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thepavementsings · 2 years

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the things i would do to hear ur thoughts about pierre & carlos’ relationship…..

Fascinating. There's a quote (about Red Bull seats ofc no one asks him about anything else) where Pierre says "Carlos is on his own journey" and I felt feral about it. Nothing under the cut is actually about that to be clear though. It's about being gay and repressed :)

There was definitely a time during their red bull racing junior cult™️ days where they have to share rooms and Pierre makes crude jokes about jerking one out in the other bed that make Carlos blush SO hard he has to take a 45 minute run about it to calm down.

At some point during idk a training camp they're all doing one summer or something who cares, Pierre comes out of the shower in nothing but a towel. And Carlos (who at this point hasn't jerked off in the 3 weeks since they got there) makes it halfway to the bathroom with his dick half hard against is thigh in his shorts before Pierre says something stupid like "you know I've heard from people that they have some pretty good channels here" and the comment takes Carlos off guard enough to turn him around, just enough to see the playful smirk on Pierre’s face. Pierre tells him that it's no big deal, that he’s done it before, and then turns the tv loud enough that Carlos is mortified to think whoever is in the room beside them could hear it. Carlos can't look at what Pierre is doing on the other bed, just sits on the edge of his own, palms digging into the meat of his thighs. By the time he hears Pierre come, he’s soft again. Carlos gets in the shower immediately after, the wet spot on his shorts folded away into the discarded pile of clothes in the corner of the room.

Pierre gets up the next morning and slaps him on the shoulder when he smiles passed him in the weight room. Carlos feels HORRIBLE about it for like 3 days, and then he asks Pierre out for dinner.

They go to some diner across from the training facility. Pierre complains about his meeting with Helmut, and laughs at Carlos' story about embarrassing himself at his f1 test, and Carlos tries to feel normal about it. But then when they get back to their room Carlos tries to KISS Pierre. Pierre pushes him back so quickly and Carlos is MORTIFIED. Because he doesn't even know why he did that he just thought - after their date, it's not like there's a doorstep for him to leave Pierre at but he's just trying to - he doesn't know. Now all he can look at is the way Pierre has put as much room between them as he can, and Carlos thinks that he didn't even really want to kiss Pierre in the first place, and is there a hole in the earth that can please swallow him up.

And Pierre tells him that he's not - F1 drivers aren't, people don’t do that stuff in Motorsport, Carlos. That wasn't a - it was just a couple of friends letting off some steam.

And Carlos nods, buries himself into the hot hotel bed sheets, and shows up to his first Grand Prix a few months later with a beautiful girl on his arm just like he was always meant to :)

#then like 4 years later Pierre would catch him holding Lando's face in his hands in the bathroom after a press conference #and Lando would have to let Carlos kneel at his feet in his hotel room for an hour that night.#but Pierre would come find him on the drivers' parade #knock their shoulders together and with a sheepish smile #ask him if he wants to come train at some new boxing gym in milan before monza next week. that lando can come to if he wants #(he doesnt. obviously. but lando tells carlos he thinks he should go. so he does)#They dont talk about him and Lando. But Pierre will smirk at them when he passes by in the paddock now.#which even THAT is to overbearing for carlos. but it's also kind of nice :)#Pierre is still a good 4 months and a drunk crisis call to Carlos from Ibiza to getting there himself but thats another story #blah blah carlos presenting to Pierre as this token of masulinity #him having to reconcile that #carlos and pierre #found this in my drafts? remember hating it never posting it. still kind of do hate it! but the premise is interesting enough #so im getting over myself #and posting it now while the dash is dead. sorry anon from 2 (?) months ago!#carlos #pierre

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

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Riding Shotgun || CL14 & PG10 {1}

Pairing: boyfriend!Charles Leclerc x fem!reader x ex!Pierre Gasly Summary: A trip away with your boyfriend takes a turn when your ex comes along. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, mentions of historical cheating, unprotected sex, voyeur/exhibition kink. WC: 1.9k F1 Masterlist || one || two

Charles’ Ferrari pulled up outside his apartment just as you stepped outside with the overnight bag he had asked you to pack. The excited smile on your face hadn’t wavered since he promised to take you away for the night, just the two of you. So much of his time at home this trip has been spent with others, like going to the tennis open or some photoshoot, that he wanted to treat you to something special.

But as the passenger door swung open you saw he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, hey Pierre,” you greeted your ex who was sitting in your seat before lifting a questioning eyebrow to your boyfriend behind the steering wheel. “What are you doing here?”

“I hope you don’t mind, when Charles said he was going to Milan I thought I might catch a ride,” Pierre said as jumped out and took your bag to the boot.

“Should I call a taxi?” you asked as Pierre sat back in the passenger seat.

“You can sit on his lap,” Charles offered with a nod in Pierre's direction, “it’s not that far to the airport.”

“You want me to sit on my ex-boyfriend's lap for half an hour,” you stated, hoping he would pick up on the strangeness of the set up but he seemed oblivious. “Why doesn’t Pierre just drive?”

“No one drives my Pista,” he scoffed, like what you had said was absurd and not what he had. “Just get in or we’ll be late.”

You looked back at the apartment but knew you weren’t going to miss out on a night away with Charles so you took a steadying breath and climbed into the car.

You had forgotten how muscular Pierre was until you sat on his lap, not that Charles wasn’t, but Pierre took more interest in bulking up when he went to the gym. It made for a very uncomfortable seat in a car built for luxury.

“Stop squirming,” Pierre muttered in your ear as you shifted once again.

“You’re not exactly soft.”

His large hands gripped your hips and planted you firmly in one spot as Charles left the city and started the ascent through the winding mountain road to Nice.

“Charles, slow down,” you warned as you grabbed the handle above the door and the dash.

Without a seatbelt you were rocking side to side with each corner and Pierre had wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you from jolting forward whenever Charles broke into the tight corners. Attempting to stabilise you further, Pierre widened his legs but the movement caused your jeans to pull tight as he forced your thighs apart and the seam pressed into a very sensitive spot.

Charles didn’t hear your sharp intake of breath over the music that was playing but Pierre did and a quiet chuckle teased your ear.

“Everything alright, princess?”

