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etherealstar-writes · 2 months

Text

I WANNA BE YOURS | WOSO X READER | PT 15

pairings: woso x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: fifteen

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ nahhh that's it i'm quitting this job tillies my baes you guys hiring? 🙏

stairway NOOOO Y/N IM SOO SORRY

willybum Y/N NO

elton ABSOLUTELY NOT

kyra ABSOLUTELY YES

cha cha YESSS WE WELCOME YOU WITH OPEN ARMS

stephy of course! 🥰

the REAL karate kid NAHHH

neev WE DIDNT MEAN TOO Y/N WE'RE REALLY SORRY

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ NO YOU GUYS ARE NOT

meado what did you guys do this time

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

stairway it was nothing!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ NOTHING?!

willybum did you just make a meme of me ....

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ i've made memes of all of you BUT THAT IS NOT THE POINT RN i hate you all except lotte i love you you're the only lioness i'll support

tom holland's twin while i really appreciate that pls don't leave me with these idiots 🥺🙏

meado waittt i wasn't part of all this why hate meee

earpsy yeah i wasn't there either why do we gotta suffer tho

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ MARY you not being there was what caused this torture and suffering in the first place 😭😭

keira i'm so out of the loop rn

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ SO THESE IDIOTS THOUGHT I'D BE GREAT FOR TARGET PRACTICE IN GOALS AND SHOVED ME IN THE BATTLEFIELD WITHOUT MY CONSENT ME WHOS THE OPPOSITE OF ATHLETIC GOT ABUSED BCUZ OF THEM ALL only lotte being the angel she is helped me

willybum it wasn't even that badddd

stairway yeahh you're being kinda dramatic

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ WASNT EVEN THAT BAD?! EXCUSE YOU I HAVE A CONCUSSION BCUZ OF YOU GUYS AND A MASSIVE BUMP ON MY HEAD AND YOURE CALLING ME DRAMATIC?!

tom holland's twin yeah it was a nasty bump ngl y'all knocked out her braincells

elton i mean to be fair she kinda didn't have many braincells to begin with anyway ....

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ SPEAK FOR YOURSELF THATS ITTT TILLIES YALL MY NUMBER ONE MY MAIN MY HOMELAND

the REAL karate kid

willybum NOOO NOT THEMMM WE SHOULD BE YOUR NUMBER ONE

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ WELL YOU SHOULDVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YALL ATTACKED ME AFTER EVERYTHING IVE DONE FOR YALL AND THIS IS HOW YOU GUYS REPAY ME?!

kyra charli and i are coming to get ya rn from these losers we're on our way

stairway WHO YOU CALLING LOSERS?!

willybum this is unacceptable

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

willybum

the REAL karate kid

neev NAHH WE'LL WAGE WAR

kyra

come at me you colonisers

tom holland's twin NAHH NOT COLONISERS 😭😭

stairway WE WILL

cha cha imma bring in the big guns

cha cha added brick wall, ford, lani and sammy the skippa

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

OMG MORE AUSSIES AYEE

cha cha um that photo .... anyway macca cait lani protect y/n at all costs

brick wall

aye aye

lani on it!

ford okay!

sammy the skippa um what is happening rn

stephy all you need to know is that we gotta protect y/n from the lionesses

sammy the skippa

neev we got our own big guns lucy millie mary rach need ya rn

earpsy here!

brightness yes.

daily i was summoned

rusty metal yeah?

kyra well WEVE GOT MCCABE KATIE MCCABE

the REAL karate kid WHAT?!

willybum SINCE WHEN WAS MCCABE WITH YOU GUYS?!

brick wall since always?

stephy yeah katie's an honorary aussie

meado katie?!

mccard yeah i am

elton WELL WEVE GOT ONA ISNT THAT RIGHT?

rusty metal ona?

ona well ..... i'm afraid to tell you that we spaniards have formed an alliance with the aussies

kie THE BETRAYAL 😭😭

willybum what is this blasphemy

tom holland's twin wait isn't spain also a coloniser tho ....

stairway oh yeahhh that's hypocritical of you

ona shhhhhhh

kyra

cha cha well y/n is successfully ours

willybum ABSOLUTELY NOT

neev WE'LL GET HER BACK JUST YOU WAIT

stairway YEAH WERE COMING FOR YOU KANGAROO RIDERS

samma the skippa

what are you all gonna do? drown us in your cup of teas?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ DAMN yall got violated haha

the REAL karate kid

neev i cannot believe this just happened 😔😭

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

620 notes · View notes

marlenesluv · 6 months

Text

Star of the show. (CL)

summary: when charles leclerc hard launches his actress girlfriend, star of teen wolf as scott mccalls sister, fans go crazy.

note: obviously in the show, scott doesn’t have a sister, but pretend for me, kk? lol

fc: christina nadin (love her)

warnings: language, and sexual comments

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: y/n.user, carlossainz55, and 1,923,035 others

charles_leclerc: the star of the show, and my heart (and the ferrari paddock)

view comments…

ferrarifwiends: did charles just hard launch his gf and expect us not to freak tf out????

y/n.user: awww you used cute pictures of me😮‍💨🫶

↳ charles_leclerc: every picture of you is cute, chérie

↳ user7: oh shit. he’s def getting head for that one

↳ user3: UNCALLED FOR (agreed)

leclerc.edittpg: HOLY SHIT

teenwolffansss: mother is dating a vroom man?

landonorris: she helped me meet dylan obrien guys!!

↳ oscarpiastri: yeah and you never shut up about it

↳ landonorris: you’re just jealous

user5: and she’s close with the paddock?

↳ charycarlos: we have been fooled by the monégasque again

y/nfanedits8: she’s taken? i now have no chance 💔

user1: the fries and the espresso martini look so good

↳ 1655charlossss: i’m sayingggg

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, and 1,240,925 others

y/n.user: my shining star

view comments…

tylerposey58: not to be a protective set big brother..

↳ y/n.user: ur the best sibling i could have ever asked for :’)

↳ tylerposey58: love you and miss you. pls visit me and phem

↳ y/n.user: i’ll bring char

↳ charles_leclerc: :)

stilesstilinski4life: kinda wanted her and dylan to date..

↳ y/n.fppp: just be happy for her? her and dylan are bsfs, she’s dating charles ffs

user3: the way her and tyler are literally the best sibling duo (sibling soulmates. meant to be actual sibling i swear)

charles_leclerc: je t’aime

↳ y/n.user: je t’aime aussi

f1wags: such a beautiful couple, holy shit

charismybae16: omg we are gonna get bf charles pics AHHHHH

↳ wifey.y/n: nah, forget him, we get gf y/n pics OMG

user3: you guys are too cuteeeee

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and 1,420,004 others

y/n.user: fútbol and food (the best f’s)

view comments…

charles_leclerc: next to fucking

↳ y/n.user: charles OMG

↳ charles_leclerc: im not wrong, cherié

f1wags: y/n is turning charles into a bold commenter😭

dylanobrien: baseball is better

↳ y/n.user: mets games🧡💙

↳ dylanobrien: you need to come back so we can go?? bring charles so you can culture him

↳ charles_leclerc: texting the gc now, this sounds so fun

user4: UGH THEY HAVE A GC?!?!?!

hollandroden: you are so beautiful!? miss out girls nights :(

↳ crystalmreed: let’s hangout soon!

↳ y/n.user: holland <3 and yes we should!!

betateenwolfedits: these pictures are pure gold

user4: where’s kika?

↳ francisca.cgomes: i’m at a fashion show, lol. had to leave y/n alone with the guys :(

↳ y/n.user: SAVE ME KIKA

↳ francisca.cgomes: OMW!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.user, pierregasly, and 1,872,024 others

charles_leclerc: we eat good🍷🍝

view comments…

y/n.user: CHICKEN🍗

↳ charles_leclerc: 😋😋😋

teenwolf: getting flashbacks from when y/n would order chicken nuggets 24/7 during filming

↳ y/n.user: miss u guys🤭

↳ teenwolf: we miss you more!🩵

y/nycharfp: they still look hot while shoving their faces, unfair

user7: favorite couple on the grid

dylansprayberry: nice to see you found someone who enjoys cooking as much as you do, y/n

↳ y/n.user: charles can NOT cook

f1wags: same pose, different food and person

bilesbilinski28: slayyyyy

danielricciardo: i want chicken

↳ y/n.user: let’s go get canes rn

↳ danielricciardo; omw rn actually

user2: i bet they actually do go and get canes….

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

daniels instagram story

seen by: y/n.user, charles_leclerc, and 2,024,294 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story

seen by: charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 1,386,299 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: lilymhe, charles_leclerc, and 1,428,993 others

y/n.user: how these triple headers got us

view comments…

charles_leclerc: you look like an angel when you’re sleeping/waking up and i look like a gremlin :/

↳ y/n.user: char, no you do not

f1wags: shes barbie and he’s j ken fr

y/nsfp1: she looks sooo prettyyyy

francisca.cgomes: pretty girl

↳ y/n.user: ily kika

user4: prince of monaco sleeping?! make sure he stays safe!

crystalmreed: that’s my sleeping mask!

↳ y/n.user: whaaaaaa

teenwolfeditsss: they both are still hot while sleeping and after waking up?? i’m done for

kellypiquet: those selfies are so cute!!

↳ y/n.user: ty kelly!! 🫶

user9: i need a teen wolf reunion :(

↳ char.y/n.fp: i j need charles to meet them fr

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: charles_leclerc, tylerposey58, and 2,187,024 others

y/n:user: i always see people doing these aesthetic slide number things, so here’s mine 😋

1) charles tries a pepper that tyler posey got him

2) tyler holds the pepper while charles freaks out over the hotness

3) charles guzzles water while saying “too hot!! too hot!!”

4) charles and i found dylans look-alike!!

5) i think pierre and charles took this while me, kika, and tyler were walking around the mall infront of them. dylan was with them? i’m not sure tbh

6) took this picture a few days ago when we took charles, pierre, and kika to universal

view comments…

charles_leclerc: that pepper was too hot

↳ dylanobrien: one might say “too hot!! too hot!!”

↳ tylerposey58: “tyler why is it so spicy?!”

↳ charles_leclerc: cherié you’re friends are bullying me.

↳ y/n.user: it’s okay, char. ilysm you’re so brave for trying that pepper!❤️

↳ charles_leclerc: 🙂❤️

↳ tylerposey58: 🙄🙄

user2: MY TWO WORLDS COLLIDE

f1wags: she’s not even in these?? CRIMINAL!

landonorris: and she didn’t even invite me? :(

↳ y/n.user: you said you didn’t wanna go??

↳ landonorris: I LIED

f1page34: lmaooo, the pic of char and pierre

user7: MARIO AND LUIGIIII

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.user, pierregasly, and 2,197,024 others

charles_leclerc: my own “aesthetic slide number things” but it’s all my gf (mostly)

1) woke y/n up at 7am to get breakfast and all she ordered was orange juice and chips & guac

2) y/n trying to fix dylan’s jeep (that didn’t happen)

3) espresso martini night!!!

4) no explanation needed

5) y/n crying because the mets lost

6) me in my new raincoat! :)

view comments…

user3: y/n is SUCH a mood😭

y/n.user: CHAR😦

↳ charles_leclerc: 😘

y/nsfansss7: MOTHER IS SLAYING WITH THOSE MARTINIS

f1wags: how many letters in y/n’s name?

