#its because i can clearly hear **** and it makes me so <333< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[dieno-tsuki]

can i just say. it makes my day everytime i find out kaji is casted and the character has a nasty attitude problem

[ddejavvu]

ok so personally, Im usually so adverse to romantic interactions that even if I click on that someone is genuinely pursuing me, ill ignore it or pretend they arent. maybe a defence mechanism? idk BUT it does make for the most rabid situations and thoughts ever ever ever

imaging best friend!James and reader maybe getting into the situation in which they have to share a bed sometime. maybe its a group vacation or something. in my head - James potter is a serial humper in his sleep sometimes. hes a big guy in all aspects, and he also cant help but wanna cuddle with you to sleep!! but that also means he wakes himself up a couple times by grinding softly on u, and he feels so bad, but thankfully youve never woken up cus of it. separately, youve also learnt to not mention that you can quite clearly uh..feel him some mornings when ur both drowsy, pressed together n still groggy. and you, oh so conveniently also never mention that you kinda like how it feels. but, hey-ho.

its the middle of the night, and as usual, James is spooning you from behind, he has to be bent a little to fit his head in ur hair, and hes pressing his entire body against ur back. the air still smells of washed-off sunscreen and sea salt, and theres a fan going in the corner of the room. and this time James wakes up to YOU humping HIM. im talking, his breath hitches and everythingggg until he realises ur sleep. ur asleep and grinding back on him and ur breathing is all stuttered and he always guessed youd be a little quiet but ur little noises are so breathy and holy shit ur wet????? theres no way you get this wet.. until James realises that hes propped himself up on his arm and is just staring down at where ur moving ur hips on him and he tries to snap himself out of it by waking u up. ur still groggy but absolutely mortified when he tells you "yeah bug, you uh- y'got a little excited 'bout me in ur sleep, huh? s'okay yknow, its okay :]"

and he 100% offers to help you out. even when u say that friends arent suppose to do that, AND also mumbling about how guys normally didn't really make girls cum and mentioning abt how you always hear people say its too complicated, he just brings up how you just grinded on his lap in ur sleep, and that felt good, so, how can it not be allowed? its just a friend helping out a friend! :) and that he can definitely get u off, he'd be sooo good at it!! the only way this goes in my head is that not much shuffling around is done, all that changed is that ur on ur back now, and hes licking his bottom lip into his mouth as he looms over you slightly from ur side, his hands moving down and down. he'd definitely be tilting his head and "yeah, this part feels really good, yeah? yeah" all nodding and smiling n shit. 'best friend' James from that point on, takes any opportunity to 'help you out', he'd transition into using more than his fingers too. he was in love with you before this but now???? hes a goner.

babe thank u for blessing me with these cause i did NOT feel like writing today so i let you tell me a story and it was amazing <333

this post is 18+, minors dni.

james potter sleep slut is canon in my mind... just the way he wakes up with his big beefy arms wrapped around you while his hips move?? mhm. and he wakes up and is like ohshitohshitohshit but he doesn't wanna let go!!! so he just tries to dial himself back in, but he most likely needs a minute in the bathroom to compose himself </3

no but if you feel it in the morning.. you don't wanna point it out 'cause what if he says something like 'oh sorry i'm just really sensitive' or 'sometimes the wind makes it do that' LIKE NO. YOU WANNA KNOW IF IT'S REALLY BECAUSE OF YOU. so you just keep quiet, but in the early morning when he's sleepily begging for fivemoreminutes and isn't quite in tune with his body yet, you're definitely hyper aware of his hard on digging into your thigh or butt or hip or belly or whatever <3

when HE wakes up to YOU grinding on HIM he's mindblown.. he knows he likes you, he knows you're pretty, but he marvels at how amazing you look while dragging your hips back against his, like how could you look this amazing??

but he feels even worse watching you than he does accidentally doing it in his sleep, 'cause this isn't an accident!! he's not catching you in the act by mistake anymore, he's just watching you grind on him and getting all worked up about it, which in turn is only making him more hard. finally he decides to just wake you, smoothing your hair away from your face and kissing your cheek, murmuring your name softly until you finally rouse. and when you're blubbering sleepily at him 'why'd you wake me?' he just smiles like :] oh you were having a wet dream :] just wanted you to know :] and you're !!!!!!! WHAT !!!!!!!

you're instantly apologizing a million times but he's reassuring you like no no no!! it's okay bug, really!! happens to the best of us <3 but if you want some help w that i can help you!! i mean i've got the facilities, trust me. just say the word and we can make your dreams come true :]

you're just instantly terrified. you're shaking your head, sitting up like no, that's not what friends do. and- and it's hard! to make a girl- y'know... and he's like ?? no it's not ?? i promise i won't have a hard time with you bug.

so once you've suggested that he won't be able to do it.. he's gonna do it. he'd never ever force you to do anything against your will but the only excuses that you have are that friends don't do that (and they totally do!!! james is right now!!!!) and that it would probably be hard for him, and nothing about you not wanting it. so when he finally gets it out of you that yes you want it, but no he won't be able to help, he's gonna go to town. he begs for a chance to prove you wrong and you should have known with his super competitive nature that challenging him would be dumb, but i mean. worst case scenario he can't do it. you're already expecting that. why not??

so he tries, rubbing your pretty little clit and stroking over your folds before dipping between them, only a little upset that you're already wet because it means that he can't get you all worked up first, he can't kiss the slick out of you, he can't suck on your neck until you're wet, it's already there </3 but next time for sure, for now he's very excited about just being able to touch you

your cunt is warm and wet and everything he's ever dreamed of, but he's too nervous about overstepping to ask to eat you out, so he doesn't.. but in future, it's coming.

but he absolutely soaks in the moment, humming and cooing and crooning at you about how good it feels, asking you every time you whimper if it feels nice, if he's doing it right, if you think he'll be able to finish you off. and it's so intoxicating having him that close that you absolutely have to use all of your willpower to not kiss him while he hovers over you. he guides you through your orgasm and brings you down gently, absolutely the perfect lover, and he even asks if he can lick his fingers clean. he's like wouldn't think it was weird, would you, bug? I can clean 'em off? and when you nod he sucks them clean, humming at your taste and grinning giddily at you.

now you have a helper ! he will not leave u alone. bed sharing is a must now, and the more you sleep together, the more horny you are for him, and the more you wake up in the middle of the night, and the more he 'helps you out', and it is a cycle that you couldn't break if you tried, not that you'd ever want to.

[lvrgirlrey]

requests....open yippie !!

my request is, the reader (im enby but, mind using she/her prns for the reader? :3) is crying, because she feels like her feelings dont matter, and the bsd men (jouno, tetchou, dazai and ranpo) try to comfort them, wanna try this prompt? :D

no pressure <<333

-K.

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: hi!! idk why but i love the way u typed this out, it just sounds so energetic, its so cute! you didnt specify if you wanted little stories or hcs so i just did the former >_< hope you enjoy!

𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: none this is just some angst and fluff

𝕛𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕠

you sat in the corner of your room, knees pulled up to your chest, trying your best to hold back the tears, but they slipped out anyway. it was like no matter how hard you tried, nothing you said ever got through to people. it felt like your words, your feelings, just floated away, unnoticed and unimportant. you wiped at your eyes, frustrated with yourself for crying, but the tears kept coming.

you didn’t even hear jouno come in. he was quiet as ever, his footsteps barely making a sound. he stood at the doorway for a moment, listening. he could hear the way your breath was unsteady, the way your heart raced. it wasn’t hard for him to figure out that something was wrong.

“why are you crying?” his voice was calm, though there was a slight edge of curiosity in it. he wasn’t the type to get emotional, but that didn’t mean he was completely heartless.

you quickly wiped at your face again, trying to hide the fact that you’d been crying. “it’s nothing,” you mumbled, not wanting to drag him into it. “just ignore me.”

jouno frowned slightly, his sharp senses picking up on the sadness in your voice. he stepped further into the room, his presence suddenly more noticeable to you. “if it was nothing, you wouldn’t be crying,” he said plainly, but not unkindly.

you shook your head, feeling embarrassed and small under his gaze. “i don’t want to talk about it. it’s stupid.”

he knelt down beside you, though he didn’t reach out to touch you just yet. “you say that, but it’s clearly bothering you,” he pointed out. “i might not be the best with these things, but i can tell something’s weighing on you.”

you hesitated, biting your lip. jouno wasn’t exactly the warmest person, and you weren’t sure how he’d react if you opened up. but something about the way he was sitting there, not pushing you but still staying close, made you feel like it was okay to talk.

“i just feel like… no one cares,” you admitted in a small voice. “like my feelings don’t matter. i try to explain things, but it’s like people don’t really listen. it’s like i don’t even exist sometimes.”

jouno was quiet for a moment, thinking over your words. then, slowly, he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. “your feelings do matter,” he said, his tone serious. “just because some people don’t listen doesn’t mean what you feel is meaningless. i might not be able to see your face, but i can hear your voice. and i’m listening.”

his words were simple, but they eased some of the tightness in your chest. you looked up at him, your tears slowing down. “really?” you asked, your voice still a little shaky. he nodded. “really. you’re not invisible to me.”

the reassurance in his voice brought you some comfort, and for the first time that night, you felt like maybe your feelings did matter to someone. jouno wasn’t always easy to read, but you could tell he meant what he said. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you feel a little less alone.

𝕥𝕖𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕦

you sat on the floor, your back against the wall, trying your best to keep quiet, but the tears wouldn’t stop. your chest felt heavy, weighed down by the growing feeling that your thoughts and emotions didn’t seem to matter to anyone. no matter how many times you tried to speak up, it felt like your words just went unheard, like they disappeared into thin air. you wiped at your face, hoping to pull yourself together, but it was hard.

the door creaked open, and tetchou stepped inside. he noticed you right away, his sharp eyes taking in the scene. you didn’t bother to look up; you didn’t want him to see you like this. but tetchou wasn’t the type to walk away when something was wrong.

he crossed the room, kneeling down beside you, his movements careful and deliberate. he didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel his presence next to you, solid and steady. “are you crying?” his voice was low, not pressing, but full of concern.

you shook your head, even though it was clear you were. “i’m fine,” you mumbled, trying to wipe away the tears with the sleeve of your shirt. “just… don’t worry about it.”

tetchou frowned slightly. he wasn’t the most expressive person, but he could tell when something was wrong, and he could feel that you weren’t okay. “you’re clearly not fine,” he said softly. “something’s bothering you.”

you swallowed hard, still avoiding his gaze. “it’s just… i don’t know. i feel like no one cares about what i’m feeling. like i’m just talking to myself sometimes. it doesn’t matter what i say, it’s like no one really listens.”

tetchou stayed silent for a moment, processing your words. he wasn’t great with emotions—he’d be the first to admit that. but he wasn’t going to leave you alone in this.

slowly, he reached out, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. his touch was warm, grounding. “i’m listening,” he said simply, but there was a seriousness to his voice that told you he meant it. “your feelings do matter. i care.”

his words made your chest tighten again, but this time, it was for a different reason. you weren’t used to someone being so direct, but also so kind in their honesty. you glanced up at him through your tears, surprised by the sincerity in his face.

“you care?” you asked, your voice soft, almost afraid to believe it.

tetchou nodded firmly. “of course i do. you’re important to me.” his grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, like he was making sure you understood. “your feelings are important. if something’s hurting you, i want to know.”

his words, while simple, brought a strange sense of calm over you. the tears slowed, and you felt a little lighter, as if the weight pressing down on you had lessened just a bit. you wiped your eyes again, this time feeling a little more in control of yourself.

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice shaky but sincere. “i guess i just needed to hear that.”

tetchou didn’t say anything else, but he stayed close, his hand never leaving your shoulder. and even though the silence filled the room, it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was a silence that told you that you weren’t alone, that even when you felt invisible, someone was there, ready to listen.

𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕡𝕠

you sat curled up on the couch, trying your best to hold back the tears, but they kept falling anyway. it was hard to explain exactly why you felt this way, but deep down, it came from the fact that no matter what you said or how hard you tried, your feelings seemed to go unnoticed by everyone around you. it was like no one really listened. you felt invisible, like you didn’t matter, and that thought weighed heavy on your chest.

as you sat there, lost in your sadness, you didn’t notice ranpo until he was standing right in front of you. he wasn’t one to miss details, and he could tell something was wrong right away. he might have been a bit careless with emotions sometimes, but this was different. he frowned, tilting his head slightly as he watched you wipe your tears away. “hey,” ranpo said softly, sitting down next to you. “why are you crying?”

you didn’t want to answer him. after all, it wasn’t like he could change anything. you just shrugged, trying to brush it off, but your voice cracked as you said, “it’s nothing.”

ranpo didn’t buy that for a second. he leaned back a little, crossing his arms as he watched you, his eyes sharp and observant, as usual. “it’s not nothing if you’re crying. so, what’s going on?”

you sighed, not really sure how to explain it. “i just feel like… no one listens. like, i try to talk about how i feel, but it’s like it doesn’t matter. i keep talking, but no one really hears me.”

ranpo was quiet for a moment, processing your words. then, with a small sigh of his own, he shifted closer to you. “i hear you,” he said softly, his tone much gentler than usual. “your feelings do matter, you know.”

you looked at him, surprised. ranpo wasn’t exactly the most emotional person, and hearing him speak so seriously was unexpected. you blinked away a few more tears, sniffling slightly. “you do?”

ranpo nodded, his usual confident smile returning a little. “of course i do. you’re important to me, and if something’s bothering you, then i want to know. you’re not invisible, even if it feels like that sometimes.”

his words made your chest feel a little lighter. it was strange, but comforting in its own way. you hadn’t expected ranpo to be the one to say something like that, but it meant more than you realized.

“thank you,” you whispered, wiping at your face again. he shrugged, giving you a small grin. “don’t mention it. just remember, if you need someone to listen, i’m here. even if i’m a genius, i still care.”

you smiled at his words, feeling a little better knowing that someone, especially ranpo, had noticed. even in his own way, he made sure you knew you weren’t alone.

𝕕𝕒𝕫𝕒𝕚

you sat on the edge of your bed, staring out the window as the rain fell softly against the glass. the world outside seemed so distant, and the tears rolling down your cheeks made it even harder to focus. it felt like everything was closing in on you. no matter how much you tried to talk about your feelings, it felt like no one truly listened. it was as if your thoughts and emotions just floated away, leaving you feeling empty and alone.

the door creaked open, and you turned to see dazai leaning against the frame, his usual playful grin fading when he saw your tear-streaked face. he stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing slightly with concern. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft and gentle, a tone you didn’t often hear from him.

you quickly wiped your face with your sleeve, not wanting to show him how upset you were. “it’s nothing, really,” you lied, trying to muster a smile. “i’m fine.”

dazai raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. he walked over and sat down next to you on the bed, the playful demeanor replaced by a more serious look. “you don’t look fine. come on, you can tell me.”

you hesitated, feeling a lump in your throat. “it’s just… i feel like my feelings don’t matter. like, no matter how hard i try to talk, it’s like no one hears me. it’s frustrating.”

he listened quietly, letting you pour out your thoughts. with each word, you felt a little lighter, but the tears kept coming. “i just want to be heard,” you said, your voice shaking. “i want to know that what i feel matters.”

dazai leaned closer, his expression softening. “you matter to me,” he said firmly. “your feelings are important. i may joke around a lot, but that doesn’t mean i don’t take you seriously.”

you looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his eyes. “you really think so?”

“of course,” he replied, a gentle smile breaking through. “everyone has feelings. even if it seems like no one cares, that doesn’t mean they aren’t real. you are real. your feelings matter to me.”

he reached out, brushing a tear away from your cheek with his thumb. the touch was surprisingly comforting, and you felt your heart swell a little. “it’s okay to cry. it’s okay to feel sad. just know you don’t have to go through this alone.”

you nodded, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a blanket. “thank you, dazai,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but a little stronger now. “it really helps to hear you say that.”

dazai grinned again, his usual charm returning. “anytime. just remember, if you ever feel down, you can always count on me. besides, someone has to keep you from getting too serious all the time.”

with that, you couldn’t help but chuckle through your tears. you realized that even in your darkest moments, dazai had a way of shining a little light, reminding you that you weren’t alone.

[wexhappyxfew]

From Prompt List #3, can I please request [ TO THE THREAT ]: " is there a problem over here? " for Judy and Rosie OR [ TO THE THREAT ]: " right, either you leave or i kick you out. your choice" for Carrie and Douglass?

Thank you! I always enjoy reading your Silver Bullets stories!