His words were mocking, the title one you had been given since going public with the ‘people’s prince of Monaco’.

“Fine,” you bit back sharply before Charles took another corner quickly and the seam of your jeans rubbed over your clit, a small unexpected moan escaping at the sensation. You froze at the sound and became hyper aware of everything happening in the car; from Charles pressing the volume up on the steering console to the length growing hard beneath you.

“You don’t sound fine,” he teased, his hands slipping lower down your waist. “You sound…needy. Does Charles not satisfy you like I did?”

Your fist clenched around the handle as you fought the urge to drop your elbow on his head but that would certainly draw Charles’ attention to the situation you had found yourself in.

“Shut up, Pierre,” you whispered angrily under your breath.

“You didn’t deny it,” he pointed out.

You shifted to your side so you could see his face when you spoke to him. “Charles not only satisfies me, but he satisfies only me and doesn’t fuck with every woman that bats her eyelashes his way.”

“We established I was a shit boyfriend, but he could never make you come like I can.”

“This also makes you a really shit friend. What happens if I turn the other way and tell him about this?”

Pierre smirked and leaned closer. “Go on, princess, I dare you.”

“Charles?” You called his bluff and turned the music down, your boyfriend’s eyes darting over for a moment before returning to the road. “Pierre has an erection.”

Pierre choked on a laugh as he dropped the pretence of holding you in place and let his hands fall naturally between your legs. “And Y/N is about three corners away from an orgasm.”

His fingers pressed over the seam of your jeans and the breath you had been taking to yell at him shuddered in your chest at the touch, the shiver a betrayal of your body. You grabbed Pierre’s hands to pull them away but he was far stronger and when you looked at Charles for help you expected to find anger in his eyes.

“I know your fantasies, princess,” Pierre smirked and looked over at his friend as his fingers teased over the denim between your legs, “you don’t have to be shy. Has Charles told you his yet?” His stubble tickled your neck as his lips brushed behind your ear and he whispered, “Before you two got together he would get off on the stories of us fucking.”

Your resistance faltered as your stomach flipped and you peered over to Charles who was biting his lip and stealing every glance he could as he drove, his eyes focused on Pierre’s hands between your legs and his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. You dragged your eyes down his body and saw his jeans barely containing the evidence of his arousal.

“You always wanted to have someone watch us, someone we could trust,” Pierre continued, announcing your secret to the car as one hand snaked up your body and gently wrapped around the base of your throat. “Now you can.”

“You’re insane,” you rasped breathlessly but it had nothing to do with the hold he had.

“Am I?” he chuckled as he flipped the sunvisor down and opened the mirror so you could see your face, your pupils blown out with desire. He reached for your jeans and popped the button before dragging the zip down slowly but you didn’t fight him. “Didn’t think so.”

Charles pulled over into the road shoulder overlooking the French Riviera and turned the car off. “You were meant to wait until the hotel,” he said as he palmed his erection.

“It’s hard to keep my hands to myself when she’s grinding on my fucking dick, Cha.”

“You planned this.” You felt stupid as you realised it. The feeling quickly passed when Pierre’s hand slipped beneath your panties and he felt how wet you were for him as he started to fuck you with two fingers.

“Fuck,” Pierre growled with the husky tone that came out whenever he was about to lose control and you trembled in anticipation. “Get these off, now.”

You shoved your jeans down your legs and he lifted your hips up so he could free himself from his own before pulling you back down on his lap. A cry filled the car as he stretched your cunt and you revelled in the burn that danced the thin line between pleasure and pain.

“Cristo,” Charles moaned as his hand disappeared into his jeans and he watched you bounce on his friend's cock. “Come sei bella.”

Pierre grazed his teeth over your racing pulse before sealing his lips over your skin and leaving his mark while his middle finger found your clit.

“Do you like seeing another man fucking me?” you asked Charles as stroked his cock, the swollen head weeping with precum as he tightened his fist around it. “Do you like being cuckolded?”

“Mon Dieu, oui,” he moaned and your cunt clenched in response.

“I’m not going last when you do that, princess,” Pierre growled in your ear and your body heated at the look he gave you in the small mirror.

The atmosphere intensified as the sounds in the car grew louder and you planted your hands on the dashboard so you could rock your hips against Pierre. The shift in angles hit that perfect spot that sent stars dancing across your vision and your head fell back with the ecstasy that washed over you.

“Fuck, she feels so good,” your ex said to your boyfriend as he felt your orgasm rippling around him. His grip on your hips tightened as he guided you even faster before slamming you down on him and holding you there, filling you with his release and igniting another aftershock of pleasure.

Charles groaned at the sight of you sagging back into Pierre’s embrace as you basked in the afterglow and his cock pulsed in his hand with thick ropes of cum spilling over his fist.

Pierre tipped his head back into the headrest as he regained his breath and his fingers drew small designs over your thighs. “You’re a lucky man, Cha.”

“You had your chance.” You whimpered at the emptiness as you shifted off Pierre’s lap and pulled your jeans back up.

“Maybe we can come to some other arrangement,” Pierre suggested. “We both know I’m not boyfriend material, that’s all Charles, but you have to admit this felt good.”

The high you had been riding faded and reality set in as you looked at Charles. “Is this what you want?”

“I think it’s safe to say we all enjoyed it,” he noted as he found a napkin in a cup holder and started to clean up the mess on his hand and you giggled at the statement.

“Yeah, but it’s a recipe for disaster. Fuckboy’s don’t belong in relationships.”

“I agree,” Pierre chuckled as he tucked himself away and zipped his jeans up. “That’s not really what we had planned.”

“If you were comfortable of course,” Charles confirmed.

“I told him about your exhibition kink,” Pierre said with a smirk. “Turns out he’s a bit of a voyeur and likes to watch. And, well, I like to fuck. So whenever you want, I’m up for giving a little show. What are friends for?”

You chewed your lip at the thought of the arrangement, the idea making your skin heat once again. “And what if I want more than a show?”

Both men sat up a little straighter and Charles ran his thumb over his bottom lip. “Like what, cherie?”

Shyness had you looking away from his green eyes and you watched the sea way down the bottom of the mountain instead. “What if I wanted both of you, at the same time?”