↳ user3: ATEEEE

↳ author (me lolz): j pretend ur name is 8 letters for the smau😛

carlossainz55: it really is y/n’s world and we are all just living in it

↳ maxverstappen1: this is true

f1fanpage4: crying over the mets losing is such a y/n thing to do

dylanobrien: the mets losing is such a sad thing, i don’t blame her

vroompage16: the juice and chips is so me

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 1,328,991 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #charles leclerc #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #cl16 one shot #cl16 x y/n #cl16 fluff

991 notes · View notes

arturleclerc · 3 months

Text

A little boy in Holland growing up, and here you are surrounded by hot rods, you're next to this wacky Aussie...

#last one #maxiel #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #f1 #formula 1 #gifs: f1 #2016

339 notes · View notes

kalembappe · 1 year

Text

cry baby| e.h. 9

Part 2 is out!

word count: 8278

"You ruined it!" Your eyes looked big. Like how your head was. He thought about how much funnier it made you look, it looked like it would inflate and grow twice as bigger every second he ticked you off. She looks stupid

The young boy then stared at the ball that was set atop your creation. Or what remained of it.

"You should be happy that wasn't your head," The boy replies dismissively.

There was an audible silence in the air before you replied, "You won't even say sorry?" The pitch in your voice raised, turning higher with your fit of rage, eyes following the boy picking up the football. He smiles to himself while wiping the sand from it before flicking off a singular seashell with a huff. You watched, feeling a tremble on your bottom lip.

"It's just a tower, not big deal." He says, looking up from the ball in his hands with an unamused expression. Despite his broken English he manages to elicit so much anguish and rage in you. It was a small, stupid argument. You were a small stupid child.

Cry baby your mother would say. You should stop crying all the time about the littlest things. But you hate how you are when you get mad. You feel no relief from it. You can't shout loud enough to break your voice or punch something strong enough to make it disappear. So you cry because something comes out of it without you having to be violent. You try to bite back that wobble on your lip, but ultimately fail as you feel your eyes begin to water.

The boy's eyes went from slits to a wider version of his normal ones, "Why are you crying? " He heard a hiccup escape from you and a piece of his heart fell. "It's a CASTLE YOU SASQUATCH." You yelled with glossy eyes, the boy's widened with his head recoiling back. He didn't know what that word meant but he knew he should be offended.

"SASS-KWAT?!" In your fit of rage you missed the confusion in his also enraged tone. He squinted at the sun burning his eyes, it's a funny sight from afar. Two sunburnt kids arguing and yelling (despite it clearly being one sided, he's sure his memory never betrayed him).

"Haaland!" A familiar voice that made both your heads turn shot from afar. Jean, your brother walked down lazily, his feet leaving prints on the wet sand as he got closer. "How long does it take to grab a ball?"

"This child kept me here." He spat, forgetting that he was only 3 years older.

"What? Oh you met my sister." Jean turned to his friend, hands grabbing the soccer ball from Erling's distinctly bigger ones.

He must drink a lot of milk

Jean turned back to you after giving Erling your name, "C'est mon ami, il joue au foot aussi!"

You pull yourself up from the ground in you're sandy flip flops and wet hair. Your tears were suddenly the last thing on both your minds.

"Your name is Holland?" Erling couldn't have looked more confused. "You look like you ate the whole of Holland." You remarked, a smirk building on your face. Erling's jaw slacked, taken aback once again. You had a lot of insults for a six year-old. Just as he was about to throw a profanity at you, he heard who you assume is his mother, call him from a distance. She wasn't far, you could see her bright grin and her big sun hat from where you stood. Their family visits Nice every summer where they have a home, your brother said. You couldn't be less ecstatic about the news. But you smiled looking forward to most likely never having to interact with that brat any time soon. Sighing, you pick up the shell he flicked off from your sand castle, looking down at it in reminiscence. Jean walked over to you, seeing your melancholic expression. "Aww… Vous vous disputiez à cause de votre tourelle?"

You hid the shell behind in your fist, cheeks heating up. "IT'S A CASTLE." * Puberty has not been kind to you. Your skin was as sunburnt as it always gets, but your hormones aren't helping when you feel pimples appearing under your chin or your forehead. You're already moody self had just gotten more moody and to make matters worse, you got your first period on a beach. You sat in the restroom, head in your hands and stomach hunched on a toilet seat. You didn't know what to do. Your mom's not here to help you, you can't call Jean because he probably knows jack shit about monthlies or whatever this is, even if you're not sure.

"Hello?? I need to piss." OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod

You cursed anyone and everything. Surely, you didn't upset anyone (God) for this to happen. "Fuck off, I'm busy." You yelled, trying to keep your voice together as you started to feel dread wash over you. "Where do you think I should go?"

"There's an ocean outside. Find someone who got stung by a—fuck —sea urchin?" You hugged your stomach, silently groaning and trying to find relief while shifting positions on the toilet seat.

"Did you eat a lasagna?"

"What? No."

"Then I am lost." "This is none of your business, argh." You mask the groan as one of irritation for Erling, but it was remarked towards the ache in your stomach. Your hands found their way to your hair, clawing at it and pulling the front behind. Your breathing starts to feel uneven and your vision goes blurry. You hated this. You feel humiliated and disgusting. There was this boy you saw washing his sandals on a hose and he looked cute and you bought this black two piece because you thought you'd look good and you do but now you had your period and it ruined everything and don't know anything about it and you're already fourteen and why did Eve have to bite that fucking apple that made God so pressed- You heard a soft knock on the door.

"WHAT?!"

A sigh could be heard from behind the door. "Do you...want me to call my mom?" He heard the lock click from the door, eyes peering down at you. Your nose was as red as your eyes, you looked sick. He wanted to ask if you were okay, which you obviously weren't so he decided against it. But he mostly decided not to because he didn't really care, this was just a stomach bug probably but he couldn't shake that feeling that tugged in his chest.

The first time he felt it was that day on the beach he knocked your castle down. That face you made like you were about to burst like a dam and that pout you had on your lips made him uneasy. It's the same face you have on now only you didn't have that bad short haircut or that mean look on your face anymore. Your face grew softer and your lashes batted at anyone who looked into your eyes. He almost curses himself for thinking that of you. What he's trying to say, is that you grew into yourself. That's it.

He's quick to store the thought away in the back of his head. He needs to lock it in a box and throw the key in the ocean. At the end of the day, you are a loud, whiney, nosey, brat and despite your face turning less stupid with time, your intellect did not.

"Stop crying, you look stupid."

"Stop standing there and call your mom." Erling huffed as he turned around, you could see how his head bobbed as he mocked you. You didn't have enough energy to muster up another insult anyway, instead you rolled your eyes in silence.

You silently shut the door and walk towards the sink, looking up at the mirror you find that you were smiling to yourself.

* "So can you pick me up? Please?" Your knee was jittering, and your chest heaved. The rain made it hard for you to leave so you sat in a cafe, your phone pressed against your ear, a finger deafening your left so you could hear properly on the other, asking your brother to get you out of there as soon as possible.

"Ange, I cannot do that, it's Mariella's last day here and I promised to take her out. I'm so sorry. Can you wait till five?" Your stomach sank. Cursing at yourself, you bump your head back on the wall of the booth you sat in. You completely forgot about Jean's girlfriend. He met her two summers ago. A nice lady, one from Italy. She cooks well and she's got a sense of humor. She's beautiful too. Maybe that's what you need to be so your date doesn't stand you up. To be perfect.

At this point your thought process was to burn every man you see on the stake and run away. It was embarrassing to get stood up but even worse that you have to call your brother to pick you up. Jean heard the deep sigh you let out, feeling nothing but pity in his stomach. At this point he even told his girlfriend what happened and the sound of her insisting that they both pick you up made it worse for you. It had gone silent from his side but that's when the waiter came to their table for their order and his eyes breezed over a photo of a lasagna. --

You counted the raindrops that fell on the window, looking out with your both hands curled into each other, sweaty and jittery. You used every distraction at your disposal. It's been almost a year since you last saw him. He spent his time with his dad last summer and you haven't spoken since. It was weird not having dinner with his family and having to be forced to socialize only for it to turn into a debate that makes you feel sour towards the end of night. But it was even more weird not having anything to argue about now since you both don't talk much outside of the bickering and glaring. You both itch to fill the silence but only know to communicate in a limited way, but you're both quiet, thinking of another way to spark anything without having to create a dumb argument to just talk. So you both sat with the silence filling the space between you. The air felt thick but you weren't obligated to telling anything to Erling about your life. Just like he didn't tell you he was leaving. You wouldn't say you were mad, you just expected at least something.

You were his friend, right? That sounds weird. What didn't help the tension was that you could feel him staring at the back of your head. Your hands held together tighter, a beat of silence passed. "We're friends right?" "What's his name?"

You both cut yourselves off, maybe you both had something to say. "what?" You muttered, a faint line appearing between your brows, finally gaining the courage to look at him.

"What do you mean ‘what’? " It was his turn to be confused, he shifted in the car seat, the leather squeaked while his eyes kept on the road. But that doesn't tell you why his grip on the wheel tightened.

"Never mind, it was a stupid question." You felt colder, the hair on your arms rose. You tucked your arms to your chest when the traffic lights turned red. Erling's eyes found the side of your face, he felt that pull on his chest. His head turned back towards the road and cleared his throat. "Crying again?"

"I'm not in the mood for this."

"You're never in a good mood."

"What does that mean?"

"That means you're always mad around me."

You look back at him who's still looking at the road. His jaw was fixed, and his hair was wet from a shower. "I'm sorry." You whisper, trying to keep your voice steady.

"It's just a boy. They're all immature." You wiped your nose,

"And What about you?"

"I'm the best so that doesn't apply."

"The best at losing your swimming trunks after diving?"

"I was a small kid."

"You were thirteen!" he looked back at you with a scrunched face, "And 5'7." You added.

"At least I hit my growth spurt, flatty."

"Oh, I'm flat? Did you miss the mirror on your way out the shower?"

"I don't show my goods to just anyone." Then something unexpected happened, you snort. The snort bubbled into a giggle and then to a laugh in a span of 5 seconds. Most of your laughs towards him were either sarcastic or mocking but this one threw him off. It threw him off so badly that he accidentally pressed the car honk, scaring the person who walked by in front of you. Both of you jolted then end up laughing harder. Out of amusement (but mostly embarrassment) Erling laughed with you. He hasn't heard anything like it. He stared at how your eyes looked brighter. He couldn't look away, watching from how your hair fell on your face to when you pushed it back. He was sure 5 years ago that he said you laughed like a horse (or maybe even looked like one if he was feeling creative). He tried to ignore that now it started to sound like bells. *

You hated family dinners. You didn't know anyone here and Jean was preoccupied with attending to Mariella. You watch them from where you sat, feeling a sense of longing and loneliness. You wondered what Erling would be doing right now. He's in Spain with his dad. It's been a couple months since you've seen him. His mother and sister decided to spend Christmas here, something about how there wouldn't be snow this year but the pissing down rain back home.

The restaurant wasn't loud but it wasn't quiet. You could hear the bustling of the staff members faintly, the light chatter of people not too far from your table, and of course the ladies chatting.

"So how's Erling doing? He's getting really serious with his soccer, I hear."

Maybe he's playing soccer with his friends, People he probably prefers over you. You stiffen when you realize that you hate that you hate the thought.

What are you doing?

Maybe it was boredom or there was someone gassing the air that night.

"He's been talking about this girl, actually." You hear your aunt and your dad react, probing questions and ensuing the conversation.

"Oh and she's really pretty." His sister adds, a mischievous glint in her eye appeared as she nudged her mother.