-lestweforget5

HI AND HELLO MY FRIEND @lestweforget5 !!!!!!!!! thank you SO MUCH for sending this in!!! and thank you so so much for the love for Silver Bullets! they are truly my pride and joy to write and knowing they were just as enjoyed just makes me <333333 for this, i decided to write the carrie x dougie piece and prompt because someone requested the judy x rosie piece with the SAME prompt and so that will be coming out eventually!!! i wanted to write it either way and so i was very happy sent that in, too! be on the lookout for that soon! ANYWAY! please enjoy this carrie x dougie piece that cracked open the energy of carrie of being the eldest sibling + daughter, overachiever, stubborn, and emotionally bottled-up person she is <3 carrie achterberg you will always be famous (and loved)!!!

it's in the jar

(a/n): carrie achterberg, forever my stubborn, sweet pea who just wants to be cared for and loved! please enjoy this piece that focuses in a bit more on carrie and her character, alongside james douglass who clearly and evidently cares for carrie achterberg more than anything :) carrie x dougie u will always be famous! plz enjoy! and thank you again! <333

"And if you'da seen it," Carrie whispered to herself, her mind suddenly a hundred miles up in the sky, Silver Bullets swinging side to side, bullets and ammo ricocheting off the side, smearing up through the bitter cold against the metal, "you would've thought that I'da been dead." Carrie threw a small pebble, hearing the quick pattering sound it made into the jar she had placed at the base of the chair where she sat when she was Bombardier; Lieutenant Achterberg.

Now, instead, she was just Carrie.

"Then," Carrie whispered quietly, aiming the next small pebble in her hand carefully, "Krauts going right by. Boom, boom, BOOM. One after the next. Never did I see my life flash faster than I did in those 10 seconds." She aimed and watched as the pebble landed again in the jar.

That's what you get training to shoot and score with nothing but a Norden bombsight for months.

"10 seconds," Carrie whispered, holding up the next pebble, "all it took for Margie Harlowe to take the hit, knocked unconscious." The screams filled her mind as she sat there frozen, pebble in hand, her voice echoing off the walls of the inside of the nose of Silver Bullets like a paralyzing echo, a hollow one.

A shiver ran down her spine as she sat there, before aiming and harshly smacking the pebble into the jar, the patter-patter of the pebble making its way inside. Carrie picked up another, the texture smooth between her fingers as she adjusted and took aim.

"She's in the Med-Bay, unconscious," Carrie whispered, trying to maintain composure of herself, "almost reminded me of Birdie Faulkner. Almost." Almost, Carrie thought quietly. Except Margie's alive, Birdie's not. She aimed, fired and BOOM. The pebble was inside the jar again.

"But we were still in the air, ya know? Even with Margie hit above, knocked flat-out unconscious, we still had a mission to complete. The bullet sprays - like a sheet of ice hitting fire. Splaying out across the wide berth of Silver Bullets," Carrie said quietly, holding up another pebble, "you'da thought that we were going to di-"

"You thought what?" Carrie froze, whipping her head around, eyes narrowed, ablaze with light to find James Douglass there. She anxiously thumbed the pebble in between her fingers before clenching her jaw, turning and launching the pebble, which sailed right inside the jar. Then she glanced back at Dougie.

"What are you doing here?"

"This where you hide out after missions?" he asked her, ignoring her obvious question she had posed in the first place.

"Hide out?" she managed out with a scoff, turning in her crossed-legged form to pick up another pebble, "I don't hide out. I escape the chatter, Dougie. The noise, if you will." She glanced over her shoulder, glanced at him up and down, hands on his hips, smirk on his face, eyes softly staring at her own. A right sight if you were to ask her.

"How the hell did you know I was here?"

"Carlisle." Carrie raised a brow and Dougie chuckled.

Oh Bessie Carlisle, what the hell.

"Oh." Carrie said quietly, picking up another pebble and launching it forward, watching it knock inside the jar with a clink. The air was tense, almost like Dougie expected her to say something - but she didn't want to say anything. Trying to calm down from that was already enough. She didn't have any reason to perturb Dougie. Not like she tried to in the first place anyway.

Carrie slowly glanced back over her shoulder. Dougie was still standing there, quiet look on his face, like processing her words wasn't enough. Like he had to find out more. She didn't want him to find out more.

"Uh….something you need?" she asked awkwardly, feeling bad at the flash of guilt in his gaze, "Help with something or…..to talk-"

"No." Dougie said with a shake of the head and a nod, "Just…..wondering what you were up to."

"Yeah." Carrie said, her mood dimming as she sat there, equally remembering what she was doing, too. The screams, the blank stares, the blood. Carrie blinked. She looked at him again.

"Also was wondering if you wanted to come hang with some of the guys. Get your mind off Harlowe for a minute and well….outta this bucket of bolts." Carrie's lip quirked upwards the slightest bit. Inclusion was one of the things that would warm her heart every time, someone realizing that obviously she wasn't okay, but wanting to make the effort to make sure she was okay or could get her half-way there.

"I'm afraid I won't be much fun tonight, Dougie, but," Carrie offered a slight smile and a nod, "I appreciate the offer." Dougie put on a smile and nodded before sticking his hands in his pockets and nodding at her.

"It's all good, I get it," he said quietly, "shit like that sticks with you." Carrie nodded. It fell quiet and suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be consumed by the silence herself. She cleared her throat.

"Right," Carrie said quietly, eyeing him up and down there in the doorway to the nose of the plane, "well, either you leave or I kick you out." She met his gaze before turning it back towards the nose. "Your choice." Dougie let out a low whistle.

"My choice, huh?" he said, slowly making his way into the nose of the plane, knocking gentle on the metal bolts inside of her that Ken had screwed in that one time before a mission, "What are friends for then?" Carrie sent him a look, before slowly turning her head forward again.

"Care to explain the whole jar thing?" Carrie glanced at him quickly again. "And why you're alone in here?" Carrie fell quiet for a few moments, considering his words and her own thoughts. She let out a quiet sigh, thumbing the pebble over in between her fingers again.

"Well," Carrie started, "usually I get through about 10 pebbles before I realize I can process what happened. Each pebble that goes by, I talk about something that happened, something that jumped out at me. Margie's injury, for example. I speak about it. Let myself hear it, see it. Then, I throw the pebble away. Into the jar. And I don't take it out… ever. And then that memory is gone. Shoved away in a jar, covered by all those pebbles, all those memories. All gone."

There was something in Dougie's eye as he looked to her and she suddenly felt much more self-conscious then ever under his gaze. Her cheeks warmed and she brushed a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear before looking at him.

"Don't act like it's a dumb way to cope, I know how fast liquor and beer seem to disappear around here." she said quietly. But Dougie let out a quiet chuckle and for once there was no jeer, or teasing comment or anything of the sort. Just an acknowledgment, a chuckle, a nod and a look.

"And it seems to work?" Dougie asked her and she glanced over her shoulder at him and nodded. She watched as he took in her words and stepped closer, before settling down on the metal ground beside her, criss-crossed, their upbent knees nearly touching as he sat there next to her. He looked at her and she offered him a quiet, reserved look.

Carrie figured she had to look a sight. After interrogation, she hadn't gone anywhere except straight back to Silver Bullets, hiding up in the nose of the plane to try and forget. Her B3 looked nearly charred in a few places, her blonde hair greasy, possibly tangled and in a poor looking bun, smoke and grease stains on her face, near her eyes and along her forehead - her entire body ached, with exhaustion and hunger - and her mind hurt to even conjure a coherent thought. She sighed.

"It's hard," Carrie said quietly, watching as she tossed the pebble forward, hearing it clatter into the jar, "watching Margie like that. Seeing the other girl's faces. It sucked." Carrie sent another pebble forward, the clank satisfying enough for her to breathe. She looked at Dougie, who watched quietly - rather invested at that.

"Yeah," Dougie said softly, looking down and glancing at the jar set beneath her chair, "no one wants to talk about it either. But it hurts everyone. Ya know?" Carrie stiffly nodded before glancing over at him.

"Here," she said, offering him a pebble, "have a go." He watched her as she offered him a small smile. "You are a bombardier after all. Helps to have some aim." Dougie grinned at her words and looked at the jar. He aimed it for a moment, staring at the jar intensely before glancing over at her.

"I thought we were going to die up there today." he said quietly, before aiming the pebble again, more confidently and letting it sail into the jar a clink following. Carrie watched him for a moment, his eyes staring off forward towards the jar in a distant way she couldn't describe. And she felt her heart sag a bit at the sight. She felt bad. Instead, she picked up a pebble, quickly took aim and launched it forward.

"Me too." she said as a tiny clink followed. She glanced over as Dougie met her gaze and offered a small smile his way. He managed a small one back. For a second, they just watched one another's eyes - and Dougie did have a tender enough gaze to make the ice melt it seemed. Carrie let a small laugh escape past her lips as she looked away and down at the pile of stones at her feet.

"What?" she heard Dougie ask with a small chuckle as she picked up a few stones, wordlessly handing him a few before holding a few herself.

"A few of the stones in various jars were because of you." she said with a smirk, glancing his way, watching as awe seemed to fall upon his features. And she couldn't help but laugh a bit more."Don't act so surprised, Dougie, there were plenty of reasons to throw some pebbles in the jar," she said sending him a grin, "be lucky you never have to hear 'em."

"I never get to hear them? Oh, c'mon, Bergie, give me a laugh," he said, "what could I have said to earn a pebble in the jar?" Carrie raised a brow.

"Please tell me you're joking." she said.

"What?"

"Exhibit A," Carrie said, taking a pebble, making quite the show of holding it up in front of her before taking aim at the jar, "today Dougie sat beside and man, you should've seen his face when I told him a few of the reasons some pebbles are in the jar are because of him. I told, you must be joking and he just proceeded to stare." Then, she took aim and let the pebble sail into the jar, a tiny clink following.

Then, she looked over at Dougie, whose face was a mixture of something she couldn't quite make out - surprise, awe, maybe slightly dazed? Carrie chuckled as she uncurled her legs from their stiff, crisscross position and stood to her feet, removing the tiny pebble and turning to him.

"Wanna have another go?" she asked him, looking down at him as the setting sunbathed the front of his face in a honey-gold, shining through the nose of Silver Bullets in quite a glorious way, "Feel free to have a go at whatever you want." Dougie watched her.

"Why the hell you remove the pebble?" he asked her, smiling a bit, "Thought that sorta stuff went in the jar and never came out. Ya know, things you wanted to forget." Carrie smirked and shook her head.

"Nah, I don't want to forget that." she said laughing at the slightly surprised face he wore as she settled down next to him again, bumping her knee against his own, before turning to him, "Seriously, even if it's something stupid, it relieves some stress. It could be anything." Dougie just watched her and she took the moment to reach forward, uncurl his hand and put the pebble in his palm. Then, she nodded.

"Have at it." she said, quirking out a grin. Dougie watched her for a moment before looking towards the jar.

The silence, accompanied by their breathing, filled with tiny front nose of Silver Bullets, and it was enough to possibly have driven her crazy - but there was something comforting about sitting here, beside Dougie, in the silence. In what was to be after a day like that. He took aim and then let out a breath.

"Hearing Silver Bullets got hit scared the shit outta me." he said quietly and Carrie's smile slowly fell - she could feel the corners of her lips slowly drop, her heart beginning to pound faster, and her palms growing sweaty. Suddenly, sitting next to Dougie made her eyes water.

"Blakely had come running, threw open the doors, mentioned something or other about a plane being hit pretty badly, some wounded on board and that it was Silver Bullets. Couldn't help the fact that my mind went to the worst." Dougie said quietly, licking his lips before adjusting his shoulders and looking at the jar again, "Thought she was dead."

And with that, he launched the pebble forward and it landed perfectly inside the jar.

Then, it was silent.

This was the first time in ages where she was sat with Dougie and it was dead silent.

Slowly, Carrie pulled her eyes from the jar and glanced over at Dougie who sat there, jaw clenched, fists balled at the curves of his knees.

"Dougie-"

"It's in the jar." Dougie said, pushing himself rather suddenly to his feet and wiping off his pants, "Just….glad everyone else is okay." Carrie looked up at him, watching as he adjusted his crusher cap to his head and then grabbed the white scarf he'd placed by Bessie's navigator chair.

"Wait. Dougie, wait-" Carrie said, pulling herself to her feet as he wrapped the scarf around, "I…..I thought…."

"We didn't know who had gotten hit, just that someone was wounded," Dougie said, glancing her way, "so hearing it was Margie, it was a lot. That's all. Especially after Faulkner. That shit stays with you." Then, Dougie fixed his cap and looked at her deeply.

"I thought it was you." he said, and then turned and jumped down right out of the plane. Carrie stood still, completely frozen for a moment, before shaking her head.

No, no, no.

He didn't get to just leave while saying that. To her. Carrie grabbed her crusher cap, shoving it on her head and jumped down out of the plane, feet landing on the tarmac. The wind had picked up since she had holed up inside the plane nose.

Turning her head, she watched Dougie walking away back towards the nissen huts and stood up, righting herself before hurrying after him.

"Dougie!" she called after him, "Dougie!" He didn't stop at her words and with the flurry of emotion in her body right now, everything inside her wanted to scream at him to stop and turn around and look at her. But that small child inside of her told he'd walk away. Everyone always walked away. Her eyes welled with tears that she tried to blink away.

"James!" she yelled and it seemed that caused him to stop, back straightening as he turned towards her, face set as he looked at her - where she was rapidly approaching him, casting her to gaze upwards at him as she stopped in front of him.

Breathing a bit heavier than she had wanted, she looked at him, his eyes narrowed, gaze darkened and anxiety swirling. She sucked in a breath.

"What the hell was that?" she managed out, watching him intently, trying to untangle and undo him in anyway, "You thought-"

"It's in the jar." Dougie said again, firmer this time, "It's over."

"No." Carrie said quickly, hanging onto every word from that second in the nose of Silver Bullets, "You thought…it was me? Why?" Her words were left out in the open, lingering in the air between them, the question unwrapped, awaiting an answer.

Dougie just watched her, his eyes searching hers as they flicked back and forth in her gaze, his head tilted, that crusher cap crooked on top his head again.

James Douglass had never openly voiced any sort of emotion towards her that didn't start with a joke and end with a smirk. And to be fair, neither had she. She had never thought of anything more than what their bickering and teasing was - something good natured, something to get you through the war. Carrie blinked.

"Dougie…." she started quietly, but instead he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at her fully.

"Can I ask you something?" he said quietly, catching her completely off-guard. Carrie watched him, her heart continuing to pound - Dougie's eyes continuing to watch her - and she nodded.

"What is it?"

"Do you think I don't care about you?"

Now it was her turn to be silent.

Carrie stared at him.

Something inside of her wanted to cry.

"I…" Carrie started quietly, her throat choking up as she shut her mouth and cleared her throat, "I'm not…." She couldn't get her words out. Between him staring at her like that, her mind playing tricks on her, and her thoughts running wild, she couldn't even get herself to speak. He watched her as she cleared her throat.

"Not like that." she managed out, looking up at him as her eyes watered, letting out a shaky breath. There was so much said in the unsaid and with each passing second, the more her emotions were taking hold of her.

She thought of Margie in that moment - not only a crew member, and someone who had been there from the beginning, but a friend. Someone who was like a sister. Almost and nearly dead.

She thought of Birdie Faulkner, who had gotten this whole crew together in the first place - the whole reason she was here now - who was now dead and gone.

She thought of her family - back home in New York - her parents constantly gone, her siblings constantly asking for her, the long nights spent studying late at night, making up for lost time during the day. The times she had to skip school, get out of work early just to help her siblings - all the mouths that needed to be fed, the time that needed to be spent with to make sure they wouldn't end up like her, like Carrie.

How much she had put out and no one had cared.

Until she came to the Silver Bullets crew.

Until she'd been with other women who had felt pain just like she had.

Carrie's eyes welled with tears and she couldn't help but feel her chin shake and her lip wobble as Dougie watched her. She let out a weak whimper before sniffling and putting down her head to shake away the emotion.

"I'm sorry." she managed out, voice high-pitched.

"You don't have to apologize for anything." Dougie said quietly as she shook her head.

"I shouldn't be crying like this-"

"It's okay, Carrie."

"I'm sorry-"

"Carrie." Dougie said quietly, looking down at her with a tender look, "You don't have to say sorry." She looked at him, a few stray tears crawling down her cheeks as she nodded.

"Here." Dougie said, pulling the white scarf from his neck and handing it to her as she wiped at her eyes.

"Thanks." she managed out, sniffling as she took in the soft scent of the scarf - God, it smelled like him. So much like him. Even if he was standing right here. Him, that cologne he always wore - him.