Pierre’s chest pushed against you as it puffed with a sharp intake of air and he looked at Charles for an answer. Everyone knew Pierre was up for nearly anything but you had thought Charles was more conservative until today and you weren’t sure what his answer would be, or if you had in fact just ruined not only your relationship but their friendship too.

“I’m okay with that,” Charles said, his throat bobbing with the deep swallow he took. “Pierre?”

“Get us to Milan, Charles,” he replied. “Your car is too small for that.”

Click here for part two.

F1 Tagging: @91vhs @alwaysclassyeagle @applespiez @ravenqueen27 @booksobsess @tempo-rary-fix @baw-sixteen @im-an-overthinker @notleclerc

A/N: please let me know if you want to be tagged in all of my F1 fics 💕

#charles leclerc fanfic #pierre gasly fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #charles leclerc imagine #pierre gasly imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #Charles Leclerc smut #pierre gasly smut

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theladyragnell · 8 days

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I am once again asking for romance novel recs!

Specifically, I am really burned out on the current trends in contemporary romcoms, and I'm looking for some good historicals or fantasy/sci fi romances. Bonus points for available in mass market paperback, but I know that's a hard ask these days!

My favorite romances so far this year have been:

You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty by Akwaeke Emezi

The Earl and the Executive by Kai Butler

At His Countess's Pleasure by Olivia Waite

I am specifically burned out on enemies to lovers where they just dislike each other instead of having external circumstances keeping them apart, second chance romance where half the book is spent on flashbacks to the first romance, and heroines who are the center of a Clumsiness And Disaster Vortex.

I love romps (and if you like romps try The Earl and the Executive above), don't mind an action romance (I quite liked Something Wilder by Christina Lauren), and am fond of a good old-fashioned soppy drama (Christina Britton has hit the spot for me there a few times lately). I'm just specifically not looking for the books that tend to come with really samey illustrated covers, I suspect if you've read this far you know the ones I mean.

(I am generally familiar with the catalogs of the following authors: Mary Balogh, Courtney Milan, Olivia Waite, Olivia Atwater, T. Kingfisher, KJ Charles, Cat Sebastian, Eva Ibbotson, and lots of the traditionally published authors with big backlists (Lisa Kleypas, Beverly Jenkins, Julia Quinn, and so on). Generally I do read a lot of romance, but I'm hoping my dash will have some deeper cuts!)

#about me #i think i'm just overdosed on insincerity again #i love quips and romps they just don't feel super grounded in a lot of things i watch and read lately

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munsster · 2 years

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PICTURES WITH EDDIE HIM COVERING YOUR BOOBS WITH HIS HANDS WITH HIS RINGS OMG AHHAHAHAHAHWKSUWJDJAJSHJKAHDKAWJND I NEED A ONESHOT OF THIS

it’ll last longer

A/N: oh my god & him totally leaving them in places he knows you’ll see just to get you flustered as f*ck 👹

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Bimbo!Reader

Summary: You show Eddie your new Polaroid camera, and he already has a few ideas. 1.4k words

Warnings: tibbies, boobies, bReasts, + hands on ‘em, being naked but nonpenetrative so it is technically smut, praise, taking nudes, hand kink, flustered and horny eddie, mention of drug use, mention of gun violence, everyone is over 18 here

Eddie had been royally pissed off a second ago. With the pounding on his door like goddamn thunder spiraling him right towards a raging headache. But then it swung open to your smiling face, your arms clasped behind your back, and he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed anymore.

Not with the slight curve of your mouth and the soft squint of your eyes and your pink mini skirt peaking out beneath the hem of his leather jacket. Not with your cherry lipgloss laid on thick and the locket stuffed with his likeness jingling just above your cleavage reflecting the golden lamplight past his shoulder.

“Hey, bug, how’s my favorite conformist doing?”

“She’s busy,” you say, suddenly pouty and sullen. But you can’t just wipe the remnants of that giddy look off your face or dim the stars in your eyes, so as bitter as you try to be, he knows you’re still beaming somewhere under there.

“Busy?”

“Snorting white in Milan with millionaire heartthrob: John, Jr.”

“How very metal of her,” he teases, dipping down and pressing a chaste kiss to your bottom lip. But you disappear past him into the depths of the hallway, and he finds you perched on his bed kicking your legs out in front of you.

A click, a whirr, and a blinding flash: he’s staggering backward, fluorescent yellow burned into his vision. He blinks the static away to see you wide-eyed down at a small, square picture edged with a thick white border.

“What the shit?”

Propping yourself up on your knees, you tuck a boxy, grey camera under your arm and offer him the little photo. On film, his big hands are outstretched and overexposed, his silver rings reduced to a couple black bands at the base of his fingers. The grainy lens caught him grimacing though his knuckles, lips pursed, eyes shut.

“When’d you get it?” Eddie nods to your sleek and shiny Polaroid camera that flicks back open when you slip your thumb across the back.

“It was sitting on the dash when daddy drove me home from the rink.”

“Well… I’m keeping this,” he says, mouth pressed in a line when you bounce up to glance at the blurry picture with a sweet giggle.

“I can take a better one for you,” you coo, but he grabs a fistful of the leather jacket draped over your shoulders, tugging you closer, and slipping it into the inner pocket.

“How ‘bout I take some of you, bug?”

“Me?

“Yeah, you,” he breathes, taking in a lungful of your sugary, jasmine-spritzed perfume that peppers your neck in sloppy kisses of springtime and pie-eating contests at greasy carnivals. You fill him with wistful nostalgia, prodding around in his heart and guts for the tenderest spots and prodding some more when you realize how supple they are between your teeth.

“Doing what?” you say with a shrug. And that look in his tired eyes is all-telling. It’s like he can see through your top, and doesn’t even bother with being subtle because you’re so perfect, the risk is nothing compared to the reward

“That’s rotten, Munson. Don’t be vulgar.”

“Why, ‘cause your daddy bought you that camera? What’s he gonna care that Hawkins’ resident freak is defiling his daughter on a Thursday night?”

“He’d also buy me a shotgun, if I asked.”

“Is that supposed to scare me, bug?”