You grabbed the glass of wine that was placed a little farther to your left, it was already half empty but you're drinking it all anyways when your dad turned around. You bring your lips to the oversized goblet, gulping down the red liquid. This action however, was not missed by your brother.

"Allez-y doucement avec le vin." Jean says behind your right ear. You choke, coughing excessively. The whisper catches you off guard. You immediately flush, your whole face turning warm, hearing chuckles from the ladies and some people outside your table turning their heads at your direction.

"Êtes-vous bien?" Your aunt's patting your back. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, clearing your throat and nodding, unable to say anything, wanting nothing more than to be swallowed by your chair.

After everyone settled down everything turned back to normal, except for you. In silence, your stomach twisted. As everything around you moved, you stilled.

What were you even thinking earlier? Or even worse, all this time? Feeding into your delusions again. You haven't seen him in a while and It's not like you even like him as a person. You don't know how you feel. No, you do know. You hate him. You always did, always will. You're convinced. At the end of the day, it's just a boy.

Your throat closed up but you swallowed back.

They're all immature anyway. *

You stood by the bleachers, cursing at the cold with your left foot tapping on the ground while you hugged yourself. Your dad was late, Jean said he'd pick him up. So you stood there in a loud, cold, and big arena. You were nervous. Why would you be nervous? You tucked your hand tighter under your arms, if you could dig a hole in your chest to stay warm for a few minutes, you would. This weather wasn't helping at all. How could players play in shorts and move without their muscled stiffening? That you will never understand. You cut yourself on your silent rambling. You knew why you were doing it the second you caught yourself saying more in your head than you normally do. You needed a distraction. Like instinct, your eyes scanned the field, it's hard not to miss him. The second you say that to yourself, you find him already staring at you. You look away immediately. He stood there with a black windbreaker and his hands were in its pockets. His hair was a bit longer than last time, a little over the brow but he− it looked good. You curse at yourself again. You always do when he's mentioned.

That fucking giraffe

You sat yourself down, ignoring the fact that he probably could still see you. You'd pull out your phone but your hands were too cold to move. After a short minute, your eyes slowly trail back to where you last saw him, and he's no longer there. You ignore the small flicker of disappointment you feel.

He's nervous. First game jitters, his dad likes to call them. His knee wouldn't quit jumping up and down in the locker room, he kept rubbing his hands together to warm them. Yes, it was cold but the air on the field is different from anywhere he's been. He walked in there, heart pumping and all smiles. He was ready.

What he wasn't ready for, was seeing you by the bleachers, with his parents no doubt but for now you stood between empty seats. You sported a jersey that was too big on you, arms crossed over you from where you stood. You always do that. Your cheeks were red and you looked like you were looking for someone. You're still an idiot, he thought to himself. You always get cold fast but you're wearing a shirt (hopefully pants too) and nothing else.

He felt his heart beat faster, Just nervous, he tells himself. But this time he wasn't sure of what.

Your eyes finally found him, your mouth opened but closed immediately. You turned around so fast that he nearly missed it with how he blinked.

He took note of how you sat down, trying to disappear from the crowd.

You really are dumb.

He blinked, looking at how you were on the second row. He hasn't seen you in nearly a month. He tried his best to avoid you. But he can't. It's probably because of your nagging loud voice that replays in his head. But when it's quiet, his mind drifts to the sound of your voice, your bad singing or your dumb laugh before he feels guilty for thinking of you at all.

He was about to walk away when the last note on the national anthem played. He was benched for the first parts of the game, the seats were under from where you sat, allowing him to set his focus on his debut game. He already forgot that part for a split second. From where he stood, it started to clear. People began to sit down, and the spaces around you began filling up. He let out a long sigh as he got closer, ready to store any thoughts including his best friend's sister in the back of his head till the night ended.

But all thoughts of that crumbled when he saw someone approach you. His whole body stilled at the sight. You stood up, welcoming this person, arms out ready to take an embrace. So you brought a friend? Big Deal.

His eye twitches. This gUy grabs you by the waist and lifts you slightly.

They must be close.

A kiss on his cheeks.

Very close.

Erling didn't know what he felt. He's used to feeling mad around you. Annoyed-mad, or angry-mad, now he doesn't know what kind of mad. He wanted to punch his face. This dude was the complete opposite of him. He had a bleached buzz cut. He decided he hates men who bleach their hair and have buzz cuts. He can't believe it. Not like you owed him to spill your life right now but there’s other people you could’ve gone for. Like with a guy with good hair for one-

"SIT DOWN" He hears someone from his team yell. Some of them laughed, but he didn't have time to feel embarrassed. He walked away with a scowl on his face, brows furrowed. He was mad.

"You played like you were mad!" Jean shouted, shaking Erling's shoulders as he pulled away from a hug. He's been overwhelmed with all the praise. Some people called it one of, if not, the greatest debuts in football. 2 goals in 23 minutes. This isn't new ground for Erling though. The praise, he means. He's had his share of it his entire life but never at this rate. He was worried about today, he felt unfit from not playing for a while but all of that washed away when he heard the sea of people scream for him. At first, he was so preoccupied with what other insults he could come up with for a guy that he hasn't even met that he ended up scoring a goal in the process.

He wasn't even looking at the net, it was just him and the ball and the occasional thought of "you know what he looks like?" But when he did score, the yelling of the crowd got louder and that was the only thing that mattered from then on until he saw you there too, screaming with that potty mouth of yours when the referee called a penalty. For a second he'd forget why he was mad and almost broke his expression from how serious you looked up there.

His team was celebrating after a family dinner, he decided to drag Jean in, who could not decline and out of "kindness" he invited you and your friend. But your friend politely declined, and with a kiss on both his cheeks, he left. Erling felt his teeth clench and his jaw tick, turning around with a silent roll in his eyes as he walks toward the faint sound of music not far from where you just ate dinner, while the boys walked towards the bar, you got in your brother's car for a change of clothes you had for moments like this, not having it with the cold weather getting to you.

Erling waited outside until you came back then walked into the club, his head was above the sea of people he walked by, like a buoy in an ocean. You didn't have to push through too much, and this wasn't your first time in a club so you sort of knew what to do if you got set apart from the others. But it's not like you wanted to stay. You only did go because Jean has been suspicious of you ever since that night you had dinner for Christmas last year. If you refused to go with no valid reason, his suspicions would only grow and so would his ego, thinking he was right all along. BUT HE'S NOT. Obviously.

Jean joined Erling with the guys from the team but you didn't stay long with them, having no one to talk to and the only thing Erling had said to you that night or at least indirectly was introduce you to his teammates. You tap your brother's shoulder, shouting over the music that you'll get a drink and he seems to understand when he nods his head while talking to another person. You didn't know where some of the boys went, including Erling.

Unfortunately most of the guys that came had no girlfriends you could get acquainted with. The men seemed polite, no doubt, but you just didn't have it in you to try harder to relate in conversations with them.

So you sit by the bar with your phone, playing a word game until you see a glass place down on a coaster in front of you. The bartender smiles at you, says it was from that guy on the left booth. You could hear him, not loudly though, but you could read his lips perfectly. Instinctively, your head turns. You see someone already standing, walking towards you. This guy looked visibly older than you. He wore slacks with a belt the same amount as your salary and an open white dress shirt, his hair slicked, reeking of some strong cologne you'll have to rub off with coffee as he approached closer.

He introduced himself, giving your hand a light shake with a flash of his teeth that look brighter than they are under the colorful strobe of changing lights. From across you, Erling's smile disappeared from where he was once laughing with his friend, staring at your back as some guy with probably saggy balls shook your hand. He saw how his fingers lingered on your palm. His breathing got deeper and the alcohol in his system gave him enough courage to visibly disapprove of the sight unfolding at him. Don't you have a boyfriend? Or you're just throwing yourself around like a desperate-

"You good?" He heard from a friendly voice. With the scowl staying on his face, he downed another shot before replying, "Just something stupid."

It's 12:34 when you decide that you should call it a night. The guy that offered you a drink didn't last long, leaving as soon as you told him you had a paper due on Monday. You decided to text your brother instead of going to find him, too lazy to possibly get pressed in between people and their sweating bodies. You also remind him to congratulate Erling for you before grabbing your jacket and heading towards the exit, leaving your drink watery and untouched.

From what you expected to be an uneventful close to a night however, changes when you feel a grab on your wrist. You pause and shut your phone off, hoping that it was your brother but as soon the shadow behind you got closer and it still remained bigger, the beat of your heart began to raise.

He spun you around, pushing you against the wall of the club, his movement although slurred, firm. Your eyes widened.

We are in PUBLIC

Although there were people around they could care less about how this is happening in a club, save for the people who couldn't see because either they were vomiting in a bin or making out inside cars in the parking lot.

He points a finger in the air while trying to fix his stance, holding your shoulder for leverage. You were too nervous to speak, being the only one who hasn't drank anything between you both. You were stiff. Even if his eyes were shut, you could feel how his thumb was on your collarbone and palm rested between your neck and your shoulder. Unlike your hands, his were warm. You never had the chance to feel his hands on you, you relished in it , your knees almost giving out.

Erling peels his lids open, looking down on where his hand rested. His eyes trail from his hands to your neck and to your face. His lips parted slightly, it was if he was seeing you for the first time. He brought his hand down, brushing against your jacket. Under the yellow street light, your eyes seemed to shine and your lips looked dangerously pouty when you sucked in a breath from the cold, a cloud escaping in the air from your mouth.

He leaned in, with a different look in his eyes. He stared you down, his hands cupped your elbows as the space between you shrunk with each step he took, holding onto his forearms to stop him from falling on you. You could feel his hot breath on your cheek, shutting your eyes before he utters;

"Sidewalk rule."

Your eyes open and you immediately shove him off with a curse. You regret soon after his steps falter and you're forced to catch his weight. Your neck hurts, regretting that you had no alcohol in your system to have an excuse for "accidentally" throwing him on the road and having him run over by a moped. Maybe the sidewalk rule would have applied then.

"Oh my- Pull yourself together, Haaland." He's laughing now, finding your struggle amusing, his entire arm was over your shoulder, you grab it while trying to steady the giant. He was mumbling something you didn't understand, still snickering.

"Du ser så søt ut som sliter" he snorted, brushing your hair back when you reposition his arm on yours.

"You're a fucking 5 year old!" a stranger heard from the distance then spotted you two, longing in their eyes. *

It may have taken longer to drag him and pull him in the taxi than the drive back to your flat will take. You didn't know his address, nor did you know what the password to his phone is . So you did the inevitable and asked the driver to take you to your flat. Erling's head leaned on the window, pressed against it, mouth open while he slept. You'd take a photo of him, knowing that you likely wouldn’t see him like this again, but you’re much too occupied with the thoughts swirling in your head. You could feel yourself blush at the thought of his hands on your arms. Why was he there in the first place? He probably wanted a ride. But he knows you don’t have a car??

You shook your head, blowing a cold breath into the air. Again, DELUSIONAL. You’re nursing this thought and it’s becoming too big to leave unacknowledged. You feel Erling shift, brushing his hand on yours while turning his entire body away from the window. He groans from how heavy his head was as he feels the car swivel too far into a curve. His hand palmed his head, and laid down without a second thought. You gasp on the sudden weight on your thighs. You were frozen once again, unable to move a nerve while you stared straight ahead. His head bobbed a lot and you convince yourself it’s out of pity before reaching for him and laying your palm flat atop it forehead, then brush your fingers through his scalp. You smiled to yourself, treading it lightly, you wondered how he'd looked like if he grew his hair longer.

You come to an abrupt stop and pull your hand back as if you were burned. Erling had a blissful look on his face, unaware of anything he’d been putting you through. The taxi felt smaller and you wanted nothing more than to get out.