"I'm serious though." Dougie said, nodding, before chuckling slightly - whether it was his nerves or how close they were standing, "I thought it was you. Couldn't help it. I hear the words Silver Bullets and there you are in my mind." Carrie looked up at him, managing the tiniest hint of a smile and laughed slightly, a stray tear falling down her cheek.

"It's just been a lot, that's all," she managed out, her voice struggling to break again, "especially after Birdie. And now Margie." Carrie squeezed her eyes shut, and wiped at her eyes, sniffling. Dougie placed a hand on her shoulder, softly rubbing his thumb against the exposed part of her neck, before looking to her.

"It's in the jar, Carrie." he said quietly, "Right?" She looked up at him. Then, she broke out in a smile, before a small, watery laugh escaped her lips. Lightly, she smacked the feather-light scarf at him before chuckling again.

"What?" he said with a chuckle, "It got you laughing, didn't it?" She looked up at him and managed to hold the smile for a bit longer.

"Yeah," she said quietly, "thanks for that." They grew quiet and he watched her, nodding.

"Come get some dinner, alright?" he said and she nodded. Slowly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she glanced up at him with a small smile. Pulling her into his side, he grinned at her.

"C'mon, Bergie, who else would I be able to crack a joke with and get my own balls broken with at the same time?"

"Oh shut the fuck up." Carrie said with a chuckle as Dougie grinned.

"Nah, nah, I'm being serious, who else, huh? Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

"She'd only break your balls and then some." Dougie laughed, before looking at her with a small grin.

"C'mon," he said as they began walking towards the mess hall, "I'll buy you a drink after." Carrie smirked.

"What a gentleman." she whispered with a snicker.

"Remind me about the last time I bought you a drink-"

"Oh don't you even DARE start with that, Dougie-"

"I have every opportunity to take it back-"

"Dougie!" He looked at her with a grin. Her eyes softened.

"Thanks again." she said quietly, for caring.

Softly, without much of a word, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of her head underneath her lopsided crusher cap, before continuing to walk forward beside her.

"Thank you." she whispered under her breath, side of her head warm where his lips had just pressed - small, hardly even a peck, but enough for her body to go hot, her mind to scramble. Thank you for caring, she wanted to say, for me, about me, with me.

Thank you for caring for me.

[hail-brod]

Sleep

Midoriya Izuku x FReader

Masterlist

hihi something short here!

A ding sound catches your attention.

Only then to see that your dear boyfriend that was supposed to be sleeping at this late hour, sent you a message.

Izu: 'why aren't you asleep?'

His message says, you could almost hear his scolding voice in your head. You press your lips as you feel yourself slightly stiff at the words. Busted.

'hi. haha.'

Was all you could manage to reply. Clearly hinting that you know you've wronged yourself and him. After he said that you should sleep early more and not linger about around past 2 in the morning, but here you stand. Or more like sat.

Izu: 'are you alright?'

Then he hits you with that.

Izu: 'if you really can't sleep and not just because you're reading so late again, you can rant to me.'

'noooo. I'm fine. But i do don't mind ranting your eyes off. Not ears cuz this is literally a text.'

You can practically sense that he had shake his head at that and chuckled. You hope that he did- but either way, you can't really care if it sounded stupid. Being completely open with him has proved to be so soothing and right. He's too much of a comfort for you.

Izu: 'do rant away.'

'but first. Lemme turn this around because why r u also awake?'

Izu: 'hmmm i just woke up.'

'its 2:48'

Izu: 'i know'

'youre mad'

Izu: 'you haven't even slept how am i madder than that'

That rings a laugh out of you.

'okok. I'll sleep but no mor rant for u then.'

Izu: 'u can rant to me at school tom. maybe even for the whole day. I'm all ears anytime.'

Your chest clenches in warmth. Dear, Lord. You thought. I'm too lucky for this. How did I managed to woo him?

The corners of your lip rise up to smile. Cheeks burning in red. Like a teenage girl mooning over her significant other. How typical. The rush you're feeling does nothing but make you curl your toes, giddiness taking over your insides.

Izu: 'are you sleeping?

hello? I hope u are.

goodnight, love'

'goodmornight'

Izu: 'oh heck. Alright. Sleep well

<33'

'<333'

Izu: '<3333'

'dont test me, boi <33333'

Izu: 'pls sleep'

'yes i will

<333333333'

Izuku could only chuckle but not without his eyes gazing so fondly towards his screen, cheeks crazed in red. If this is what it's like to take care of you, then he would never cease to do more of it.

.

[kisara-kaiba]

OKAY THE KINKY BLUES HAS ME INTRIGUED PLEAAASE HEAR ME OUT ON SUGGESTIONS/BRAINSTORMING/HOPES/DREAMS. alright so it cant be in Temptation, the kink requires its own pocket dimension, first of all. as the biggest fanboygirl of their cycle of dominance and submission im gonna start off with that. a really fun and naturally flowing dom-sub dynamic for them is born in ancient egypt. if set put her aside as his property and tried to experiment with her ka with slowly increasing pressure whilr kisara was like "this kind man who saved me twice feeds me and shelters me who cares if hes tying me down and writing spells on my skin lol" it goes apeshit from there. TWO-this can be from many modern aus with little work, basically an in love blueship that seemlessly slipped into a dom-sub dynamic consciously switching it up a lil. whether that has seto giving orders while tied up on his knees or kisara begging to tie him up would be..that would go BRRRR. THREE. biting kink. straight up. no notes. id be fine with a 400 word introspective of either of one of them watching the bite marks they left on the other and their feelings about it. id settle. itd be enough.

how we feeling. any of thesr sound desirable. wanna brainstorm more. ill come knocking at your door like an unhinged mormon. anyway wanna tell you regardless, absolutely no pressure what you may or may not end up writing i just wanted to yell at someone about kinky blues, have a great day

S C R E E C H I NG this is why ily blueshipping king you just get my vision <333 that ancient Egypt idea has got me going f e r a l just thinking about it and i’ve thought for so long that i should write some mizushipping at some point anyway so yesssss. also biting is uh. yes please.

anyway okay now you got me started so strap in because this is gonna be a long ramble. so i feel like there’s several points about how i imagine their dynamic that i have to unpack here (putting it under a cut bc length or if ppl are uncomfy with this stuff)

↓↓↓

i am unfortunately boring in the way that i’ll ultimately always wanna write Seto as the dominant one just bc of my own personal preferences. BUT that obv doesn’t mean Kisa wouldn’t have a fair amount of control over the situation, both bc a healthy dom/sub dynamic requires it in terms of consent and boundaries ofc, but also bc a) Seto is so extreme in his need for Kisara’s explicit permission to do basically anything to her (even the vanilla stuff) because he’s so painfully precious about her well-being and also constantly plagued by not feeling worthy of her and b) while i think Kisa wants to be dominated i think she also realllly enjoys the control of knowing she’s got Seto wrapped around her little finger and could make him do any depraved thing she wants to her just by looking at him in the right way. so yeah i think they both know who’s really in control behind the scenes lol

i’m also DYING to get into Seto’s inevitable mental struggle to reconcile his thoughts and feelings of “she is a perfect goddess and i’m a mere mortal unworthy of even looking at her let alone touch her” and “i’d die to protect her and if anyone hurts her i’ll fucking kill them” vs his desire to be the one who gets to take this perfect goddess and make her submit to him, kneel before him, own and control and ruin her perfectly (because if there’s one thing we all know about Seto Kaiba is that he’ll make sure the divine yields to him, and not the other way around). I guess the key things there is that he alone is allowed to hurt her and no one else.

On this note i do however think Seto would be so conflicted about physically hurting Kisa, even if she very clearly and explicitly wants him to, because he just struggles with being so overprotective of her and not wanting to see her injured or in pain. but this would also be delicious to write him being all conflicted due to the guilt of causing her pain vs the fact that doing so is super fucking hot and he can’t resist doing it, esp not when she’s literally begging him to. Taking all of his frustrations after a long day out on her more than willing body would be so cathartic and tempting but also associated with so much guilt and worry about getting too into it and going too far.

I also definitely see Kisa as being the more extreme of them, to the point where i can actually see her be just a little bit unhealthily masochistic because she doesn’t really value herself due to past trauma, giving her a self-destructive streak and kinda fucked-up notions along the lines of ultimately being deserving of pain and suffering, that someone hurting her equals caring about her and wanting her, and that the ultimate thing she can do to show someone that she really loves and trusts them is to just offer herself up completely to use and do whatever they want to, which Seto would have to try to handle and mitigate because he’s ultimately not gonna let her use him to actually really hurt herself (and you know it would also break his heart a thousand times over to realise just how little she values and cares about herself due to her fucked up past). But I could also write it kinda funny in that whole “sub suggesting increasingly violent/fucked up things while the dom goes ‘idk that’s scary’” lmao. I think Kisa is a bit annoyed that people (especially Seto) tend to see her as this fragile, porcelain flower and wants to prove that she is perfectly capable of taking a (consensual) beating.

Outside of strictly sexual stuff i can also see Kisa as very much an ‘everyday/domestic acts of service’ kinda sub who just wants to bring Seto his coffee when he’s working and a drink when he comes home from work and make sure to always wash and iron his clothes and put them out before he leaves in the morning, tying his tie before he leaves and untying it when he gets home and cooking and serving his meals for him (which tbh wouldn’t just be about her being submissive but also bc she just wants to make sure he actually takes care of himself with like, eating and taking coffee breaks bc you know that man doesn’t take care of himself if left unchecked). And I think this also ties in with her sense of self-worth being tied to being useful and helping others because she doesn’t really see herself as valuable unto herself, but also maybe acts of service is just kinda her “love language” too. i feel like this is the sort of thing i could maybe include in Temptation bc she’s already pretty much like this there, with to me pretty obvious undertones that her working as Seto’s assistant is definitely triggering a submissive side in her.

Temptation also has the whole thing with Seto secretly enjoying Kisa wearing her KaibaCorp pin while working because it marks her as his for the world to see, and I definitely feel like that’d be a thing for him too. Branding her, either by things like visible bite marks/hickeys that she’s not allowed to cover up or something like a discreet necklace that is actually a collar (although tbf, with the fashion we see in the Yugioh universe, would anyone even blink at a BDSM-style collar? Like Yugi’s already wearing fetish gear as his everyday clothes lmao). I mean, Seto’s already pretty big on putting his branding on literally everything, so Kisa would be no exception (also imagine the ridiculous extravagance and amount of money and care Seto would put into a collar for Kisa).

While I’m not really into the idea of Seto being submissive per se, I do think both he and Kisa could easily have praise kinks because they both crave validation in their own ways and for someone to telling them that they’re doing/being good (Seto wouldn’t admit that though, but if I allow for some submissiveness on his part I think being called a good boy could fix him). But with him as the dom it also totally tracks for him to make Kisa worship him and stroke his ego in that way. On that theme, however, I could also imagine him making her allow him to worship her as a kind of ‘punishment’ bc he knows she has a hard time accepting that but that it’s also something that’s good for her to hear.

Also I can totally see Kisa being a little bratty as a sub sometimes because she likes to talk back to Seto and be deliberately cheeky, disrespectful and provocative (both because she enjoys the control of getting him riled up and because she knows that the more she gets him worked up the more forceful and intense he’ll be about putting her back into place afterwards).

Okay so this turned into a fic-chapter length essay about this topic instead of actually writing the fic (bc *ofc* i’d do that) but please lmk what you think!!! (and hopefully i'll use your ideas + my rambling and turn in into fic eventually)

[matan4il]

I'm so happy some of the hostages are being returned. I was honestly starting to worry that maybe none were left alive, were smuggled out, or couldn't even be found from Hamas themselves. So, small blessings.

What I loathe is people trying to pretend Hamas is virtuous for this or that 5 prisoners for everyone Israel is even morally equivalent. It doesn't erase every person coming home lost someone brutally before being taken and probably left another person behind as a hostage. It will never erase how they tortured innocent civilians. These people coming home have probably been brutalized for 50 days. The trauma they will carry around breaks my heart. So many families will never be whole again. Pile on the people being returned to Gaza were actual terrorists who tried to or killed Israel's.

Every family has been forever changed in violence they never asked for. But I am grateful for who comes home. Seeing the reunion videos makes me happy. It just doesn't change my opinion of the people who did it. It's actually worse when I see them cheering and jeering at the red cross recovering them.

However.. I can't leave you without some dark humor. My neighbor put up Ceasefire sign with a death toll count at 10,000. When I was walking by, I asked her where she got that number because it's clearly wrong. I'd be happy to explain. She walked in and slammed the door. At least I'm more popular in the neighborhood and have a Ring so she can't egg my house. Although I am considering putting up more Israel flags just to start a sign war. Petty, yes, but if it annoys them, priceless!!!!

As always, I hope you and your family are staying safe. Lots of love!!!! Hopefully, researching for the museum is a nice distraction. Sending prayers, you're feeling OK!!

Hi darling! <333

Oh, I was sure that Hamas would keep at least some alive. Living hostages are worth more than dead ones. At this point, Hamas NEEDS this break in the fighting, and for sure they knew their strongest leverage over Israel would be hostages, so... what worries me is that we don't know how many are live. Fifty hostages is less than a quarter from the people kidnapped, and Hamas has not yet produced a current proof of life for the rest. But yes, I don't think it's possible to see the family reunions and not be moved! (well... so long as you're not de-humanizing Israelis, that is)

The people who have to be told that Hamas isn't humane, a terrorist organization that has beheaded human beings, including babies, raped women of all ages to the point where their bones broke, amputated kids, kidnapped a 9 months old, murdered Holocaust survivors... those people are beyond hope. Still, if you look at a recent released Hamas vid, meant to depict its terrorists as "humane," you can actually hear them instructing the hostage to "keep waving." That says it all.

I'm also gonna mention that one of the hostages released by Hamas tonight had to be rushed into surgery, and her life is in danger even after that.

And that's on top of everything else you mentioned. Yes, every single one of the hostages has either lost a relative, or still has family or friends in captivity, or had their house physically destroyed, and they were all changed forever by 7 weeks of captivity underground, in terror tunnels. I was listening to the testimony of an Israeli kid who was freed by Israel in 1976 from Entebbe, after just one week as a hostage, without being separated from his family, without losing anyone, while they weren't held underground, and he still said he was never the same person again. I can't understand anyone who ignores that. Then again, I also can't comprehend how a human being can look at a poster begging for the release of a baby, but some did exactly that, and proudly.

LOL I love that, thank you for sharing! And NGL, I would love for more Israeli flags on display. Even just the fact that it humanizes Israelis means so much! Thank you for being such an incredible ally, from me, and I'm sure from others reason this, too! Sending you all the love and good wishes in the world, you absolute ray of light! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[tervaneula]

Okay, i gotta be honest here, am trying to stay SFW account but even tho am a legal adult i want to think it's not bad to comment and reblog few NSFW stuff. (I have SFW friends so am trying to not be blocked xD)

But reading your fic of "first time" and like not comment i feel that's unfair in some degree.

So here i am, reading the first quarter and it's all about kissing, don't get me wrong am a kissing slut. If i see fic couple showing their affection by kissing (mouth, head, cheek, hand..etc) i instantly melt like a cheese in a microwave!✨

It gets me blushing yet warm and fuzzy inside because god they're so ready to spend their time on bed kissing like there's NO TOMORROW!!/pos

And on top of that getting praised and be told "you're so beautiful"? Oh my god, an arrow straight through my heart, am on my knees to marry this fic/pos.

That until Leo's horny meter gets bigger and ask for.. Ahem.. The sauce dance 👀✨🤏

And the art of it?! SPICY!

I had to pause temporarily until i gather my marbles, don't mind me xD (sorry but Leo holding the bed frame was too much for me)/pos

Tho reading it's Leo's first time(?) He clearly was okay - plus his old age - and i kinda laughed at how Usagi was worried about the "oh my god did i impregnate you?!" Like IHXHXHCHCIHFHOOCH i had to wheeze there xD no my boy you didn't impregnate him!!

Tho i bet he wish you could... Having a house of children/hj/lh (DON'T COME AFTER ME)

And when they started round 2 and were done, bro was worried about the bite on the neck like, can i kiss you?! You're just so sweet and wholesome and carrying?! He's like the dream boyfriend so many of us wants! (Including how goofy he is!) (*´˘`*)♡

But oh my god don't make me START on the after care!! He's so carrying! He carried Leo to the bath tub DJJFFJ (yeah am calling it a bath tub, fight me/jk)

And i couldn't stop imagining them in a romantic, bath tub where there's roases or flowers around, having those candles with a perfume lit and placed on the edge of the tub, and a nice body lotion & cream kit to after the bath after a great time together?! Oh am melting inside!

