#you are such a precious friend to me thank you for literally being by my side through thick and thin i'll never repay you <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[sweetpupii]

tw: non-con, somno, fingering & cunnilingus ( r!receiving ), reader cries just a little, praising, overstimulation, abby being the sweetest girl ever ( pretty ironic ) | 1.6k words.

having long nails is great.

they look cute, you can match them with your outfit and your makeup, you get some compliments, they're amazing at scratching and all that.

“wanna know what's frustrating though?” you start, mindlessly scrolling on your phone while abby looks at your new set of nails, her own unmanicured hand holding yours. “not to be, you know, nasty but I feel like I'm gonna slash my pussy open if I try to stick a finger in there the wrong way.”

only a low hum of agreement can be heard from the blonde as she leans back against the couch of your shared apartment, tracing the design that's beautifully decorating the nail on your middle finger. yeah, that looks like it would hurt real bad.

“then get a toy. there is more stuff you can use.”

“of course I know that, but I don't have time either. at this point I feel like a nun!” a ( kinda whiny ) sigh escaping your lips at the mere thought of all the weeks spent unsatisfied. coming home late and tired didn't give you much time to even grab a toy like abby suggested.

but luckily, you have a very thoughtful roommate!

this woman would do anything—and I mean anything—to see you happy because that's what friends are for. helping and supporting each other during tough times and, let me tell you, being sexually frustrated definitely counts as one.

“abby? what the fu—mhggm” her hand quickly went over your mouth to stop your protests to get louder and more panicked while the other worked to keep your legs and arms from pushing her face away. why are you acting so surprised to see her in between your legs when she's just trying to help? it's not like you would be able to push her away but jeez, didn't expect such an ungrateful response.

yes, she woke you up by making out with your pussy but you were basically asking for it earlier.

“gonna make you feel good.” she promised before she kept lapping at your cunt like a starved woman. slurping you up like you're her favorite dish. feeling the vibration of your desperate, muffled sounds against her palm made her speak again. “shh, I won't hurt you.”

taking off your underwear while you sleep, holding you down, forcing your mouth shut and your legs open doesn't hurt! not if you stay still, at least.

her plan was simple.

if she made you feel good by eating you out, using her own fingers to reach places you currently couldn't ( and probably have never been able to ) reach while you slept then you would surely wake up in a good mood and thank her with that precious smile of yours and maybe even a kiss.

but noooo, you decided to wake up in the middle of it and panic. ugh, just when your body was responding so well to her touch. she had seen the way your cunt was glistening when she started to slowly kiss it. the moonlight slipping through your curtains making the sight even prettier, and she'll be lying if she said the thought of taking a picture didn't cross her mind.

but a little crying from you won't stop her, even if she feels the hot tears against her skin.

she's still holding your legs open so she can continue to suck and lick at your clit, tongue tracing each fold and sensitive bit. your hips bucking into her face—but she's not sure if you're liking it and want more or you're trying to push her away.

“don't scream, okay baby?” she whispered against the soft skin on your inner thigh, peppering small kisses, while looking up at your watery eyes, “I'll be so gentle. trust me.”

actually, what other choice do you have? this woman can literally bench press 205 lbs. you get on her bad side and a single smack takes you back to your mother's womb. she has a mean right hook too, those punching bags stand no chance.

but again, it's abby who we're talking about.

the blondie that cuddles you to sleep anytime your bed feels too cold, who makes stupid jokes to cheer you up even if she cringes so fucking hard immediately after, who lets you try to count every freckle on her skin without even asking why, who can listen to you talk for hours and pay attention to every word, the one that drunkenly tells you how glad she is that you're her roommate and friend while kissing your shoulder even if deep down she wishes for more than that and stares at you as if you are the most important thing in the world—because to her you truly are.

so maybe she really just wants to make you feel good...

the second the fear and confusion in your eyes turns into something more calm, seeing the slow nod of your head, the small hiccup and your legs no longer struggling, she pulls her hand away from your mouth to trace the other set of lips, gathering the mixture of her saliva and your fluids on her fingertips before gently pushing one inside. “there we go…nice and slow.”

she might've been wrong for not asking first but how was she supposed to resist the feeling of your warm, tight walls squeezing her fingers just right as she curls them inside. soaking her knuckles in a shiny coat of stickiness that makes her want to dive in face first again and taste it until it becomes the only flavor she'll ever remember.

once she's sure that you're wet and comfortable enough, another thick digit slides in, the stretch earning a moan from you that has abby feeling like angels are singing and welcoming her to heaven. god, she has waited for so long to hear those sounds out of your lips—sounds caused by her, not your vibrator nor whoever you used to invite over thinking you two were quiet. ( she could hear you every.single.time… and honestly? it was so good to get a free show. )

even if her pace was somewhat slow, the thrusts of her fingers still managed to produce soft, wet noises that filled the room as they combined with your heavy breathing.

“told you I'd be gentle.” she cooed against your abdomen, trailing her kisses up your torso until she finally reached your lips. the same lips she has been dreaming of kissing since she moved in, since she first saw you smile, since you finally laughed at something she said, since the first time she saw them in a pretty shade of lipgloss. it's better than she ever imagined and she knows she'll ask ( beg ) for more from now on.

she's head over heels if you couldn't tell already.

“a warning would've been nice.” your quiet words bring a sheepish smile to abby’s face as she sighs, pulling her face away just a little, “sorry, you looked so stressed lately, I figured you wouldn't mind…”

abby aims to please even if she doesn't realize how bad her impulsive thoughts are before she acts on them. but look at the bright side; from now on you have a girl who's willing to drop to her knees and bury her face between your thighs at your own home almost 24/7!

after a bit, she starts to notice that the clenching and throbbing around her fingers gets more frequent and your moans louder, meaning she can finally speed up the pace. burying herself deep into your cunt to reach all the perfect spots she knows you've been missing. “fuck, you're so pretty. I wish you could see yourself…dripping all over the bed.”

she’s breathless as if she was the one getting touched, her own underwear damp just from seeing and pleasing you. can you blame her? she feels like a child on christmas morning.

“that's it, doing so good.”

oh, how she adores the way your hips tremble underneath her. making a mess on your bed sheets as you throw your head back—which she takes as an invitation and buries her face there. inhaling your scent like it's the only thing keeping her alive, like you're the oxygen she needs.

“gonna come? I can barely move my fingers with how tight you are.” liar. no matter how much you squeeze she's pumping them in and out without a single bit of effort. working out daily really pays off in the most satisfying ways. plus, you're too wet and it slides in and out very easily.

and god, her words make the flutter in your lower belly even worse. your hand gripping at her forearm, nails digging so hard she takes it as “it's too much.” when in reality she had fucked you so dumb with her fingers that reaching for abby was purely out of instinct.

she can't even understand the words ( babbles ) coming out of your mouth, all her pussy-drunk mind is able to register is the whiny tone tone in your voice because yes, she's as fucked out as you are.

the loud cry that escaped your puffy lips while repeating her name over and over definitely woke up a neighbor or two and just the thought of it makes abby's ego go up to the roof. who's making the prettiest girl in the building come? abigail motherfucking anderson.

her fingers continue their movements, a bit sloppier than before, but they keep going nonetheless. thumb circling your sensitive clit to add more stimulation.

she shushed your whimpers with soft kisses on your your temple and held you still to keep the overstimulated jerking off hips from pushing her away.

“you can take a little more, you're a big girl.”

and she's an insatiable woman.

masterlist ♡ taglist — @1ckyporcelainbunny @patronagrona

[dirt-str1der]

WHY DID YOU FEEL THE NEED TO TELL ME ABOUT YOUR AROACE SENKU HEADCANON ON MY GAY SENKU AND TRANS REI POST

Just finished Dr Stone Reboot

[sannie-hannie]

Happy birthday to my beloved bestie Rachel (@ohmygoshcheese)

[deesseshesca]

PAC: Why does your partner find u irresistible ?  (18+)

October is about to get real spooky....

Good morning pretty soul ! I am so excited ... IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST 

PILE 1 

9 cups (revere), 10 wands (reverse), Hermit (reverse), Star (reverse)

They find you irresistible because you are boring. Y’all remind me of the beige character in Lazytown. You are probably the mother/father of your group of friends. You rather stay inside than to be the life of the party. You prefer being in a comfy spot with your fav blankie reading a book or even watching anime. Also you don’t mastubate and there is no dark reason nor strong conviction, it doesn't have any effect on you. You don’t really care for it. They find your kinda self control sexy. Plus you are a very logical person and you don’t date around. You also don’t fall for the glitz and glam of the world. The fact that you are not easily entertained and you choose them as yours make them feel wanted. The way you treat them is hella hot.

💌:Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

PILE 2 

5 cups, Queen wands, 7 swords, page of cups

They find your clinginess irresistible. I feel like past lovers often hated how physical you are. I just heard someone say: ‘’Get a life already !’’. But the one you have now loves your hug, kisses, hand holding, hair playing and back rubbing that you keep doing because physical touch is your love language. You are literally a sex symbol pile 2, before you get all self conscious on me … just know that Marilyn Monroe is a sex symbol, so is Kylie Jenner and Angelina Jolie let me throw Esther Jones and Precious (Top model) ,all different symbols and all very much SEX ! So now you can stop comparing yourself to the standard and realize you are born  with it. You have it or you don’t. A lot of y’all reading this have hip dip but baby that bubble butt… hun… let me catch my breath real quick. I feel like a lot of your ‘’wannabe’’ lovers try to get with you just for your body. I’m hearing : ‘’ Cauze 99.9% of this fuckboys can’t fuck me !’’ PERIDOT ! I know that’s right. They think you dumb for not catching their hints but I just heard someone say : ‘’ It's not my fault I refuse to speak the bum language …’’. Just so you know pile 2, I’m taking that iconic statement from you for my next insta post. It does not stop here, y’all be so skillful in the bedroom. Most of y’all have a girly girl aesthetic (even if you are a goth it still has a very feminine touch to it) so people think y’all are pillow princesses/princes. If you are a man it is because you have a clean look to you. But y’all be doing tricks on a dick. I heard  the tiktok sound that goes : ‘’ Bus, club and another club no sleep’’ but for you it be ‘’ handjob , cuddlefuck, doggy and missionary ‘’. So I ask : ‘’ All in one round …’’. Your energy : ‘’I am a ride they won't survive …’’ OK ! PILE 2! I SEE YOU! The sexiest thing of it all is the fact that you are very loyal. Y’all be having your partner as a lock screen, as your profile pic or even on your boxer or panties. If you play video games, you might get your equipment costume with their picture. That together makes you a hottie !

💌: Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

PILE 3 

4 pentacles (reverse), knight wands (reverse), page of wands, 7 pentacles. 

You guys are dangerous. Fucking dangerous. You are the reason  why a love witch is always going to catch a check. People are getting cut ties spell  because of the impact you have on them. You are the soul tie final boss. If you are a owner of dick you are out here hitting it raw having those ladies often older than you thinking maybe a baby with my sneak link ain’t that bad (shake my motherfucking head) . Is not their fault. Is yours. You are out here whispering bullshit but that good bullshit. I’m hearing : ‘’ I’m yours baby …’’, 'Are you almost there princess…’’, ‘’ I know baby, I know it is too much but you can give me one more …’’. Hey ! where y’all think you are going ? Yes, you , women ! Out here making men double your age believe they still got it. What’s irresistible about this group is that y’all are loving lovers. For the women, I am channeling a dilf that you met while traveling. You are out there living life like a Lana Del Rey video clip. You let that man slide it in raw, because for you it is just for fun. Pile 3, you cannot trick me. First y’all don’t use condoms, some of y’all are allergic to it. But you still don’t use birth control out here timing yourself with your natural calendar. God do be having  favorites ! That older man was mesmerized by your moaning and the way you speak some life into their sexual skills. Making them think they're the best. Loving lover + big dick/gripping pussy+smooth talk and sexy moan = Irresistible to the point of insanity .

💌: The lover that I channel for this collective whether it be the girls/boys they are done trying to manifest you back in their life. But they still miss the intimacy your share. Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

[goldfades]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "helloooo! can you write something about reader suspecting paige and azzi’s friendship to be more than a friendship (r and paige are a situationship or sum like that) and just paige reassuring her and saying that she has eyes only for her etc… (paige is literally obsessed with r)? thank you so much 💖💖💖💖💖"

─ word count | 1.3k

─ warnings | hurt to comfort, paige being sassy, reassurance and so much cute fluffy, a singular kiss

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @boiliatfu and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

YOU AND PAIGE had been friends for a while now, but it was just recently you'd been friends... and a little more.

It was something new, something fun and something secret. The only person who knows was KK only because she'd walked in on the two of you kissing, and now she swears she's "traumatized."

The secret relationship (of some sorts) between you and Paige added an exhilarating edge to your friendship. It was a thrill, the stolen glances, the secretive rendezvous, the whispered conversations laden with double meanings. You found yourselves drawn to each other in a way that went beyond friendship, yet you both reveled in the secretive nature of your relationship.

KK's discovery of your secret sent a ripple of panic through both of you at first. But unsurprisingly, she was more supportive than expected, despite her initial shock. After the initial awkwardness wore off, she became your confidante, the one person you could trust with your affair. She teased you both mercilessly, of course, but it was all in good fun.

But beneath the excitement, there was also a hint of panic. Keeping your newfound romance a secret added an element of danger, a thrill that was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. The fear of being discovered lurked in the background, heightening every stolen moment and making each encounter feel all all the more precious.

Yet despite the risks, the connection between you and Paige only seemed to grow stronger. The shared laughter, the stolen kisses, the quiet moments of intimacy — they all served to deepen the bond between you, creating a private world that was uniquely yours.

But of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing.

──

"What do you mean?" Paige's tone had an annoyed edge to it as she sent you a glance. She pulled off a side of her headphones as she kept her eyes glued on the computer screen.

You sighed exasperatedly, sitting up on her bed as you sent her a glare. "What do you think I mean?"