It was the same process dragging him into your apartment, excluding for the part where you had to slap his face lightly to wake him up, in which he overreacted . You look down at both your feet as you walk towards the path leading to the building you stayed in. You took your time, following which foot moved for Erling, too tired to shout which leg should go first knowing better than to add to the amount of struggle you should put yourself through. You feel his arm slip from your shoulder, so you grab onto his hand. Erling had been slurring about his game earlier, how he should’ve done something he didn’t during his play. You didn’t understand the terms like hat trick or save so you just hummed and agreed with everything he said, counting the steps you’re taking till you reach the elevator.

“...but you look extra pissed when that referee waved the yellow card. So did that boy you brought.”

Confusion takes over your face as you turn your head to him. He was awfully close, you backed up before his cheek brushed against yours, turning back towards the path of your flat. You’re almost there.

“What? Mathew?"

He doesn’t answer, he stays there quiet, shifting his weight to his other leg as you wait in the elevator. He no longer had his shoulder around you, instead your arm “carried” his back, just to keep him from falling backwards.

There’s a ding that reminds you to get out, relief starting to fill you as you walk towards your flat’s door before dread settles when you push it open. You stood there, not knowing what to do from here. Were you throwing him on your bed and just leaving? Where do you sleep? You could put him on the couch. Would he even fit?

Before you could think to answer a single question, Erling ran to your kitchen. You call him but he’s already opened the fridge.

His whole body folds when he inspects the contents of your chiller, normally you just duck down. He cranes his neck up to where you are, “Where’s the milk?”

With a huff, you shut the door on his face, the refrigerator light disappearing with a snap. Just as he was about to protest, you cut him off. “I’ll get the milk just…don’t touch anything.”

He rolls his eyes, droopy as they were . His cheeks looked flushed, but not as flushed as they seemed to be earlier. He must be sobering a bit. Good. You let him wander around the flat knowing you’re spent trying to keep him in one place.

After getting the glass of milk from the microwave, you check around where he's probably gone, switching the lights in the areas that had theirs off. You soon find him lying on your bed, hugging your pillow tightly, face pressed against the linen.

You grimace, seeing that he was sprawled out, taking most of the space. Guess you’re taking the couch. Sighing, you place down the warm milk on the bedside table beside Erling.

Just as you are about to walk out of your room, you hear Erling mutter in the silence.

“I miss you.”

Everything stopped, including you. The air grew thick, suddenly so did your tongue. You couldn’t speak and you could breathe. He’s obviously dreaming and talking. You try to stop your mind from thinking that he’s maybe— probably dreaming about her, but the thought still grazes your head. You ignore the small falter in the beat of your heart.

“It’s late Haaland, you can talk to her in the morning.”

It take him a while to say anything but he does before you're given the chance to breathe. “But I wanna talk to her now.” There’s a sting in your eyes, and you curse yourself. He’s been testing you this entire night and this is the moment you might finally break. If you were driven into your brink, you might think he was doing this on purpose.

Your hold on the doorknob grew tighter. You swallow your pride, breath getting more shallow at every thought that settles in your stomach.

And then, release.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” You yell. Turning only your head around, you see his eyes wide open in the dark, the only light coming from the city outside your window.

“Talk to me.” he replies calmly.

There’s a flicker of light in your chest you immediately blow out. Repeating to yourself; No not today. None of that.

“You’re tired, go to sleep.” “I miss you.” “Stop saying that.”

The lamp switched on, you see him now. He’s sat up mid argument, his hair’s a mess but now he’s a lot more conscious than you liked. “Then what am I supposed to do?” He echoes,

“How about you start by not mocking me.” “I’m running out of words here.”

You nearly laugh, even when he’s barely sober he’s a smart-ass. “Then think.”

There was a brief moment of silence, the air only filled with cars passing by the highway till they disappeared. It felt peaceful, for once.

“You want me to think?“ The silence was short-lived. You half expected him to throw an insult, and half expected him to tell you to leave. What you didn’t expect is that he was able to walk himself out of bed in a straight line. A line straight towards you.

“You want me to think?” He repeated again only softer, standing from a short distance from you, but it shrunk by each step he took. Slow yet distinct. A step closer with every word. “Personally, I say I think too much. I sit and think too much and watch everything happen in front of me. I think I spend too much time thinking about what I’m going to say for a conversation that hasn’t happened. I’ve been thinking for years and still have nothing good enough to say. Fuck. It’s the same thing every night and I find something wrong in what I say. I never had words for anything at the right time and the one time you’re here, and I’m letting myself say something you tell me to think?” He stood in front of you now, and you don’t know whether to meet him where he stood or to push the door open behind you so you can disappear.

You’re drunk. You’re crazy. You’re stupid. You want to tell him, even shout it to the mountains but your body stands planted to the ground as he closes the distance between you, warm and tall like the waves back home. You close your eyes, hand finding the pace of his heart, a palm to his chest to create a space you both don’t want to be there but need.

“Please. Just for now,” A breath escapes from one of you, you feel his hand cup your jaw, tilting your head up. “Don’t make me think.”

His forehead touched yours, hands beginning to sneak your waist, pulling you closer to him. You didn’t know who leaned in first, who pushed or who tugged but your lips brushed lightly and that was enough to make you melt into each other.

He leans down as you sink from the kiss, the hand on your back exploring the size of your waist. You felt yourself turn liquid in his hold, your arms wrapped around his neck, both wanting to feel closer but never feeling close enough. His hands find the back of your thighs, he squeezes it lightly and it makes you gasp, briefly pulling back from this kiss. He lets out a small laugh, his smile makes its way to your face. Erling hoists you up with ease before walking back to your bed, you don’t know how he’s able to keep you both on your feet as if he hadn’t struggled with his earlier.

His touch starts to get more aggressive as soon as he lays you down, grabbing your hips, or sliding his thumbs up your waist till he feels them brush the underside of your breasts. You breathe into his mouth, nervous and unfamiliar with the touch yet craved it as if it was always meant to be there. Your hands clutch his hair, the pull eliciting a groan from the man. The sound sends ripples down your stomach and an embarrassing heat pools down your core. You feel his head dip lower, lips mouth at your jaw, sucking and nibbling at the expanse of your throat. His hands are wandering lower, it’s everywhere but it’s not enough to satiate you. That’s when you realize that his touch was there to linger, to tease. You squirm when his nose drags between the valley of your chest. You tilt his head up with a desperate look on your face. Your lips look swollen, and your hair stuck to the sides of your neck, your shirt rode up to your ribs. He wanted to remember you this way.

“You had so much to say earlier, baby.” His tone was smug and so was his face, you’d groan out of annoyance if you weren’t trying to coax him to feel you more. “You want me to touch you?" You nod, "I am already touching you.” His palm lands flat on your stomach, thumb brushing up and down.

You blush, your eyes shift to the ceiling, too ashamed to look at his eyes.

“What do you want me to do for you? Tell me.” He’s smiling even in his tone, and you hate how quickly you fold.

“Do anything.” With your eyes shut, trying to steady your breath, you didn’t see how his eyes darkened at the words.

You’re glad you open your eyes when you feel him pry himself off you. He’s already peeling his shirt off him, and you try your hardest to stop yourself from crossing your thighs. The lamp had probably been tinkered with to work with his body. The v-line on his hips growing more inviting with each moment your stare longer. Erling helps you undress, taking his time to let his hands linger in the areas he’s yet to explore more later. His eyes oggle shamelessly, drinking you in with a thirst he only felt after getting his first taste.

His stare makes you anxious, you cross your arms over your chest, tucking it in. Erling couldn’t contain himself, his hands were everywhere once again, only hotter, on your skin. You’re flushed red, and press your lips on him to hide in shame. His fingers trace the seam of your underwear, it makes you squirm. He chuckled at how adorable you look, a desperate blushing mess, kissing your temple as he rubbed the dampening cloth between your thighs. A moan leaves your lips, and it catches you by surprise.

“Erling.... I’m not, I don't know-” Before you know it, everything stops. His hand is on your stomach and his head is off your neck, now staring at your face, a concerned look etched on his. “I haven’t…” You stammer over your words, unable to say it with a straight face. You groan, “Please don’t make me say it.”

There’s a brief moment where all is quiet, waiting till one or the other says anything to break the silence. Erling’s expression immediately shifts, turning soft as he watches you sink into the pillow. He can’t believe you’re letting him do this. Him out of everyone. “Do you wanna stop?” You shook your head.

“Just go easy on me.” A smile graces his lips, and he leans down to meet yours. Gentle and pliant. It’s more than words could say right now and it’s enough to get you to stay.

Erling pulls back the lace from under your legs, leaving a kiss on your knee before he sits back up. His hand presses your thighs against your stomach, his breath hot on your core. You didn’t expect him to act so quickly, leaving an open kiss on your clit. Erling mouths on the skin around and you nearly groan when he sucks on the center, tongue lapping again and again until your hips buckle before sinking into the duvet. Earling is groaning, drinking you up like water and he’s only been in a desert all his life. He sounds as if he was the one getting off from this, and silently he was too. He folds your legs up, hands gripping your ass, the grip drew bruises on your skin but you wanted more. Your voice breaks, a silent wail replacing it. Your body starts to feel less like yours and more like an instrument for your brother’s best friend. Just as you thought you couldn’t handle more, you feel his finger prodding at your slit. He remembers to go easy on you like you told him, so he laid your hips to rest back on the bed.

It’s either Erling’s fingers are thick or you’re very tight. He spits square on your clit, and you jolt. His thumb spreads the spit around, teasing you. Your legs are flaccid when he adds another finger inside and begins to pump it in you. Your moan died in your throat, unable to think. The split second of silence is filled with his hard breathing and the sound of your wet core squelching around him, inviting him. His pace doesn't falter, reaching areas you didn’t know you had. He could feel how much tighter you got, cock swelling at the thought of how you could suck him in. You’re more vocal, more unsteady. Your thighs are trying to close but his leg is hooked over one, holding it open. He hears you let out a moan louder than normal but sees you're hiding your face behind your arms.

“Look at me, baby.” He stops completely. Your hands pry from your face, revealing the mess he’s made. He took your wrists in his hand, holding it against your chest. He’s painfully hard in his boxers watching your breasts squeeze.

You’re fucking perfect.

He pulls his fingers out, just as you were about to protest, Erling shuts you up with a rough kiss, so close that your teeth click. Releasing your hands from his grip, they immediately crawl to his hair. His kisses turn softer from your jaw to your neck, lingering on your throat when he pulls out his cock from his boxers. The tip flushed a bright pink, rubbing against your center and collecting slick. Erling leaves your neck with a wet pop, sparing a glance at the forming bruise before keeping his eyes on you.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, he mumbled something you couldn’t hear, or couldn’t bear to listen to, focused on holding your breath as he pushed in. The stretch is unfamiliar to your body, it stings but it doesn’t hurt, you need more. He’s a little less than halfway when you feel him leave a kiss on your cheek, whispering sweet nothings to your ear. He shamefully thought of this for so long. He wanted you for so long. Thought about you for so long and now he had you, he didn’t want to let go. He pulls back slightly, before pumping back in. Slowly, he’s setting a pace.

“Erling…” The sound of you whimpering his name finds a special place in his head. Always calling him by his last name ever since you were kids. You only ever did call him by his first name when you were mocking him, usually followed by his full name. But now, you weren’t kids. You were here, under him, and he was fucking ruining you.