Oh my god this's so good am just AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH SCREAMING AND GRAPPING YOU, OH HOW CAN YOU MAKE SOMETHING SO SPECIAL, SO BEAUTIFUL LIKE THIS?!

Aw dang you are just so SO SWEET. Thank you so much for commenting anyway, I'm so grateful!! I ALWAYS love hearing your thoughts<333

I had a lot of fun writing the kissing and I'm glad you appreciate it >:3 They're ~forty years old but they're acting like hormonal teens and it's hilarious to me

HJAHGASF that gif took me out omg thank you XDDGHjFdsj You were very brave to push through<3

Oh and yeah it's not Leonardo's first first time, it's just the first time with Yuichi! He's fooled around before but it's been years and years since because, well. The apocalypse eventually took its toll and it's not easy to try to lose yourself in another person when everyone's getting killed around you and YOU'RE in charge of keeping them alive 🥴 (omg sorry about the downer moment I'll not talk about that anymore XD)

I WILL NOT COME AFTER YOU because Leonardo x Yuichi kids is something I've thought about... and might have something slowly brewing for that with a friend... But shhh that's not gonna be relevant until I get all the other brainrot out of my head lmao

AHHHHHHH I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKED THE AFTERCARE TOO Yuichi is a soft, soft man (inside and out) and he needs to take care of his partner!!! I swear I was smiling so goofily the whole time I was writing that scene, especially the hand-holding oughhhghgh

I HONESTLY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAPPENS WHENEVER I WRITE I KINDA JUST BLACK OUT OR SOMETHING but it's so wonderful that this story was special and beautiful to you<3<3 (it's special and beautiful to me hnghnggfnh)

Thank you so much once again for taking the time to read and to comment, I'm SO THANKFUL and I love you so much!!! Hope you'll have a lovely weekend!!!!!<3333

[stevie-petey]

I loved chapter six!! I think it's really cool that Nancy can see Steve's love from the outside. When she was with Steve there was too much going on for her to see what he was trying to do for her, and there was also all that angsty teenage bullshit happening. (Not related but did you hear they retconned Jonathan taking photos of Nancy and Steve? Weird.) Anyway, she couldn't see what Steve was trying to do, her grief and guilt with Barbara was overbearing. Steve's love wasn't what she needed and Jonathan was what she needed. Now that Jonathan's in California and there having issues she can see the love between bug and Steve more clearly. Nancy never really looked at Steve and bugs relationship, she had her own to be in. Nancy and Jonathan had their own little dynamic and they loved each other just like Steve and bug do.

I really liked what you did with Nancy's insecurity, how she worried that maybe Jonathan wanted bug again (valid cause he is slipping) like Jonathan wanting bug back would hurt worse than them just falling out of love or him meeting someone new. It's not just pain/heartbreak but confirmation of deep insecurities. I appreciate you cutting the stancy scenes and keeping everything friendly. If bug had to sit there and endure every lingering look or flirty comment I'd crash out. I understand that there may be moments like that later on when Nancy is taking care of Steve's wounds or their talking about old times, but still it's nice it isn't going down a jealous, comparison, competition trope. Nancy understands Steve's love for bug and vice versa. I can see where the girls affecting each other is gonna come from. Bug knowing about the phone call and how Nancy doesn't know. It's easy for that guilt to turn to paranoia. I mean they used to date, Steve used to be head over heels for Nancy just like bug was for Jonathan. Why do bug and Jonathan always reveal their feelings too late 😭. What's with them??? Like bug Waited until Jonathan was basically with Nancy and Jonathan starts saying he wishes things turned out different when bug was with Steve and deeply in love??

It makes me so sad that Nancy doesn't know what Jonathan said. She's almost completely in the dark, she feels him distancing himself but can't do anything about it. I hope when he comes back to Hawkins he gets his shit together but I doubt it. I feel like he won't be able to hide how he feels when he's around bug. He'll deny it, but everyone can see it. It may be some kind of confirmation for Nancy and that may make tension between bug and Nancy grow. And the second bugs okay, Steve will not be playing with Jonathan. He's gonna be so petty. And Jonathan is gonna be a little shit, two snarky boys pushing each other's buttons. Or maybe he'll realize he was wrong and it'll just be awkward, because the way Steve will act around him will be enough for Jonathan to put the dots together that Steve knows what he said.

god ive been WAITING to have some smaller scenes of nancy finally recognizing how steve has grown and changed for bug and how different he is now and happy <333 but not in a bitter way but in a "i once cared for this person deeply, seeing them happy now makes me nostalgic but warm". i also wanted to show how her sudden realization that steve and bug love each other just as much as nancy loves jonathan. they reflect one another :(((

as for nancy and her insecurities regarding bug, we will see even more of that later !!! and vice versa with bug and her fears about nancy (because theyre there, trust me, just subtle !!) and with bug knowing about jon while nancy doesnt ,,, it WILL complicate things and TRUST it gets resolved !!! well. kinda. in a way. (for now)

and why do jon and bug reveal feelings too late ?? WELL ! its their flaw lmao. it was their overall arc for seasons 1 and 2. they kept missing each other every time. jon loved bug all season 1 and the moment she realized she loved him, it was too late. and i wont say its necessarily happening again but this time with jon, but ,,,, history can be a tricky thing. it can leave scars that reopen and bleed.

now what will steve do once the people stop dying and jon returns ??? LMAO. hes gonna be pissed and im excited for petty steve season 5 mans is gonna be hovering over jon like a hawk and hes just gonna be in a corner scared but sarcastic as always. god im excited for season 5 yall dont understand because by then my girls will be all nice n settled with one another - finishing THEIR jealousy arc while jon and steve BEGIN theirs lmao

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

thoughts about the prince gojo au I've had... The first time knight reader has to kill. The first life they take for him.... That surely must change a person for its weight and traumatic experience. Prince Gojo getting to know this, getting to see knight reader's blood stained hands. Feelings,,,,,

OHHHHHHH ANON YOUR BRAIN YOUR BRAIN…… this is such a tasty scenario and i HAVE thought abt it in bits and pieces (this answer will probably get long so im putting it under the cut im sorry anon but these two legitimately make me insane </3)

OK SO FIRST OFF i see ur vision so clearly……. one trope that will ALWAYS fucking gut me is the image of clean hands reaching out for bloodied ones and that is literally my prince!gojo & knight!reader in a nutshell i think. the devoted bloodied knight x the prince who dirties his own hands to clean them up.. yeah. u Get it.

and and and!! this is so important to me actually bc im genuinely sick in the head when it comes to knights. i love knights so much. and i think the most interesting thing abt them is the fact that being a perfect knight is impossible FOR MANY REASONS but among others its just the idea that a knight should be kind and good and humane juxtaposed with the reality that a knight has to kill whatever — or whoever — they’re told to kill. and for that reason all knights are a little (a Lot) unhinged to me and very much traumatized.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO KNIGHT!READER……. i think they get desensitized to it pretty quickly. their main focus is helping the prince / easing his burden / etc etc, so i think theyre willing to place their duty above their own morals, at least to a certain extent. (they still very much have a hero complex LOL) but but but… it still obviously affects them. and you’re absolutely right — the very first person that they kill will obviously have a huge impact on them.

because knight!reader had such an awful upbringing (before meeting satoru!!) i see them being very empathetic!! w a general desire to do Good. so the idea of them having to kill someone, maybe even someone who’s pleading for their life…. yeah. ough. but i do think theyd try to convince themselves that theyre fine, that satoru comes first, etc etc….. that they’re doing it for Him. so its fine. (but its not.)

and as for satoru’s reaction ohhhh anon u little genius…. i hadnt thought abt it before but!! i do think he’d be worried. my prince!gojo is a bit twisted in certain ways and i doubt he’d care that reader killed someone, or about their victim, but he would care abt the possibility of it affecting them. i think he’s mildly opposed to reader being a knight because of this!! because he knows that knighthood in itself is a daydream that’ll only cause them harm. but he respects their wishes and stays out of it… mostly….. definitely gets upset at whoever ordered them to kill for the first time, but after its happened again and again there isnt much he can do.

he’s very attentive, though!! keeps an eye out. or asks suguru to keep an eye out. just in case. i also firmly believe that he’d insist on cleaning knight!reader up himself <33 i think he enjoys gently wiping the blood off your skin. it’s domestic to him. (he is Not normal)

can u tell im normal abt them TYSM FOR INDULGING ME ANON….. ohh this was so fun to think abt. if u ever have any other prince!gojo/knight!reader thoughts then i’d love to hear them <333

[jadeoru]

OMG JADE!!!!

that was the cutest shit i have ever read i love love omfg i’m so happy for you!!!! she seems like such a sweetheart 🥹🥹 i wish you guys the best in you’re future together!!! YOURE ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT MY BOYFRIEND

also i have been good all things considered 😭😭collage is literally kicking my ass and it’s only the 2nd week of class like 3 hour scientific maths on a monday at 9am but i have made a friend!! so that really helps i’m actually proud of myself for making a friend i find it so hard to make friends because i’m so awkward irl ☹️☹️☹️ also my ex friends fucked me over so bad that it lowkey scares me to make friends but she’s so lovely BUT OTHER THAN THAT ITS NOT ALL THAT BAD

also i’m planning on seeing my other friend tomorrow and it reminds me how i need to start driving ASAP i feel like lady gaga in that one meme “no sleep 👏���� bus,club 👏🏻another bus plane👏🏻 no sleep !

also to that cheeky asssss anon i’m in your walls and i will find you im crazy don’t doubt me leave my pookie jade ALONE RUDE ASSS

i love how i randomly dropped some lore in there MOMENTS OF WEAKNESS DONT MIND ME

she is such a sweetheart i want to sit on her shoulder like a pirate and their parrot

I HOPE U AND YOUR BOYFRIEND ARE WELL!!! wishing u guys an even BETTER future !!!!!!!

college sucks ass im treating my gap year like a holiday (realistically i dont think im gonna end up going at all lmao but thats a whole other story) 3 hour maths would kill me im so sorry about that… youre literally a genius though i have no doubt youll smash it!

im glad you made a friend!!! youre literally so awesome social interactions are my greatest enemy 😭 im cheering for u can u hear me!!! wooo!!!! im really sorry your ex friends are asshole losers they probs have the face of a donkeys arse though and they clearly have no futures so dont worry about them<333

I HOPE YOU HAVE FUN WITH YOUR FRIEND!!! stay safe !!

everyone has their moments of weakness you have no idea how many times ive almost trauma dumped on here lmfao

[rush-the-stars]

cielo!! 🫀🫶 I am coming to your asks to sing my praises to you! I just finished part three of Affection’s Edge and it was incredible, just as I had anticipated. but there is something so specific about the way that you write Suguru that I adore and it’s how well you balance his tenderness yet also how stern he can be at the same time. it is so, so, so perfect and you just have the balance within his characterization down to a science eeep!

the dynamic of him with the scrappy eldest daughter feels so personal a dear to me (as a fellow eldest daughter) and I enjoyed every part of that series so much. the resistance to be taken care of because taking care of yourself has become your armor was so clear in reader’s characterization, and I adored it so much. and all of the ways in which Suguru saw through it so clearly and weaved his way between all the cracks in her attempts to keep him away, UGH <3 it was all so, so well-written, I truly adore all of your writing so much, but the way you write Suguru is especially dear to me. but I am also biased because I am just very infatuated with his character in general lol

anyways I am sorry for the rant :3 but I wanted to share all of my enthusiasm with you since I just finished reading. I am kissing you and your beautiful, creative genius mind and wishing you a very lovely (and hopefully more relaxing) week ahead 🫶

ELLE!!! <333 i'll be honest i've been coveting this ask a little bit for myself and returning to it bc its so kind!!! and means so much to me!!!!

i can't express how happy it makes me to hear that you enjoyed this type of reader (esp as a fellow eldest daughter). i worked really hard on this reader and the pacing and their sort of emotional journey with suguru throughout this fic!! and i really wanted to hammer home suguru's tenderness and how that tenderness can almost turn to something so....cruel? in his own strange way. and he makes me crazy and i am so glad that he makes you crazy too fjdkslfjdls

again, thank you SOOOO much and i am v sorry that this response is so late!! fr have been rereading this one when i need a pick-me-up. i really appreciate you reading and taking the time to write this kind message!! THANK YOU!!!! <333

i hope you're doing well <333

[gooopy]

duuude id love to hear your thoughts on engineer if you’d wanna share :333

YAYYYY YAHOO!!!!! now my interpretation isnt going to be the only one i want to note that. i am just one guy and i cannot claim the title of engineer expert. HOWEVER!

i do think that a lot of fanon sands down his sharp edges a lot. i dont think that he would bea good dad or father figure in general? maybe a not-abhorrent masculine figure but not like. dad. i think he is just some dork who was raised in texas, has a complex relationship with god and his family, and has a legacy to uphold. also this guy has such a fucking god complex guys can we play with his god complex more PLEASEEEEE his voicelines make me insane in the head.

i think people really reduce him to the found family nuclear family structure dad. and i think that does an injustice to his character. he makes stupid nerdy jokes and probably comes up with them and iterates on them repeatedly to make them work. hes probably ine of the mercs who knows the most about the reality of the gravel wars. he probably doesnt necessarily need to fight in them, just keep the machinery going. radigan wasnt on the front lines fighting. theres a nonzero chance that hes fighting because he wants to.

maybe theres canon evidence for it but i dont fully understand where the 'engineer cooks for everyone' thing comes from. like im sure he can cook and i know he can do magic on the grill (my heart and soul told me <3) but like. he is not making pancakes for the team he is in his workshop on hour 43 of no sleep drafting the blueprints for a machine that can crunch all the bullet casings into new bullets instantly on the battlefield so his turrets shoot more and he worries less. yknow?

idk again my interpretation is not the only one out there. however i think people really really need to let him be more fucked up. i need him to be a little meaner and a little freakier. this is important not ebcause i care about authentic depictions of characters but because i think its hot and clearly that is the most important thing.

[d-nessi]

CHAPTER 2

<3 ONLY US <3

A/N:

I really tried hard to put a lot of sweets, fluff and flirty things in. also a bit of drama (rly just a bit)

minimum of swearing.

Wordcount: 2k

proofread?: not really

as always I'm german so I hope my English is not that boring <333

the title of this chapter is the name of the song bella sang together with jacob fawler <333 I LOVE HER VOICE WHEN SHE SINGS!!! >__<

(this is not my video on yt :) )

also I use HE/SHE (just because I forget sometimes and also love using all)

and I can`t find if skipper is male/female so I tried to avoid the pronouns.

summary: You just want to enjoy the time until bella have to leave but things changes fast!

so fast you can`t even realize what just happen with both of you. time runs out too fast and things gonna be flirty and heating up your both blood more and more.

pairing: Bella Ramsey x FemReader

A bark comes from the other side of a door. Not any door….BELLAS door. yes I meet her at her Home.

The door opens and a little barking dog runns all around me excited to meet me. As soon as Bellas voice echoed in my ears skipper just sits beside her while she gets prepared for the walk.

"morning", bella says and put on the leash on skipper. "good morning" I greet her.

"isnt it a bit too cold outside for shorts?" I look at her with worries in my eyes. "its ok. I`m often outside, got an active immunsystem" he giggles proudly as we all start to walk into the beautiful world that is surrounded by huge trees, mountains and a small and absolutely clear river.

I look at skipper and smile. "I saw the post of yours on Insta. it is awesome that you adopted skipper."

"yeah skipper was on set and I instantly fell in love with the little cutie" she says happy while taking out the ball, throws it after making skipper off the leash.

"You both are such cuties" realizing I wasn't thinking I grab a stone and just throw it into the river while she looks like she's frozen for a moment with a noticable blush. Im moving on and can feel her gaze on me. Bellas heart starts to race and she tries to find the right words. "Y/N…What is this betwe---"

the mobile of her interrups suddenly the sentence I really wanted to hear.

"Ramsey hello?…….ah..yeah just go ahead…..no…sounds interresting…" that was a total lie. I can clearly see something is burden him.

"but how early?………in 2 days!?" he seems to getting really nervous.

"yes….no there is no problem. Will be there then…it`s still calgary?…ok yes thank you and see you there. bye" she puts her mobile back in her pocked obviously stressed out with a sad face.

"is everything ok? something happen?" I make my way to her as close as I can. "that was Neil Druckman….He asked if I could come sooner as he is currently casting a lot of people for Season 2 including the cast for Dina and he would like me to be there to make sure there is chemistry between me and the Dina cast."