“Big, too, ‘n I’d aim it right here”—your rounded, ballet-slipper-pink fingernail draws an ‘X’ over his sternum—“break your heart real easy.”

“Don’t need a shotgun for that,” he huffs, guiding your fist open against his waist, slotting his fingers beneath the weighty underbelly of your Polaroid camera, and pressing his plump lips to your brow to get you to transfer its weight to his palm.

He holds your chin between thumb and knuckle, even though you pout and fiddle with the chain hanging from his belt loops. He lifts the camera to eye-level, sputtering and snapping when he fingers for the bright red button, tapping it gently.

The flash rings in your ears, leaves behind a distorted blob of darkness when you look up. The camera spits out an onyx plain of undeveloped film before slowly flooding with splotches of bronzy green.

“Hello, Miss America,” he mumbles, wobbling the delicate picture back and forth in the air, and you shriek, wrapping both hands around his forearm.

“Fuck, Eddie!”

“Yes, ma’am—”

“No, the ink, baby, it’ll bubble,” you whine, pinching the picture and blowing softly along its face.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says when you turn away from him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, pecking just below your diamond-studded ear with a sigh. “You still look incredible.”

And you do. Like a model, as always, he thinks, but you’d make fun of him for dreaming where you won’t. He always tells you to remember him when you’re strutting through Manhattan, being clobbered by psychos with expensive cameras.

The photo’s abandoned atop his amp and the kisses are slow and sweet with your jacket draped over the edge of the bed and your fingers in his hair and his lips lazy and wet against yours. You taste biting and bubbly like cheap champagne, royal and bold under his tongue.

He picks at the barbie-pink bandeau across your chest, and you arch into his touch when his fingertips brush your pert nipples through the stretchy fabric. He ducks his head against your collar, tonguing the smooth skin with a harsh breath. Two fingers hooked between your tits to drag the spandex down around your waist. His eyes are half-lidded when you draw your fingernails up his cheek.

“Get the camera,” you huff, his wild eyes peering down at you as his fingers scramble for the heavyweight thing leaving a shallow dent in his mattress. He aims it right at you, capturing your chest, up your neck, and the careful swoop of your baby soft cupid’s bow.

But you whine, “not of me!” and plant your palms over your face with a squeal. He’d scold you for it if he wasn’t completely taken with the likes of you. The photo slips onto the pillow next to your head, camera sitting beside your bicep while he licks his lips and leans slowly, mouth waiting with bated breath as it meets the tenderness of your bare breasts. One hand cups the other while he laps at your nipple with a soft groan rattling shockwaves through your chest like a battering and deadly riptide.

You weave your deft fingers into his messy hair and lift the camera above your head, fumbling your thumb against the button, and shuddering when he blinks up at you from between your breasts. His eyes go light for a second for the camera, flashing deep hazel rimmed with brown as he’s blinded. But it doesn’t matter with your skin lush and salty on his tongue.

He’s a little foggy when you sit up, but you nod to the wall his mattress is shoved up against, and he slumps towards it, gripping your hips until you wiggle into his lap.

With his heart beating on your back, you tilt your head to the side, and he slides the pad of his thumb just beneath your hairline where his name is tatted in sloppy black ink. He kisses it and hooks his fingers under your jaw to look you in the eye with a hungry grin. You lift the camera, and it clacks when he kisses you, full of tongue and saliva and gutterbrain when his grip goes slack, both hands down and cradling your ribs as they expand with air. With staggering and stuffy satisfaction. With life when his thumbs swipe beneath the curve of your breasts and he hums into your mouth.

You’re buzzing on high in his hands, and he can tell. Whether or not he’s touching you most of the time, it still makes you skittish and hot like this. Jumpy and tense and precious all under his roof and in his hands.

He brings them to cup your breasts, holding them against you because it makes you purr into his mouth. Heavy rings cold on your nipples, pinching with every flex of his antsy fingers. And it makes him harder against your lower back. Click, and the photo spits out against your calf, developing under your leg. And the camera is abandoned once his knees pin your thighs open wide.

The photos still litter his bedroom the next morning.

The boys creep up on him at his cluttered locker as he tucks the corner of a Polaroid picture beneath one of the heart-shaped magnets you bought for him. His ringed hands are clearly outlined, palms covering a pair of tits, hickey bruised against the girl’s jugular. Their eyes go wide, exchanging glances before Dustin shifts and clears his throat.

“What do you want,” Eddie barks, turning on his heel with a squinted glare

“Isn’t that the necklace you bought for—”

“Hi, Eddie,” you chirp, “hi, boys.”

Their sneakers shuffle back and forth on the squeaky linoleum while they narrowly avoid your eye contact and mumble nervous greetings. And you survey them slowly, with blind curiosity, at first. You blame it on their early-pubescent-nerves and brush it off. Then Eddie rocks forward with a grin, kissing the edge of your bubblegum pink mouth, giving way to a glimpse of the wide open door of his locker, newly decorated with a picture you recognize all too well with a rush of mortification.

Heart pounding, you glance back at the boys who have already scuttled halfway down the busy hall, whispering and giggling at each other. Eddie slips his arms around your waist with a content hum pressed to your warm temple.

“Good morning, bug.”

masterlist

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sonego · 1 year

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here i am making this clear once again:

t*rfs/r*df*ms/gcs/whatever the fuck other kind of transphobe might exist (you still hate trans ppl at the end of the day), fuck off this blog i literally want you to stay very very very far away from me

#i already feel unsafe enough on sports tumblr why do these motherfuckers have to appear in my notes #i literally hate you you literally hate me. go away #is it not enough that i have to see on my dash ppl that i've seen interact w t*rfs lol #like. milan tumblr is on thin fucking ice #and now i get transphobes on my sonny posts. blocked you and punched u in the face w my mind. bye #whatever i'm in a #in so much physical pain i should not let this affect me too

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rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭

Bucky was nothing if he wasn't dramatic or pulling off one hell of a stunt, but this one by far shattered any limit you thought he wouldn't break — you just had to hold the fuck on.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ❯❯❯ Street Racer!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ❯❯❯ 2.2k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ❯❯❯ Fluff, highly illegal fun

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ❯❯❯ WELL IT'S TAKEN ALMOST A YEAR, but here is a sequel to Second Nature that has had me in a chokehold.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ❯❯❯ Mirrors by DJSM, Milan Gavris, and Robbe ❯❯❯ P.I.M.P. HEDGEGAARD REMIX by HEDGEGAARD ❯❯❯ Go Down Deh by Spice, Shaggy, Sean Paul

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ❯❯❯ @the-slumberparty Week 4 Challenge — Masterlist

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The alley was dark, and it was deserted–save for the sleek Skyline and Challenger set to pounce, the engines needed only to be started before they’d tear the streets apart. You had no idea how, or why you were doing this. Since that drive with Bucky after his win last time, you were itching to feel that rush of adrenaline again, it was a high like no other.