Paige hated when you spoke like that, so secretive and cryptic, like you wanted her to say the wrong thing. She liked things laid out plain and simple, while you preferred to dance around topics, especially ones that felt too vulnerable.

"I don't know, that's why I asked." Paige's voice didn't soften as she spoke, her eyes glancing at you every once in a while. She just had the most tiring practices and the last thing she wanted to do was argue with you.

You huffed, feeling frustrated. "I feel like Azzi has a crush on you or something. I see the way she looks at you, it's like when I look at you — all heart eyes, and shit."

Paige's lips curved into a smirk. "Aww, are you saying you have heart eyes for me?"

"I'm being serious, P." You were frustrated. You hated when you felt insecure, especially in relationships. While Paige never gave you any reason to doubt her, she was just naturally enticing and that's what pulled you to her in the first place.

But that's also why others were so captivated by her. The looks she gets, the way people spoke about her and now the whole TikTok obsession wasn't helping. You hated it — you wanted everyone to know that she was yours, and vice versa.

"Okay, okay." Paige's expression was still very much amused as she glanced toward you. "You know me and Azzi are just friends, we're just really close. I promise you, I'd know if she had a crush on me."

"I have eyes, Paige." You shot back, frustration bubbling in your voice.

You couldn't shake the feeling of insecurity gnawing at you, no matter how much you trusted Paige. The thought of someone else vying for her attention filled you with a sense of unease that you couldn't shake. You also knew that there was still that boundary, you weren't her girlfriend and had no valid reason for you to be jealous.

Paige's eyes widened at your tone. You never called her just by her name, it was some kind of nickname or pet name. She sighed as she pulled her headset off and set it down, turning to face you.

"Hey," Paige began gently, reaching out to take your hand in hers. "You have to believe me when I say there's nothing going on between me and Azzi. She's just a really good friend and she's not into me, and even if she is,"

She paused as she shook her head in amusement at the mere thought. "I don't want her, I want you."

You sighed, still feeling frustrated. "I want to believe you, P. I really do. But it's hard, you know? Seeing how close you two are, and... and knowing that I don't have any claim over you."

She squeezed your hand reassuringly, offering you a small smile. "I know it's not easy, especially when we haven't defined what we are yet. But that doesn't change how I feel about you."

You looked up, meeting her gaze, searching for any sign of deceit. But all you found was sincerity in her eyes.

"I care about you, more than I can put into words," Paige continued softly. "And I want you to feel secure in what we have, even if it's not official. You mean a lot to me."

You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at Paige's words. Despite your doubts, her sincerity shone through, washing away some of your insecurities. Her hand in yours felt warm and comforting, grounding you in the present as you allowed yourself to bask in the affection she offered.

"I trust you, Paige," you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. "And I care about you too, a lot."

"Besides," Paige continued, her tone playful as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. "Who needs Azzi when I've got you? You're the one I can't stop thinking about, the one who drives me crazy in the best possible way."

You couldn't help but chuckle at her words, feeling a rush of affection for the girl sitting beside you. As you leaned in to press a soft kiss to her cheek, Paige's expression shifted, a teasing glint entering her eyes.

"And uh, speaking of claims," she began, her tone teasing as she traced a finger along your jawline. "You know, I've been thinking about you a lot lately. Can't seem to get you out of my head."

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "Oh, really? And what exactly have you been thinking about?"

Paige leaned in closer, her lips brushing against yours as she whispered, "Just how lucky I am to have you in my life. And how much I want to make you mine, officially."

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, warmth spreading through you at the intensity of her gaze. In that moment, any lingering doubts melted away, leaving only the affection you'd felt for Paige.

"But not right now 'cus this isn't as romantic as I want," she continued as you scoffed playfully. You leaned away slightly only to be pulled back by the blonde.

Paige's playful smirk widened as she pulled you back towards her. "Hey, don't pout. I promise when the time comes, it'll be unforgettable."

"So, you're really going to make me wait?" you teased, a grin spreading across your face as you leaned into her touch.

Paige smirked, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I want it to be perfect, baby. But for now," she added, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, "just know that I'm all yours."

The warmth of her lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a spark of desire within you. "I'll hold you to that," you murmured against her lips, feeling a surge of affection for the woman in front of you.

Paige smiled against your lips, her fingers tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[moonlit-stay]

· . * · ° ☆ Stray Kids Texts

· . * · ° ☆ Jealousy With OT8: Chapter Three

☆ Pairing: Stray Kids (OT8) x Female Reader

☆ Genre: Angst, Fluff, and Smut

☆ Screenshot Count: 16

☆ Warnings: best friend!stray kids, best friends to lovers, lots of mutual pinning, jealous confessions, slight possessiveness, slight arguments, mentions of cumming in Hyunjin's, they all kinda allude to sex at some point or another, non-stray kids men mentioned in all plots (all fictional with, uh, literally no names)

☆ Other Warnings: very brief mention of food in Chan's

☆ Please let me know if I missed anything

If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything written in all of my work is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

Sixth request/suggestion <3

Special lil thank you to my moot @hanji-coffee for suggesting this ! I appreciate your interaction, interest, and support so much <33

Enjoy :)

· . * · ° ☆ Chan ♡

· . * · ° ☆ Minho ♡

· . * · ° ☆ Changbin ♡

· . * · ° ☆ Hyunjin ♡

· . * · ° ☆ Jisung ♡

· . * · ° ☆ Felix ♡

· . * · ° ☆ Seungmin ♡

· . * · ° ☆ Jeongin ♡

Happy New Year, Loves <8

☆ Main Masterlist

☆ Stray Kids Masterlist

☆ Author's Note !

I cannot believe it's already 2025🫠

With that being said, I hope this upcoming year treats you well, regardless of what 2024 gave you, good and bad alike. I hope you all have an amazing year filled with nothing but happiness, love, support, and endless opportunities to do the things you love and what makes you happy!!

Don't forget to put yourself first, love on the people who love on you, and trust only the people who have proven they can be trusted. Your time and energy are precious, be picky🤍

Side note: I went a little insane with this one. I was NOT planning on writing this much. I'm not sorry🫶🏻

Also, rumor has it that Bin's dialogue sounds very similar to things I've said to my best friend before🙃🙃

☆ Taglist !

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll @ka0ila @hanji-coffee @pixie-felix

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist !

☆ Extras !

©2021 - 2024 all rights are reserved to @moonlit-stay Stealing, Reposting, Copying, Translating, Plagiarizing, and Modifying any and all of my work is strictly prohibited.

Released: January 1st, 2025

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: Mitski, what about me is eternal like the.. moon?

I had so much fun doing this

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 1:

'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love mine, mine, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love is mine, all mine, all mine

I'm sitting right in front of your cards in utter awe. I got goosebumps when I laid eyes on your cards, pile 1. Let me begin by saying this: you've seen some DARK and truly terrible times, haven't ya? Even as I say this, it feels like an understatement. There have been times when you were stripped down to bare bones, and you had to "grow back the rest of you." I apologize for the gruesome metaphor (but hey, I'm just the messenger; this ain't really coming from me :p). Maybe you've had to encounter times when you felt painfully lonely, stuck in your head and in your general life too, like your spirit was beaten down. Or maybe it felt as if the universe snatched away something you thought was incredibly precious? But I hear that it wasn't what you thought it was; that's why it had to go. You probably didn't see it that way at all, and THAT'S ALRIGHT because we don't have Spirit's perspective, now do we? I see that you really struggled to put yourself together after that somewhat 'impossible-seeming' loss. It seemed like it came outta left field.

BUT GUESS THE FUCK WHAT. You, my friend, took this PAIN and these fucked up times and turned it into a damn palace of gold. You read that right. What's eternal about you? Your alchemy. Your fire. Your willpower. Your ability to take life by the balls. Your refusal to let it beat you to dust. Your refusal to be small. Literal goosebumps, you feeling it yet? It's your connection to God/Source/Universe. Your faith. Your mastery of your mind, babe. Yeah. You've somehow mastered your mind in this process of putting yourself back together. Acknowledge that ish! 'Cause you really did do that.

Nothing can ever get you to stop dreaming, and much less trying to stop you from achieving them, love. You're a powerhouse of energy, and God bless anybody who ever underestimates that (you included side-eyeing you right now). Not you getting low key called out, haha.

Don't get me wrong, though; being a powerhouse of energy doesn't necessarily mean being in everybody's face trying to assert your dominance, y'know? It can look like silent crying in the middle of the night and waking up the next day determined to overcome the thing that made you cry the day before.

Your light is what's eternal about you. It never goes off. Like ever. Your dedication to learning and growing through whatever, and I mean WHATEVER, life throws your way is what will never die, sweetie. It's like a part of your essence at this point. I hope you're proud of that and know that it's what will bring you to your success in life, whatever that looks like for each one of you beautiful ass people reading this :)

Haha, that's so cute; I just heard Spirit go "you're going places, sweetheart" ><

And with that, let's end your FABULOUS, goosebumps-inducing (btw, I don't say that about just ANYTHING), and awe-inspiring reading here.

Thank you, pile 1, for sharing your energy with me today. I love you guys so, so much and… not gonna lie, I'm low key honored to have been in your presence today. Haha, see ya!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 2:

My baby, here on earth Showed me what my heart was worth So, when it comes to be my turn Could you shine it down here for her?

My god, why is there so much happening as I tap into your energy, pile 2? And I mean it in a nice way, though. I heard T Swift's song "The Last Great American Dynasty" as I was shuffling for you, and I heard Spirit go, "she's sweet and salty," lol. We'll see how all that plays into the reading eventually.

The first thing I noticed was your incredible balance within your mind and heart. It's shocking. Maybe you've been working on getting these aspects of yours to agree with one another and balance each other out, or it's simply your personality, but… pile 2, this beautiful mind-heart balance is what's eternal about you, love. Your peace. Your calm. The childlike innocence of your heart blending seamlessly with your mind's unending curiosity for life. Your emotional intelligence. The way you flow… like water, I heard. Wow! I find that so amazing, ugh, like can we be friends, pile 2? T-T, 'cause I definitely need some of that in my life right now, not gonna lie, haha.

There's that AND then there's a whole other dimension to you where you give 'life of the party' vibes as well. OH, so maybe that's why I heard Spirit say "sweet and salty," like two very different things but produce a wonderful taste together. Complex. Addicting. You make people want to come back for more, pile 2. Mmmmmm! Love that!

You have this laid-back vibe to you as well that a lot of people in your life appreciate. I see that your ability to lighten anybody's day is what's eternal about you awwww. I heard "she's the sunshine of my life." UGH, this is too wholesome for my heart; please save me. You seem to really perk up people's day/week or just life in general. You give, like, Saggi vibes, bro. It doesn't matter if you have that in your chart, but it's just your soul. The eternal aspect of you feels bright, expansive, loving, and so vibrant in energy, my god. You've also got strong feminine energy too… you must be really good at attracting 'cause you're strong in your feminine energy AND you're chill and detached from it at the same time. Effortless manifester, master manifester are some words that come to mind as I describe this.

Your divinity is what's eternal about you. Your 'witchy vibes.' Your embodiment of your highest truth. Your commitment to maintaining this divine connection in your day-to-day. Bro, what's eternal about you is that you can turn any old mundane task/thing into something fun and magical and full of meaning and symbolism. You live life deep, and even though there aren't a whole lotta people who can join you there, you wouldn't have it any other way. It's your raw authenticity, babe. Circling back to "The Last Great American Dynasty" song, maybe you're like Rebekah that T Swift sings about, "the most shameless woman this town has ever seen." People tend to call raw, authentic women shameless, but you couldn't care less. You will forever do what you like 'cause you're a free-spirited divine mystic in the body of a teeny lil human. Love it.

That's all I have for you, pile 2. Thank you for spending time with me! I love you so much <3

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 3:

Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you? So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you?

Ah, my divine activators. What's eternal about you? Your intensity. BS detection might as well be your middle name. Sherlock Holmes who? 'Cause you're the new detective in town, baby, sniffing out illusions, falsities, fake people, LIES, victim mentality. None of that runs free with you around, I'll tell you that. It's your capacity to hold divine truth, lovingly, which is INCREDIBLY hard, btw. You can't stand half-assed people and people who seem to not have their "heads screwed on straight." Lmao, what kinda people are you surrounded by, pile 3? Ooh, I heard that you're divinely planted where you are so you can activate a lot of people into awakening to their true selves, but it looks like nobody wants to actually awaken. Lmao.

-Side note: My heart goes out to you if you've been surrounded by really difficult and chaotic energies that bring you down a lot. That SUCKS so hard, bro. Been there myself too lately, and it's not a fun merry-go-round to co-exist with. Just keep being your amazing cool-ass self, ok? Things will work out eventually. You already intuitively feel that things will get better, so trust that feeling!-

If I could describe your energy, I would use the Phoenix rising from the ashes symbolism to do so. Ohhhhh, as I told you that, I saw a vision of T Swift's music video of "Look What You Made Me Do," where she comes out of the grave and sings, "Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time." I'm a fan, pile 3. Omg. That's some badass ballsy energy, and I'm so here for it right now. You're the epitome of what psychological death and rebirth looks like. You're the textbook definition. And THAT'S what's eternal about you. No matter where you are or what you end up doing in life, you'll always be able to "rise up from the dead" and do it iconically too. Haha, I literally heard that. Lmao. This ability of yours is an extension of the greater aspect of you - your higher self. Whoa… I just heard you've had this ability for lifetimes and you will take it strongly with you to the next ones as well. Powerful. It's etched in your soul, pile 3. You know what you want and how to get it, even if not immediately; you always do eventually. It's the security you possess within yourself that's eternal, love. Nothing can really shake you at this point. Lmao. You've got a strong-ass foundation.

-Side note: I'm really seeing a healed and fully realized root chakra for you. If you haven't gotten there yet, you're well on your way! Good job! Root chakra work is the most brutal, btw, so… you really have my respect. Haha, moving on-

You have warrior energy present quietly in your personality as well. You give spiritual warrior vibes. You don't prefer to live in it 24/7; it's simply something you tap into when a situation calls for it. Otherwise, I see you being quite heart-centered, full of love, looking at the world with rose-colored glasses. Your inner child is what's eternal about you. Your divine sensitivity and your capacity to hold your emotions without judgment and live big from a place of heart. You embody the energy of water in my eyes, tbh. Life-giving but also destructive if need be, and there's absolutely nothing weak about water. Phew. You are eternal as the oceans are.