Dont be a dick right now I thought to myself and put on the best fakesmile ever. "but that sounds good! Thats the best way to make this show even better." I pretend but yeah truly that wasn't a lie. "When earlier you must leave? in a week?" I don't realize how serious things getting right now.

"2 days…." she says in a frustrating way and grabs skippers leash only to move on quietly. "Bella…there will be friends on set right? pedro and all the new friends you gonna meet!

"I'll be gone for like 1 or 2 years. yeah great I mean....shit I cant believe this is happening!" she starts to arguing with a face as if Lady Mormont itself wanna cut your head of. Scary and so cute at the same time.

"But this is your chance to make it big again! what the hell is your problem!?" honestly right now Im really confused. She looks at me and I can feel my soul leaving my body.

"BUT you're not with me!"

oh…wait what? She looks at me like a puppy who got lost. "you're a really good friend and sometimes on set it's so boring. most of the time they want to do their work and after that Im in my hotelroom…just me." I am not shure if this is the true reason like…come on they seem to have so much fun on set.

Bu…did….did she just friendzoned me?

I could work from my Laptop I thought to myself and took a deep breath. "well how get we gonna managing this? in 2 days? I need to do some things that's left" I start

"I will talk to my manager and fix everything if you want" she looks at skipper who's just sitting beside her trying to comfort her. "that's huge bella" I admit but smile slightly at her."

"well ok so than lets start and get ready for the flight" I say calm and she smiles so bright even the sun seems dark. I look deep in her eyes and a red shade on her cheeks find its way.

Our way seperate after the walk and I manage to get work and flight together. There's only one problem………

Again a knock on the door. Skipper barks again and the door swings open.

"hey aaaah….." staying here infront of my future wife with all my luggage. "the flight is in two days Y/N" obviously looking confused.

" yeah there is only one thing. I gave notice of my apartment for a whole year, but that counts from today and not just in 2 days.

Now I'm standing here and wanted to ask you if I could sleep at your home." She laughs and let me in. "It's not very big and I only have one bed but I just sleep on the couch" she says while showing me around. "No no, I sleep on the couch, no problem." I just wave with my hands.

Looking to her there is this feeling again. I'm slowly but surely becoming aware of what it means to have this tingling sensation. it drives me crazy and the thought of being close to her is almost painful. I don't know where I stand with her anymore but definitely not in the 'come on let's cuddle zone'.

'FrIeNdZoNeD'

She just want to be friends with me. I hate my fucking feelings and I try my best to ignore.

I already thought she might feel the same but I was so wrong….so fucking wrong it makes me sick. Sometimes I wish I have a Damon that could just stop feeling any emotions but I just watched to much vampire diaries.

"it's late, I make some dinner and go shower. if you want we can watch a movie later." she grabs some ingredients in her kitchen.

"sounds good! You need a hand for something?"

"no it's ok. if you want you can shower first", he looks to me with a questioning face and I agreed.

"you have a towel? or is it enough to come out of the shower completely naked?" I simply ask cought him offguard looking completely blushing at all my words. here we go I can't stop teasing him.

While I'm in the shower I thought deeply about telling her how I feel. I just can't go with her and not even touch her for once. Being in love with someone you can't have is pure agony.

"smells good" I come out of the shower and really thought about to just tease her more and changing my clothes in front of her. I smirk and was about to drop my towel when she immediatly turns arround and disappears into the bathroom.

I giggle and take a bowl of food eating and waiting for her to come out. After 30 minutes I started to worry and went to the door.

"Bella are you ok?" I carefully listened to what she is saying. "Yes, everything is fine," she conveyed to me. Lie…….. and I didn't know that because she's sitting in the shower letting the water run over her the whole time. Bella was confused and she is more than aware of what is happening here. Too shy to admit what she's feeling, she prefers to swallow all the great feelings and hope it goes away. funny because that's absolutely hopeless. it's getting worse, more and also….she friendzoned me."shit…." she mumblet.

I make myself comfortable on the couch and wait impatiently when she finally comes out in an oversized hoodie and shorts. She gives me a nervous smile and sits on her bed with her bowl.

"ok movie..any favorite you want to watch?" I ask and wait for her to awnser. "I'v never watched Jurassic Park so why not this?" she ask and I agree.

I start the movie and make myself comfortable on her bed beside her ignoring my heartbeat that just dance like a fire in the wind. Bella looks to the TV and follows the story.

I lay back with my Hands behind my Head. Jeeeeezz I can feel the Air is getting more intense and I don't blame it cause hell there is sitting an absolutely beautiful guuurl beside me not knowing what I feel, not knowing that my heart gets electrocuted by her smile. I coul'd just take her face in my hands and kiss her blessed soul out of her.

I didn't even realize that my eyes only watching him. Studying every corner of his face and hell this is painfull when you can't do the things you really wan't to do. Thoughts are buzzing in my head that even scare me.

She's been looking at me…the whole time and I'm so preoccupied I don't even realize it. My heart is literally jumping and my whole body can't take the tension anymore.

"Don't you want to finish your question from the day before?" I say without averting my eyes.

"I already did…" she whispers as if trying with all her might to keep up the lie but failing.

"than say it…again" I come closer like I want to intimidate her.

She blushes and I can clearly hear her breath goes wild. I already know the answer and still words wouldn't be enough for me. The gap between us is getting smaller and smaller so that I can feel her breath on my lips when suddenly her mobile rings. AGAIN ..I swear that thing has something against us.

She completely shreeks up and takes her phone. She answers with a trembling voice. "H… hello? No, Mom, you're not disturbing me right now." Her face turned bright red, first looking at me and than very quickly to her lap. She can brush her mum off while I got up in time to have a drink. crap…. I just thought silently. It's getting late now, so I decide to lie down on the couch and turn off the TV.

"good night Y/N" she lays down in her bed and it's like I can hear still her breath.

As if the breathing almost becomes a whimper. I wake up and see that it is totally dark outside. a look at the clock tells me that it's already 2:42am. The whimper comes from Bella's direction so I just turn around again. Is she crying? I startle immediately and walk carefully to her bed. There she lies… curled up and asleep. She must be having a nightmare.

"No…" I only hear a very low murmur. Enough of that…. I just snuggle up with her under the covers behind her back. An arm wraps around her as I snuggle my face in her hair. She smells so good I have to keep my thoughts to myself. She feels me and startles, turning to me out of breath but hiding her face on my neck.

In the corner of my eye I can see that she is quite red with slight tears in her eyes. I just smile, caress her cheek and literally feel my heart want to erupt. I give her a hint of a kiss on the cheek and close my eyes as I wait for her breathing to become more regular.

There's only us…only you and me I thought smiling and fell asleep together with her in my arms.

WOOP WOOP that was soooo freak'n cute to write and that's just the beginning <333 there will be more Chapter and next chapter is getting moooore snuggle loveydovey <333 :P

For more Chapters, stories and more just look at my Masterlist ♡

[chitsangenthusiast]

7, 9, and 11 for the ask game!!

hehehe more late responses to old ask games <3

7. What is your favorite scene you’ve written so far? ok i know this is going to make this answer a long one but i've gotta include the intro scene to my zukka novel's fic 'in time's arrow' <333 i enjoyed imagining and writing it so much that it's actually one of the reasons why i'm choosing to blend this fic with my mortician/marine bio au <3333

Fiddling with the frayed strings on his raincoat, Sokka frowned as he peered into the water. Salmon-eels don’t usually stray this far out into the bay. They’re river fish, shoals of glistening silver better suited for the rocky streams back home. For one to hobble out into open water alone, misshapen and streaked the color of wood grain, meant it had to be sick. If it got caught in his dad’s net then it could infect the other fish, and Sokka couldn’t let something like that happen, not on his very first fishing trip. He watched it like a penguin-hawk; in one moment he was tracking the salmon-eel from one end of the boat to the other, in the next— The ocean swallowed him like it was welcoming him home. Later, after he was pulled out by frantic hands that soothed his shuddering chest and layered him in thick blankets, Sokka sat curled up in the warmth of his Gran-Gran’s arms. She rocked him, gentle like the bay before its waters grew greedy, and as she petted at his drying hair she hummed to him of many things. There are animals that can live both on land and in the water, she’d said, and she listed all the ones she knew. There are accounts of more fantastical things that dwelled far deeper, and she described them. Ordinary people have also journeyed into those waters, she murmured. In her stories, sometimes they were even transformed anew. Sokka listened to them all, and though he stayed quiet and his eyelids grew heavy, his teeth still dug into the meat of his bottom lip and chewed until it stung. Because no matter how long he waited, none of those stories held what he had seen as he sank, a beast with squirming, midnight bright skin that stole away the blue of the water, a mouth full of raging colors, and mighty tusks that nicked his palm and made him bleed a drop of shimmering blue.

9. What is your favorite dialogue you’ve written so far? lmfao i'm trying to be fresh with these answers to not say things i've likely talked abt in the past, so i just reread the beginning half of mallrat chpt 4 and can i just use all of that as my answer. bc boy howdy do i love writing silly 'everyone pick on sokka' convos <3

but if not, then i do enjoy this bit from gold in the air of summer:

“I’m about to make it a rule that no one’s allowed to describe anything as just a shiny version of a regular color,” Toph complains lightly. As expected, Zuko radiates pure frustration, and it makes her grin at how easy it is to do that. “Don’t give me that! It does!” “Do better,” is all she says in response. Zuko makes a loud sound of irritation and barrels forward. “Gold looks warm, and a lot of people in my nation think gold is an honor to the sun because they’re the same color. Although you can’t actually look at the sun the same way you can at gold—uhm,” Zuko stumbles in his explanation, and any stubborn tenacity he had gathered disappears completely. He lets out an explosive sigh, and Toph hears him move to dart up from his spot in the sand. “Whatever, I’m not going to sit here and explain it when I can just show you. I’ll just get something from inside, there’s plenty to bend in there.” “Zuko’s eyes are gold,” Sokka says, simply and clearly enough to cut through all of Zuko’s aggravation and shock him into stunned silence.

11. What scene are you most hyped for this chapter/fic? lmaoo an answer special just for you: the 'come when you want' 5+1 nsfw has some good ol' war paint, glove, and mask play bc again, indulging yourself is the key to life <33

[rose-tinted-juls]

holy shoot i wasn't ready for this. of course i couldn't wait to read it, not longer than 24h after finishing pt.2, i just needed to continue this story

1. this was INSTENSE intense. whoa. i need a cold shower now.

2. i have to address this first before going deeper into my commentary... WHO DO YOU LOVE??? i'm gonna be thinking about this for every waking second of my days until i can read further. (also why did the old ass conor maynard song with the same name start in my head bf of this line lmao)

3. carlos being so happy to see her in his clothing 😭 also how it feels natural for them to cuddle on the sofa and feeling safe warm and happy I'M NOT OKAY

4. NO NOT THE BLONDIE ARRIVING WHEN SHE LEAVES </3 why does every man have to break her heart???

5. when she wakes up to music playing in their house... i wanna wake uo to charles playing piano too :(( it's him right? -> later addition: it is him 😭

6. CHARLES BRAIDING HER HAIR AND CHANGING HER AND JUST BEING SO CARING 😭😭😭 i'm so torn btw these two men now idk how she manages to live 😭

7. "he'd clouded your emotions, nothing was black-and-white with your husband, just a cacophony of colors." such a gorgeous line, it pulls my heartstrings and makes me stupidly emotional. the writing talent!!!

8. "yet... he had given up his mistress for you. he'd given up something that made him happy because you were not." now THAT was phrased perfectly. honestly. so so so good.

9. pascale loving her so much 😭😭😭 it's curing me. helping me heal. <333 also, "she had grown to adore you; your mannerisms, laughter and the fact that you clearly held a candle for charles, despite the dwindling flame of the marriage." THIS LINE!!!! LEAVE SOME TALENT FOR THE REST OF US JAY THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL!!! oh and ofc let's not forget about "if she had a daughter, she'd want her to be just like you." i'm sobbing 😭

10. "hello beautiful" and "hello handsome" AHHHH SCREAMING CRYING also charles grinning even harder hearing this and even her being surprised she said that and him instantly loving it and forgetting everything (flower and dress) THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME

11. "something tells me that won't fit you, charles." this deserved its own mention bc i actually snorted reading this and i love a fic that achieves that in me

12. UH OH CARLOS PLAYING DIRTY NOW ARE WE jesus h roosevelt christ the scene in his driver's room is the death of me

13. charles winning a race made me actually get teary eyed and start sniffing bc i just want him to win something so bad finally that even if it's only in a fic i start crying in happiness 😭😭

14. carlos holding her to him when they are in public AND charles noticing it PAIN. for both of them.

15. i'm in such an inner conflict rn, idk really how she can cope bc this is hurting. this is painful. i love them both sm :'( part of me wants her to give charles a second chance and allow them to be a happily married couple but another part is telling me that charles played his chance and broke her in many ways and carlos was there for her always and she would be so happy with him and like WHICH ONE TO CHOOSE 😭

am i okay? no and yes. at the same time. no bc of this conflict in me and yes bc i could read this. SPEECHLESS. this talent of yours is truly out of this world, main spot in a fancy bookstore kind of perfect. i feel privileged to have read something like this story.

You Think, You Know | CL16 & CS55

Summary: Some bridges are due to burn, whilst others are destined to mend. Charles wants to lead you into a traditional happily-ever-after, whilst Carlos is still adamant that he can always treat you better. Part 3 of ‘A House, A Home.’

Word Count: 11.3k

Warnings: angst, shouting, a lot of swearing, mentions of cheating and divorce. SMUT. Non-protected sex, oral (M&F receiving,) squirting, degradation, aftercare always.

Note: Thank you all so, SO much for being so patient with me. I really wanted this to be something special and I hope you all enjoy it. Please don't get mad at me because this one is emotional. A massive thank you to my biggest cheerleaders, @oconso, @formulaforza, @a-distantdreamer & @silverstonesainz - I love you all so much.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'

You loved your sleep.

There was never too much that could wake you from your slumber. Currently, with the combined sensations of crisp sheets tucked across your frame, soft sunlight drawing through the transparent curtains of the bedroom and snug, strapping arms encircling your waist, it would have to be some form of miracle to awaken you.

The form of this came in the body pressed tightly into your back; smoothly, a pair of lips are drawn to your cheekbone, satin kisses being dropped against your skin. Was it possible to awaken to such a soothing interaction? Your face is drawn to the feeling, turning in his interlocked arms, the side of your face nuzzling into the cushion as your eyes meet the deep, dark pools of his. 

“Good morning.” Carlos whispers, joyful at your rise from shuteye. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there himself, simply basking in the pleasure of holding the girl of his dreams against his firm body. The man was constantly on a lifeline; each time you interacted with him, he’s certain it would be his last, that one day, you’ll be violently ripped from his arms and his heart. 

Suspended in thought, the Spainard is drawn back to reality with the glowing touch of your palm on his skin. Immediately, one of his arms draws away from your waist, resting his own larger hand atop of yours. You look alluring like this; sleep still decorates your eyes, hair tangled from the deep sleep, yet perfect in every sense of the word. 

“Morning.” You respond, allowing yourself to set your gaze upon his face for a little longer. It’s a sin, settling in your stomach at how that same face had lifted from between your leg’s mere hours ago, the remanence of your arousal ever-present atop his stubble. You were certain he had a mouth crafted by the angels, the way his lips had toyed with your most sensitive parts and the way they currently pulled into an enticing smile in the present. 

Two bodies, two souls were entwined in that bed; you weren’t too sure how long you lay there alongside him, reveling in one another’s morning appearances. All you know in that moment is Carlos is overtaking your mind, sprinting through every vein in your body. Every unanswered question from the previous night rendered numb as the man leant forward in your touch, his lips gaining space on your own. 

There’s a sudden, sharp buzz from the other room, causing you both to retract from one another, bodies deep in the king-size mattress. A chuckle leaves his own mouth, running a heavy hand across his face, heart still pounding from the sudden jump of sound in the silent apartment. Something in your heart told you that buzz was for you. Whining from the sudden loss of warmth, you remove yourself from the bundle of blankets and body heat, bare feet padding into his living room, aware of your mobile phone, resting atop of the counter. 

The device gave a heavy buzz once more before you had the realization to pick it up, the battery barely there. You absent-mindedly call out to the man in the bedroom, asking if he had a phone charger you could borrow for a little while. There's clutter from the other room, clearly trying to find a space for your own phone. Whilst that incurred, your eyes flickered across the darkening screen, skin turning cold upon reading the text notifications. 

02:51: Charles Leclerc

I’m in love with you.