You had become an adrenaline junkie - so what?

A warmth billowed from your side and you looked over, broken from your reverie. “You ready for this, baby?” Bucky’s voice was a low whisper, and goosebumps broke out over your skin.

“Yeah, I am,” you replied, snaking your arms around his middle so he would hold you.

“I can stop when and if you need to, alright?” You nodded and Bucky squeezed you once, then let go. He looked over his shoulder to Steve. “You ready, punk?”

“Shut the fuck up, jerk,” Steve grinned. “I’ll beat you this time, and you know it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and guided you to his Skyline, opening the door. The bucket seat was hard but it enveloped you, wrapped you tight in its hold; with the racing harness that only the best used, you knew it was safe. “Here we go,” Bucky hummed, adjusting the straps so they’d fit tighter than before. “Not too tight?” You shook your head and he kissed you full on the mouth. The kiss left you breathless and dizzy, adrenaline had started pumping and the car hadn’t even roared to life yet.

You were screwed–totally, unequivocally, desperately screwed.

“Remember, I can stop when and if you need me to. What’s your word, baby?”

The lack of dash lights left Bucky’s face in a dark shadow, but you could feel his piercing gaze, honed in on your lips and flicking up to your eyes. “It’s uh- it’s Dodge.”

A huff of laughter left Bucky and he nodded. “Only punks drive those,” he mused, looking over the belts one last time. “Alright, sit tight.” The passenger door closed and you could see Bucky walk around the Skyline to Steve, who was waiting in his car.

It was likely the last time you would be able to breathe calmly until the end of the night, so you closed your eyes, breathing deeply in through your nose, and out of your mouth. Your heart calmed the beat it hit against your ribs and you felt a semblance of calm wash over you.

Bucky would keep you safe. Bucky wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Bucky was the best racer there was, he wasn’t reckless or foolish, especially when you were in his prized Skyline.

You were gonna be okay.

“You with me, baby?” You jumped and looked next to you. Bucky had just opened the door and he was slipping inside the driver’s seat, a slight frown on his lips as he watched you zoned out–off in your own world where you were not about to be an accomplice nor witness to some highly illegal fun.

“Sorry, yeah, I’m okay,” you rushed to reassure him. “I was just calming down, I know I’m gonna be flying by the seat of my pants in a minute.”

Bucky laughed and turned the ignition, the car roared to life beneath you and quieted into a purr. “Literally.”

The two of you laughed and Bucky strapped himself in. Lights from the dash brightened as the computer loaded, the NOS and specs popping up on the screen by the shifter. “You can put some music on if you want,” Bucky said, switching the steering controls on the screen to drift-

“Wait, what?” You gasped, watching him as plugged in the adjustments. “You- oh god, Bucky-”

“Relax, baby.” Bucky’s warm and callused hand rested on your thigh and he squeezed, the computer abandoned. “It’s only so I can show that punk,” he pointed over his shoulder with his free hand, “what for, he has no idea, but he will figure it out. Pity it’ll be too late.” He snickered and went back to the computer with his other hand, while the other continued to squeeze your thigh reassuringly. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

“Okay,” you whispered, hands starting to tremble. “I trust you.”

Bucky smiled happily and finally brought up the connections when your phone chimed with the notification you were connected. “Give me a badass song that’ll make kicking his ass all the more glorious, baby. I’m counting on you.”

The playlists on your phone lacked anything he could drift to, but you finally settled on one you’d heard on the radio in your not-souped-up car when you were heading to your absolutely normal job. God, please let me not pass out, you willed, feeling your heart speed up when Bucky shifted in his seat and jostled the shifter.

“Now, I need you to keep calm, and I need you to keep breathing, baby,” Bucky said softly, cupping your cheek. “You’re safe, and I’ve got you.” You nodded fervently and wiggled in your seat, pushing your back against the arch. “Alright, let’s go have some fun.”

The Skyline revved and you whimpered, exhilarated when the shifter pushed into first gear. A roar came from the Challenger and sat as still as a stone while Bucky drove slowly out the alley and onto the street, the flashing and bright lights bouncing off the gunmetal like a painted neon.

“Pull up at the lights, Stevie,” Bucky said suddenly, and you looked over to see him holding his phone before putting it in the cradle, Steve’s face lighting the screen up on a voice call.

You stared wide-eyed as Bucky’s aura changed from soft, loving boyfriend, to competitive and cut-throat racer, his brow set and a slight frown settled on his lips, concentration and pride rolling off him in waves–it was fucking hot, you couldn’t lie.

“This is some fast and the furious shit, Bucky,” you blurted, and Bucky howled a laugh, his nose scrunching up at the wide smile on his once frowning lips.

“Did she just say what I think she just said?” Steve asked.

“She did!” Bucky chuckled, shaking his head.

You grinned and gripped the door rail tighter. “But it’s true!”

“Okay, okay, you’re not wrong, baby,” Bucky said, smiling. “But now I need you to hang on.”

“Oh, god,” you breathed, and Bucky giggled–the shithead giggled. “Don’t make fun of me, you dick!”

“Alright, are we racing or what?” Steve called over the phone, interrupting Bucky’s sudden mischievous smirk.

The line clicked and you realised Bucky hung up on his best friend. He turned to you and gave you a look as a last warning, and you nodded, taking a deep breath. “Play the song,” Bucky said quickly and you grabbed your phone and cursed when you fumbled and dropped it. It fell between the console and the seat. Bucky made a small soothing noise and said, “You’re alright, baby, calm down.”