The bed creaks, and your short breaths turns into moans, echoing louder after every buck of his hips. You’re trying to find purchase on his arms, already on edge from a while ago. “I need…I’m close,” Unable to complete sentences just as you’re unable to form a single coherent thought.

Your body writhed under him, glistening in sweat, you were close again. He made things worse by sneaking his hand between you two to thumb your clit. He groaned when he felt you clench around him, he curses to himself. The coil that’s been pulling on your stomach finally snaps, a sob escaping your lips. You babbled nonsense, you thighs shaking and sensitive, completely fucked out but Erling was relentless, like a machine. He bites his lip, his hair falling on his face. It took everything in him to not completely break you.

Your moan would break at times and it would just be a cry and the lewd sound of skin slapping. Erling felt his climax approaching, hips gaining much faster while you cursed at his tolerance. You went limp under him, not like you weren’t for the majority of the time. He did all the work, but now he was using you like a toy, holding your hips up and getting himself off. Erling lays you lower before he pulls out, his hand on his cock quickly jerking him. You used your remaining energy to shove his hand off, replacing it with your own, both hands working on the member and the tip. He thanked whatever made him tall enough to see you from this view. With a loud moan bubbling from his throat, he came on your stomach watching the white stripe reach the soft flesh of your breasts. You lay on the duvet, breathing heavily with his soft member laying on your abdomen.

–

There was the sound of a belt buckling. You woke up, feeling cold. As you sat up, you saw someone’s back facing you, they stopped moving.

“Erling?” You say above a whisper. He doesn’t turn around, he just stood still, hand on the doorknob. You ignore the feeling that loomed over you, remembering the events of last night. A blush creeps your face. “Are you leaving?” No response. “You could stay for breakfast. I don’t think you got to drink the-”

“I’m sorry about last night.”

He was fully dressed, the complete opposite of you. You clutch the sheets closer to your chest. The gray cloud over your head starts to shadow over yourself.

“What do you mean?” He stayed there, staring at the door, his body stiff but it didn’t slouch, it didn't look like he was turning around either. He couldn’t even look at you.

“I wasn’t thinking.”

#erling haaland x reader #erling haaland fanfic #erling haaland #football image #erling haaland angst

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thewriterg · 2 years

Text

♡︎our sweet venice♡︎

Pairing(s): Tom Holland x Fem!reader, Tom Holland x Actress!reader, Aussie!reader, costars to lovers

Summary: You and Your costar Tom Holland are on Press tour and on one of your first interviews Everyone can’t help but watch two kids fall in love —flufftober day; 14—

Word count: 1.9k

Warning(s): Fluff, mutual pinning, cute puppies, hot accents, I’m not proofreading until I wake up —it’s litteraly 1:40am–, and Language

A/n: —GIF’s aren’t mine— Fact about me I lived in Australia for like two/three years or so

“G’day my names Tom Holland and I play Nate Drake in Uncharted” You stated seriously staring at the camera looking over to Tom before you could break your ‘cover’ with a smile while Tom played along

“My name is Y/n Y/l/n and I play Nairobi Copeland in Uncharted, and Today we’re gonna play with some puppies —the first ones to be back— and attempt to answer your guy’s questions” Tom finally broke out Into a smile turning his head to face you while your mirrored his actions before slapping your hands down on your thighs

"Alright gettin' pretty inpatient lad where are these puppies!" You exclaimed while Tom nodded his head in agreement while throwing small glances in your direction that went unnoticed by you

“Yes, please bring us puppies” Tom requested fondly and if you listened close enough you could hear the little animals scratching at the door

“Are we gonna get them all at on-” Your sentence was cut off by a small gasp as one of the assistant’s carried two puppies in her arm passing one to you and following along with Tom

“Oh hello little fellow” Tom cooed in greeting a high pitched baby voice never faltering as he talked to the young dog softly pinching its cheeks his eyebrows furrowed with a smile permanently plastered on his face

You both cradled the small puppies into your chest before a couple more of the small creatures had approached you two wagging their tails panting softly and wobbling on their four legs

“They’re so tiny aye?” You pouted your bottom lip poking out as one of the puppies yawned against your chest while Tom began sniffing their fur beside you

“Oh they smell so good” You’d chuckled before picking up one of the pups that had ran passed you into your embrace lifting it in the air placing a few kisses on its cheeks before sniffing behind it’s ears before you began to nod along with Tom’s statement

“What was it like filming uncharted”

“It was amazing, it was incredible, it’s a film about expirations so it made sense to us that we needed to be on practical locations you know In Barcelona etc.” Tom had answered by himself while you were distracted by the two puppies who slept in between you leg while you held one in the air under its arms rubbing your noses together

“Y’know i wonder what they think is goin’ on look at that one, you wanna go play go ahead baby. What was your question?” Your attention finally shifted to the interview who had just smiled at you along with Tom who shook his head at your antics

“What was your favorite stunt to film for Uncharted and did you have a stunt devil?”

“My favorite stunt for Uncharted- Oh hello honey go on, was probably when Tom and I had swung from the lights at the Augustine auction house and neither of us had stunt devils in this movie” You’d answered softly playing tug of war with the puppy with the lightest fur out of the bunch with a baby blue and white collar it didn’t take a genius to observe that you and Tom favored it

“What were we talking about!? Favorite stunts there’s a stunt where in the movie- Oh hello, this is a big one he’s gonna be a big dog. I like the stunt where I fall out the back of the plane from getting hit by a car that was a lot of fun” The brunette stated as a matter of factly tickling a pups side in his arms gently

“They are loving your shoes mate” You chuckled pointing while You and Tom stared at the two puppies attempting to teethe at each unnecessarily expensive shoe that rested on Toms feet

“These aren’t my shoes I’m borrowing them so you can do whatever you want to them, come on get in there” You’d giggled at Toms encouraging the little four legged animals to do something the were indeed not supposed to be doing while the brunette looked over at you with a soft smile of his own

“Tom what was your favorite scene to film with Y/n Y/l/n and Y/n what was your favorite scene to film with Tom Holland”

“I have two favorite scenes filmed with Y/n One is when I set out the fake coordinates, and everything expecting her to take it and when Nate wakes up she’s still there, she didn’t betray him and that leads to a very hot make-out session” Tom finished his rant Wiggling his eyebrows while you chuckled nudging his his shoulder with a smile this time no puppies catching his attention as he spoke oh so fondly about you

“My next scene is when Probably when She gives me a run for my damn money In the one fight scene we had. Nate was trying to convince Nairobi to come back into the Plan after Sully had revealed everything about Sam and Sierra, our dead siblings and we had a small ‘little’ fight chairs were thrown, blood was spilled, wine glasses were smashed no biggy” Tom sarcastically finished finally going back to rubbing the puppies who nudged into his side

“My favorite scene with Tom Holland I think is personally underrated, it’s when Nairobi and Nate are stuck under the fountain and the water is filling up and everything and finally when Sully turns the key Nate swims to the top and he realizes like ‘oh shit Nairobi’ he swims back down brings her up to the surface he does cpr in a panic it was just a very fond moment I personally think” You finished a small of smile never leaving your face while you spoke with your hands despite three puppies being tucked into your arms

“These dogs are rippin’ those shoes Mate” You shook your head in moc disbelief watching the little dogs attempt to nibble and gnaw on the shoes that were to strong for their teeth

“I can’t wait to send these shoes back to Christian and be like ‘I’m so sorry’ ”

“It’s quite cute their little teeth can’t get in there, your stylist is gonna be hacked off though”

“Y/n what is something Tom says a lot and Tom what is something Y/n says a lot?”

“I’ve been waiting for a question like this man!” Tom sat up from laying on his stomach while you laughed wholeheartedly

“So sometimes Y/n randomly layers Her accent to the point where you can barely understand what she’s saying” The brunette pointed a finger at you accusingly while you threw your hands up in surrender careful not to wake the two puppies who rested in your lap

“So number one is Mate I think that’s a given i say that a good amount of times myself, Two is snag and I found that so hard to understand the way she through like four different phrases together please show them I’m staring to sound like a crazy person” Tom pouted his arm stretched to the camera to back up his point

“So we were filming and we had about and hour and a half Lunch and Tom was talking to one of our directors and I wanted to mess with him a bit so I walked towards him and I started spazzin’ like ‘Ay Tommy would you like a snag on the Barbie mate?’ And ‘I got absolutely pissed at the outback dude’ And the look on his face was so hilarious” The interviewers behind the camera were beyond amused at the story while Tom nodded his head along

“So continuing Lad and Lass is pretty embedded into her vocabulary, along with init, and for some strange reason people will always ask her to do ‘the thing’ and like she immediately knows and just burst like Cleo naur” Tom stretched while you laughed clutching you stomach at the confusion imbedded on his face

“Just let me catch a breather mate” You held up and finger attempting to calm yourself from bursting fits of laughter

“No matter what the situation is bloody hell will always make its way Into one of Tom’s sentences, Darling every second of the day of course but it’s adorable you could never be mad at it, Tea is pretty stuck into his word vomit, and his odd word is definitely knackered. So it was something going on with our hotel rooms the first like three days of the tour so we just settled with one room double beds, had a sleepover all is well aye? It’s like two in the mornin’ random all I hear is ‘I’m fucking knackered mate!’”

It was Toms turn to laugh while you shook your head reliving the moment one of the moments he missed most actually before scooting closer towards you masking the closure of space with his attention focussed on the puppies that rested in your lap

“What is something you have tried from each other and what we’re your thoughts on it?”

“So I’ve actually have tried a good amount of things coming from Tom like crumpets, chicken tikka masala, and a Fry up I was honestly thought Tommy had gone mad man beans and toast had probably been the oddest thing of my life but I believe I ate everything except maybe the mushrooms”

“Y/n has made me try more snacks than food a bad habit of her but I have to admit darling Vegemite —it’s like this dark spread you eat with toast— was a absolutely awful I do however like everything else she’s given me to try like meat pies, fairy bread, I really enjoyed TimTams, Milo it’s like This chocolate milk and it’s very delightful”

“Alright guys Uncharted is out, please go to the cinema and enjoy it I hope you have a wonderful ride and enjoy the escapism” Tom exclaimed while the puppies ran around and continued to play with one another continuously running in and out of the camera frame

“All of these beautiful puppies that you’ve seen here are adoptable, they are from north shore animal league so find these guys a wonderful home they deserve it” You smiled towards the camera your head leaned up against Toms shoulder while a puppy with a baby blue collar never left your arms using your cardigan as a blanket

“Y/n we can’t lie to the people” Tom over dramatically gasped while you smiled fondly at your slip up you’d made and the man on the side of you antics

“Would you like to tell them?”

“Not thank you darling be my guest”

“So guys, not all of these pups you see here are adoptable. If you watched the video closely you would’ve been able to see that all the pups have collars but none of them tags. Except one” The camera zoomed into the sleeping puppy in your arms the light reflecting of the gold tag

“This.. is our daughter. She is the youngest out of the bunch standing at three and a half weeks old, and her name is Venice ” You finished looking up to Tom to go more in depth about how you both chose her which he did so gladly

You’d finally finished the interview giving your last goodbye to the small puppies left for another home while You and Tom walked out of the building with him cooing over your shoulder at the sleeping baby in your arms You both couldn’t seem to wait to raise your four legged child together climbing up another wall of each other’s perspective

“Our sweet Venice” You sighed loving while Tom smiled at You raising the umbrella in his hand while all three of you walked down the street

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x yn #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #romance #flufftober #kinktober #fall 2022 #fluff #smut #i love you #fem!reader #thewriterg

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rizzstappen · 8 months

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College Au, I agree that you def should write it 👀👀

Ahh okay I’ve been tinkering with this for a bit! Thank you for this ask Danni!!