Ahhh, pile 3, that was sooo much fun! Thanks for stopping by, and I love you soooo much!

~~~~~~~~~~~

[love-belle]

this is what it feels like !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which she writes a song about her friendship and everyone loves that.

or

for when you find your platonic soulmate. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - so sorry for not posting in the last few days, i've been working on my files and all so yeah!!! anyways, i hope you like it. thank you so much for reading, i love you.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by pierregasly, carmenmmundt, francisca.cgomes and 976,525 others

yourusername this woman may push me off the couch and bully me and take my food but she's a really good friend and i kinda love her to death so 'feels like' out now or wtv. kika, ur cool.

tagged francisca.cgomes

8,627 comments

username HELLO OMG

username GOODBYE.

username i love them so much 😭😭😭😭😭

pierregasly love the song. the singer not so much.

-> yourusername ur gf does and that's all i could ask for tbh

username i fucking love for this duo

username they're so precious to me like actually

username 😭met😭u😭at😭the😭right😭time😭this😭is😭what😭it😭feels😭like😭

username need a friend like her asap.

username the fact that their bfs are also best friends is just so perfect

username OH MY GOD

charles_leclerc would've preferred it if this was about me but ok.

-> francisca.cgomes she literally wrote a whole album for u let me have this one

-> charles_leclerc no.

-> yourusername i love you both ❤️‍🩹 (kika im writing an album as we speak rn)

username not all love stories are romantic ❤️

*liked by yourusername and francisca.cgomes*

francisca.cgomes y/n ur cool

-> yourusername i know thank u

francisca.cgomes this song is a bop

-> yourusername thank u

francisca.cgomes all jokes aside THANK U LIKE???? i love you so much, you're fr my best and im so glad i have u in my life 🫶🏼 thank you for making everything better with just a smile

-> yourusername KIKA STOP OMG 😭😭😭 i love you so much like ur one of my favourite people and i adore u so much ❤️

username they're so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username their friendship means so much to me 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 854,326 others

francisca.cgomes living in a movie i've watched

tagged yourusername

7,427 comments

username i love this omg ☹️☹️☹️☹️

username at this im convinced that they love each other more than they love their bfs

*liked by francisca.cgomes*

username it's a want.

pierregasly my fav person in the whole world and then it's just y/n

-> yourusername this is exactly why i have you saved as "kika's bf" in my phone

-> francisca.cgomes HELP

username y/n and pierre hate each other with so much dedication im in love

-> francisca.cgomes they're actually best friencs

-> yourusername lies

-> pierregasly she just bullies me

username these two ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

carmenmmundt love u both 💌💌💌

*liked by yourusername and francisca.cgomes*

username girls friendships are so precious like it's so pure

charles_leclerc please return my gf

-> francisca.cgomes no ❤️

-> yourusername u heard what she said

-> charles_leclerc all your fault. pierregasly

-> pierregasly STOP NO IT'S NOT

username i just know charles and pierre regret introducing these two

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 975,365 others

charles_leclerc she does love me ❤️

tagged yourusername

8,527 comments

username HELP

username these two omg

username THESE BITCHES MAKE ME CRY LIKE STOP BEING SO IN LOVE IT'S HARD FOR ME

username god has been kind to others

pierregasly disgusting

-> charles_leclerc i don't care ❤️

username y/n finally making time for her side hoe

*liked by yourusername and francisca.cgomes*

username i can't do this today.

username im happy for them *cries*

francisca.cgomes let go of my wife thank u

-> charles_leclerc my* wife, soon anyway

-> yourusername CHARLES MARC HERVÉ PERCEVAL LECLERC

-> francisca.cgomes THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT YOU'RE ENGAGED

-> pierregasly OH MY GOD

username what the fuck just happened

username i haven't blinked in MINUTES what.

username please tell me my wife did NOT get snatched up by a dude that drives his little red car in circles on weekends

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 988,728 others

yourusername only said yes bc he asked nicely ❤️ but fr, me and him, it's a forever thing now. i love you so much, my love, thank you for everything. truly cannot wait to annoy you for the rest of our lives.

tagged charles_leclerc

9,367 others

username SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT.

username GOODNIGHT.

username on the highway if anyone asks.

username time to take a toaster bath

lewishamilton ❤️

*liked by yourusername*

username omg 😭😭😭😭😭

username the fact that we found out through comments on kika's post is CRAZY

-> username it feels like a fever dream

username "me and him, it's a forever thing" DECEASED.

pierregasly still mad about how we found out

-> yourusername stay mad (we were on our way to your house)

-> pierregasly i will (come over and bring something to eat)

-> yourusername ok. (im literally in your living room rn)

username this whole friendship is so fucking clueless and chaotic like

username i love them so much ://///

lilymhe my favs ❤️❤️❤️

*liked by yourusername*

username can't wait for the wedding omg the photos are gonna EAT

francisca.cgomes heartbroken betrayed wounded crying screaming throwing up sliding down the wall bashing my head

-> yourusername i can see u giggle while typing this

-> francisca.cgomes let me have my moment look away

francisca.cgomes after all we've been through

-> yourusername for what it's worth, you will always be my no. 1

-> charles_leclerc it's worth nothing.

-> francisca.cgomes go and cry about your fiancée loving me more than you

username THEY'RE SO ❤️

username god i am done.

[forteafy]

Where Do We Go? | CL16 & CS55

Summary: Charles will do anything to fix his marriage with you, Carlos will do anything to prove you're worth more. The question is where do you go between the two men fighting for your affection?

Word Count: 9.7k

Warnings: angst, a lotta angst, cheating, light smut, character death.

Note: You all really wanted a Part 2 to this one, and of course, I wanted to deliver! This is a little bit more angsty, we’re trying to save a relationship, after all. Or…are we? Also, a massive thank you to @formulaforza for proof-reading this for me and pulling me up on my addiction to italics; my brain is literally jelly right now. Enjoy, everybody!

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

Carlos Sainz is a best friend. 

Best friends, however, do not text a love confession to one another in the hours of a rising sun, especially not when their declaration is to a woman who is wrapped up in the arms of her husband. 

The confession had run cold through your veins; if it hadn’t been for the sheer exhaustion taking over your body from the events of the past 48 hours, you were certain you would have been up the entire night, contemplating the words he had sent to you. He wasn’t drunk; far from it, the man had driven you down the dusky streets to your home mere hours before. Was he lonely? Did he feel sorry for you? More importantly, did he mean those precious words that had lit up your screen?

Eventually, the desire for sleep, for the warmth of your estranged husband’s chest pillowing your back overtakes your body. You hadn’t slept in a bed with him since the last day of your supposed honeymoon; even then, you had slept with an infinite gap between the two of you, cuddling instead into a pillow, rageful tears in your eyes at the realization that this was now your life. 

This was entirely different. Charles pressed into you as if holding you together; his warm breath danced across the nape of your neck, a hand pressed into your stomach, cradling you between the warm blankets and soft cushions you had picked out when decorating your room. You didn’t rouse during the night, the two before had been filled with tears, constantly awakening to call for your mother as if you were a child again, the harsh realization that she wasn’t around anymore. 

When you did wake, the bed was empty. 

You had subconsciously turned in the blankets when you arose, expecting to see the figure of your husband next to you. The pillow was still rumpled, his glasses disappeared from the nightstand, every single trace of him had seemed to evaporate. Clearly, one night next to you had been a big enough mistake in his eyes. 

Instead, your attention turns towards your phone. Silently, you remove the device from its charger, the homescreen being flooded with sympathetic messages and photographs of you arriving at your father’s home. Luckily, no photographs of Carlos picking you up himself had been released; that would have caused a frenzy which wasn’t desired on either side. 

However, his last text to you that evening before still stayed burned into your screen. In curiosity, you’d once again opened the text thread, seeing th

e words stand strong, his confession to his feelings presents for your eyes. He had laid it out so clearly, Carlos Sainz was in love with you. 

But, were you in love with him? You loved your family; you loved the smell of fresh candles. You adored the sounds of the fastest cars in the world racing around a track whilst you watched with ease. Did you categorize your best friend into the love you so carefully crafted? Was the desire you felt for contact solely directed towards him? 

You never had time to answer yourself that morning. Your subconscious state recognised the sound of footsteps; it was most likely Charles, on his way to his own room for some private time. Maybe he’d have his mistress with him, having snuck out of bed early that morning to possibly go and pick her up himself. 

The footsteps get louder, the door to your room opens, much to your confusion. In the doorway, stands your husband. You’ve never seen him like this; a soft smile, hair pushed back by a bandana, glasses resting on the bridge of his small nose. He’s dressed in a soft, grey jumper and matching tracksuit bottoms, fluffy socks warming his feet. In one arm, he cradles a washing bag. Upon closer inspection, you see that it’s your washing from the case you had lugged in the night before, ironed and folded. In his other hand, he holds a steaming mug of tea. 

He looks beautiful like this, almost ethereal. He looks domestic. 

“Good morning.” He speaks gently, as if any sudden sound would hurt you. You looked…so precious, covered in blankets, your pajamas covering your modesty. “I’m sorry I had to leave early. I went to get your washing done and…pick up some tea.” He offers, holding up the bag of washing in confirmation. Charles offers you a smile as walks into the room, placing the pile of clothing on your vanity. Cradling the mug of hot tea in his hand, he walks back over to where you’re now sat up, surrounded by soft furnishings, offering you the drink which you gladly accept. 

It's a mediocre cup of tea at best; the teabag hasn’t diluted properly, there’s too little milk and too much sugar. Yet, the fact he had made the drink himself caused your heart to soften, despite the past twelve months of actions. You offer him a soft ‘thank you,’ as the drink touches your lips. You’re half-expecting him to stand up and leave immediately. Instead, Charles sits himself down on the edge of the bed, making certain he doesn’t sit on your outstretched legs. 

There’s a moment of bliss; you’re somewhat enjoying the drink cradled in your hands, your husband’s eyes trained on your movements. At one moment, he reaches out his hand towards your face. You flinch, not too sure on what was happening, before his palm simply tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t bring your own eye gaze to meet him, simply focusing on the hot drink in your hand. You can’t help but notice the way his shoulders fall, clearly not satisfied with the lack of eye-contact. 

You can’t help it; it’s as if Charles believes with one night wrapped in his arms would solve the past twelve months. You couldn’t forget, not everything that had happened. Your husband had shattered this relationship, well and truly. He could only hope he’d realised in enough time to somehow win you back. Silently, he stands up from the edge of the comforter, walking towards the vanity, beginning to remove the clothing from its basket. It’s… humorous, to see him try and figure out where each category goes. It’s also a stark reminder of how this is ‘your’ room, not ‘our’ room.  

Whilst picking out a rather revealing pair of panties, folding them up and placing them into your draw, he begins to speak again. “What are you doing this afternoon?” His voice is soft, but in the silent room it carries well.

You shrug, before realizing Charles has his back to you. “I’m…nothing much.” You cut yourself off, placing the cup of tea on your bedside table, letting your hands pull up the comforter a little higher. “My father is going to the funeral parlor today.” Are you…having a conversation with your husband? “How about you?”

“I have lunch with the Ferrari team this afternoon. Nothing serious, just a talk on the next part of the season.” He explains. Charles isn’t stupid; he knows despite your father’s input that you constantly worry about his job. Not because you care about his fame, wealth or power; you care about him. 

“I was,” he takes a breath. “I was wondering if you would like to come along.” 

You feel goosebumps prickle across your exposed skin. Charles Leclerc never invited you to his lunches. He’d always have a reason as to why his darling Mrs. Leclerc could never attend their lunch meetings alongside him. The only time you’d ever appear by his side, fingers harshly interlinked and a cold barrier between you both was when your father insisted upon it. He wouldn’t be there today, there was no way he’d be present for any form of meeting for a while now. 

“You don’t have to, of course.” His explanation runs further. “I know it might be too much for you now. I just thought…maybe we could go for a drive after. Carlos and Xavi will be there, you’ll know some of the others from the Paddock…” His voice trails off in your mind. It had started to  the moment he had said the Spaniards name. 

Were you… ready to see Carlos? The day after a text message you had never thought you’d see. Would he acknowledge the message, was it a drunken mistake? Most importantly, did you want him to love you? 

When you come back out of your trail of thoughts, Charles is still talking, carefully hanging one of your summer dresses onto a velvet coat hanger. He takes a moment to brush the fabric under his fingertips, feeling the soft cotton under his touch. He’s so gentle. The touch is almost identical to the way he had held you mere hours ago.

“I’ll come.” You cut him off, watching as his head snaps in your direction, eyes bright underneath his glasses. “Yeah. It will be…nice.” You finish your sentence, trying not to ramble or to float off topic. Charles’ eyes are still bright, elated you had decided to come alongside him. All he had to do now was fix every other mistake spanning over twelve months. 

Carlos Sainz is a red-wine gentleman. 

You’d immediately spotted him the moment you had entered the waterside restaurant; his back was to the entrance, but you’d recognise the powdered blue shirt and dark wisps of hair in any circumstance. You could have just walked over, stood next to him and ordered a drink, but your fingers stayed tightly interlocked with your husbands, a force of habit in public at the current rate. 

However, his grasp, like the entirety of his actions over the past twenty-four hours, was different. Charles’ thumb gently stroked over your knuckle, his fingers gently resting against yours instead of the firm grip he usually held for the sake of actions. He’d taken a moment to look at you before entering the building, something he’d never done in the past, simply having dragged you into whatever location instead. It was as if his eyes told you a million things; that he had your back and the moment you wanted to leave, he was right behind you. 

The moment you’re in the presence of company, the façade still comes alive, the act you had been creating for all this time is still a force of habit. Charles’ hand comes around your waist, greeting the many members of the Scuderia Ferrari team, thanking them for his time and attention to the matter. As always, you tactfully excuse yourself from the side of your husband, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and removing yourself from the crowd. Usually, he wouldn’t so much as flinch from the chaste action, but you don’t miss his eyes longing for you to stay this time. 