02:53: Charles Leclerc

I’m so sorry she was there – I had no idea. She’s gone now, can I come and collect you? Where are you?

03:25: Charles Leclerc

Please let me know you’re safe as soon as you can. Can I come and see you in the morning, please?

08:47: Charles Leclerc

Good morning, my love. How are you feeling today?

Guilt washed through your stomach, not for the interaction you had shared with Carlos; Charles had done substantially worse to you for the past twelve months. No, you knew what it felt like to have no response from somebody you cared for, terrified for their well-being. Even when Charles hadn’t cared for you, you had still nursed him, waiting up for his return in the early hours of the morning. 

With the remainder of your phone battery, fingers fly over the keyboard. Did you want your husband to come and collect you, specifically from his teammates home? He was aware of your building friendship with the Spainard, even if it wasn’t entirely platonic. There wasn’t a huge choice; you especially didn’t want to demand or pry a lift off Carlos, especially after he had come to collect you so late the previous night. 

08:58: You

Good morning, I’m at Carlos’ place. I’d really appreciate a lift back to the house, if that’s okay. 

The message barely had time to send before it’s marked as ‘read’. Immediately, the blue speech bubble pops to the lower corner of your phone, signaling a response was being formed.

09:00: Charles Leclerc

You don’t need to even ask. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. 

Fifteen minutes was not enough time to conceal everything which had happened in the previous hours. Feet now cold, legs now littered in goosebumps, you’d scrambled back into his bedroom, the man now on his own feet, those damn gray jogging bottoms hanging on his hips, a visible outline ever-present. It took your entire soul to remain strong, knowing how tempting this man could become in a matter of moments. 

“Charles is on the way.” You state, suspecting that it would cease all his movements, and allow yourself to get ready for your husband’s arrival. Instead, he’d stepped closer to your frame, leaning his toned torso towards you, locking you in his muscled arms, hiding his face in the skin he’d licked and bitten across the previous night. His mumbles are incoherent, littering across your neck in broken Spanish. He’s saying something. Something you can’t understand but is undeniably a plea for you to stay in his arms. 

Carlos stays pretty much attached to you the entire time you’re preparing for your departure; his body is pressed against yours, littering kisses to the crown of your head whilst you brush your teeth. His scent is so dominating on the hoodie he insists you borrow, slipping that atop of your frame whilst pulling on the bottoms you had wiggled out of the previous evening. The man’s heart explodes upon seeing you bundled into his clothing, a possessive streak striking through his body and soul. 

When your bag is packed, face washed and phone charging, now on the counter of his kitchen, you spend the last few minutes waiting for your husband’s adamant arrival by bundling into Carlos’ side on his plush sofa. It feels entirely natural by this point; his arms encircle your waist, letting you lie against his sternum, soothing yourself to his naturally steady heartbeat. A snippet of your heart desires to take this sole moment and capture it for a lifetime. Safe. Warm. Happy. 

The moment is wafted away from you both with the sudden rapping of knuckles on the front door. Whining, your eyes trail on the Spaniard, focused as he presses a final, fleeting kiss to your temple, pulls himself up from the couch and paces towards the hallway. Your own ears strain to hear the latch lift of the front door, Charles praises for looking after you the previous evening falling over his lips, two pairs of footsteps drawing into the front room. 

Your husband, despite his usual god-like appearance, looked terrible. His hair pushed to the front, clearly in need of a wash and brush. His skin was rubbed raw, face bloodshot; clearly, he hadn’t got a single moment of sleep the previous night, still dressed in the clothes he’d traveled home in the previous night. Despite the heavy lids of his eyes, they still light up when falling onto you. 

“Good morning.” He gives you a smile, only you. You can feel Carlos’ disappointment, even if you can’t see his eyesight at that moment. A pocket-sized smile from your own lips is offered in return, pulling yourself up in that moment, reaching for your bag which remained on the floor, slipping into your soft sneakers.

“Are you ready?” You’d asked softly. Charles’ mouth opened, hesitating before he spoke. He was thinking clearly. 

“I just need to speak to Carlos quickly. Something…private.” He tries to explain his standings, tries to make you feel less awkward as he reaches for the car keys resting in his hoodie pocket. “Are you okay to wait in the car?” He asks softly. He feels in no power to demand your movements, yet he requires one private word with his teammate. 

Your eyes don’t bother to meet Charles, instead immediately flying to meet the dark ones of your unofficial lover. What on god’s earth was your husband about to ask, and why did he want to do it out of your earshot? The look that you give the man says a thousand words, asking if he needs you to stay, hold your ground against Charles. The warm eyes of him give everything you need, silently promising he could handle this man. An entire conversation through looks alone, a skill the two of you had developed so naturally. 

Silently, you take the keys from Charles’ outstretched hand, skin flinching when being pressed against the cool metal. You don’t so much as glance in his direction when you’re walking to the counter, picking up your phone and stuffing it into the pouch of your borrowed hoodie. When turning on your heel, you pace back to Carlos, pressing a surprising kiss to his right cheek, murmuring a ‘Thank You,’ just for his hospitality, of course. You had done all the thanking for the number of orgasms you were granted the previous night. 

The walk towards your husband’s car, the SUV rather than his identifiable Pista, your mind clouded, clotted with an array of questions. Why did Charles need to speak to Carlos alone? Was he aware of the relationship the two had been sharing for an undefinable amount of time? Who on earth was the blonde woman giving you a death stare as she walked up the pathway to the complex, red lips practically hissing at your appearance, storming past you within half a second?

When you turn back to take in her appearance from behind, a sense of sickness settles into your stomach. You’d seen the back of that blonde head before; not in person, but rather on a phone screen. Your phone screen, held between white knuckles as you’d watched the man you had begun to fall for wrap his arms around another woman's lips meshed in a private nightclub, unaware of the multiple cameras capturing their searing moment. 

That was the same woman, identical in her mannerisms. You felt your tummy curdle into pain, into your vague realization that the only reason Carlos had offered you a place in his home, and subsequently his bed that evening, was because he was trying to fill a void until she returned to the scene. Your stomach wanted nothing more than to empty its remaining content in sheer shock. Instead, you breathe deeply, unlocking the door to the car, climbing into the passenger seat and closing your eyes, relaxing into the plush leather of the upholstery. 

You’re not sure how long your husband takes, eyes growing heavy as you await his return. It’s only realized when the driver’s door clicks open, rolling in your seat to watch as Charles climbs into his own, a frown resting at the bottom of his face. However, it’s immediately vanquished when his eyes latch onto your own, grinning at your presence, so close to him. A warm hand reaches out, brushing over the back of your head, sheerly enjoying the comfort you radiated. He'd been lost without you for the past twelve hours. 

Your eyes begin to feel heavy again, though you’re determined to get through the car ride alert, even if the soft scent of his cologne and the gentle lulling tunes from the morning radio are drawing you back to your previous state. Instead, you think of that woman. No, not the mistress you had grown numb to; the blonde woman, the one pressed against Carlos’ chest and lips mere hours after you had been. The glint in your husband’s eye is telling as you go through your endless thoughts, he knows something. 

“The blonde lady going into Carlos’ apartment.” Your voice is completely out of pocket, echoing through the front of the SUV. “Who was she?” There’s no beating around with the question you had asked; there’s no trying to sugar coat what you needed to know. Charles knows it, too. He knows he can’t hide the truth from you, you’re too smart for lies and manipulation, a year married with a mistress had taught him that.

Instead, he emits a deep sigh from his lips, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel as he focuses on the road. “Natasha.” The name falls from his lips, he can’t meet your gaze, not when speaking about another woman to his wife. “She used to work for Ferrari’s PR but left just under a year ago. Carlos and her used to-“ 

“Date?” You’d cut him off without realizing, eyes widening when he’d shaken his head. 

“No, not date.” He responds. “They just had…a thing. Something.” He finished his train of thought, still not mentally ready to turn to you. In a comforting way, you were glad he hadn’t; Charles was unable to see the tears pooling at your lower lash line, the desire to rip off the hoodie now suffocating your body. You learnt in your heart that moment, you were apparently nothing special to Carlos. No, he had a thing. Something, with any woman who passed his way was as a wandering fancy. 

The tears decorating your eyes and desire to relax into the leather seat eventually overpowers your emotionally drained body, pulling you back into a slumber. 

You loved the sound of music.

A faint tune, one you were certain you’d never heard before lured through your ears, drawing you back to consciousness. You couldn’t remember getting home, let alone getting out of the car and tucking yourself into the comfort of your own bed. Groaning, you’d sat yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and stretching the twinge in your back simultaneously. 

The music wasn’t coming from your room; the sound was beautiful, you just needed to locate its source. Your feet twinge when they touch the floor, cool floorboards easing the temperature of your socks. Opening the ajar door to your bedroom, the music grows louder, sound clearly emitting from downstairs, your feet carry you to the staircase with no hesitation. However, when reaching the top of the staircase, eyebrows crease together in confusion, taking in your once-ragged appearance in the crystal mirror. 

Your hair had been braided, albeit not elegantly, but at least out of your face, something you did almost religiously before sleeping. Your attire had changed, too, once you were dressed in Carlos’ sage hoodie. Now, your body was engulfed by Charles’ charcoal jumper, sleeves too long but an entire comfort for your drained mind. Is this what it felt like, to be nurtured and cared for by your husband? The pit of your stomach felt airy; this had been everything you desired for so long. And yet, now you had experienced somebody else, despite the heartbreak, your mind was utterly torn. 

Music grows louder, your mind is suddenly focused back on its original target. With no hesitation now, you began to walk down the flight of stairs, noting your bag and phone resting by the front door. Even with as many notifications as you’d missed in your time asleep, priorities overtook, making your way towards the lounge, eyes transfixed on the figure by the French windows.

Charles Leclerc sat, comfortably and quietly, gentle fingers dancing over the keys of his piano. The soft lights of the room illuminated the figure, a tune you had never heard was fluttering around the open space. 

Of course, you had heard him play the instrument multiple times; during his time spent at the house rather than on the track, he remained transfixed, creating new songs, finding some way to pour every emotion into some kind of melody. You’d lost track of the times you’d come downstairs to get a drink, put the washing into the machine and had instead pushed your body into the doorframe, eyes fixed upon your husband as he created the most beautiful sounds. 

The last time you’d done that, his mistress had been present, leaving over the piano as Charles played her an elegant tune. When she had gone to lean over him, her own fingers wanting to press down against the keys, he’d rested a firm hand on her arm, insisting that she sit on the sofa and listen, instead. The sweet moments of silently viewing your husband had turned sour; you’d silently vowed that day you would never enter the room when he was playing again.

You’d broken that promise mere seconds ago, eyes transfixed upon your husband. You can feel the tension beneath his fingers, as if he’s trying to take the sheer thoughts of everything that had been embedded into his mind in the past twenty-four hours and mesh them into some kind of audible release. Underneath the layers of music, your footsteps can’t be heard as you hesitantly walk towards the end of the living space. His tune reaches a climax, but before the piano can take any more notes, you cough lightly, Charles’ hands ceasing in mid-air. Arching his body weight, he sees your frame standing next to his piano, eyes still sleepy from awakening mere moments ago. The breath catches in the back of his throat; did you always look so perfect in his soft jumpers?

“I’m sorry.” He eventually offers, taking in your sweet, soft appearance. “Did I wake you?” 

“No, no.” The reply tumbles from your lips before you even realize. “It was…beautiful, actually. Is it a new piece?” You ask, entranced by the music which had been flowing freely.

“I’m not sure yet.” He can’t help but smile at the end of his sentence. “I just sort of started playing and this is what came of it.” The explanation is valid; like many creatives, sometimes a free flow form was the simplest way to go. His next movement is almost a shock to your system. “Why don’t you come and help me?” The offer is completed when he shuffles up on the piano stool, patting on hand on the available gap. There’s hesitation in your movement, before his hand trails upwards, leaning to clasp one of your own, guiding you towards the stool. 

There’s an overpowering smell of his cologne, a scent you were slowly drawing yourself towards. The body heat from his frame radiates into your own. Shyly, you reach out, pressing down on one of the piano keys, a tone spouting from the instrument. Charles can’t help but smile upon your interaction, eyes questioning as you analyze the instrument.

“Do you know how to play?” He asks gingerly, watching as you shake your head in response. His actions exchange, resting one of his warm palms over your own. The next moments are filled with your husband guiding your hands over the piano, teaching you the tune to old nursery rhymes. When you reach the end of the piece, he cheers in delight at the achievement. 

“Play me something now.” You ask carefully, head becoming heavy, heavy enough to rest on your husband’s shoulder. When you feel his body tense, you immediately sit back up, convinced you’ve overstepped a line. That thought is soon relinquished when Charles’ hand flies out, wrapping around the back of your head and pulling you back down to his shoulder, your breath hot on his neck, it’s enough for him, hesitant to overstep the boundaries you were adamant upon currently. 

His fingers move back, continuing the song he had been conducting earlier. The piece had started out slowly, almost sad-like, before building, building towards a romantic counterpart. In his mind, it was the perfect song to punctuate the relationship he maintained with his wife. They both sat there, barely any moment as the music was the only sound present in their house. 

When the song finishes, neither of you move, relishing in the soft touch you’re both sharing. Charles’ own head falls atop of your own, letting his cheek rest against your hair. There’s no form of time between you both, simply enjoying being alive, alive with one another. It’s interrupted when you feel Charles’ take an exaggerated breath, removing his keys from the piano. One of his hands rests upon his side, the other slides between the minute gap between you both, wrapping a toned arm around your waist. The movement causes you to lift yourself from his firm shoulder, catching those beautiful eyes from your glance. 

“I’m traveling to Monaco tomorrow.” He says it so casually, as if it’s as normal as entering or leaving the building. You can feel his heart race in anticipation of what he was due to say, his body temperature raising dramatically, radiating through his hoodie. You offer him a warming smile. You really didn’t want him to leave, not when you were growing so unnaturally fond of his presence. 

“Oh really, what for?” Is the eventual reply. In this moment, you simply can’t hold his eye contact, he’s staring into your soul, it’s as if he can sense every thought which is currently trekking through your mind; does he know how much of a hold he has on you, even if your marriage was entirely staged, at least in his eyes. 

“I’m off to see my mother” He clarifies. “It’s been a while and I just want to check in.” It’s a lie. You can tell from the way his body language changes; his hands are suddenly clenching tighter, his grip on your waist firm as if he’s terrified, you’ll run away. He can’t admit it, he’s not strong enough. If you step away, he will fall back to the way he was the previous night; eyes bloodshot, unable to sleep unless he knows you’re safe. 

“Give her my best.” The response is blunt, short. You’re on entirely different wavelengths, different planets. He never told you of his reasoning for things; a golden rule you had learnt at the beginning of this era. Just…you’d never question him; you would simply co-exist. What he says next makes your blood run cold. 

“Why don’t you come with me? I’d really appreciate it.” Why on earth would your estranged husband want you to come on his travels, presumably when the entire point was to spend the entirety of it wrapped in the arms of another woman. Yet, a feeling in your stomach settled. Did you actually want to spend hours in this empty house alone? Now that Carlos was no longer a welcome distraction, anything would be better than wallowing in your silence. 

“I will.” You eventually respond. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” His eyes are wide, so willing. He’d scooted tighter towards you, as if he could hold together this entire conversation, stopping the whole world from crumbling around you. You must be the one to take a deep breath this time. You had to remain firm with your choices, with what you needed to know. 

“What was in the white envelope that your mistress gave you yesterday?”

You loved the glow of candlelight. 

Having never entered Charles’ study, his fingers interlocked with your own as he guided you through the heavy door, you didn’t realize how many candles he had resting around his office. They laid upon his windowsill, on his desk, he even had a mulberry-scented candle resting next to his racing simulator. 

There was only one candle which was lit, he had obviously forgotten to extinguish it whilst you were deep in your slumber. Despite the fact you hadn’t ever been given access to this room, you’d have to make a mental note in order to check for any fire hazards the next time you were in the building alone. 

The envelope resting upon the desk stuck out like a sore thumb; his computer, stationary, it was all a cool gray tone whereas the envelope stuck out in a bright white glow. 

“I need you to know before you look at this, it’s a lot worse than it comes across.” Even in the candlelight, his face had turned pale, barely able to keep his fear from dancing across his emotions. You need to remain strong. You need to see what was left in the envelope. 

Staying firm, your grasp reaches out towards the desk, taking the card into your own hands. “I want to see it.” You clarified, letting your finger trace under the flap of the envelope.