The words settled over you like a blanket and the vice around your chest loosened. Phone in hand finally, you scrolled and scrolled ‘till you reached the song you had chosen. “Okay, here you go.”

Music blasted over the speakers and Bucky grinned, revving the Skyline to the beat. Steve was next to you and you looked over to find him staring and once you caught his gaze, he rolled his eyes dramatically.

A loud beep sounded from the dash and you looked towards it, and then at Bucky. “Hold on, baby girl,” he murmured, hand moving over the shifter and the other gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.

Oh, fuck.

The light turned green and everything blurred. Tires squealed under you and next to you and the Challenger took off like a bullet, the Skyline not far behind. Cars were honking while Bucky weaved between them, a determined snarl on his expression as the lights from Times Square lit up his face.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe as Bucky shifted gears and the Skyline redlined, the whistle of the turbo screaming over all the noise; it was a mechanical symphony you would never get tired of.

“Son of a bitch,” Bucky growled and you watched as Steve swerved around a group of stopped cars wide enough that his back end kicked out, smoke billowed from his tires and you could feel the smugness in his control. “The punk knew, fucking-” The Skyline kicked back and you squealed, the back end following the Challenger’s lead and Bucky held the wheel steady, eyes flicking between the gauges and road.

Blood pumped furiously in your ears and you couldn’t grasp anything, thoughts flew through your mind faster than you could wrangle them but one stayed, playing over and over; is this what it felt like to be alive?

“Come on!” Bucky yelled, forcing the Skyline to redline and roar with power around another group of stationary cars. “You bastard, Steve!” The lights of the Square had gone and it was dark, no neon lights to guide your way around the circuit.

You laughed breathlessly, watching as the Challenger slowed just enough for the Skyline to kiss the bumper before speeding up again; an arrogant taunt and scream of ‘Kiss my ass, jerk!’ if you’d ever seen one. “Go get him, Buck!”

“Oh, I fuckin’ will,” Bucky growled. The car turned to the side abruptly and you gasped, scrabbling to hold on. It was a side alley, dark and empty but full of twists and turns. “Can’t outsmart me, punk.”

“Oh, god!”

The Skyline bottomed out in the dip of the alley and sparks flew, but Bucky kept going, that same snarl on his lips as he worked the shifter. “Hang on!”

You were flying, you were fucking flying- The Skyline jerked to the side and the engine stuttered with the force of the drift. Colours were filling your vision and you realised that somehow Bucky had circled back to Times Square. “There’s Steve!” You yelled, pointing back to the lone Challenger tearing down the road.

Bucky’s grin was wolfish, manic and bloodthirsty for victory. The steering wheel spun with unbelievable speed and you faced forward, straight as an arrow, and in the lead. “Go, Bucky, go!”

Your push seemed to be what Bucky needed. The dash computer lit up and Bucky slammed a finger against it before you could read what it said, then a strange sound came from behind you, a hissing sound-

The Skyline shot forward and the hissing noise got louder, while the shifter rattled with the force. Bucky had used the NOS–in Times fucking Square.

“Bucky!” You yelled, breathing fast and clutching the door rail and console for dear life. Bucky only chuckled before pressing his boot hard to the floor, the accelerator carving a new home with the force.

A hairpin turn was fast approaching and you chanced a glance at the side mirror, Steve was still on Bucky’s tail but there was no hope for him to take the lead now. “Baby, hang on,” Bucky said just as the NOS expired, and his hand flew from the wheel to the shifter, his other hand having a titanium grip on the wheel.

You forced your body to relax, only using your strength to hold the rail and console, and you were flying again. The Skyline had kicked to the side, the back end making an arch of burnt rubber while Steve fought like hell to take first place. It was surreal, you were flying and you couldn’t help but laugh, adrenaline fuelled and absolutely on a high.

That same set of lights that only a few minutes ago you had sat stationary at came into view, and you could feel the excitement pouring in waves of Bucky–he was going to win.

“Go, Bucky!” You yelled over the music, the beat still thumping through the speakers. “We’re gonna win!”

The engine roared and the turbo whistled as soon as Bucky pushed his boot to the floor again, the pedal slamming against the metal floor. “Damn fuckin’ right we are, baby girl,” Bucky growled, weaving around traffic.

It was both a surprise–though not really, when flashing red and blue lights appeared behind you. Bucky stiffened and narrowed his eyes. “Fucks sake,” he groaned.

You were panting from the adrenaline and your heart seized–cops?

Bucky’s ringtone sounded and you scrambled to answer it, as soon as you did, Steve’s voice boomed through the phone. “What are we doing, Buck?”

“I am fuckin’ winning this race, and then we’re gonna have some fun with these pigs. Follow my lead.” The line clicked and the Skyline’s tail dipped as Bucky downshifted.

It was a blur as you passed under the stop lights you had started at, and you couldn’t grasp that Bucky had in fact, won. Adrenaline burned through every fibre of your body and you were suddenly gasping for air- it was too much, it was too mu-

“Baby, calm,” Bucky said firmly, and he chanced a glance at you. “We’re alright, do you need me to stop? I can lose these pigs. You know the word-”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you rushed, moving a hand to his shoulder so you could feel him, and it worked. The breaths leaving you turned measured but fast, and you grinned, an identical wolfish grin to his own. The change of your demeanour made Bucky pause and he was about to speak, though you stopped him. “Show them what for.”

Bucky’s grin was as bright at the lights above you, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “You said it, baby.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭|𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #navy and roo's sleepover #rookthorne's works #Luminescent

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ae-azile · 1 month

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Progression, Chapter 21: Preview

“Would you like me to call Pete?”

“No!” Tankhun says, feeling a buzzing, hurt rage in his head as he updates his Instagram feed. Again. Still no pictures or announcements.

“Why haven't they posted anything?!” he says, tossing his phone to the side, “Pete just posted the kittens yesterday! Vegas posted a story of Pete helping him cook breakfast with a heart as the caption this morning! Where’s the baby? Vegas was NOT holding some doll in the cemetery, and he referred to Pete as Papa!”