Instead, your heel-clad feet press through the tiles of the place, making advancements towards the white marbled-bar. You receive a nod from the friendly-looking gentleman mixing cocktails, a silent signal to let him know when you’re ready. Maybe you stand too close to Carlos, so much so that you can smell his cologne, you can feel his body warmth radiating through that shirt. It doesn’t take long for him to notice your presence, his eyes widening upon the realization that it was, in fact, you–the woman he had confessed his feelings to less than twelve hours ago. 

“I didn’t realize you’d be here, Mariposa,” he taunts, pulling you into his side. You’re grinning immediately, happy to be reunited with your close friend after how he had left you last night, promising he’d be there if you needed anything. “Come to make sure your husband behaves?” 

“No. I came to see how his teammate is behaving.” You let him ponder for a moment, but he realizes, the blush growing from his neck to his cheeks. “I’m a married woman, Carlos.” You remind him but make no attempt to move further away. The idea is completely eradicated when his hand comes out to rest on the small of your back. His eyes are still fixed on you. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not fair to you. He couldn’t care less about his teammate’s position, the way he’s treated you all this time leaves a sour taste on his tongue. 

“Your marital status doesn’t change the way I feel for you.” He thinks back to that moment in the ocean. What on Earth would be happening if he had kissed you at that moment? He could never be certain, but something tells him you’d be his date to this luncheon right now. Sighing, Carlos turns to face you directly, the bottle of wine he had originally come to pick up having been left on the counter. 

“I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to respond.” He tries to keep his breathing calm, your presence practically overpowering him. “But...I would love to take you out for a date sometime. A proper date. With flowers and dinner and being able to make you smile.” Your heart is softening by the moment with the Spaniard’s pleads of everything your husband had never given you. “Would you like that?” 

“I would.” You don’t even have to think of your response. “I would like that, Carlos.” At that moment, your estranged husband is the last thought of your mind; instead it’s overpowered by the fantasies of a date with the man standing in front of you. This time, Carlos can’t help the grin on his lips, reaching for the bottle of red wine on the bar. His careful hands carefully unlatch the stopper, the liquid hitting two crystal glasses, one of which he passes to you.

“Well, shall we toast the idea, no?” he holds up the glass delicately, to which you raise your own, grinning at the satisfying sound of clinking crockery. When you take a sip of the rich red, you’re blissfully unaware of your husband’s eyes; the ones which are never attached to you, but in that moment, don’t want to focus on anything else. Nobody misses the way he purposely sits between yourself and his teammate, fingers interlocked into yours tightly, the occasional kiss on the temple of your head. 

You were his wife, after all. 

Carlos Sainz is a brilliant cook. 

The intimacy between yourself and your husband had oddly grown within the past week. To start, his messages became more frequent, checking in when he couldn’t be at the house. Your pantry had stocked overnight, begging for your home cooking whenever he could be there to sample it. Most importantly, the interaction. You’d been hesitant to even let your husband touch you in the beginning. You had kept it simple, a hug before you’d headed off to bed in your room, (sleeping in the same bed as him had been that one-off.) His arms would find their way onto your waist if you were cooking, his fingers would tuck a lock of hair behind your ear when you found yourself engrossed in studies. 

Your husband had been elated when you had spoken to him two days before he was due to leave for Qatar, announcing you would like to attend alongside him; it was also your father’s wishes to attend that race, wanting to signal to his fellow associates that he was okay, that you could pass on a message from your family. Charles’ eyes had glossed over with happiness, taking your hand in his own, pressing a kiss to the back of your knuckles. 

You were ready for your entrance to the Paddock 72 hours later; after arriving in Qatar, you’d barely seen anything from the transport from his jet to the hotel. Your eyes had grown heavy the moment your feet were removed from their shoes, two large beds welcoming you with their soft blankets and heavy pillows. (He’d made sure to give you the sleeping space that you needed.) Charles’ heart had softened when he’d seen you curl into one bed. When he returned from the bathroom, you were out like a light. 

It didn’t stop him from gently rubbing a makeup wipe over your features, knowing you’d regret your lack of attention to appearance in the morning. Hesitantly, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your hairline, one hand stroking over the back of your head before he returns to unpacking both yours and his suitcase. 

You had been hesitant of attending the Paddock alongside Charles that morning, not because you were worried of the bombarding questions. No, this was the first time you had attended the paddock with a husband who seemed comforted by your presence. His heart felt gentle when he saw you look out of the front windscreen, eyes transfixed on the countless photographers standing by the barriers. Immediately, his hand finds yours, resting atop your thigh, the hot weather pleading for a cooler outfit. 

“You don’t have to do this.” He removes his sunglasses, those ocean eyes finding your own. “You can wait here, or I can have somebody drive you back to the hotel now.” He promises, the worry flickering over his face. Your hand removes itself from his firm grasp, instead reaching forward and resting your hand on his bristled cheek. 

“I’m okay.” You promise him, thumb dancing over his soft cheekbone. He offers you a soft smile, eyelashes fluttering as your face gets closer to his; you have no panic leaning over the console of the hire-car, gently pressing a warm kiss to the cheek your hand wasn’t resting upon. You can’t help but hesitate when you pull back from his face, lingering within mere millimeters of his lips for a long moment; you could just lean forward, press your lips to his and give into all those nights you had dreamed of. But this wasn’t a dream; this was your husband whom you needed to fix a relationship with first. 

Charles isn’t going to lean forward and kiss you himself, not until the signals you are giving him are crystal clear. Instead, he presses his forehead close to yours, tips of your noses gently brushing against one another before he steps out of the car, and you’re quick to follow. 

This time, he doesn’t walk in silence, ignoring your presence. Instead, as the two of you flash your paddock passes towards the security guards, he’s openly commenting on different happenings around Media Day, both of you falling into giggles upon seeing Toto Wolff’s broken arm; he was truly beginning to become an icon at the local emergency room. You’re happy. Subdued in a bubble alongside your husband, hands interlocked as you work your way through the paddock. 

You’ve never experienced such a harsh blow to reality when you see an all-too-familiar figure lurking outside of the Williams Racing building. Her hair is shorter, her skirt is skimpier and a ghastly color. However, she still looks beautiful. She is undoubtedly the woman you’ve fought and lost your husband’s affection from, his mistress. 

Charles seems to clock less than a moment after you do, both bodies freezing upon notifying her presence. You seem to have a quicker reaction time, despite being in the presence of a world-class Formula Driver. Immediately, you rip your grasp from Charles’ hand, showing him no emotion as you step away and into the Ferrari Building. You’re fortunate enough to avoid most of your fathers’ colleges, only once having to stop to give a sympathizing message of your mothers’ passing, the words being used are minute compared to the ache in your heart for her presence. 

When you reach the top of the dark stairs, almost certain you can hear Charles’ voice below you. He’s searching for you now, but instead is overwhelmed by the amount of people in his presence. You’re able to sneak through the makeshift corridor, finding a large number ’55,’ pressed onto the door. You don’t even think, opening the door to a very tanned, very shirtless Carlos Sainz.

He's so… toned. The natural light from the window is reflecting beautifully onto his chest, broader than you’d last seen during your adventures at sea. His shorts hang low on his waist, making no attempt to shift his body despite your appearance. Instead, his dressing is overtaken by his concern for your face, immediately dropping the shirt fisted in his right hand, taking your gentle face in between both of his palms. You didn’t even realize the tears resting on your cheeks, the fear glossed over in your eyes that you’d ever trusted Charles.

Carlos doesn’t need to ask; he saw her on his own entry to the Paddock. Admittedly, he had to double-take; surely Charles wouldn’t have the audacity to bring his mistress to the other side of the world. He didn’t bother to glance in her direction too long, instead greeting the Ferrari team, excusing himself to go and get changed for their upcoming press appearances. In this moment, he’s held you against his bare chest, hushing you gently as one hand threads through your hair. Your mind is overwhelmed, from seeing your husband’s mistress, but from being pressed against his oh-so warm chest. 

You don’t even realize, but your palms are resting on his chest, his skin so soft beneath your touch. Carlos gently hushes you, tilting your head up to face him, still cradled in his grasp. He could so easily reach forward, claim you there and then, but he realizes in that moment, under your soft touch and those doe eyes, you are the one who has claimed him. After a moment, he pulls back, motioning for you to follow him towards the couch, littered in Spanish-themed cushions and the enormous chili plushie you had bought him several months ago. 

You can’t help the slight disappointment when Carlos eventually slips on his Ferrari Polo; however, you are interested when he reaches for his small fridge, pulling out a neat lunchbox, motioning for you to grasp it whilst he reaches for another. Curiosity takes the better of you, gently unclasping the lid of the Tupperware box. A beautiful aroma overtakes your senses, a carefully crafted meal nestled into the lunchbox. The Spaniard can’t help but grin at your reaction; sometimes something as simple as a homemade meal could lift your spirits.

And that’s how you spent the next forty-five minutes, sat on the sofa of Carlos Sainz’s driver room, the man sat on the floor as the two of you exchanged bites of food. There’s one particular moment where you offer him a spoonful of your lunchbox, watching as he arches his torso towards you. 

It’s almost…sensual, the way his lips wrap around the top of the spoon, maintaining sole eye contact as he retracts his mouth from the utensil, letting his tongue trace around his lips for a chase of the taste. He knows what he’s doing; in his mind, all he wants is to show how adored you could be, to show he could be everything your husband never was.

It isn’t until Charles is finally free from the bombarding questions of his sponsors that he finally locates you in Carlos’ room. The man isn’t oblivious; he can see that the two of you have grown undeniably close. He can’t bring himself to say anything on the matter. He knows, in his heart of hearts, he has no right to make any assumptions; he was the one who had spent hours with a mistress, after all. Silently, he opens the door to the driver’s room, your figure perched upon the sofa, a grin plastering your soft features. You looked happy.

You looked like the most beautiful girl he had seen in his life. 

You acknowledge his presence after a few moments, standing up from your place on the sofa, insisting the man tries Carlos’ cooking. It takes less than a few blinks of your eyes for him to submit, taking the spoonful off your utensil, making a comment towards his teammate that he would have to give him some lessons at some point. The man says nothing, simply nodding in a passive agreement. 

There’s a sharp call for Charles after he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He shoots both you and his teammate an apologetic look before he makes his way down the corridor, gently closing the door behind him as to give you a sense of privacy; the last thing he wanted was to have you plastered all over social media pages when he knew it would purely be used for publicity purposes. 

You’re still smiling when the door closes, your back to Carlos’ front. “He seems to like you-“ 

You were destined to never finish that sentence. Within a split moment, there are warm hands, rough hands resting on either side of your waist, twisting your body within his grasp. He takes two steps backwards, enough pacing to have your back pressed against the closed door: the coldness of the wood contrasting violently with the heat radiating off your best friend. 

He couldn’t hold any emotion. Carlos Sainz wears his heart on his sleeve. That much is adamant, from the way his text messages were drafted, to the way he tilts his head, meshing his lips to your own. 

They’re surprisingly soft; there’s nothing soft in the way his hands grasp at your waist, the way his body is pressing so deeply into yours. Yet, as his lips continue to entrance yours, they feel like clouds; a gentle stroke of a paintbrush. His artistry continues when his kisses get deeper, one of his hands enclosing yours, bringing it to rest around his shoulders, pushing the two of you closer together. Your other hand is interlocked by his, being stretched above your head, pinned to the door you’re resting upon. 

He's waited so long for this, before lunch, before your moment in the sea. He’s wanted this since the moment you walked into the Ferrari Paddock alongside your father, you must have been etched into his heart. 

Carlos isn’t thinking; his kisses are becoming rougher, one hand blindly reaching for your leg, almost bare from the shorts you had opted from your wardrobe earlier. He guides it to rest upon his hip, grunting when he can feel his hardened crotch press between your legs. His reality comes crashing down when he feels the cool band on your fingers entangling in his hair. Your wedding ring. 

Ragged breaths, panting, he pulls away from your lips, pressing his forehead to your own in a sheer plea of comfort. Both your breaths are synchronized, both grasping for some form of air in the room. 

“You’re everything, Mariposa.” He whispers, closing his dark eyes, enjoying his moment, taking every opportunity to imprint the feeling of your body, of your lips into his mind. He prays this won’t be the last time he holds you this way. 

Carlos Sainz is a fast texter. 

In the moments after you had shared the intimacy, hidden away in his driver’s room, he’s gone into a sheer panic. He’d overstepped, he’d made an advancement on you at your most vulnerable. When he had left for the press alongside your husband, he didn’t have a single chance to pull you aside, not when you had left the moment after the duo had been pulled into their press conferences. Simply, you were not waiting around to catch glimpses of the mistress, still proudly flocking around the Paddock as if it was her home.

It had taken a matter of moments to request a car home, having slipped out of the Ferrari building, talking to one of your father’s colleagues about your departure. Silently, you paced out of the building, a direct beeline towards the car park, head down from the ever-present photographers. 

You hadn’t expected a text from either your husband or his teammate, considering that they were both in press conferences until further notice. However, when you had felt and grasped the device in your shorts, you had immediately noticed the soft vibrations, pulling your device out of your pocket, your eyes being illuminated by the screen of your phone. Two text messages. One from your father, one from Carlos. Your attention is drawn to the latter, curious on what your best friend has to say. 

11:32: Carlos Sainz: 

I’m really, truly sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I haven’t seen Charles yet to let him know you left. You don’t have to see me again if you do not wish. 

11:36: You

It wasn’t you at all, I promise! I was aware that Charles’ mistress was about, I couldn’t stick about for that. 

Carlos messages you back, almost immediately. You’re confused, considering he is due to be in press alongside Charles. He could be having a break; he could have completely skipped out on several media appearances. 

11:38: Carlos Sainz

I wish you could have stayed longer. I meant what I said, every single word. Please let me know if you need anything.

11:41: You

I know, C. I appreciate it, even if I express it terribly. I’ll always be here for you, too. Always. 