This is my first time writing for Maxiel and first time writing rpf in years so please be easy on me 😭 but of course feedback and any questions are welcome!! Inspired by this picture and the tags!!

Sorry for any mistakes! But I don’t think I can look or edit this anymore without going insane 🤪 enjoy!!!

Maxiel College AU where it’s a special day during junior year!

—

“C’mon one more DR!” Blake shouted from across the tennis court. The Austin sun beating down on them making the already humid day feel worse than it actually was.

“Yeah, nah mate,” Daniel called back as the three men walked toward the net where they had set their backpacks down to get in a quick tennis match. “Max is waiting for me. I promised I’d be back on time. He says it’s a special day.”

Daniel had been thinking all day about it.

Before leaving for class Max had whispered to Daniel something about a special day. In his sleepy haze all the Aussie could do was hum and try to pull his boyfriend back into the warm duvet covers away from the busy campus outside their window.

Every morning was a routine once the semester began. Max woke at 7 am for his 8 am lecture. Showered. Got dressed. Kissed Daniel before he headed out the door. Daniel, of course, didn’t have class until 1:30. He liked sleeping in and staying up late. Plus he worked at the local bar which meant late night shifts. Max didn’t mind it. They always made sure to leave the afternoons free around dinner time so they could catch up on the day before Max went to play FIFA or do homework and Daniel went to work.

“He said that? You don’t know what the special day is?” Scotty asked with a slight scoff knowing if he forgot a date Chloe would have his head.

Daniel rolled his eyes sliding his backpack onto his shoulders and hiding his sweaty curls under a black and green hat “no he didn’t say what it was. If I ask he might kill me so I’m off to get some flowers on my way home” he nodded hopping the day would reveal itself when he walked in the door.

After saying bye to Blake and Scotty, Daniel headed out to the local flower shop. It was small with a French exchange student behind the counter who flirted way too much with Max in his opinion. The green eyed student recommended a bouquet of roses. Cliche.

Instead Daniel opted for an assortment of red, yellow and white tulips. Like the ones Max spoke about from his home country. Daniel liked to get flowers often wanting to give Max a little piece of home since he couldn’t travel back to Holland often.

The jingle of his key alerted the cats of Daniel’s return to the small apartment. Once inside the cats curled around his ankles and purred against his leg welcoming him back. Daniel leaned down scratching both Jimmy and Sassy behind their ears with whispered ‘hey guys, where’s dad?’ He toed off his shoes by the door before walking towards the living room. Max wasn’t in his usual spot on the worn leather couch Daniel had practically begged Max to bring back after they found it on the side of the road last year.

“Hello?” He called out the crinkle of the cellophane echoing around the tulips in Daniel’s hand.

“Shit” Max’s quiet voice echoed coming from the kitchen. Daniel made his way over seeing Max fussing over…something? His broad shoulders hunched down pulling at the fabric of his black polo that were tucked into his jeans being held up by a black belt.

Max turned holding a tray in his hands with what should’ve been a cake. The white frosting and vanilla bread had clearly turned into a crumbly mess.

“It’s supposed to be a cake, of course, but I think I took the bread out too soon and it was too hot. Of course I just wanted it to be decorated before you got back-“ Max rambled. A grin spread on Daniels lips “a cake for this special day?” He asked trying to real more information out of his boyfriend about this mystery day.

Max raised an eyebrow and nodded “of course why wouldn’t there be a cake?” He says.

Cake. Birthday? No. Anniversary? No. Daniel still couldn’t wrack his brain about what this special day might be.

Max smirked at his boyfriend as he sets the tray down on the linoleum lined kitchen counter “you have no idea what today is huh?”

Shit. He was caught. Max could read him like a book but Daniel wouldn’t admit it of course. “What?! Of course I know what today is. I got you flowers. Tulips” he grinned handing over the bouquet.

Max inspects the flowers. Not as good as the ones from his hometown but he knew it was the thought that counted. Max looked his boyfriend in the eyes a grin on his lips as he speaks “then what is today?”

Daniel looks back for a moment. What other possible date would be important enough for a cake?

A laugh bubbles up from Max “you don’t even know!” he smirked happily moving to get a vase filled with water for his flowers. “Daniel it’s the day we met in class” he spoke over the water running into the green vase “three years ago, of course” he nodded shutting the water off and sliding the flowers into the water before setting them down “it’s called a meet cute. I think” he said before he gestured to the cake sat on the counter “that’s what Victoria called it. She said it would be cute to celebrate it.”

The words ‘happy 3 year meet cute’ scrawled out in red icing against the white frosting in Max’s handwriting

Daniel was stunned.

3 years. He couldn’t believe 3 years had flown by. He remembered walking into his Horticulture 120 lecture and the only spot left was next to Max at the front row. He was sure he’d drop the class. It was an elective after all. But then he turned and saw Max’s eyes. Blue. Like the Maldives. In that moment Daniel knew he had to stay. So he did and clumsily introduced himself. His braces giving him a slight lisp. But it was the best thing he had done. Now he had an apartment and two cats with that same boy. And they were celebrating meeting 3 year later.

Daniel gives his boyfriend a soft look before his own laughter filled the space between them “oh Maxy” he said “that’s adorable really. Thank you” he says admiring the icing work he had attempted winning his finger into the white frosting and licking it off his finger.

“Happy three year meet cute anniversary” he said leaning in kissing Max’s blushing cheeks.

Max smiled turning to look at his boyfriend “happy three year meet cute anniversary” he whispered before planting a kiss on Daniel lips.

#thank you again Danni!!! I hope this meets your expectations!!!#in my head Daniel and max didn’t get together until halfway through the semester while working on a project together #that’s when they find out they live in the same dorm and hang out even more after that #and daniel is a engineering major at first but he switches to photography by this time #max does computer science #of course they go to UT!#and max is there on visa and Blake Scotty and Daniel decided to all just go there because dan loved it #hook ‘em!#and Charles runs the flower shop when he’s in school and flirts shamelessly with all the people who #come in and buy flowers #let me know if you want any more!!!#again I hope this is okay!#maxiel #my fic #asks #onboardsorasora #college au

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aurevoirmonty · 2 months

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La France, la Russie et les traîtres.

Il est parfaitement naturel que des opposants politiques placent leurs espoirs dans une puissance étrangère voisine, surtout quand celle-ci correspond à leurs idéaux. Il ne s’agit pas de "trahison", mais d’une réaction parfaitement saine. Au XVIe siècle, par exemple, les catholiques français ne juraient que par l’Espagne ; au siècle suivant, les protestants français ne juraient que par l’Angleterre, et un noble français réfugié en Allemagne en 1792 souhaitait tout naturellement la victoire des armées autrichiennes. Rappelons aussi qu’en 1870, les républicains se sont levés comme un seul homme à la chambre des députés pour applaudir à l’annonce de la défaite des armées de l’Empereur Napoléon III, parce que l’instauration de la république devenait enfin possible, grâce à Bismarck et à l’armée prussienne. Pour une grande partie des sympathisants de la droite nationale, la Russie réactionnaire de Vladimir Poutine représente aujourd’hui une force qui aimante les énergies et qui vivifie les espérances. Tout est parfaitement logique. Parce que oui : des millions de patriotes français souhaitent de toutes leurs forces que ce régime cosmopolite s’effondre le plus vite possible. C’est ainsi : les Européens cultivés et conscients de certains enjeux eschatologiques comprennent que l’intérêt national ne peut se concevoir sans l’idée que l’on se fait de la nation. En clair : une France qui serait peuplée à 80 % de mulâtres ne serait plus la France. Nous ne souhaitons pas la destruction de l’Occident mais l’anéantissement des forces cosmopolites qui se servent de l’Occident pour détruire toutes les communautés encore libres sur cette terre. On se souvient qu’en 1999, les "méchants" désignés par les démocraties étaient les Serbes, qui refusaient de céder leur terre historique aux musulmans du Kosovo : ils ont été copieusement bombardés. En 2001, c’était au tour de l’Afghanistan ; en 2003, ce fut l’Irak ; en 2007, on se souvient que les intellectuels mondialistes nous poussaient de toutes leurs forces à faire la guerre à l’Iran, mais le morceau était trop gros à avaler. Puis il y a eu la Libye en 2011, la Syrie en 2012, et Daech en 2015. Toutes ces guerres menées par les démocraties n’ont jamais correspondu pas aux intérêts des peuples occidentaux mais uniquement aux intérêts du mondialisme. Quant aux terroristes de Daech, ils avaient suivi une logique de vengeance parfaitement naturelle : « Vous nous bombardez, vous tuez nos enfants ; nous allons par conséquent porter la guerre sur votre sol ». Si les Hollande, les Fabius et compagnie avaient laissé le président syrien Bachar el-Assad gérer la menace islamiste locale, nous aurions sans doute évité les attentats sanglants de 2015-2016. Mais l’ennemi prioritaire des mondialistes à ce moment-là était Bachar el-Assad, et non les islamistes de Daech. Pourquoi ? Le tweet le plus explicite du moment reste celui de François Hollande, président de la république française ; c’est un collector, qui date du 16 novembre 2015 : « Nous éradiquerons le terrorisme pour que la circulation des personnes et le brassage des cultures demeurent possibles. » Voilà. C’est bien cela, leur objectif : le brassage des cultures, l’ouverture des frontières et le métissage généralisé sur toute la planète. Depuis 2005, je n’ai cessé de citer tous ces intellectuels, tout au long de mes livres. Une fois que l’ennemi est défini, tout est extrêmement simple, et il devient impossible de se retrouver dans le même camp que les bellicistes les plus enflammés que sont les BHL, Glucksmann, Cohn-Bendit, Macron, Le Maire et compagnie. Depuis le 24 février 2022, c’est donc maintenant à la Russie de tenir le rôle du grand méchant ; et tout est mis en œuvre une fois de plus pour nous pousser à la guerre.

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thee-morrigan · 3 months

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act iii (sad girl autumn version) and/or museum(ish) au please!

the act iii one is a character/relationship exploration piece between one of my durges (Faeryl) and Karlach, sometime after the House of Hope. Faeryl is trying very hard to not push Karlach to reconsider Avernus as a temporary option and to respect her wishes, but like. she also loves her girlfriend and doesn't want her to die. so there are Feelings Happening:

“I’m thinking,” she said finally, a rueful little smile tugging at the corners of her lips, “that it’s a shame we had to kill Raphael.” “What the fuck? Why? If you tell me you miss his poetry, Fae, I’m leaving, gods above.” Karlach's face twisted in a mix of incredulity and disgust, as if the mere mention of Raphael's various bardic attempts conjured a foul taste in her mouth. Faeryl snorted, pressing her elbow into the tiefling's ribs in playful reproach. "Definitely not.” She drew a deep breath, as if weighing her words, then admitted, “Because my hope has been whittled dangerously close to the edge of despair and I find myself almost wishing I still had a devil waiting for the chance to bargain with me.”

aaaand as a palate cleanser that is considerably less sad, a factoid from the museum(ish) au: one of the chapters includes Holland adopting a dog. She names her Sleater-Kinney, after the band. I *think* Sleater is gonna be an aussie/aussie mix. not totally decided but the vibes feel correct.

#tysm for the excuse to talk about my favorite sad girlfriends AND a world in which holland has the free time for a puppy #kt wips #answered #nokstella

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mmepastel · 25 days

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youtube

Whaou.