“Maybe they adopted her and it isn't finalized yet,” Arm says gently, “Or maybe they are fostering her and can't post pictures. We don't know the situation, which is why I am offering to call and ask Pete for clarification. We talk to him pretty regularly, and I don't see him keeping this from us unless he had a reason.”

“The reason is Vegas,” Tankhun mutters, “He probably told Pete to not tell us. He's rude like that.”

Arm lets out a sigh and takes his hand, “Tankhun. You have been worried sick about Vegas the last few nights-”

“Lies!”

“You said you thought Douglas hurt him too, and then you have been blaming yourself ever since,” Arm continues, “Why don't you…talk to him?”

Tankhun stares at his deranged boyfriend incredulously, “Absolutely not.”

“You said you used to babysit him a lot,” Arm says quietly, “And when you made a mad dash out of the safe room to get to me during the attack-”

“To save you, which I did!”

“You crossed paths with him, and he left you alone,” Arm says, “And when we found out about him getting shot, you broke down and cried.”

“Hmph!” Tankhun says, because it is much more preferable than admitting Arm is telling the truth.

“He's been the main thing keeping you from actually hanging out with Pete in person, but he never stopped it from happening the few times it has occurred,” Arm says, now massaging his hand, “He seems to be very content out of the business as well, and you just found out you, Kinn, and Kim may share an abuser with him-”

“We don't know if that's true,” Tankhun says, feeling his voice grow hoarse, “He may have just had to pee.”

Arm breathes out, “...And he just so happened to drive out of his way to a cemetery to pee on the freshly dug grave of a man associated with your family?”

“...Fine. That is far-fetched,” Tankhun says, “Maybe it was a witchcraft ritual, and that is why he was so okay with us holding a fake seancé. Vegas had a fixation on witchcraft when he was eight! I still think he likes the aesthetic, to be honest, but when he was little? He and I would be dark witches, and Kim would be a nice witch. That's all he would play for a while. Uncle Gun hated it, but Auntie Milan thought it was funny, especially when Vegas made a Ouija Board and we insulted our stupid, dead grandfather through it because we both hated him-”

“Tankhun,” Arm cuts in, “You're doing it again.”

Tankhun tilts his head at that, “What do you mean?”

“Talking about your cousin with fondness.”

“I did no such thing!” Tankhun says with a gasp.

“Lies,” Arm says simply, and that is true, but still!

“Will you be okay with never knowing for sure if Douglas hurt him?” Arm asks, “Because I would understand if that is the case. There is a lot of bad blood, and the feud your father had with your uncle strained things between you and your cousins. If you want to keep your distance, I will support you. But I thought…I don't know. We have been together long enough-”

“Two years in a little over a month,” Tankhun reminds him.

“It's coming up very soon,” Arm says, a small smile forming on his lips, “You have opened up to me a lot during that time. More than you ever did when I was just your friend and your guard. So I know enough to know that at one point, you really cared about Vegas. Loved him, even. And when we found out about Namphueng, you told me you wondered if we had fought for the right side.”

Tankhun looks away at that, “...I felt that way because Pa faked his death, let us mourn him, and got people killed. And because Kinn told me Pa kept Namphueng locked in a room and away from her sons. I also felt that way because he told me Uncle Gun saw her and cried, which wasn't like him. Uncle Gun wasn't good either. He became despicable too. But he wasn't evil enough to lock a woman up in a room and keep her from her family for years, let alone medicate her with...whatever she was being given."

Arm says nothing, and Tankhun understands. No answer Arm can give will be a good one. If he defends Pa, it undermines everything horrible he did, and how many lives were ruined or ended because of him. If he sides with Uncle Gun and Vegas, then it would ignore the fact that several of his coworkers died by their hands.

But there is no denying Pa is the one who set it in motion, regardless of what happened to any of them. He and Kinn were just expected to fight for their lives until Pa thought it was appropriate to make himself known, and they just went along with it because that was all they knew.

And when he thinks about it that way, he supposes Vegas was in a similar situation and trying to meet his own father’s horrible expectations, that he was groomed by him, just like Pa tried his best to groom his own sons, albeit in a different way.

Just like he might have been groomed by Douglas like Kinn was.

Just like Vegas may have been threatened or hurt by Douglas like he and Kim were.

“Ugh, I'm mad at you!” Tankhun says, jumping to his feet to glare down at Arm, “I don't want to talk to you for the entire night!”

Arm’s entire face drops, “Khun-”

“The entire night! You can sleep on the couch!” Tankhun reiterates, then storms off to his room and slams the door behind him. He shuts his eyes and tries to stick to his resolve. How dare Arm make him overthink their strained family ties? He is supposed to be on his side! Also, it makes no sense for Arm to encourage him to reach out, even if Vegas had been hurt. Vegas hurt and killed several of their guards. They may not have been guards Arm was close with, but they were allies and their lives meant something.

Even though Pa clearly felt differently, since he triggered the whole attack purposely.

Arm is so annoying! If he weren’t so smart, compassionate, gorgeous, and incredible, Tankhun would be DONE.

Although, Tankhun supposes he has made mistakes of his own in the past. Arm has just taken them in stride, or sometimes worked with him on the occasions Tankhun expressed he would like to change the way he reacts to certain triggers.

But that doesn't make him less annoying! Arm is supposed to be aligned with HIM, with Pol coming in second because Arm loves Pol as a brother and Tankhun loves Pol too.

Just like they love Pete. And Pete is with Vegas, which makes that relationship strained because their relationship with Vegas is strained. And now, Pete and Vegas have a baby, and Pete hasn't said a word. That's probably because a baby binds him and Vegas together forever, and that means Pete will never leave Vegas.

Especially if Vegas actually treats him well and truly makes Pete happy.

Ew!

“What are you still doing on the couch?” Tankhun asks sullenly as soon as he opens the door again.

Arm meets his eyes and lets out a sigh, “I did pace for a little while and hover my fist over the door. But I wanted to give you space if you needed it.”

“No,” Tankhun says, lightly stomping his foot, “I want you in here.”

“Ah,” Arm says, standing up, “I must have misunderstood.”

Tankhun nods once in agreement, then leads Arm to his bed so they can both sit down.