You never get to see the next message that Carlos sends to you. Instead, your phone starts ringing, an incoming call from your father. You’re certain that the chauffeur won’t mind you taking the call whatsoever, holding the device to your ear as your father’s tone fills the void, his words becoming numbing as he runs through the details of your mother’s funeral, the tears in his voice beginning to swell heavily. 

Charles had left the Paddock as soon as he got notice of your departure. He hadn’t bothered to message, his sole focus being on returning to the hotel, to find out what on Earth had happened to you. He was fortunate enough to escape the wandering eyes of his ex-mistress, how on Earth she had gotten into the Paddock for that race was beyond him, especially since he had ceased contact from that day. 

The car arrives swiftly outside of the hotel; immediately, Charles is rushing through the back entrance, beelining for the staircase; waiting for an elevator at this moment would be too much. Within moments, he’s fumbling for his key card, pushing the door open, his heart shattering at the vision in front of him. 

You, his wife, sat on the edge of one of the king-size beds; your head is buried into your hands, heavy sobs racking through your body. He can see the goosebumps littering your skin, the solemn shakes running through you, the trauma of losing somebody you cared about so deeply, combined with a cocktail of emotions from your entrance to the Paddock had become too much. 

He doesn’t care about boundaries, not at this point. Immediately, Charles has crouched in front of you, his gentle hands reaching to grasp around your wrists. There’s a flinch at the sudden contact; your skin had overheated from the sheer energy of crying; your husband’s cool touch was a stark contrast which made you shiver. Delicate touches pull your hands away from your eyes. They’re so red, so swollen. Had he ever made you react like that from his own actions. The Monegasque doesn’t want to question that right now, he can’t even bring himself to look into your broken eyes. Instead, he feels as your arms wrap around his neck, hiding your face in his neck, craving for somebody to just…hold you. 

Your husband has no issue in that desire; he lets you remain like that, Charles on his knees whilst you cling to him, the tears dampening through his shirt. One hand slides across your back, kneading gentle circles into your skin. At some point, you move onto the bed, the man lying back on the soft furnishings whilst you rest your head on his chest, arms encircling you as if he could hold you together, until the storm in your mind passes. 

When the tears subside, you finally find the energy to look up to your husband. He hadn’t reached for his phone, tried to find some form of entertainment whilst he held you to his chest for hours. Instead, his gaze had been fixed upon you, brushing a gentle stroke over your cheek, his fingers dancing against your skin, brushing away the tension from heavy lines and sobs. When your eyes do open, you’re greeted with a soft smile, Charles leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Do you need some water?” His concern is to bring you back up to health; now the tears have stopped, he can do this. “I can order some food; would you like that?” His voice is so quiet, as if a simple loud sound could shatter through your veins. You can’t muster up more than a nod, your body becoming colder when Charles’ gently shifts away, sitting up so he can reach for the telephone. His voice is so mesmerizing, speaking down the line as he requests different foods; he doesn’t mind how much he orders, if he can coax you into even eating a little, the man will be satisfied. 

The call finishes, but the man doesn’t sink back down into his previous position. Instead, whilst he remains sat up, Charles guides you to join him, your body still aching from your emotional breakdown. He murmurs under his breath as he pulls you into his lap, your body is tense until his strong arms wrap around your waist, the warmth instantly allowing you to relax, lean back into his firm chest. 

“I’ve wanted to speak to you for a few days.” His voice is soft, but the phrase causes you to feel a sharp panic dance down your chest. Surely, this can’t be good. The relationship had evolved from barely speaking to intimate conversations within a span of two weeks. You try, try so hard to keep a clear mind as your husband continues to address you. 

“How I’ve acted…how I treated you, all that time-“ He must stop himself, trying not to let his own emotion overpower his words. “I’m never going to be able to take it all back, and I will never be able to stop apologizing for it.” His whispers, his eyes growing misty with regret. “I will never forgive myself for how I treated you, nor do I ever expect you to forgive me. But…I want to try. I want to try and spend the rest of my days as you husband. I know…it won’t be overnight, but I’ll do anything, anything for you.”  

The tears are rolling down your own cheeks now; never, in your wildest dreams, did you expect for Charles to speak those words of affirmation to you. His hand moves cautiously, to your face, wiping the tears which were pooling across your features.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, letting one of his hands remain on your cheek. The man leans forward, pressing gentle butterfly kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose…he pauses, mere inches from your lips. He wants to kiss you; he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to push you; his mind and his heart are complete opposites. 

His mind goes into overdrive when you lean forward and press your lips to his own. They’re salty, slightly chapped, but undeniably something he has been craving for oh-so-long. Charles is immediately kissing you back, his grip around you tightening, keeping your body close to his own. Carefully, he shuffles the two of you back into a lying position, never once breaking the kiss, tumbling back onto the mattress.

Of course, you don’t miss his grumble of annoyance when the food eventually arrives.

 Carlos Sainz is a gentle kisser. 

An autumn breeze was strong on the dreaded day; the funeral had rolled around way too soon for your liking. Rows of family connections, close and distant friends lined the outside of the cemetery, eyes all transfixed on the black hearse rolling into view. Murmurs were pressed into silence, a bitter air all-too present as the ivory coffin was removed from the vehicle. Your elder brother and two cousins were to assist in carrying the piece into the church. Plans were soon suspended when the eldest of your siblings collapsed into tears, head in his hands upon the sheer realization that this was it.

Your father is desperately looking around, practically praying outside a place of worship that the eldest could pull himself together; it’s impossible. Whilst one of your arms is occupied, holding the hand of your young sister, the other gently wraps around his torso, comforting him in the ways he had done for you when you were nothing more than a young girl in messy braids and mismatched socks. 

His wife stood on his right-hand side, adamant on consoling the man as you were, a caring hand running across his back. Your husband stood next to your sister, her childish eyes blinking in confusion; just like you, she had never seen her brother this inconsolable. 

Charles feels a pain wash through him, he wants nothing more than to help his dear family through this moment. Maybe the act he was playing for so long was just a way of shielding himself from caring. Now he had bared his soul towards you, pleading for a second chance, the man wanted to be there for you, in every sense of the word. 

He murmurs something incoherently, stepping away from your side, leaning towards your father’s ear. Whatever he mumbles is met with a sharp nod, a firm pat on the shoulder in confirmation. Your husband keeps a firm gaze on the coffin, not catching your own eyes as he walks towards the piece to join your cousins. There’s a quick whisper between the men, before the ivory is shuffled from the car, resting on their suit-clad shoulders. Silence falls over the attendants as your mother is carried into the church, immediate family following closely behind. Hesitantly, your eyes look to the crowding people, and as if by fate, you see his dark eyes, the fluffy curls brushed back to conform. He shouldn’t look that good in a dark suit. 

Most noticeably, his gaze isn’t fixed on the church, on the six men carrying your mother. It’s transfixed on you. 

The service is beautiful, if you can describe it like that. Flowers are placed atop of your mother’s coffin, the service of words correlating to her soul, the hymns sung were always her favorite when you had frequented church as a young girl. However, there’s a turning point. When the priest begins to speak of her dear children, tears pool in your lower lash-line. You want to take the time for yourself, to mourn, but louder sobs are emitting from next to you; the youngest child is beginning to realize her mother is truly gone. 

You’re torn; pulling her towards you would only make you cry harder; you had already seen your father and brother fall apart, silently knowing you would have to be the one to wait by the door, thanking the copious guests for attending. Her tears are suddenly quietened when you see her gently shuffled into Charles’ lap; despite the estranged relationship for the past twelve months, he’d always had a soft spot for your sister, she reminded him of when Arthur was young. Whilst her tears turn softer, he runs a hand over her back, letting the young girl rest her heavy head in his sternum. 

The open gap in the seating allowed for you to shuffle closer towards your husband, his free arm wrapping around your torso. You had to remain sitting up straight; his presence right now would have to be enough for your comfort. To any unassuming eye, you would probably look like a family, the crowds of attendants would have no idea of the true story behind your marriage. Even on the darkest days, the narrative was played well.

When the service draws to a close, final prayers are spoken. The first to rise are your father and brother, both clinging to one-another as they must leave the building. Silently, you pull yourself away from your husband’s grasp, smoothing the skirt of your dress. Charles remains seated, your sister practically passing out atop of him. Today had been a heavy day for a child, after all. 

There are rows of people pausing to console you on your loss whilst you stand at the door of the church; friends you had known for oh-so-long, members of the Scuderia Ferrari team; you had never seen Fred Vasseur cry, but the redness of his eyes told you something completely different as he took one of your hands in his, squeezing it in apology. 

The pews filter out silently, a large group of the guests making their way back to your father’s home, the wake soon to begin, a blessing and want of your late mother. Sharp footsteps are emitted through the church, the penultimate duo being your husband and sister. He was still carrying her, head resting on his shoulder, almost completely asleep. Charles smiles at finally seeing you, using his free hand to run across the back of your head. 

“I’m going to take her back.” Charles explains to you. He understands you don't need the pressure of looking after her atop of everything else bound to come your way. “Let me know when you’re done here, please?” Silently, you nod, no hesitation needed as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, bidding you farewell as he paces out of the church, holding your sister tightly in comfort. 

You believe that’s everybody, ready to collect your belongings and thank the priest for a heart-warming farewell. Before you can even think to turn around, there’s a light cough, emitting you to spin on your heel. 

He’s there. Still clad in his designer suit, hair pushed back behind his ears. Undeniably, Carlos Sainz looks good in any situation. He holds your bag in one hand, the other reaching out to clasp around your wrist. You gasp at the warm skin pressing to your own, heat radiating through your body. The man leans down, letting his lips brush against your own, a sweet feathering brush pressing onto you. Carlos wanted to be there for you, more than ever on what would be the hardest day. 

Seeing Charles take that position had made his blood boil. 

His grip on you remains tight as he leads you out of the church and towards his own car, parked in the most secluded section of the lot. When his grip falters to hold your hand instead, he doesn’t aim to correct it, instead only holding tighter. He only removes his grasp to unlock his car, sliding himself into the driving seat, pushing the recliner back as far as it would go. When the space is present, he guides you to rest atop of his lap, arms tightening around your waist as he lets the door close, bodies pressed together tightly. 

“Is this okay?” He murmurs, keeping your faces so close together. The built-up emotion, the desire since your last kiss had built a fire in your stomach, not so much as speaking before pressing your lips to his own. Whilst your own movements had become desperate, craving for some form of emotional release, his remained feather-light, one hand tangled into your hair, the other resting firmly on your waist. 

His lips are soon ghosting over your cheek, fluttering across your jawline and landing on your neck, small whines emitting from your lips as he seeks to trace his tongue over your sweetest spot. The sensation across your body, the hot touch of his skin and an undeniable bulge now settling between your legs. 

There’s a sudden realization that you needed to go home. Being with Carlos was the affection you desired, your heart knows however that right now, your family needs you. Hesitantly, you pull away from the man’s lips, feeling utterly guilty for the pleading look in his eyes as you rest your forehead against his own. He could never hate you for it, though. In his eyes, you could never draw that feeling from him. You don’t need to say anything, he knows. 

“I’ll drive you back.” He murmurs, pressing one final kiss to your lips before allowing you to slide into the leather passenger seat. 

The drive to your father’s home is almost silent; there’s an occasional rev of the engine, various horns from different cars along the highway. A part of you always prays that each drive with the Spaniard could last forever, you could drive into the distance and live happily ever after. The fairy-tale is soon dissolved when you pull to the driveway, hearing the engine of the car cease. Your eyes find Carlos’ side profile, still transfixed on the road ahead. 

“Are you coming in?” You ask gently. He sighs, the grip on his steering wheel becoming tighter.

“I can’t see you that close to him, Mariposa.” He murmurs, finally finding the courage to look you in the eyes. “Not when I want to be that close to you.” One hand finds its way off the wheel, entwining your fingers together, peppering light kisses against your knuckles. “Please call me when you go back. I’ll miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you too.” You whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek. In that moment, Carlos Sainz is your savior. He’s your truth. 

Carlos Sainz is a liar. 

Your knuckles had turned white from the grasp on your phone, you didn’t want to believe anything you were seeing. What was supposed to be an impromptu browse of Twitter whilst waiting for your husband to finish in the en-suite, had turned into a deep dive through a certain hashtag, having seen information spread on a certain Ferrari driver.

It had started as a simple few tweets, some fans and gossip pages reckoning they had seen the driver in an exclusive club, some random blonde sitting on top of him. The photos came second, though the angle was skewed, the quality too weak to see who was there. The final nail was the video; Carlos’ hand placed on her waist, how he had done to you mere hours ago, his mouth pressing against hers, clearly nothing else on his mind. 

Granted, you knew you had no right to feel the anger you did; after all, you were married, Carlos was a single man, free to do as he desired. Yet, your rage was fuelled by the romantic, now seemingly empty promises he had made you; how you were his everything, how he would treat you better than Charles ever did. He was no different than Charles Leclerc, and as your fumbled fingers reached to his contact, your rage felt inclined to tell him that. 

The phone rings once, twice, three times. You’re set to hang up, leave a particularly nasty text message to the man before the line connects. Immediately, your eardrums are overtaken by the loud pulse of a nightclub, some feminine laughter almost directly on top of him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. Clearly, he’s now intoxicated, his accent is always thicker when he is. You hear another voice, telling him to hang up the phone and to come and dance with her. “Hey- are you there?”