Je regarde beaucoup de séries, et j’en ai vu un paquet de super bien. Cette fois, avec cette celle-ci, j’ai été touchée en plein cœur. Pourtant, je connais à peine Truman Capote, je n’ai rien lu de lui, j’ignorais tout de cette querelle dont il est question dans ce récit qui raconte la deuxième partie de sa vie. Je connaissais son visage, sa réputation sulfureuse, son intérêt pour les mondains, et l’impact de son roman De sang froid.

Honnêtement, je n’aurais pas cru me passionner pour son existence ni pour celles des « Swans », c’est à dire ces « socialities », célébrités mondaines pleines aux as et oisives au possible, qui faisaient la pluie et le beau temps sur la mode à New-York dans les années 60 et 70. D’ailleurs, il me semble bien qu’on les a oubliées. Elles ont leurs fiches Wikipedia, mais je ne suis pas sûre qu’elles aient laissé une trace inouïe ni dans l’art, ni dans la mode.

C’est Gus Van Sant qui filme, et sans doute la qualité de la série y est pour beaucoup. Le casting est dingue aussi, entre Naomi Watts, Calista Flockart, Chloë Sevigny, Jessica Lange… et Tom Hollander qui incarne Capote d’une façon extraordinaire. Il a réussi à créer un personnage à la fois ridicule et profondément touchant, avec ses cheveux jaunes plaqués sur un front de plus en plus dégarni, une gestuelle maniérée et outrée, une voix haut perchée, et un rire incroyable… irritant et désarmant. Une performance géniale, proche de l’original (j’ai regardé des vidéos pour écouter la vraie voix de l’auteur), et une création sensible.

La première partie de la vie de l’écrivain, de sa jeunesse chaotique (mère sans égards, puis alcoolique, père violent puis absent), à son succès précoce, est sacrément passionnante (maintenant que je suis renseignée). Mais la série se concentre sur l’après. Lorsque, précisément, Truman Capote est à son apogée, et que tout le monde s’arrache cet homosexuel mondain qui est drôle, cruel, attentif et doux avec ceux (celles surtout) qu’il aime. Sa relation avec Babe m’a bouleversée. J’ai pleuré tout le long de l’avant-dernier épisode, devant la beauté de leur lien, devant le tragique du gâchis.

Cette série est évidemment complètement proustienne, avec l’œil acéré sur les faux-semblants des riches, les amitiés qui n’empêchent pas la clairvoyance, la cruauté de ladite clairvoyance lorsque celle-ci se mue en récit public et donc en trahison. Il est question de mondes dont on veut être ; dont Capote devient le centre puis en est évincé. De solitude. D’alcool. De création. De l’attirance du papillon vers l’ampoule qui va le brûler, le petit garçon esseulé d’Alabama ébloui par le faste new-yorkais, puis les talk-shows. Et le fantôme maternel qui rôde, encore, qui empoisonne chacun de ses gestes.

C’est le récit d’un déclin collectif, mais dans lequel chacun est seul. C’est troublant de finesse, de délicatesse. Malgré les belles robes, les colliers de perles et les mets raffinés, il y a quelque chose de nu qui transparaît, quelque chose de cru, de vrai où se mélange les regrets d’un gâchis immense et la beauté impalpable de moments dérisoires. Une vie, à la fin de laquelle on appelle en vain sa maman, comme un petit enfant effrayé.

#youtube #serie #fx #feud: capote vs the swans #les trahisons de Truman Capote #gus van sant #tom hollander #naomi watts #television

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albad · 10 months

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DEUX SEMAINES AVANT NAËL : UN MORT À ANGOULÊME

C'était deux semaine avant le meurtre de Naël à Nanterre par un policier. Les faits ont eu lieu le 28 juin à Angoulême et les médias en ont très peu parlé.

Ce matin là, Alhoussein Camara, 19 ans, se rend au travail à 4h30 du matin. Guinéen arrivé en France en 2018, il a obtenu un CAP de cuisine et travaille dans une base logistique d’Intermarché. Il vivait dans un foyer de jeunes travailleurs et faisait partie de ces «premières lignes» qui exercent des emplois de nuit, difficiles.

C'est donc en roulant avant l'aube pour travailler qu'il est abattu lors d'un contrôle routier dans une banlieue d'Angoulême. Après coup, la police parle de «refus d'obtempérer», justifie le tir au nom d'une légère blessure d'un agent. Sauf qu'Alhoussein lui, est mort d'une balle dans le flanc. Et, contrairement à Naël, il n'y a pas de témoin à cette heure précoce.

Dans la foulée le parquet ouvre une enquête contre le défunt pour «refus d’obtempérer et violence avec arme». Alors que le décès d'une personne entraîne un arrêt des poursuites, c'est une procédure médiatique pour salir la victime. Une deuxième enquête est confiée à l'IGPN pour le tir mortel.

Le 17 juin, la communauté Guinéenne de la ville et les personnes solidaires organisent une marche à Angoulême qui réunit 1000 personnes. Alors que même la presse souligne qu'elle avait lieu dans le calme, les CRS tirent des grenades lacrymogènes et chargent. La violence physique et symbolique à son summum.

Mi-mai, un automobiliste avait été blessé à la tête par le tir d’un policier municipal en Seine-Saint-Denis pour un «refus d’obtempérer» présumé. En 2022, 13 personnes ont été tuées par la police pour ce motif, un record.

L'augmentation des meurtres policiers est la conséquence d’une loi de 2017 votée sous Hollande, qui a élargi le cadre d’usage des armes à feu par la police. Ils peuvent désormais tirer non seulement quand ils sont en danger, mais aussi sur un véhicule en fuite ou pour protéger une zone dont ils ont la charge.

Cette explosion des tirs policier mortels est toujours suivie d'un silence médiatique ou de mensonges de la police. Sauf quand la révolte parvient à faire entendre une autre version.

Contre Attaque

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claudehenrion · 2 months

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''Il faut ré-industrialiser la France... il faut ré.... etc''

C'est un peu comme le boléro de Ravel, la beauté en moins : le Pouvoir, à bout d'idée devant la persistance des résultats déplorables qui sont le seul succès (si on peut dire ''ça'' comme ça !) de ce second quinquennat (quoi que le précédent, le premier, n'ait pas été beaucoup plus triomphal, la propagande mise de côté), ne sait plus que répéter le même ''mantra'', un peu comme un moulin à prières bouddhiste : '' Il faut ré-industrialiser la France... Il faut ré-industrialiser la France... Il faut ré-... '' et ainsi de suite, sans rien faire de ce qu'il faut ''pour'', comme si les mots suffisaient...

Malheureusement, il y a loin de la coupe aux lèvres, et il serait vraiment surprenant que des incantations, aussi répétées soient-elles, se transforment en... tout ce qui a été détruit, presque scientifiquement, par des générations de politicards qui, de droite ou pas, prenaient leur inspiration ''à gauche'' : sans ''vista'', sans ambition, sans envergure, et surtout sans intelligence, peut-on affirmer après coup. Au delà des décisions, perverses quant elles n'étaient pas absurdes, qui avaient été prises depuis 1975 et sans discontinuer, le coup fatal a été donné par toutes les conneries (pardon !) qui ont été prises dans le cadre, complètement loufoque mais pas moins dramatique pour autant, des deux ''années covid'' où la bêtise militante a battu tous ses records.

Les économistes (qui répètent souvent ce que d'autres ont répété avant eux !) admettent que deux facteurs tiennent lieu d'indicateurs, pour la santé d'une économie : l'évolution de la production manufacturière et celle de la valeur ajoutée de l'industrie.... qui, malgré tous les discours pleins de fausses promesses de l'Elysée ou de Matignon, restent désespérément scotchés ''à leur niveau de 2015'', comme le précise Jean Claude Tavernier, directeur de l'INSEE, ce qui n'est une bonne nouvelle que pour les macronistes --qui voient des bonnes nouvelles là où il n'y en a pas ! En réalité, le mal est plus ancien, et s'est bien aggravé en 2008, crise qui n'est pas encore cicatrisée.

On ne saura jamais (en tout cas, personne ne l'a expliqué jusqu'ici) pourquoi et comment la France s'est crue tellement riche et tellement puissante qu'elle pouvait se permettre d'être excentrique... au point d'élire hollande, ce qui était –et on ne peut pas dire ''on ne le savait pas''-- le pire, pour se laisser distancer par tous les pays ayant des dirigeants moins stupides et moins doctrinaires. Car il faut se souvenir que, à chaque ''rechute'' de notre économie, la marche est plus haute, le temps pour la remonter plus long, et le nouveau nouvel ''étiage'' est plus bas que celui d'avant.

Le paramètre significatif qu'est le poids de l'industrie dans notre PIB... est en baisse régulière depuis 2001, et ce ne sont bien sûr pas les incantations présidentielles et autres à ''réindustrialiser le pays''... ni à ''reconstituer sa compétitivité'' (ce qui ne veut rien dire !) qui vont changer quoi que ce soit dans un tableau... où nous sommes derniers dans tous les classements, sauf en ce qui concerne notre 1 ère place permanente en matière de ponction fiscale ! Et en plus, depuis les folies et les absurdités du covid, le discours français sur ''le redressement'' a pris un tour souverainiste... dans la bouche de faux gourous pour qui le souverainisme est une maladie honteuse qui ne frappe que ''l'extrême droite'' complotiste, factieuse, fasciste et, donc, souverainiste (toutes qualités vitales pour une Nation, mais qui sont , toutes aussi, interdites sur les ondes d'Etat et dans notre presse menteuse... Aux fous...!).

Le mythe d'une incantatoire ''réindustrialisation de la France'' (NB. ...et de ''relocalisations'' qui n'ont existé que par la faute des mêmes irresponsables officiels... qui font croire qu'ils seraient aujourd'hui favorables au contraire de ce qu'ils continuent à pratiquer --cf. leur Europe cannibale, leur contrat ''Mercosur'', ''leur'' Ukraine, la condamnation à mort de notre agriculture, etc...) revêt, sous ''Macron II'', un aspect quasiment mystique... ce qui permet de soi-disant fixer des (soi-disant, aussi) objectifs chiffrés : ''on court après, mais on ne sait pas quoi !''. On se souvient de Colbert, qui s'inquiétait du grand nombre de ''vagabonds sans occupation'', prêts a plein de sales coups et à soutenir toute jacquerie.... ce qui lui a fait couvrir la France de ''manufactures'' et de ''fabriques'' destinées à les faire sortir très vite de cet in-emploi pousse-au-crime. Et de débouchés pour écouler ce trop plein.

On ne se souvient pas que ce grand homme au service d'un grand Roi ait fait un seul discours de nature ''méthodologique'' (ce qui est une spécialité de notre Gauche dystopique : chaque nouveau nommé ou promu se croit obligé, depuis Rocard, de nous expliquer ''sa méthode'' –qui ne marchera pas plus que les autres) : ce n'est pas de méthodes et de discours, dont la France a besoin, c'est d'usines plutôt moins imposées que leurs concurrentes, et de débouchés extérieurs dus à un regain de puissance (la nôtre, évidemment, pas celle de l'Ukraine qui ponctionne et collectionne nos armes, nos munitions, nos blindés, nos canons ''Caesar''... et nos milliards, jetés pour rien par la fenêtre...).