Their bed. Arm stays here more than enough for this to be their bed.

“I can understand your concerning willingness to make up with Vegas,” Tankhun says, “You just found out one of your best friends is raising a baby with him. Of course you would like to extend an olive branch. Of course you would like to hang out with Pete in person a lot more. I get it, because…because I want those things too. It's just hard.”

“I know.”

“And…” Tankhun continues, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, “The thought of getting Vegas’s confirmation that Douglas hurt him upsets me. I used to babysit him when he was younger. I used to adore him, and I know there is no point in denying that. So if he admits Douglas hurt him too, that means I failed him as well, and I don't know if I can handle that.”

Arm puts his hand on his back and rubs it, “Would you be able to handle never getting a confirmation, always wondering, and just continuing to have weekly FaceTime chats with Pete? Or is that preferred over finding out what Vegas went through and possibly...mending things? I don't know if that's possible, but it might be a step in the right direction if the issue is thought out and approached in the right way.”

Tankhun thinks on it, then breathes out, “I think it should be Kinn who reaches out. That would be the best way to go about this.”

Arm looks slightly startled by that, “But he hates Kinn the most-”

“But Kinn was also hurt by Douglas the most,” Tankhun interrupts, “And if Douglas actually managed to hurt Vegas, he may be bitter over the fact that Kim and I fought back and managed to get out of whatever Douglas planned to do to us. And if he got away from Douglas like we did, I…As much as he resents Kinn, I can't see him being happy about a fourteen year boy being sexually assaulted. I can't even see him being happy that Kinn went through something like that, because at one point, he loved Kinn.”

“...Do you think Kinn would be willing to admit that to him?” Arm asks.

“I don't know,” Tankhun groans, “Probably not. But Porsche is in contact with Pete and Vegas and visits them. Maybe he can help set up and facilitate a conversation like that. I just…Fuck, Arm! You are SO annoying!”

“You have said that before,” Arm acknowledges as Tankhun pulls out his phone. He sets up a group chat with Kinn, Porsche, and Kim before adding Chay at the last minute. Chay games with Macau and talks with him. Maybe that connection could provide a backup plan that Tankhun doesn't fully have formed in his head yet.

But regardless…

Tankhun: I need to have an important meeting with the four of you. Kim, Chay, I know you two have been working on music all day, but please take a short break. I hope we can come to a decision about this and move forward with my plan within the next couple of days.

Kim: What is this about?

Porsche: It sounds serious. There are no emojis.

Tankhun: 🎾🐁🌬️🎫📟🖨️🩻

Kim: You never even use any of those.

Tankhun: That's because I need to have a serious conversation with all of you. Come here. Now. Kinn, you too.

Kinn: Is everything okay?

Chay: What do you want to talk about?

Tankhun takes a moment, then types one word.

Tankhun: Vegas.

Tankhun: 🎰

#kimchay fic #kimchay fanfic #progression spoilers #armkhun #armtankhun #armkhun fic #vegaspete #progression preview #progression 21

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trentione · 4 months

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my dash is divided into two groups: barca fans watching the match and people who are shocked by Trent’s pics from Milan

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selfsabotaqe · 6 months

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hi everyone! it's been a while & finally i'm making my comeback. work has finally left me some room to breathe so i'll be reappearing on your dash and hopefully getting back into the swing of replies. down below there's a full list of everything currently in my drafts. please let me know whether you'd like to continue or drop these threads. whichever scenario is completely fine and understandable (it's been a hot sec after all), just let me know. if you'd prefer to start something new, we can also do that. feel free to message me or reply to this post anytime. there's no rush at all to make up your mind, but just to start off i'll start with replies for threads people do actively express interest in. so if anything from this list is something you're still excited about, let me know and i'll prioritize. we can always waitlist the other stuff while we feel it out. anyway, let me know, come chat, let me love u down and can't wait to continue writing together. love u all! 💗🥹

with @persephonyed. carlos x lorenzo marley x camille

with @silvrmoon. nadiye x milo axel x kadri zehra x sierra

with @lilacwiine. drew x felice amara x maya

with @invcntions. alec x lucas mateo x saxon devrim x leo beau x koa emre x noah luca x jaiden (smth new?) jesse x finn peyton x vance soren x lincoln

with @horrorphase. dominic x percy milan x kendall

with @slumpcd. max x theo kendall x nolan jinny x gwen

with @gcldcnhour. eden x mathias rhys x bodie isabel x tate alina x priya zoe x knox ethan x violet marisol x miriam

with @temptedfates. emmett x aydin noor x solana

with @spectraled. maddie x rory tbd x dallas (thought abt replying if u would like replies <3)

with @vacationeyes. marco x conrad julian x callum emre x frankie xavier x tyson jude x forest

with @lovecharged. jonas x antonio aleksei x drake bridie x quilo tbd x amie jonas x antonio (part two) julian x zayn felix x robin nadiye x rasim tatum x uziah carlos x gabriel

with @fruitpoem. ambar x joel

with @inkiidreams. aera x selin davika x esra carlos x mallory merve x yaritza robin x aurelia lais x nova casper x knox lachlan x olivia

with @wutheringdevotion. lachlan x oliver rowan x ginny connor x evan meera x monique carlos x gabriel gwen x jonah margot x adrian

with @gardenwalls. meera x paloma alec x mack naiyana x nadine daniel x minako laura x andrea fabien x mei li nazli x rhys

with @felteverywhere. alina x rowan

with @sunstvne. santiago x constantin

with @gvngsigns. gabriela x lucas kai x mateo florence x liam tobias x zuri andrea x cruz ricardo x vincent

with @scbrvght. all of our formula one threads (don't think i owe u the replies but let me know if you'd like to continue them <3) lale x finley soren x everly

mAYBE im missing things. if there's anything i owe you that isn't on this list, feel free to point it out to me! and also vice versa, if you owe me something & you want to discuss continuing or dropping it, just come message me and we can chat about it!

#this literally took forever but <3 #just don't wanna drop the current things if people are still interested #because i genuinely love these pairings?#so please don't hesitate to tell me if you'd like to continue certain threads because then they'll be prioritized!

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