“I’m here.” You snap; why do you feel this enraged? You must have done so when you first saw Charles with his mistress; that had become such a common occurrence that the fire in your stomach must have eventually drained. “And clearly, you’re busy with the woman climbing all over you.” 

“Fuck- you left me hanging!” He retorts, drunken mind clearly pressing against any form of sober thought. “You went back to your husband. Left me with nothing. Fuck the funeral.” He snaps, clearly now becoming enraged with the entire situation, with the fact he had been caught out. The words pressed through the speaker of your phone and emitted a wave of sobs from your stomach, immediately pressing the red button on your device.

Carlos Sainz wasn’t in love with you. He just liked the distraction. 

Of course, as fate would have it, the moment that your tears began again was the moment Charles had left the bathroom. He’s dressed in just a pair of boxers, chest bare and tone after his warm shower. The sound of the door opening caused you to turn to the source. His eyes widen, scampering towards you, cradling you in his arms, bare chest against your cheek. Silently, you sob into his body for the third time that day, wanting nothing more than for every form of pain to stop.

“Hey, come on.” He whispers, arms circling your body, pulling you tight against him. He thinks that seeing you cry will get easier each time, that the pain in the pit of his stomach won’t continue to eat him away. However, it never gets easier; he hates seeing you cry, every single time. “It’s been a long day, yeah? Let’s get some sleep, baby.”

The nickname sounds foreign on his tongue, though neither of you question it. If anything it causes more emotion to flicker through your body, the fact that your estranged husband was finally beginning to give you. Silently, he guides the two of you into the large bed, cradling you to his chest as he had done whilst in Qatar. Sleep and emotion overtake you, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder as a ‘thank you,’ before drifting into a state of slumber.

The sleep means you miss a vital update from the Twitter threads you had been closely following earlier. 

‘Carlos Sainz leaves exclusive club ALONE, despite dating rumors arising with mystery blonde.’

Carlos Sainz is your best friend.

You returned to the following day; the entire time remaining at your father’s house had consisted of nothing but tears. You had been especially concerned for your sister, watching the way she had clinged to Charles when the duo was saying their fond farewells. After a tight hug from each family member, your husband hand interlinked your fingers together, guiding the two of you to his own car, each free hand carrying along the suitcases. 

The first hour of the drive home had been quiet, the buzzing streets had morphed into greenery, the sun beginning to set across the coast. Your eyelids couldn’t find it to grow heavy, having done nothing but sob and sleep for the past twenty-four hours. Instead, your focus turned to the radio, a familiar song trickling out of the speaker, one you hadn’t heard in almost eighteen months. 

“Is this…” You ask, fingers reaching towards the dial, turning the volume up slightly. Behind his sunglasses, Charles grins. You hadn’t expected him to recognise the song, let alone be aware of where he recognised it from. 

“Our first dance.” Your husband laughs, both nodding your head to the music. One hand on the wheel, he reached out his other hand to grasp yours on his own, a gentle squeeze passing through each hand. “We’ll have to dance to it again, properly next time.” He promises to himself, eyes focused on the road as he continues to drive you both home. 

It’s almost dark by the time you have arrived back at your driveway. The stones are dipped in the darkness, the only illumination being from the headlights of Charles’ iconic vehicle. Your eyes flicker towards the doorstep, convinced the sleep is playing tricks on your mind; why on earth was there a figure standing on the doorstep to your house? They were slim, feminine, holding a cream envelope in one hand, a designer bag resting atop the other. 

The familiar feeling of who she was began to nestle in your stomach. Surely, it couldn’t have been her; even your husband would not have the audacity to invite her to the house, right after you had returned home from what was quite possibly the saddest moment of your life. It couldn’t be her, even if every sign pointed towards the truth, you’d begin to search for the tiniest detail; her hair was too short. Your stomach snaps when you realize it’s the identical haircut from the Paddock mere days ago. 

“What on earth-“ You hear your husband begin to speak, turning off the engine to the car. He looks over to your figure, but you show no emotion, no reaction on the exterior. Immediately, he has stepped out of the car, violently slamming the door behind him, causing you to snap out of the trance the woman had placed you upon. 

Your eyes fixed upon Charles, his mistress trying to reach out into his touch. She’d pressed the envelope into his hand, continuing to speak. The words were clear through the thin glass of the car’s windscreen, divorce, pictures, evidence. 

You couldn’t stick around to watch this activity play out. Immediately, you reach out for your phone, breathing uneven as you scroll through the contact list, searching for his name. Despite the last twenty-four hours, you were not too sure who else to call. It takes less than a moment for him to answer, your words rambling and falling over one another, pleading for him to come and collect you. He speaks firmly, commanding you to stay in the car, he would be there as soon as possible. 

Charles is so deep in conversation, pleading for his mistress to reconsider, that he doesn’t see you slip out of the car, stepping down the driveway into the awaiting car of Carlos Sainz. He makes no intention to show you affection when first stepping into the vehicle, his only intention to get you out of the situation as soon as possible. Whilst silence filled the space between you both, you had sent a text to your husband, confirming your disappearance. 

23:01: You

I’m so sorry, I can’t be there when she is, not anymore. I’ll be back at the house tomorrow. Thank you for everything.  

There’s no response. If you’re completely honest, you were not expecting anything else, not whilst he was engrossed in conversation. The street is quiet as you pull into Carlos’ driveway. Saying nothing, the man simply removes his keys from the ignition, before leaning over your frame to open your door, ever the gentleman. Of course, his eyes catch yours as he leans back, creating a deep gaze for oh-so-long. Carefully slipping out of his gaze, you leave the car, walking up the steps to his apartment, the door opening for your arrival. 

It's homely. Clearly lived in. Shoes are thrown across the entrance mat, coats hanging in the rack. Although it is primarily basic, a little bare, there’s touches around the complex which warm your heart; a photograph of the man with his sisters and father, a helmet you immediately recognise as Lando Norris’ resting atop of a bookshelf. There’s fine wine glasses resting atop of his coffee table; clearly ready for their usage before your untimely call. 

The details become irrelevant the moment you feel his warm arms circle around your middle; the rising of your hoodie lets his body heat radiate onto yours. Carlos doesn’t need to say anything, his face comes towards the joint between your neck and your shoulder, using his nose to brush your hair away, exposing the skin he craves to mark. 

“Mariposa.” He whispers, hiding his expression in your soft skin. “I can explain her, I can explain who she is, I didn’t-“ 

This time, it’s you who rolls around in Carlos’ touch, your arms entwining around his neck, pulling his lips to touch yours. The Spaniard does not need convincing, his grip on your waist immediately tightening, pushing your bodies closer together, if that was even humanly possible. This time, when his lips begin to trail down your neck, there’s no hesitation left in your mind, letting the man dance across your skin, leaving small bites, trails of his tongue against you. 

You realize it’s you, making a small whine as he pulls away from your body, catching his breath whilst his tanned arms reach to the bottom of his shirt, exposing his chest once more. This time, your fingers fumble to find the hem of your hoodie, pulling the clothing atop of your head, exposing the laciest bra Carlos had ever seen. There’s a grunt from the back of his mouth as he darts forward, one rough palm scooping your breast from the lingerie, his mouth immediately finding your nipple, tongue tracing across the sensitive skin whilst his stubble rubs against your exposed flesh. 

He doesn’t let up, not even when your legs go weak. His mouth remains firmly attached, using his arms to instead scoop you into his grasp, your whining sheer pornography to his ears whilst he carries you into his bedroom. 

He will simply ruin you for every other person, and god forbid if he lost you now. 

You realize hours later, somewhere between your post-orgasm haze and the combined warmth of Carlos’ hoodie and his firm arms that best friends did not have intense, body-numbing sex in the middle of the night, specifically when one of them was married, the other one a close friend of her husband. Yet, it somehow feels normal, as if this had been the longest impending explosion. Of course, you had explained to the man the reasoning for calling him out so late, for him to simply hush you, promising you would have never been a burden to him. The further questions of what is to come next are pushed to the back of your mind. 

Your sleeping state misses two key moments. The first? The slight camera shutter from a phone as Carlos places his device back on the nightstand, snuggling down into the blankets, his dream to hold you whilst he slept finally arising.

The second? Your phone finally buzzed with a response from your husband, unable to sleep without knowing you were in the large house alongside him. 

02:51: Charles Leclerc

I’m in love with you.

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover @barnestatic @omgsuperstarg @chimchimjiminie16 @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog @junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt @crowdthena @screemqueen @lewislvr @styles-sunflower @itspaddockprincess @adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins @formulanando @lorarri @christianpulisic10 @gaypoetsblog @thisbitxhs-blog @goldsainz @ru-kru @magical-spit @hrlzy @nooshytushie @gaslysainz @marvel-at-stucky @sugarvibez

[cloudcountry]

GOOD TIME MY FELLOW FISH LIKER-

I HAVE COME TO YOUR FISH MARKET FOR MORE FISH!

Eels specifically.

CONSIDER!!! Eel Twin of your choice with an eel apologist.

Like Jade feeds someone a poisonous mushroom and they're like "Your fault for not being resistant to posion lmao" or [Reader holding Floyd's face gently] Someone: "HOW CAN YOH DO THAT?! THAT IS A FACE OF A KILLER!!!" [Offended dramatic gasp from reader] "FLOYD IS BABY!!! HE IS INNOCENT!!! THOSE PEOPLE OBVIOUSLY DIED ON PURPOSE!!" [Proceeds to coo and squish Floyd's face]

SUMMARY: Jade & Floyd with an "eel apologist."

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: literally me!! this was so fun to write C:<

When Jade offered you a dish with his prized mushrooms in it, he did not expect you to eat it. Everyone else at the table looked on in horror as you ate, savoring the dish. You finish the entire thing, look up at everyone staring, and huff out a harsh, “What?”

One of the student side eyes Jade before leaning in and whispering something to you. Jade is smiling just as serenely as he always is, never giving anything away, never concerned for others' opinions.

“Are you stupid?” you tilt your head, words blunt and piercing, “Jade would never do anything like that. The dish was good, and you’d know that if you just tried it.”

You both know Jade would absolutely do whatever that poor soul suggested, but you still turn to Jade with an apologetic smile. “Thanks for the meal, Jade. It was really good.” You get up and hug him, squeezing him tightly just like his brother.

Jade, having been given an opportunity to stare down the people you were sitting with without being caught by you, smirks. His grin is wide, taunting, and they shudder. You all should know better than to try and turn Jade’s precious little pearl on him.

“Shrimpyyyy!” is all you hear before your friends grab your arm and try to tug you down the hallway, fear in their eyes. You, however, stay rooted to the spot as you try to wiggle your arm out of their hold.

You don’t quite do it in time, but Floyd helps you. He scoops you up by your armpits and tears you away from your friends with a soft gasp. “Why were you guys crowding around Shrimpy like a school of minnows?” he hisses, and he does not sound happy.

“Floyd! how’s my favorite little moray doing?” you squash his face between your hands, kneading the skin. Your friends gasp in terror, but Floyd looks like he just won the grand prize for an event.

“Little moray?” he giggles, swinging you around, “Careful, Shrimpy. This little moray might just eat you alive.” Your friends gasp and shudder, looking scared for your life, but you just lean in close and rub your noses together.

“That’d be a good way to go out.” you giggle, smacking a kiss on the tip of his nose, “But you’d never do something like that!” Your friends are about to protest, but Floyd pulls you close and glares at them over your shoulder. Oh, you’re definitely not the one he’d eat alive.

[daenysx]

there is literally no one else i think would do this idea as good as you (i do understand completely if you don’t want to tho this is zero pressure) but what about one of the marauders or a combo or anything you want with them with someone who’s been feeling super down and lonely and is just spiralling back into really bad old habits like not eating well and like seeking like self sabotage or something, i just think you write them being sweet and kind so so well and i need them so bad but only ur version tho <333

again I get if you don’t want to at all my lovely

thank you for requesting and being so sweet, angel !!! i chose to go with remus and this is a bit self indulgent (cried when writing it haha) but i hope it makes you feel good <333333

remus lupin x fem!reader, hurt/comfort

cw; mentions of not eating and sleeping properly, reader feels lonely, tiny bits of fluff and angst, lots of kisses from remus

october drags you behind its back as it slowly comes to an end.

you think you've been doing well with the pressure of things lately, handled it good, you've been strong. you didn't let things upset you much, you found nice things to focus, you smiled, you kept going.

the bubble bursts on a late evening, there's nothing you can do to fix it.

suddenly all of the texts you get from your friends feel shallow and meaningless. the food only works to keep you on your feet, you don't get any pleasure from eating. sleep doesn't last long, you crave it like air during the day, but there's not enough time. your smiles don't feel real. you linger in places, trying to keep your steps steady. you think you'll collapse, the thought scares you to your bones.

"hey." remus whispers, shaking his fingers in front of your eyes. you haven't been listening. "are you okay?"

his voice is coming under the water. your head feels like a heavy balloon, but you give a slow smile to your boyfriend. "sorry, i'm a bit distracted. can you tell me again?"

remus smiles back, pieces of doubt and worry creeping in his eyes. he wraps an arm around you, it's a rare night that he gets to hold you like this on the couch. he wants to make the best of it.

"it's okay, i was just rambling." he offers gently. "can i get a kiss?"

you nod, snuggling to his chest so that you can reach his lips. remus's lips feel good always, but tonight it's something more. he kisses with all his heart, emotions dripping, he likes sweet and slow. his fingers rub the back of your head, you get closer. your eyes burn with tears.

you look upset. remus knows it's not about him, you just need somewhere to empty your mind.

you keep kissing remus. it's good, he massages the tightness of your neck. it's better than breathing, you close your eyes. your head gets lighter as the kiss goes on. letting out a shaky sigh, you separate yourself from him, and hide your face to his chest.

remus doesn't say anything. he just rubs circles on your back. you start crying in slow tears, your breathing soft and liquified. you're not loud. soaked in his scent and wrapped in his sweater covered arms, you try to find yourself a place to calm down.

"you're gonna be okay." he whispers with a kiss on your head. "you're not alone."

