue spaghetti strap tank top, and some white sweat shorts on. The thong sits on my hips, and the shorts sit right on my pelvis bone. Most of my underwear was out. I ddint give a fuck. I had no bra on- “wow” Jack says while he walks his way to his own room.

“Nice one” Jack laughs at Quinn. Quinn watches me sit down in the living room couch, I turn the TV on. He comes running down to sit with me.

“Baby, come on. What was I supposed to do?” He whines.

I roll my eyes, “uh, I’m not sure- not let her walk into a room?! Im even more mad by the fact she had her legs spread open for you, and her boobs- Her Boobs! They were just out, it wasn’t her underboob or sideboob- I saw nips.” I yell out in frustration.

I get up and slide slippers on.

I get my keys and run out the door. I go for a drive, “wait no!” Quinn runs after me. I have slammed the door on his face.

After awhile- no phone, no internet, no way to find me, Quinn pulls his car right up next to me. Jack sits passenger. “What the hell?!” Quinn knocks on my window.

“Oh goodness! Thought you were a murderire!” I gasp.

“No. You don’t get to do that.” He yells- flailing his arms around. I see his breathe in the air. Quinn knocks on the door.

I roll down the window. Quinn bends down to see me. He kissed my face.

“I told Jack about us. Luke is pampering my “ psychotic bitchy ex” and my mom is waiting for us with hot chocolate.”

“What about-“

“Dad? Yeah no he’s gone. He’s sleeping away from his drunkness. And Jack can drive home because I sobered him up with the news about us.” Quinn rushes over the empty parking lot towards to Jack.

“Go. I’ll talk her back home.” Quinn whispered and nods his head at me. Jack crawls to the driver seat.

“You know her well Quinn! The only way to get back home is to hit 3rd base!” Jack yells out the window while pulling away. Quinn sits in the passenger seat of my car.

We’re alone in a parking lot inside a freezing car because my heater broke, and it’s the middle of winter with tons of axe murderres.

“He’s not wrong.” I look at Quinn.

Quinn mumbles, “mhm. I know.” He slides his hand onto my thigh.

I crawl to the backseat. My back hits the cold interior of the car. Quinn climbs ontop of me. He slides my tank top up, seeing my bare hard niopples. “Oh baby.” Quinn starts sucking on one. He slides a hand into my shorts.

I feel his warm but very cold hand touch my sensitive bud. He starts rubbing into my clit, he moans while he sticks one finger into my hole. He came up from my chest- he starts aggressively kissing me.

My tounge hitting his throat, his cum covered finger slides into my mouth. I suck onto my pussy juiced cover finger and Quinn unbuttons his dress pants. I feel his hard groin hit my bare torso. He’s hard- for me.

“Quinn-“ he holds my hands up with one of his own hand. He pulls off my shorts, he sees my new thong. “Impressive.” He moans. I sit up against the door. The windows are white, but not from the frost- but from our hard breathing.

Quinn stuffs his face into my pussy as if he’s still hungry from dinner. I start to cum, but Quinn pulls away from me. He holds my hand as I start rubbing myself. With his other hand, Quinn jerks iff to start some lubricant.

He starts rocking his hips into mine. I feel his cold tip touch what feels like my lungs. He holds my legs up. I know the car is rocking a ton. But I love it.

Quinn slaps my ass while I’m in doggy style. He fucks me hard, and he gets tired after a good 47 minutes.

I hope I get to finish him. I start sucking off his cum and playing with his sensitive balls. He leans his head back, letting me crawl up onto his chest. His phone rings.

“Hey dad? Whats wrong?”

“Where are you? Is y/n coming back?” Jim yells through the phone. I can hear the worry in his voice.

“Dad. Y/n. She’s fine.” I cut him off by kissing him. I turn our camera on and see Jim. Ellen is in the corner of the camera and screams. She jumps up and down.

“I knew you’d end up with one of my boys!” She smiled. She runs up to Jack and he twirls her around. Luke winks at us through the camera.

Quinn cuddles me in bed and warms my back up. I feel his warmth and love, I wish we announced our relationship before the dinner.

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