You don’t let your husband’s words overpower you, distract you in any way. Instead, your hand reaches into the envelope and grasps around a stack of…something. It feels like multiple pieces of paper pressed together, though one side remains glossy, as if printed onto a special sheet. Hesitantly, your hand pulls from the envelope, eyes immediately widening upon seeing the content in question.

It's photographs. Multiple photographs of Charles and his mistress. Some of them are casual, taken from her phone, smiling selfies and dinner dates. Others are…compromising, verging on pornographic. You can feel the lump in your throat tightening, tears are forming on your lower lash line, but you must keep strong. You cannot show any weakness when you ask to see this.  

“That’s her, isn’t it?” Your voice betrays you, weakening as your words continue. “Your…girlfriend.” You don’t want to use the other word; it’s clear from these photographs it was more than sex, it was more than just an escapade. 

“She’s- she’s not anymore.” Charles pauses, his eyes don’t focus on the photographs, only on you. His wife, who he has hurt so badly and now must see the pain littered across her face. “She hasn’t been since your mother passed away.”

Your heart stops at the mention of your mother, a sharp spike of longing for the woman suddenly danced through your chest. Then, you were angry. How dare he pity you, you didn’t want it, not from him. But…you still wanted him. He’d clouded your emotions, nothing was black-and-white with your husband, just a cacophony of colors. 

“That was your reason for dumping her. Sympathy?” You don’t care how harsh your voice comes across, instead just aggravated you were growing to care about his reasoning. Life had been simpler weeks ago, when you simply stayed at home, minding your own business whilst he got on with his. By the look on Charles’ face, he wasn’t expecting the hostility, either. 

“No! I dumped her because it was wrong, because I have a loving wife who I would give anything for.” The room goes silent, giving you time to process the words that had come from his lips. You had been so certain for so long that he didn’t care about you; that everything he did was for his own gain and pleasure. Yet…he had given up his mistress for you. He’d given up something that made him happy because you were not. 

Stressing, you run a hand through your hair, placing the photographs back into the envelope, speaking to your husband as you place the card back onto his desk. You feel sick. These photographs exist and it was a perfect way to destroy the two of you, it was perfect ammunition to a metaphorical pistol. “So, what does she want you to do with these photographs?”

“Nothing.” Charles leans over your own body, reaching for a second stack of papers resting upon the desk, one you had considered would simply be notes from Scuderia Ferrari. Warm seeps through your body at his close contact, one hand almost trailing against your back as he grasps to the stack of crisp sheets, barely touched.  “She’s threatened to publish them if I don’t sign…this.” 

You took the stack of ivory papers into your palms. It was sprawled with a size twelve font, you were uncertain of where to begin until two words in bold took your attention, printed formally across the top of the page. 

“Divorce Papers.” Your voice is barely a whisper, heart dropping to your stomach. 

“That’s the other reason I’m going to Monaco.” He’s explaining his own status now, eyes glassy with the fear of you walking straight out of the office. He wouldn’t blame you, of course. He couldn’t blame you for anything anymore. Charles reaches out to your grasp, wiggling the paper from your fingers and placing them back against the desk.  “I’m filing for a lawsuit against her, a restraining order for manipulation and stalking.” 

A scoff falls from your lips; the mere contrast of the events from a few weeks ago compared to now. He truly intended to file a lawsuit against a woman who he’d happily let warm his bed whilst you went to bed each night with nothing but regret and bloodshot eyes. “Do you…do you want a divorce?” You can feel your voice cracking. “I mean, if she’s sent you these, you must have mentioned wanting one-”

“I did.” Charles doesn’t miss a beat. “I mentioned how I didn’t want a divorce because despite everything…I do care for you.” The room goes silent, not even the flickering of the candle or the soft wind from the French windows can pierce the tone of the room. 

A huff escapes your lips, arms resting by your side as you formulate a response; “You had a really weird way of showing it.” Your response is blunt, it clearly warrants the sad look on your husband’s face. 

“I know. That’s why I’m going to make it right. Please come to Monaco with me. She won’t be there; you don’t have to come to the lawyer with me. But…I need to be able to come back to my wife.” His hand reaches out, cradling your own in this moment. Gently, he lifts your palm to his cheek, resting it upon his stubble and letting his lips trace a kiss across the soft skin. 

He truly does know how to make your heart flutter, despite everything. 

“Okay.” You eventually respond, focused on his gaze when his eyes turn wide in anticipation. 

“Yeah?” His heart is picking up in happiness, reaching to hold you in his own grasp, but instead falling short when you raise a finger, ceasing his movements towards your body. 

“But…you need to give me tonight, alone. To process that.” Gently, you take a step forward, leaning gently towards him. You can’t leave him, not before you gently press a kiss to his cheek, turning on your heel, your figure illuminated in the corridor by the soft candlelight. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.” 

You loved the feeling of warm water.

There is only a slender picking of moments in your life where you have felt truly relaxed; sitting by the lake in the rolling fields your family had owned for generations, lounging in the bed of the Madrid-Based apartment your friends had hired for a holiday in the early spring morning. 

You had never thought one of those relaxing moments would be as your mother-in-law massaged her hands through your locks, lathering an expensive shampoo into the roots of your hair. She was gentle; no tangles fell through her fingers as her rhythm stayed perfectly relaxing, hitting all the spots which would send a flood of relief through your scalp. 

You’d arrived in Monaco early that morning, immediately being transported to the luxurious hotel your husband had booked you into. Most of the trips he’d book you wouldn’t attend, and when you did would be ignored by him altogether. This time, he’d remained present, willing. Your hands had entwined the moment you had left the privacy of the jet, nestling into the back of the car, eyes heavy from the early rise.

Not much is remembered after you’d arrived outside the opulent building; bags were removed and transported to your room by the bellhop, both you and your husband were given hotel cards, an older lady at the desk explaining the functions dotted around the high-end establishment. All you could remember was the door to the room opening, your tired body making a beeline towards the emperor bed, nuzzling into the soft furnishings with sleep overtaking you in a matter of moments. 

Charles hadn’t been able to help the tug on his heartstrings as he’d seen you tumble into the mattress. You’d been so thoughtful; dropping everything back at your house and accompanying him to Monaco, promising to be there for him as he promised to fix the wounds from his previous mistakes. He’d give anything to crawl into the bed alongside you, wrap his frame around your own and fall back into his own slumber, one he had despised the night before simply because he wasn’t able to hold you in his arms. He was learning to respect your wishes; after all, he had a lot of repairing to do-so. Even after recent conversations with his Ferrari counterpart, he could never bring himself to hate you. 

His phone buzzes from his back pocket and upon inspection he sees the reminder, he’s due with his lawyer in less than forty-five minutes, but he doesn’t want to leave you, not alone. A thought sparks into his head, fingers flying through his contacts and dropping a message to one, asking if they could take you over to his mother’s salon later in the afternoon. By the time he’s returned from changing in the en-suite and brushing a comb through his hair, the responses from both Joris and his mother had lit up his screen, confirming his plans for later in the afternoon. 

Your husband had allowed himself one more look at you, so peaceful wrapped up in the comfort of the bed. Silently, he leans over your frame, running a gentle hand across the back of your head, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring his sweet words to your sleeping form.

When you’d awoken, there was a message clarifying that Joris would be taking you to his mother’s salon a little later and he would come to collect you once he was finished with his lawyer. That’s how you had ended up walking into her salon earlier that afternoon, her delighted smile present after seeing her daughter-in-law.

Pascale wasn’t stupid, that much was clear. She was aware of the strain in her middle son’s marriage, just not to the extent that he had been toying with a mistress for the better part of a year. However, she had grown to adore you; your mannerisms, laughter and the fact that you clearly held a candle for Charles, despite the dwindling flame of the marriage. If she had a daughter, she’d want her to be just like you. 

“Are you and Charles up to anything this evening?” Her voice is gentle, motioning for you to stand up from the basin chair and walk towards the mirrors, resting yourself in one of the seats. Your reflection bores back into you, focused as Pascale adjusts your head slightly, brushing the tendrils of hair through her comb. 

“I’m not sure.” You respond. “I know he has some business this morning.” It’s an understatement. When Joris had collected you from the hotel, he’d tried to give you what information he could – Charles had arrived at his Lawyer’s office, ready to file the case against his mistress. He wasn’t too sure how long it was going to take, though he had told Joris to be on hand for anything you needed when he couldn’t. 

“You make him happy; you know?” Pascale mentions, tilting your head to angle your hair correctly. “I know he hasn’t always been…the greatest.” You’re not sure if she’s aware of everything, but her tone seems to stand where you need it to do so, “but you make…such an impact in his life.” 

Not much else is said whilst the woman continues to trim your hair, adjusting your face as she does so. It was nice, not to be cooped up into a hotel room for the entirety of the day, nor to be sitting in Charles’ driver room whilst he walked around, finger entwined with his mistress. You’re so engrossed in Pascale drying your hair, setting the locks into soft rollers that you don’t realize when the door chimes open, another figure entering the quiet salon. The woman’s eyes brighten, and you hear her cooing before your own face turns, taking in the figure of your husband in the doorway. 

Charles looks breath-taking. He’d clearly showered and changed since you had last seen him bundled in his travel gear that morning. Your deduction would be correct; the man had hastily returned to the hotel to jump into the shower, changing into a power blue shirt and white trousers. His hair, free of styling products curled in an unruly way, one that made his whole face structure elevate. 

In his hands, he held both a soft white dress over his arm, one you had packed in your case fleetingly the evening before; it had been steamed and washed, the fabric clear and petticoats of the skirt floating gently. In his other hand, a vibrant bouquet of roses. His smile never faded, walking over to his mother and pressing a kiss to each of his mother’s cheeks. Once his attention turns towards you, his eyes only brighten. 

“Hello, beautiful.” You can’t tell whether he’s playing up the affection in front of his mother, or whether it’s genuine. However, when one hand comes to rest on your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s being respectful; making sure not to cross a boundary. 

“Hello, handsome.” The response falls from your lips without realizing, the grin on your husband's face only rising. Fuck. Did you mean to say that? Regardless, you had done, and by the look on his face he not only didn’t expect it but had instantly grown to love it. Charles had completely forgone the flowers in his grasp, only remembering them after your eyes had darted down towards his palms. 

“Oh-“ His mind finally catches up with the present situation, raising his hand to present you with the flowers. They’re colors are soft, delicate, as if etched by crayon. You can’t help but smile at the gesture, even if it was entirely a false pretense in front of his mother. You can’t see her face, but you know she’s smiling, seeing her son present to his wife in such a sweet manner. Now, your gaze isn’t fixed against the flowers in your grasp, but the dress from your suitcase.

“Something tells me that won’t fit you, Charles.” You tease the garment laying over his forearm, only to cause a smile to appear on his lips again. 

“I want to take you out for the afternoon. If that’s okay with you.” His voice is low now, hoping to avoid any prying of the conversation from his mother, though her attention was now turned to locating the hair dryer, still needing to complete your own treatment. “Would that be…okay?” He’s nervous. Fearful that after everything, you could now reject him and feel no remorse.

You’re not a cruel person, it has never been in your nature. Instead, you match his own smile, nodding as you take the garment from his grasp, Charles’ eyes widening in confirmation. 

“Trust you to pick out my favorite dress, too.” You mumbled. 

You loved the sound of the ocean. 

You loved everything about the sea, truly. The reflections from the moonlight caused shards to reflect over Charles’ boat; the new yacht had barely had time to stretch the waters, though it seemed to float as if it had been nurtured its entire existence. 

The afternoon of a late lunch had expanded into expensive, late-night wine on the boat as your husband had guided you into deeper waters. He knew what he was doing, after all; the waters of Monaco were a comfort to him, a lifetime had stretched out from jumping into the ocean as a child to yacht parties during the Grand Prix. 

You’d seemed entirely at home, and it made his heart warm. Charles wasn’t a stupid man; he saw how you kept yourself small, your setup at the house barely spanning over two rooms. He’d wanted nothing more than to break the walls you had put up for oh-so-long and entwine your lives together.

Then he would reprimand himself, remind himself he was the sole reason those walls existed. 

Conversation had spanned naturally into the events of the day; you thanked him for thinking of you, he’d responded with a mention of you deserving that form of treatment every single day. Your mind can’t take the anticipation; when your lips lift from the glass of wine, you can’t help but ask what his lawyer had recommended about his mistress. Your husband’s grin had fallen a little, running a hand through his dark curls. 

“It’s a difficult one.” He explains. “There’s enough there for a case, considering we haven’t had contact in a while. But…” He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; you do for him. 

“The photographs are counted as evidence.” You finish, and he can only nod. He’s created such a mess, something he could never forgive himself for doing so. A web of lies and mistreatment surrounded you both; he so wanted to break each thread and simply cradle you, be in a bubble for the rest of eternity. 

He’s expecting you to stay silent, then. Maybe that’s where the evening should have ended, with silence upon the realization that this case will not be easily solved. Instead, you place the glass of wine down on the ledge of the stairs, easing his own glass from his grasp. Charles is confused, even more so when you walk back towards him, wrapping your arms to close around his neck. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers. His hands raise hesitantly, as if touching you would break you into a million pieces. His grasp only falls to your waist when you press closer towards the man, resting your gaze on his own eyes. He’s hurt you, broken you to such an extent, and yet you can’t help but draw closer to his touch, to his eyes. 

“Being your wife.” You respond, before pressing your lips to his own. This is the first time, the first time in so long that you had been the one to initiate a kiss. Naturally, Charles’ hands wrap tighter around your waist, pulling you into his chest, deepening your touch, your kiss. This. This is the moment he wishes to bottle forever, to live in the comfort of his wife’s touch, no outside means, no other commitments being hung over his head. 

You’re not sure how long you both stand there, wrapped in one another, hands fleeting over each other, desperate to find some touch, some form of skin. It isn’t until your fingers reach to unbutton the top of his powder-blue shirt, that his own come to rest atop of yours. He knows he’s made a mistake when he sees the look you shoot him, immediately assuming the worst. 

“No, no.” He promises, both hands flying from where they had grasped yours, cradling each side of your face. It feels…warm. It feels so similar to the way Carlos had cradled your head once, when you were both on a boat, much like this. You think of those dark eyes, the whispers drawn into your ear as he had sharply thrusted into you that evening. Then, you think of the blonde appearing outside his apartment mere hours after you had been tangled in his arms. 

“I want to.” Charles’ words draw you from your endless train of thoughts. “Sweetheart, I want to more than anything, but I need you to know how much it means-“

You don’t let him finish; instead, you press your mouths back together, forcefully. There are whispers from your own lips, pleading that he take you, that you want nothing more than to feel your bodies atop of one another. 

And who is he to deny his wife? 

You’re not sure when he scoops you up into his arms, guides you inside of the boat and to the soft bed that had been freshly made mere hours ago, but he never lets your lips leave one another for less than a moment.

He’s everywhere; he’s pressing into you in the most delicious way, he’s drawing your body of the most intense sounds, and then you’re coming, harder than you ever thought was possible, it hits you in the most delicious way. 

Your fingernails pressed crescents into his skin as he continued to push into you with that perfect rhythm. Feeling your hot breath dance against the shell of his neck, the sweet whimpers of your overstimulated orgasm falling from your lips. Charles feels you clench around him, dragging you into him deeper, and it's all over.

His head immediately falls into the joint of your neck and shoulder, his pants getting heavier, thrusts rougher as he chases his own release. Teeth escape from his lips, biting down atop of the red marks he'd left earlier in a passion; the gasp you let-out, the roll of your hips against his own pushes him over the edge, a moan falling out from his own lips, hands flying to grip at your forearms pinned above him. You can feel every inch of him buried inside of you, warmth spilling into you.

Heavy hips press into yours, your thighs still pressed around his waist when he lifts his head from the warmth of your skin, pressing one final deep kiss to your lips, a profanity of words escaping from his mouth.

He kisses you again. And again. He keeps doing it whilst slowly rocking his hips, still jittering from his own orgasm. Senses come through, those eyes you had been entranced in so many times fixing to your own, drinking you in, looking so beautiful underneath his own frame.

"You still want somebody else?" The teasing is natural, almost, inflicting you to roll your eyes and playfully push his arm. God, your laugh is the most adoring sound in the world to him, it had been so long since he'd heard it, even then, it had never been due to his own actions until recently. The adorned look in his eye is soon replace with confusion when he feels you wiggle underneath him, soft blankets rubbing against your back.

"Are you going somewhere?" He questions, one hand coming up to trace against your jawline. You want to lean into his touch, it's something you'd been attracted to recently, though the mess between your legs and sweat trailing down your skin seemed to tell you something different.

"I need to clean up." You whine, pressing your body into the plush mattress. "I'm all gooey, Charles."