that's the thing with loneliness, you don't think you can make yourself believe you're not alone. it surrounds your entire mind, squeezes your heart in your chest, makes you think you're an unloveable loser. your fingers grab remus's sweater. they are desperate to have something to hold onto.

you need to breathe. lifting your head to get some air into your body, you look at remus. it wrecks him, his poor girl, staring at him through glossy eyes. his thumb dries your tears gently. his eyes follow you like you're precious. like you don't deserve to be hurt by the world.

"i feel like i'm lost." you confess. "like nothing good will come out of the things i do. like i'm trying for no reason."

remus understands it, he gets drown in these feelings most times. sometimes the life is worth living, sometimes it's scary and pointless. there's love, though. he loves you too much to see you in pain. he loves every part of you, he likes being loved by you. if he's gonna get to spend it with you, then life can't be that bad.

"you haven't eaten anything properly in the last a few days." he says, calmly. "you haven't slept for more than 4 hours a day. you're constantly moving, trying to finish your things. i understand all of it, dove, but these things affect you more than you think."

"i know." you accept. "i just want to take care of myself. i wanna be good."

"you are good." he says. he cups your cheek. "you've been doing so good, i promise. i just wanna help you take care of yourself, because you're not alone. you don't have to deal with everything alone."

"i just think- i should be able to solve my own problems. i know it sounds stupid, but i was trying."

remus smiles fondly. at least the problem in context is being talked about right now. at least he gets to hold you through it, he gets to love you.

"it's not stupid." he promises. "i just need you to know i'm here. for any part you let me in, i'm here."

you nod. no more words for tonight probably. remus nods, too. it's okay.

he pulls your head to let it stay on the crook of his neck. you settle down. you won't suddenly be okay just because he talked you through it, he knows, but it's still something. slow kisses, gentle fingers. remus is here.

"you need food, sleep, and some loving, dove." he says like it's an obvious decision. "once we get all these done, i'm sure things will feel a bit better."

"can we start with the loving, please?"

"i know, it's my favorite, too." he smiles. he's an angel.

he begins by kissing your forehead. his lips are warm on you, he presses them between your eyebrows to help you relax the tight muscles there. you close your eyes, he kisses your slightly wet cheeks. he kisses your cheekbones, your jawline. his hands fix your hair as you breathe in his air. you get close to him like a kitten stayed in cold.

"i love you." he says, softer than he thinks he can manage. "i love you more than anything."

he gives you a long kiss on your lips this time. tiny caresses, nothing too passionate. he moves his lips on your chin, below your ears.

"you've been doing so well." he whispers when he gets close to your ear. "you'll be doing better. it's gonna be okay."

you move your fingers to your sweater, the air feels too warm. remus helps you take it off to leave you in your tank top. he kisses your collarbones, the spot between them. you don't know what this is, is it worshipping? he's doing something you've never felt before. you feel like liquid in his arms, melted and safe. addicted to this now. there's no going back.

"i love you." you whisper. "i can't even say how much."

"i know how much." he tells you. "i know, baby."

your cheeks are dry. remus makes sure of your comfort. his hand finds your waist to hold you, other hand going straight to your hair. his fingers rub your scalp. you look like a cat, your back arched prettily to him, you're practically hungry for his affection. your eyes feel droopy, tired with the emotions you had to deal with and the stress of the week.

"we can go to bed." remus offers. "you look like you'll fall asleep."

"can we stay here?" you ask him, his lap is more comfortable than bed and this position is amazing.

"of course." he says. he's gonna be your pillow for as long as you want him to be.

"thank you, baby." you whisper to his ear, voice swimming in fondness. "for everything you said."

remus likes being your baby, that's true. he likes how you trust him and how responsive you are to his touches, too. you close your eyes again, calm and safe. he covers your bare shoulder with the blanket after putting a kiss on it. the night goes well, he thinks.

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you.

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase three:

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: none :)

➴ word count: 2.5k

💌 from me to you: woke up with devils win and 500 followers this is INSANE! i never thought i’d have 20 followers let alone 500, literally half a thousand. thank you so much. i love you. also, if you haven’t seen it yet, here’s the story’s universe masterlist!

𖧷

𖧷

A MONTH had passed since you and Nico started fake-dating each other.

You’ve already lost count of how many dates you both went to, how many times he’d held your hand or how many times you called him “baby” in front of his friends.

You can’t really say you’re fine, because you’re not. Apart from the lying thing not really being your thing, it’s exhausting to pretend that what you feel for Nico is just compassion and empathy.

Lying to your friends is terrible and you feel like the worst person ever, especially knowing that you all swore to always tell the truth about everything to each other.

But what really makes you hate yourself is the fact that you can’t help but feel like you’re lying to Nico too. You enjoy way too much the time you spend with him, and you pretend that what you both have is true whenever you’re with him, which isn’t part of the deal you both made. At all.

But now, it doesn’t matter, because today, out of all days, is the most important day of your fake-dating thing.

Today is Friday, and the Devils are going to play against the Chicago Blackhawks. And not only that, but some sort of dinner is going to happen after the game, and no one other than Nora Ellis is going to be there.

So, all this time, all this training, all this faking, led you and Nico to this day. The day you’ll both see if Nora will finally reach out to Nico.

And your plan already went well since last week Nico called you after his game to tell you the news.

“Hi?” you say as you answer the phone, balancing it between your cheeks and shoulder as you continue to cook dinner, stirring the chicken in the oven with a fork. “Nico?”

“Hi, Em,” he says back and you can tell he’s got the biggest smile on his face just by the tone of his voice. “Can you talk right now?”

You close the oven door with your feet and grab your phone with your right hand, properly adjusting it against your ear. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“So, I just got home, right?” he sounds so freaking excited that your heart decides it’s enough to make you happy for the entire week.

“Right?”

“And I opened Instagram to check some shit and you won’t believe it. Nora just followed me and liked three of my most recent photos.”

You stare at the clock that sits on top of your fridge, not really reading the time, just looking and thinking. Of course Nora would do something like this as soon as you and Nico started being more obvious both online and offline.

It infuriates you. It makes you feel something ugly inside your chest, and you have to close your eyes for a few seconds so you can focus. You can’t ruin this for him. Nico’s too precious for you to fuck this up.

“Em?”

“Oh my God, that’s so cool!” you put on your best fake excited face and try your hardest to sound happy. “Did you follow her back?”

Please say no, please say no.

“I kind of already followed her…” he coughs, and you can hear some movement. “But that’s a good thing, right? Your plan is working.”

You bite your lip hard enough to bleed, and the pain brings you back to the present time.

“It’s not… my plan only,” you stutter. “This is teamwork.”

“No, baby,” Nico chuckles. “This is all you. All of this is happening thanks to you.”

This is all you.

“Sure,” you whisper, squeezing the phone. “I’m glad it’s working, then.”

All of this is too confusing, but you don’t have time to try to understand what’s really going on inside you. You have a dinner and a game to attend, and you’ll be on your best behavior.

Thankfully, you managed to convince Mia and Ella to come with you, so when you leave your house and find Mia’s car parked in front of your door you smile, relieved.

At least you wouldn’t have to go through this by yourself.

“Hi, lovelies,” you greet them as you sit in the back seat, kissing both of them on the cheek. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Hi, Em.” Ella smiles at you, always the sweet angel she is.

“Hi, baby,” Mia also grins widely, turning the car on and getting out of the parking spot. “You look so freaking good.”

You look down at your own clothes: Nico’s jersey that he gave you a few weeks ago when you had to attend one of his games, a black, mini-skirt and boots.

“Thanks,” you smile. “I like it too.”

“You look like the perfect WAG.” Mia jokes and you laugh, as Ella shakes her head.

“Well, that’s probably what they’re calling me online so I might as well get used to the name.” You shrug, looking through the window.

“Don’t listen to them, Em,” Ella says, looking at you through the mirror. “They’re just mean and rude.”

“Fuck the haters!” Mia shouts.

“Yeah,” Ella smiles. “I guess you could also say that.”

𖧷

𖧷

NICO LOOKS like a god.

He plays like one too, defying gravity and moving so fast your eyes can’t barely see where he’s going.

The arena is somewhat full, and you already lost count of how many people took photos of you and your friends, even when you’re in a secluded area, near the ice.

The shouts, the loud music and the sound of the puck being thrown from one side to the other is overwhelming, but you get through the first and second period just fine, Mia and Ella helping you a lot— you laughed more than you watched the game, and if you’re being honest, you were more interest in the gossip Mia was telling you than in the scoreboard.

Still, Nico looks good in his Hockey uniform. Good enough to eat. And even though you know you shouldn’t be thinking things like this, you keep telling yourself that, as long as no one knows what you’re really thinking, it will be fine.

“Here we go.” You hear Mia’s unamused voice and you turn your head back to the game, only to realize there was a huge fight going on.

“It’s so violent.” Ella murmurs beside you, and usually you’d just laugh at her sweetness and tell her that’s just how Hockey works, but when you catch a glimpse of the number thirteen in the midst of the sea of bodies and gloves being thrown, you can help but gasp out loud.

“Oh my God. It’s Nico!” You jump on your seat, getting close to the glass in front of you. “Nico is punching someone!”

“Geez, this is gold.” Mia laughs beside you but you can’t even get mad at her, you’re too focused on the punch party unfolding in front of your eyes.

It’s not the first fight you see, but it’s the first time you see Nico getting involved. It’s the first time you watch a fist hit his perfect, angelic face and it’s the first time you watch him throw the punch back.

He’s winning the fight, a small blessing, but you can see blood on his cheek, and your heart shrinks to the size of a pea.

“Why are the refs just watching?” You say, louder than you probably should’ve. But people are busy watching the fight, so you keep going. “Do something, man!”

As Nico throws another punch, the refs finally decide to jump in and separate all of the players. Nico ends up in the penalty box alongside Jack, who decided that protecting his captain was more important than keeping up with a clean game.

“I wish Jack had gotten punched in the face.” Mia sighs, like the fact that Jack’s face’s still pretty and intact annoys her.

“Mia!” Ella reprimands her, like a mother would, and you can tell they’re going to start their daily bickering about how Mia should stop fighting Jack (from Ella’s point of view) and how Jack should stop being an asshole (from Mia’s point of view).

You stare at Nico sitting in the penalty box with his head down, and you want nothing but to go there and hug him. You know he’s a big boy, and you also know that he was the one who started the fight (and won it), but you feel bad anyway.

The rest of the game flies by and you’re eager to see Nico. You want to hold him and ask him if he’s alright, or if he’s hurt and in pain. You want to see those two dimples adorning his cheeks like they always do, and you want to look into his hazelnut eyes and want them to look back at you.

That’s why you don’t even think twice before walking faster when you spot him entering the room where the dinner would be held, and that’s also why you hug him tightly, surprising him and everyone around you.

“Oh, hey, there.” Is what he says, and you catch yourself inhaling his clean, soapy scent before removing your face from his neck and standing in front of him, your eyes scanning his entire face, barely blinking as you stare at the bruise on his cheek.

“You scared me,” you can’t help but pout— it’s only natural when you’re this upset. “I look away for a second and when I look back you’re there, in the middle of everyone, throwing punches here and there and for what?”

“The guy was an asshole, Em,” he chuckles, only to wince with pain afterwards.

“You’re hurt, Nico,” you whisper, caressing his face with the back of your hand. “It’s not funny…”

“It’s Hockey, baby,” he shrugs. “I’ll end up getting hurt in one way or another.”

“I know, I know,” you whisper. “I just wish it wasn’t like this.”

Before he can answer, someone with a huge camera takes a photo of the two of you and it probably looks awful— you had a worried expression on your face, pouty lips, arms wrapped around Nico’s neck and you were also standing on your tiptoes.

“What—”

“Can I get a photo of the two of you?” the man, probably the photographer, asks and you’re suddenly too stunned to speak. One thing is for you and Nico to post subtle, faceless pictures of each other on your Instagram, another completely different one is for one of the team’s official photographers to take a picture of the two of you as a couple and post it everywhere.

“Well—”

“Yeah, you can,” Nico, always the nice, cool guy, answers for both of you, and before you can explain to him why this isn't a great idea at all, you feel his arms around your waist pulling you closer to his body, while your arms are still resting on his neck.

You try to remove them, only to have Nico tsc-ing at you. “Keep them there.”

You nod, dumbfounded, smiling at the camera in front of you, wincing slightly when the flash momentarily hits your face.

“Beautiful!” the man smiles, angling the camera again. “Now what about a kiss?”

You feel Nico’s body freeze beside yours, and you can sense how tense he is.

“Oh, I don’t think—” he starts speaking, stuttering a lot for someone who has just been asked something as simple as kissing his girlfriend. He’s red too, cheeks flushed like maple leaves during October. “Kids will see that, no?”

“Just a tiny peck, it’s no biggie—”

“Man, no—”

“Come on, captain, give the fans what they want—”

You’re about to intervene in their bickering when you see her. Nora walks in like she owns the place, holding her father’s arm with an elegance that should be illegal. She’s wearing a red, tight dress that holds her curves in all of the right places, her hair is braided and down and her gold jewelry matches her dark-skin so freaking well.

She’s stunning and she’s breathtaking and she’s looking at you and Nico.

“Nico, kiss me.” You whisper, and Nico looks at you with a worried expression.

“Em, we don’t have to do this, it’s fine,” he squeezes your waist and turns his head around, ready to tell the guy to fuck off probably, but you grab his chin and turn his head back to you.

“Nico Hischier, kiss me. Right. Now.”

You don’t give him enough time to answer, you just glue your lips together. His eyelids fluttered closed just seconds before you leaned in, as you closed your own eyes. It was slow at first, tentative, a brief connection that hung in the air before it deepened.

Your lips parted, and his followed, a soft press that turned into something warmer, more certain. Your hands found his arms, a quiet reassurance, while his fingers traced the curve of your jaw, the warmth of your skin sending a ripple of sensation through him.

Nico’s heartbeat was a rhythm, steady but quickening, like the rise and fall of the breath between you. There was a sweetness to it, a soft and tender give-and-take, as you were both tasting each other for the first time, exploring the familiar and the unknown in the same breath.

When you pulled apart, only a fraction of a second later, the world rushed back—sounds, light, movement—but there was still that lingering warmth, a spark that hadn’t quite faded.