Le croirez-vous ? Mutatis mutandis, au vocabulaire et à de petits détails près,nous revoilà dans la même situation que le roi Soleil –le soleil en moins, vous l'aviez remarqué : nous avons stupidement ''réparti'' nos vagabonds –entre temps devenus ''migrants'' et décidés à occuper un jour le pays qui les accueille et à tout détruire pour arriver à leurs fins (via la nôtre !), et cette seule différence n'est pas rien, car l'horreur est partout ! En attendant, mois après mois, nos impôts augmentent (NDLR : toute diminution cosmétique apparente ici --ex. : la taxe d'habitation-- se transforme en ''davantage d'augmentations'', là --ex. : la taxe foncière. La ficelle est énorme ! Ils nous prennent vraiment pour des cons !), et notre déficit commercial bat ses propres records d'effondrement : nous nous vidons de tout notre sang, au profit de leur Europe anthropophage, de l'Ukraine, et des lubies mortifères de Mme von der truc... Et personne ne dit rien. (Ah ! Si... Il faut dire un immense ''Merci'' à nos paysans si courageux, et si intelligents –ils ont vu le piège, eux !).

H-Cl.

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submissivegayfrenchboy · 1 year

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hey dude! just discovered your blog and think its great. just wondering when the shawn mendes story will be posted? no rush tho. 😊❤️

02 / 02 / 2023

🇬🇧🇺🇸 ENGLISH / ANGLAIS 🇺🇸🇬🇧

ASK ANSWERED

First of all thank you for telling me that my blog is awesome. Do not hesitate to like and comment on my stories, so that I feel supported and that I keep the desire to write on this blog. ☺️ This kind of compliment makes me happy and encourages me, and I like knowing which stories my readers like best, and what they liked about my stories.

Concerning the one on Master SHAWN MENDES - in front of whom I prostrate myself like the loser that I am in front of his immense beauty - it is being written. However, more stories about famous alpha males will be coming soon as I had been getting requests for a long time and I had many at the same time.

The story about His Highness Shawn Mendes, praise be to Him, is taking me longer to write because I'm hesitant to make it a standalone story or a story that, as I announced, would be set chronologically before the story requested by my friend @fartsandotherstink (in which Master Shawn Mendes met Masters Nick Jonas and Tom Holland).

If I write about Shawn Mendes independently from that about him with the other two famous alpha males, Shawn Mendes will be shown as a man who is certainly authoritative, dominant and sublime (because that is how I imagine him, apart from his humor and his charisma), but he will also have another characteristic, which I will surprise you with.

While waiting to be able to read my story (and I know I'm taking time, I apologize once again), I'll give the floor to His Serene Highness the magnificent Shawn Mendes, our master to all.

SHAWN MENDES: "I know you're dying to worship me, loser! You're just a fagot who dreams of breathing my body! Today I'm giving you a gift: here are my armpits! Sniff them! Yes That's how it is! You're just a fag in love with my armpits and you're going to prove your love to them by sucking in all the smell! Yeah, fags like you are so funny, so easy to manipulate! You're my slave from now on !"

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

🇨🇵 FRANÇAIS / FRENCH 🇨🇵

ASK ANSWERED

Tout d'abord merci de me dire que mon blog est génial. N'hésite pas à liker et commenter mes histoires, afin que je me sente soutenue et que je garde l'envie d'écrire sur ce blog. ☺️

Ce genre de compliment me fait plaisir et m'encourage, et j'aime savoir les histoires que mes lecteurs préfèrent, et ce qu'ils ont aimés dans mes histoires.

Concernant celle sur Maître SHAWN MENDES -devant qui je me prosterne comme le loser que je suis face à son immense beauté - elle est en cours d'écriture. Cependant, d'autres histoires sur des mâles alpha célèbres ne vont pas tarder à arriver avant car j'avais reçu des requêtes depuis longtemps et j'en ai eu beaucoup en même temps.

L'histoire sur Son Altesse Shawn Mendes, loué soit-Il, me prend plus de temps à écrire car j'hésite à en faire une histoire indépendante ou une histoire qui, comme je l'avais annoncé, serait situé chronologiquement avant l'histoire demandée par mon ami @fartsandotherstink (dans laquelle Maître Shawn Mendes rencontra les Maîtres Nick Jonas et Tom Holland).

Si j'écris sur Shawn Mendes de manière indépendante à celle sur lui avec les deux autres mâles alphas célèbres, Shawn Mendes sera montré comme un homme certes autoritaire, dominant et sublime (car c'est ainsi que je l'imagine, en dehors de son humour et de son charisme), mais il aura aussi une autre caractéristique, dont je vous réserve la surprise.

En attendant de pouvoir lire mon histoire (et je sais que je prends du temps, je m'en excuse une fois de plus), je vais laisser la parole à son Altesse Sérénissime le magnifique Shawn Mendes, notre maître a tous.

SHAWN MENDES : "Je sais que tu meurt d'envie de me vénérer, loser ! Tu n'es qu'un pédé qui rêve de respirer mon corps ! Aujourd'hui je te fait un cadeau : voilà mes aisselles ! Renifle les ! Oui voilà comme ça ! Tu n'es qu'un pédé amoureux de mes aisselles et tu vas leur prouver ton amour en aspirant bien toute l'odeur ! Ouais, les pédés comme toi sont si drôles, si faciles à manipuler ! Tu es mon esclave désormais !"

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

@shawnmendesupdates @goonerpup @alphamalesuperiority @celebritymasters @leftprogrammingroadtripdean @tidodore2 @shawnmendesgallery

#Request #Requête #Histoire fictive personnelle #Humilié par une célébrité #Humiliated by a celebrity #Shawn Mendes #Farts #Feet #Tom Holland #Nick Jonas #Chanteur #Singer #Pets #Pieds #Alpha male celeb #Mâle alpha célèbre

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theanticool · 7 months

Text

youtube

Jack Della Maddalena | UFC Greatest Hits

Jack Della Maddalena (15-2) had one hell of a scare in his last outing. The Aussie welterweight started his UFC career off with 4 straight first round finishes before taking on a late replacement opponent in Bassil Hafez. And Hafez beat the crap out of him with raw pressure and a heavy grappling offensive. Though JDM won out in the end, we learned a lot about some of JDM's worst habits.

Maddalena is on a 2 month turnaround as he is set to face off with Kevin Holland (25-9) at Noche UFC this Saturday (Sept. 16).

#Jack Della Maddalena #UFC #MMA #Highlight Video #Highlight Videos #Youtube

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une-touille-en-vadrouille · 1 year

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Bon, vous avez de la chance (moi moins), vu que j'ai été réveillée successivement à 3h par un groupe de garçons venus parler et fumer sous notre moustiquaire (on n'a pas de fenêtre), 3h30 par tous les coqs qui ont décidé de chanter toute la nuit, 4h30 par un groupe de filles qui ont décidé de faire un bis repetita des garçons, 6h par la proprio qui rangeait toute la cour, et 6h45 par le réveil de ma voisine qui dépétrifierait des victimes de Méduse (Dieu que j'envie l'impassibilité de Dr Rathatton durant la nuit), j'ai le temps de vous écrire le premier billet ...

Nous avons donc été récupérées à l'auberge par notre guide vers 8h30, et c'est parti pour 1h30 de voiture jusqu'au marché, où il nous fait les courses pour les jours à venir. Il en profite pour nous faire découvrir le petit jeu suivant : on paye quelques Bahts pour choisir un des petits carrés de la planche d'en bas. Une fois déplié, on y trouve un numéro, s'il correspond à celui d'un des lots, c'est le jackpot ! Bon, on a tous autant de chance qu'un pingouin dans le Sahara, c'est donc un échec généralisé, snif.

Après avoir réalisé (totalement hors sujet) avec Clem que nous avons complétement oublié de faire notre check out à l'hôtel, et donc de rendre nos clés (la caution qui sauteuuuuuuh- heureusement on y retourne le 26 au soir !), On reprend la route. On est toutes les deux à l'avant du camion de transport car nos sacs sont plus gros que ceux de nos compatriotes (les tout petits sacs de suffisaient pas, donc on a vidé la partie inutile dedans, laissé ce sac à l'agence, et pris les gros, alors que nos camarades d'aventure ont des sacs de jour de 20L...), on ne réalise pas encore le confort auquel nous avons droit ... On s'arrête un peu à une jolie cascade, ça nous met dans l'ambiance !

Après un premier déjeuner en groupe (délicieux d'ailleurs), on reprend le camion pour dix minutes de chemin de terre. Le guide parle parfois par la fenêtre, je ne comprends pas bien ... Jusqu'à ce qu'un gars descende du toit à l'arrêt suivant 😅 la pente est tellement raide que tout le monde doit d'ailleurs quitter le camion, on n'arrive pas à monter ! Ça commence bien ...

C'est enfin le départ de notre première rando, 2h30 dans la jungle ! Il y a beaucoup de descente, on est à l'arrière du groupe, et une fille devant galère avec ses chaussures (elle habite en Hollande, elle a autant l'habitude des collines que moi des cheveux lisses), heureusement que le paysage compense un peu notre rythme d'escargots rhumatisants !

Après 2h30 de marche, c'est une victoire, nous arrivons en vue du village ! C'est le village de notre guide, il nous racontera plein d'anecdotes sur la vie sur place dans la soirée, c'était passionnant (mais oui, vous aurez le droit d'en avoir aussi). Toutes les familles possèdent deux maisons : une pour y vivre, et une pour stocker l'équivalent d'un an de riz ! Celle là n'est accessible que par une échelle amovible, pour limiter le risque qu'il soit abîmé.

Les maisons sont surélevées pour "ranger" (les poules étant mises dans des paniers en bambou tressé, c'est le bon terme !) les animaux dessous la nuit (et faire des zones d'ombre le jour). Il y en a d'ailleurs partout, on croise plein de bébés poules, cochons, et chiens en liberté (c'est trop choupi), les parents cochon étant généralement attachés sous la maison pour laisser les pis disponibles, ou dans des enclos en bois bien trop petits :( ça ne répond pas aux exigences du label rouge ...

Notre guide Sombat (Bat pour les intimes ou les touristes sans cervelle qui oublient son nom constamment) nous présente notamment l'atelier de préparation du riz, avec le panier pour séparer le grain des déchets, puis le système de broyage (sur la droite de la photo ci-dessous).

Le confort est assez sommaire dans le village : le peu d'électricité fournie l'est par le panneau solaire que possède chaque maison, il n'y a évidemment pas d'eau chaude, et une douche pour tout le monde. Ah, et on ne tire pas la chasse, on renverse un bol d'eau dans la cuvette, ce qui donne lieu à des situations... Intéressantes !

Nous passerons en dernière sous la douche (on est parties se balader dans le village), de nuit donc, alors qu'on fait de la buée en parlant. Je rappelle que l'eau n'est pas chauffée. Je compatis nettement plus avec les esquimaux quand ils doivent soulager leurs instincts naturels !

Sur la droite, nos sanitaires et la douche, et au fond à gauche, le dortoir ! (Merci à l'oeil vif de Dr Rathatton qui remarque que Annette, ingénieure de presque 27 ans, ne maîtrise toujours pas sa droite de sa gauche)

Quelques femmes du village nous attendent avec des babioles à vendre, les enfants sont enrolés pour nous attirer… Après une heure à nous regarder en silence et à nous faire signe de venir à chaque fois que nos regards se croisent, je finis par craquer et leur prends un petit bracelet tressé (pas localement malheureusement): 50B ce n’est pas grand chose pour moi (l’équivalent d’1€ et des poussières), mais ça leur est utile. Et puis comme ça j’ai de nouveau quelque chose au poignet, le poids de mon bracelet Pandora laissé à la maison me manque un peu !

Les matelas sont à même le sol (et fiiiiiins), mais les couvertures suffisent. On a même des moustiquaires (inutiles en cette saison, mais ça fait plaisir aux touristes)

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