"I've got it." He murmurs, pressing one soft kiss to your cheek, another to your neck. You expect the weight from above to release you, but the warmth radiating from his body remains. You feel lips trace against your chest, his untamed curls tickle your stomach as he traces down a direct line.

"What are you doi-" You never get to finish you question, the fourth word cut off with a soft gasp, those lips which had pressed to yours, now pressing down against your clit, a soft praise towards your body whilst his tongue traced around the sensitive bud, drawing a slice through your wet lips, pressing deeper and deeper into your entrance.

The room is illuminated with your whines, hips bucking against his stubble as he fulfills his promise of cleaning you up.

You loved the feeling of being held.

You’d been unfathomably happy to walk into the paddock that evening, fingers interlaced with Charles’ as he guided the two of you through the fans and photographers alike, buzzing to be starting on Pole Position when his wife would be watching in awe of his achievement. 

You hadn’t been there on qualifying day; you were still trying to keep your distance where you could, to prove to your husband he couldn’t instantly win you back overnight. It had only been when he’d come into the en-suite of your room the evening before, hands wrapped around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, pleading you came to watch him race the following night.

“I’ll win.” He promises, voice quiet as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I’ll win it for you.” 

His sweet words had not only lured you to the race track the following day but had also drawn you to sleep in his bed that evening, curled up into his toned chest as he murmured words of appreciation in French; only a few you were able to pick up and understand the meaning of as you drifted into a comfortable sleep, arms cradling your body underneath the bed sheets.

There was a collective, loving aura that evening when the two of you had stepped into his garage, the team in awe of seeing that their Prince of Monaco and his beloved Princess had been reunited, here to support one another. However, one figure remained quiet, eyes transfixed on your every movement. He felt his knuckles turn white when Charles had changed into his race suit, placing his cap atop of your own head and had lovingly pressed two kisses to either of your cheeks.

Carlos Sainz was a jealous man; he’d been infuriated when his blonde fling had appeared on his doorstep, instantly realizing the kind of man he must have been made out to be when you’d seen her appear on your departure. He’d hoped and prayed you hadn’t seen her, but from the radio silence he received over messages and calls, to the way you had purposely avoided speaking to him when arriving in the paddock, he could tell you were not that naive.

Emotions had played a heavy part on both of the Ferrari Pilots during the start of the race. One, determined to keep his promise and win whilst his wife was present. The other was so clouded with sadness and rage that all he wanted to do was push his counterpart off the track. The lights snapped off, 20 engines revving in unison as the cars blitzed down the first straight. 

It doesn’t take long for emotion to overcome; Charles’ P6 soon creeps towards a P3, whilst Carlos begins to drop. A violent turn into Oscar Piastri not only takes the young rookie out of the race, but the Ferrari driver, too. Nobody misses the swears as he switches the engine off, nor the scowl on his face as he removes the steering wheel, ready to be escorted back to the garage. 

When the blur of red comes through the paddock, you can’t help but feel guilty, telling yourself that if you had spoken to him, he would have been able to keep a cool head. Silently, you slip the headphones from your temple, murmuring about going to the bathroom before taking a direct beeline towards Carlos’ room, catching the door just before it’s due to slam closed. 

He was seething. Pure rage flicked across his eyes; the warm smile reserved for you replaced with a harsh scowl. This may have been a mistake. 

“What do you want?” His words are venom, spit towards you. He cannot stand to see you right now.

“I just-“You pause, clearing your throat. “I wanted to check if you were okay.” It’s a pathetic answer, really. One that didn’t sit right in your mouth, even after you had spoken. 

“I’m alright?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You ignore my calls, go away and fuck that pathetic man and then come back to me?” He’s pissed, undoubtedly so. “You whore. I understand it all now.” He shakes his head, missing the fire which had begun to burn in your own stomach. 

“You have no right!” You’d shrieked so loudly you’d startled yourself; one finger was still pointed into his infuriated face, your finger mere millimeters from the bridge of his nose. Hot air engulfed both of your bodies, the only sound present was the deep and heavy breathing flaring from your nostrils. 

Without a thought, Carlos had slapped your finger away from his face, lunging forward dramatically to seize your face into his rough palms. His lips are on yours, roughly seeking the wet trace of your tongue. You can’t fight him; not when his lips feel so flawless against your own. A rough palm encases the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your waist as he holds your frame tighter against his own. 

Your breath barely had a moment to catch when he forcefully pulled his lips from you, emitting a white from your breath. That innocent sound is soon replaced by a sharp gasp, his fingers tightening against your scalp, pulling on your locks. 

“Don’t fucking whine.” He spits, ghosting his lips over your own, never letting them touch yours. Warm breath tickles the shell of your ear when his grip pulls tighter onto your hair, tiling your ear to meet his mouth. “I’m sick of your whining, about your horrible excuse for a husband. I will treat you how you should be treated.”

There’s no time to react as his pink tongue pokes from his lips, a stripe tracing from the corner of your ear, across the sweetest spot of your neck. You’re reveling in the wetness, the sinful way his words litter through the air before teeth sink into your skin. He doesn’t bother to cover your mouth, mute the sweet sounds falling from your lips. There’s no decency anymore, Carlos doesn’t care who sees the marks he engraves into your skin. The ring on your left hand means nothing more than a reminder that he could be better. 

“Carlos-“ You struggle to connect the two syllables together, hands gripping through his hair, pulling at the brown locks in your fingers. “Fuck-“ 

“What did I just say?” He grunts from the valley of your neck, one hand sliding from your waist and flying out, smacking on your clothed butt. The shock simply causes you to gasp out loud, pushing your own throbbing crotch into his hard one. A smirk forms against your neck, clear as day when the man pulls himself from your neck. His lips are wet, saliva from his own mouth tracing around your lips. 

One hand finds your face again, grasping at your chin tilting your head backwards to hover below his own. A single finger taps at your lips, signaling for you to open wide for him. He’s sinful as he lets his spit fall across your lips, eyebrows raised as he wraps a hand around your throat, clearly overpowering your stance in this moment.

“Swallow.” He commands, hand resting on your cheek firmly. The tone of his voice sends a shock of energy down your chest and between your legs, cunt throbbing at his words. Of course, you comply, swallowing the remanence he had given you. “Good girl.” 

The sweet nicknames in this moment have evaporated; Carlos is nothing short of animalistic, his presence all too understanding as one hand takes its place around your neck, the other grabbing firmly onto your wrist as he guides you backwards, softly falling onto the sofa of his driver’s room. The pitying looks the man gives you sends a thousand messages through your brain. 

“No, no. Dirty little girls don’t get to sit on my sofa.” He teases, both hands clasping your waist, sliding you off the plush furnishings and resting on the cold floor, kneeling for the Spaniard. “You need to be on your knees, you need to be taught how to behave.” 

Eyes widen as his tanned fingers pull at the knotted arms of the fireproofs resting on his waist. Even through his underclothes, the shape of his hard length is clearly visible, even more so as he removes his underlayers and briefs, letting himself spring freely, one hand rubbing his shaft a few times, the other knotting in the back of your hair. 

He loves this; cock in his hand as he taps the tip against each of your cheeks, trailing himself against the parting of your lips, having to hide the shiver from his own body when the wetness of your mouth. His eyes are sparkling when he uses his firm cock to press through your mouth, relishing in the warmth of your lips wrapping around his length. 

“That’s it, be a good girl. Take it.” He coos as you struggle to take more of his length, attempting to give small, tentative licks to his cock whilst he slides between your lips. It sends him feral, wild. He thinks of nothing else as both hands grip tightly in your hair, shoving your face into his crotch, your gags music to his ears as he continues to take control of the situation.

When your eyes adjust, look up from his groin, he almost feels sorry for you. They’re wide, glassy, snuffles falling from your lips as he continues his forceful attack. One hand slowly removes itself from the strain on your locks, tracing over your cheek, thumb rubbing underneath your eye, removing the salty tears as your breath remains heavy through your nose. 

“Oh, poor baby.” He teases, pace never relenting. “This is what you need, someone to put you in your place, remind you what you deserve for teasing me, making me jealous.” He can’t help but chuckle at the pathetic sound coming from your lips. He can feel his stomach tightening, the warmth drawing an imminent release from his cock. This isn’t how he wants to finish, he can’t yet. 

Your mouth feels empty when he pulls out, giving you no warning, the gasps falling from your lips at the sudden gain of air. He doesn’t give you time to respond, a heavy hand pushing your front to the floor, lifting your hips, ass straight back in the air. No warning, the skirt of your dress is lifted, the wetness of your cunt seeping through your panties. The anticipation kills you, until a warm finger slides into your folds with no warning. Your body can’t help but react, clenching around the warmness without even realizing. You also don’t realize the sounds you’re making, until the finger removes itself, a palm harshly smacking on your behind. 

“What did I say about noises?” He grunts, leaning around to push the wet finger into your own mouth. “Do you like it? Taste what I do to you?” Hurriedly, he presses his finger in and out of your lips a few times before returning it to your wet hole, wiggling in the air. This time there’s two; stretching you out, your palms trying to find anything to grip, to hold on to as he carelessly thrusted, tickling a sweet, sweet spot deep in your stomach. 

“I- Carlos I can’t-“ You whine through raspy breaths. He can feel you clenching, swelling around his fingers, and is rewarded when he hastily pulls them out of you, a long moan and a squirt of arousal pushing from your cunt. A sheer shock of arousal floods between his own legs, rubbing his fingers against your wet folds, letting your wetness trail onto the tips of his hand.

“Oh, your husband can’t make you do that, can he?” He’s proud; proud he’s able to draw such a reaction from your body. “Come on, baby, up we get.” His arms are suddenly firm, present around your waist as he pulls you to stand on two shaky legs, still reveling in the feeling he had granted you moments ago. 

Hands retract from your waist and come to hold your face, pressing kisses to your scarlet lips as he guides you from a standing position towards his couch, finally allowing himself to sink into the cushions. You want nothing more than to join him, feel his warmth and aura around your own body, but by the finger he’s raised as he situates himself into the sofa, you can tell you’ll have to wait. 

The moment he sits down, a tanned hand comes to his crotch to rub his length a few times, your eyes widening as you plead for it; mind clouded by lust, all you want is for something warm to fill you up, make you feel as good as he had done so many times before. Carlos’ finger beckons for you to join him, and you know what he’s insinuating. 

Your movements are commanded by the Spaniard; immediately, there are two firm hands on your body, pulling you into his touch and sinking you down onto his cock. You don’t miss the way his lips quirk into a grin, oh-so-happy to see your reaction to the pleasure he had granted you. It’s no match for when he starts moving, bouncing you up and down on his lap, fallen gasps from your lips as your faces draw closer and closer.

You were sinking into one another’s skin; he wanted nothing more than to entwine your bodies for eternity. One hand was firm around your waist, guiding your movement with the strength only he could. The other guided a gentle trace across your face, pulling you closer, closer to his own face as his thrusts got faster, erratic. 

“You’re mine.” He grunts, never once breaking eye contact as his hips grew tighter, his cock making your cunt squeeze in a way you didn’t know was physically possible. “You’ve always been mine, tell me you’re mine.”

His eyes go soft, thrusts pausing for a second as he notes the tears pooling in your eyes from the sheer euphoria running through your body. A whine falls from your lips as you feel his strong hand tug at your neck, pressing your foreheads towards one another, hips slowing for just a moment, letting your breath catch up to your aching body. 

“I’m yours.” You’d whisper, mind clouded. You were his. There could be a thousand cars, an ocean or a wedding band between the two of you and you would still always find your way back to Carlos. Whatever that relationship would form, you would always be a part of him. 

The murmured confirmation was enough to send a shot of energy through his spine, his thrusting becoming deeper, passionate. It barely takes five thrusts before he’s groaning, throwing his head back and letting out a low moan as he spills himself into you. The warmth is enough to send your cunt into flutters, clenching so tightly as your body falls into his chest, whining as you feel a gush of wetness drip onto his crotch. 

Undoubtedly, Carlos Sainz is now a part of you. Time seems to flicker between seconds and minutes, at some point you’ve shifted your weight, turning around to fix your eyes onto the television screen of his room, eyes wide as you watch your husband continue to battle out on the track. It felt almost sinful; watching Charles battle for his podium whilst his teammate stayed buried inside of you. 

His touch goes soft; one hand remains tight around your waist, though your back is warmed by the way you’re pulled back into his skin. Feather-Light kisses dance across your shoulder, he’s never been this soft, cradling you as if the world would be held together by your content. If the universe was to implode, he would be happy with the fact you were pressed into him in that very moment. 

The laps of the race begin to dwindle; a promising second-place is looking pretty much secured for Charles. You’re certain that your silver trophy will be sitting proudly in the hotel room later that evening, until Max Verstappen suddenly begins to slow down, commentators beginning to roar as an unexpected engine issue splutters into the RB19. 

“Holy shit.” Carlos murmurs, sitting up from his relaxed position, both arms now tightly around your waist as he shifts the balance of your bodies. “What happened to Max?” His voice becomes a murmur, your attention drifts, focused on the cars beginning to pick up their speed against the current world champion. 

Goosebumps litter your skin, you immediately pull away from the warmth of Carlos, eyes wide as you see the scarlet red car glide into view. He’s going to overtake Max. Not only that, but your husband is about to win the entire race. 

An audible groan comes from both of you when you slip yourself off his length, searching around for the panties which had been discarded oh-so-long ago; the man rests a hand on your shoulder, one hand tracing across your jawline as the other reaches down, gently smoothing the skirt of your long dress. 

“We’ll find them later. We need to go and congratulate your husband, after all.” You can’t miss the cockiness in his voice, still content with the fact his cum is buried deep inside your pussy, panties are left in his driver’s room as a sheer prize for being able to make you feel euphoric. A tinted blush decorates your cheeks as he slips into his old jeans and a Ferrari polo shirt, one hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you out of his driver’s room, never once bothering to fix his hair when you had been the one to grab onto it so tightly.

People wouldn’t think that of him, after all. 

You love to be loved. 

Your eyes are brimming with tears as you reach Parc Fermé, Carlos finally catching up with you, standing right behind you at the barrier, eyes transfixed onto his teammate, standing atop of his livery, cheering towards the endless roars of the crowd, passing a congratulatory message towards his fellow drivers, Lewis patting his back, Lando cheering on his behalf.

He’s already removed his helmet when he sprints towards his team; the losses don’t matter, not when he can celebrate the win he had been craving for so, so long. There are praises passed, pats on the back as he works his way down the winding line of his team, red in their clothes and their cheeks, it means the world to everybody. 

And then, Charles is facing you, his wife. He’s so transfixed upon your gaze, the sheer elation you have for his victory that he doesn’t stop to think when he takes two of his hands on either side of your face, cradling your cheeks as he presses his lips to yours, grinning into such a sweet kiss that you can’t help but kiss him back. 

“I told you.” He whispers when he pulls away from you, resting a gentle hand on your cheek for just a moment. His eyes finally turned to where his teammate was standing. Both of them have to forge a smile as they reach out to clasp hands, a firm grip in celebration of scoring points for their team. 

You don’t see him again, not until he’s left the cool-down room and is bounding towards the podium. Carlos, having not been called to his post-race interview yet, still stood behind you, though one hand had snaked its way around your waist, as if it had to be there. Nobody notices, of course. The team is too focused upon their driver lifting his golden trophy, in awe of the achievement they had built for seemingly the entire season.

Charles doesn’t miss it, of course. Maybe that’s why his gaze is so fixed on you when he releases a splash of champagne, purposely aiming his bottle towards the man behind you, his heart only crushing further when he sees the Spaniard pull your frame behind his own in protection. 

And then, it’s all over. Both Carlos and Charles are rushed away to complete their post-race interviews. You’re left alone, simply taking a slow walk towards the Ferrari Hospitality. Even as you pace through the crowds, you can’t help but feel…sick. Dizzy. Out-of-body. 

You cared for your husband greatly, and somewhere during it all, you believed his apology was genuine, that he truly wanted to fix the previous mistakes of the year. But how long would his tether last until his mistress came trailing back, regardless of a court ruling?

And Carlos. The sweet man who had proved to you time and time again, you were worth more than a simple name on a piece of paper. He’d been your soul, you truly were set to drop an entire marriage to live in his arms until his blonde counterpart came along, a knife to the chest after one of the most intimate nights you could fathom. 

Your breathing gets faster, the world begins to turn on an axis. From somewhere, you hear a voice asking if you’re okay, if you need help getting back to the hospitality. And then, the world goes black, your body slumps to the floor of the paddock, with only one sentence drifting through your unconscious mind.

Who do you love? 

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