And neither of you said anything, not yet. You just stood there for a moment, the kiss still hanging between you, both a question and an answer all at once.

“Woof,” the photographer laughs, putting the camera down. “Now that’s what we’ve been waiting for. Thanks, Cap, thanks Mrs. Roberts.”

Neither of you say anything, because you’re both too busy staring at each other like two…

Idiots.

“Emma—”

“Well, don’t you two make the best couple in town?”

You didn’t expect her voice to be this penetrating, this ethereal. But of course it is. It’s perfect, just like everything else about Nora Ellis.

“Mrs. Ellis,” you hear yourself saying, and suddenly, all of the feelings you didn’t even have time to process after kissing Nico become something horrendous and awful. “Thank you.”

“No need to be so formal, Emma, we’re the same age,” she flicks her hand, addressing you like you’ve been friends for the past ten years. “It’s just Nora for you,” she turns to Nico, her eyes showing something that makes you feel even worse. “And for Nico.”

Nico smiles, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. “Nora. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” she bites her lip, smiling afterwards. It makes you sick to your stomach, and you remove your hands from Nico, placing them on your tummy. “So nice to finally meet you.”

Her words keep replying inside your head for the rest of the night, and you’re reminded of what you’re doing there in the first place.

You’re with Nico to make Nora Ellis fall in love with him.

You’re certainly not with Nico to make him fall in love with you, or the other way around.

<next chapter>

[binsito]

skz and dirty talk - like their fav phrases or something??

(i absolutely adore your writing btw, keep up the good work!! 🫶)

thank you sm lovie!! so glad you like my writing!! ♡ hope u like this, i literally had about twenty mental break downs imagining how hot this would be 😵‍💫

bangchan: there's days where he spits straight filth at you or days when he just wants to call you his little princess. he's the kind of guy that cannot stop rambling on and on during sex about whatever is on his mind. he's very vocal and open about his pleasure. "f-fuck princess.. you love daddy's cock hm? s'good i-i dont wanna pull out.." he whines into your neck. he gets so weak and turns into putty when he's inside you. lee know: he likes watching your ears turn red and have you squirm under his gaze. he'll be out with you at dinner with friends and would lean over to whisper the most absurd thing you could ever imagine in a public setting.

"this place is so boring.. just wanna bend you over on this table and fuck you raw right now.."

he would make you so flustered because what if someone heard? how shameless of him to want these people to watch you get fucked over their dinner. changbin: he likes to come up to you from behind while you're doing mundane house chores like laundry or dishes. he knows it'll make you drop whatever you're doing, running his hands up your sides and even giving your ass a little squeeze. "such a shame you aren't in bed with me right now baby.. i could have my mouth all over you.." fuck the dishes, your binnie is needy and wants you in the sheets! you can deal with cleaning later, that's least important at the moment. when he gets you in bed, he loves to boast about how his cock is going to split you and how you shouldn't neglect him again because he always fucks you so good. hyunjin: "gonna fuck you silly.. like my little slut.. full of my cum." when he's feeling you wrap your pussy around his cock, he can't stop the vile shit leaving his pretty mouth. he just loves leaving you full of him, making you hold every last drop and making sure you don't waste any of his precious cum. he'll degrade you, sure - but he wants you to know he doesn't really mean it afterwards while he's giving you aftercare. he loves his little baby so much and just wanted to make her orgasm hard. you think his versatility is sexy and definitely do cream around him, shaking at the sensation. jisung: "let me taste you, baby girl please.." jisung does not care the time or place, if he wants to bury his face in your cunt, he will succeed in doing so. you could be out with friends, in a fitting room, at home - not a single fuck is given. standing, sitting, bent over, he is not picky, he just wants to play with your cute clit and lap at you hungrily. do him a favor and spread your legs for him, please ♡? he gets impatient easy and feels no embarrassment when he pulls you aside to the nearest restroom. felix: you'd be the one to initiate the dirty talk, whispering in his ears how you're not wearing any panties under your dress. his cute eyes would get blown out as his breath hitches, he couldn't believe you were being soo naughty ♡

"i don't think i'd be able to hold myself back if you keep this up baby.." he warns you, but you don't want him to hold back. quite the opposite actually. you want him to whisk you away, forget about this holiday party, get in the car and drive home as fast as possible. although poor lixie couldn't wait to get home so he just took you in the back of his car, delighted to see your cunt ready to play under your silky dress.

seungmin: "i can't wait to fucking use you." seungmin is very dominant, he was tired of you being such a brat lately and was going to teach you a lesson. why couldn't you just be a good girl and wait for him to get home? you kept sending him tempting messages while he was away and he had enough. the video of you touching yourself while calling out to him made him stiffen uncomfortably in his pants. it was his absolute breaking point, you better prepare your pussy because he will not be going easy on you. jeongin: "wanna fuck you while you wear this, baby" he had come home with a bag in hand, pulling out the cutest lingerie set you'd ever seen. it was light pinky and frilly, crotchless for easier access and the thong was so teeny that it made you chuckle. the bra was completely see through and when you put it on, he salivated at the sight of your hard buds poking through the mesh. he fucked you face down into the bed while holding your arms behind your back. unfortunately, he was so hasty that he ended up ruining the set, ripping the delicate fabric. he didn't care though, he had bought an extra set because he knew this would happen.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

[mxstellatayte]

okay this is so vague but a something for lewis based off the song pretty please by dutch melrose ?

I LOVE DUTCH MELROSE OMG I ABSOLUTELY CAN. also this one is dedicated my simply simply lovely bestie and horny ride-or-die (not like that) pookie @vivi-81 who has recently converted to being a lewis hoe <3 love you bestie

this fic is multiple chapters because i couldn't help myself! writing this dynamic is really really fun and i'm going to do my best to finish the fic by 15 september, but here is a teaser of the first chapter and the release schedule/masterlist!

this fic spans literal years. prepare yourselves yall because you're in for a WILD ride lol

teaser (this post): 4 september chapter 1: 8 september (🌻/🥀) chapter 2: 22 september (🌻/🪷) chapter 3: 8 november (🌻/🪷)

teaser below the cut!

the conversation continues easily as the two of you finish your breakfast, then, as you begin to prepare yourself to stand and leave, he stops you. "actually, there's one last thing i wanted to do before we went on camera."

your head tilts in confusion as you set your signature lipstick back in your bag, a deep red balm that you've used since you started working at vogue. it's become your trademark product, and almost everyone in the office knows exactly which one you use. "do i need to be worried, lewis?"

"no, not at all! it's this," he says, and your eyebrows rise in complete and utter shock when he pulls out a small box wrapped in white paper and a crimson bow wrapped around it all. "i wanted to get you a gift as a way of saying thank you for all the curveball questions you've thrown at me this year." your hands shake as you take the box from him, and you already know exactly which brand it is. cartier. sure, you've written pieces about their timeless looks and elegant aesthetics, and owning a piece of their jewelry has always been a dream of yours, but it's always been just that: a dream.

"lewis, i can't accept this. i- i'm honestly at a loss for words. seriously, no." you can't help but flush at how he's looking at you, those annoyingly beautiful eyes of his and the stupidly perfect crow's feet that only show up when he really smiles- when he smiles the way he is now. gods, amelia was right. you really are down bad for the driver.

"please, just open it up. if you don't like it, i'll take it back and you can choose something you prefer." he nudges the box towards you once more, and the crisp wax seal that sits on top of the paper is incredibly enticing.

"are you serious?" a part of you wants to think that this is some sick joke, that there's cameras on you and it's all going up on one of those prank channels on youtube. a much, much bigger part of you believes lewis, though. that is the part of you that takes the box between your shaking hands, carefully pops open the wax seal, nimbly unties the beautiful ribbon, and gently unfolds the pure white paper. when you finally open the box, you gasp, tears threatening to well in your eyes. "lewis..."

"do you like it?" his voice sounds anxious and hopeful, and you can't help but realize how much thought he'd put into this gift. when you'd invited him into your office to review some photos that were to go into an article in the next vogue issue a few months prior, he'd seen the vision board on your wall and asked about it. bashfully, you had explained to him that it was a silly idea you had when you graduated from uni with your friends- each of you made one, cutting and pasting photos from pinterest, magazines, newspapers, and anything you could find, assembling your dreams in a mishmash of colors and ideas. one of your dreams on the board had been to own this exact necklace- the cartier juste un clou necklace in white gold. the fourteen diamonds set in the precious metal glitter back at you, and you can't help but smile.

"i love it, lewis. thank you so much." he visibly relaxes, his shoulders loosening and the crease between his eyebrows disappearing.

"i'm glad. here, turn around. let me put it on you?" you happily oblige, lifting your hair out of the way after you stand so that he can fasten the delicate clasp over your spine.

it's safe to say that both his and your fans noticed the necklace hanging between your collarbones, sitting just below the star necklace you wear daily on top of your dark grey high-collared shirt. you try your best not to look at the comments on the videos of your interviews, but amelia had shown you one that day after the unedited interview went up online.

"are they dating or something? i can't get over how lewis looks at her."

taglist: @pear-1206 @vivi-81

join my taglist here!

[onlyhaos]

🗒️ · reader x Jeonghan , fluff

You always loved doing things for the people that you loved, making them small diy gifts, getting them flowers and much more.

One thing that you always did was taking pictures of everyone, but it turned out that being the ‘photographer’ friend wasn’t always easy.

Yes, you loved taking photos, telling your friends how to pose as you hyped them up. They were thankful, since you were now responsible for their instagram pretty posts.

But after some time, you were sad that no one took photos of you.

Even the candid photos you took of your friends, every time y’all went out, were truly amazing.

You didn’t want to ask for candid photos, considering that a candid photo is something that you shouldn’t be aware of being taken.

Because for you, taking photos of someone was a bare minimum.

And you didn’t understand, why none of your friends took out their phone, and did cute picture of you.

Maybe that’s why you felt slightly disappointed or even sad, if you mentioned or asked for one yourself. Not because you thought they’d be mad, but you thought they’d maybe know what you want.

You saw it as just opening the camera app and clicking the button at least once or twice. But maybe you only thought of it like that.

And that thought was swept away the second Yoon Jeonghan entered your life.

“Look! There’s a cat!” You exclaimed, happily, as you walked towards the pretty white feline.

Observing the cat, you crouched down and held out your hand. When the cat came closer, you made sure to look out for a collar, so you knew it wasn’t a stray.

“So trusting,” You smiled, petting the cat gently after it accepted you. “I am already a favorite.” You turned around to look at Jeonghan as you spoke.

Only to see that he had his phone out. At first you thought he was ignoring you, so without noticing, your face turned into a small frown.

“Ah- What’s the frown for, baby?” Your boyfriend asked you, your facial expression immediately turning into a small confused one.

As Jeonghan observed the change in your expression, he just smugly smiled at you.

“Oh, I’m just recording you, see.” He said, and as he turned his phone towards you, his back camera was pointed at him.

You couldn’t help, but let out a slightly louder giggle. “I trust you, since you’re recording with your back camera, and your face is in a funny angle.”

Jeonghan quickly realized and turned the camera back on you. “Well I think that was payback for me, because of me taking that one picture of you this morning.”

Making you shake your head, Jeonghan just snickered at you. He meant the picture he made of you, the second you got into the bathroom that the both of you shared.

You looked completely disheveled, your hair forgot to keep itself in the bun you made the night before and your face looked all squishy. Your boyfriend couldn’t resist that, so he had to take a picture when you didn’t look.

“Come on, we’ll get coffee, since we’re already walking through the park.” He said, making you nod and petting the cat goodbye.

Hurrying over to your boyfriend, who teased you by slowly continuing to walk, you snaked your arm through the hole which was created by him putting his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you for taking so many pictures of me, even if they sometimes look.. a bit special.” You laughed, your sweet and loving laugh putting a smile on your lover’s face too.

“That’s nothing you should ask for, it’s funny and I enjoy doing it more than you think.” He spoke.

“Well just so you know, I also have many pictures of you. Some make me think, wow what a precious handsome man. And some appear in my dreams, my nightmares to be exact.”

Your boyfriend shot a glare at you, making you laugh slightly harder, before he pinched your side gently.

“You’re lucky I love you, and am letting you get away with this. But revenge will come.” He chuckled, kissing your forehead after he intertwined his hand with yours and put it into his pocket.

—— ౨ৎ

In my active era😝 (I literally wrote 2 fics💀) Anyway, I hope y’all liked it!! I turned out completely different from what I intended to write but who cares🙏🏼🙏🏼

[wolfpackenthusiast]

Interruptions

Pairing: Seth clearwater x imprint!reader

Summary: You and seth have a picnic date planned, but you guys were interrupted every time you got too close.

Warnings: not proofread

A/N: Seth is literally my baby i love him so much he’s so precious

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You got to the park you and Seth are supposed to meet at, he was apparently already at the park “setting things up” so you had to go on your own, you thanked the driver and shut the door, trying to spot Seth anywhere.

“He shouldn’t be too far, the parks pretty small anyway,” you thought, walking along the grass, making sure you watched your step in case of uneven ground.

After a few minutes of walking, you spot him, quickening your pace. “Seth!” You shout, getting his attention.

“Oh, Y/n!” He says, meeting you halfway and grabbing your hand gently, your fingers intertwining with his, “c’mon! Everything’s ready!” He said, excitement in his tone. The day you met was at a bonfire, and he had imprinted on you, this would be your first official date.

He sat you down on a soft, fluffy blanket, with a picnic basket right next to you, filled to the drin with food. “Woah, did you make the food?” You asked, amazed.

“Sorta, Emily helped me out.” He said, opening the basket and pulling out some pb&j sandwiches, handing one to you before taking a bite of his own sandwich.

You took a bite into the sandwich, let out a hum of satisfaction. “Wow, these’re really good! Remind me to make sure you or Emily make my Pb&j sandwiches from now on.” You praised, taking another bite as Seth smiled. “I’m really glad you like them, Y/n!” He said, eating his own sandwich. “This is going great so far!” He thought.

As you two ate, he scooted closer to you, your knees touching one another, you glanced at him, noticing the closeness, and you two locked eyes, feeling a spark once again, you both giggled.

Without realizing it, you two had gotten a lot closer, inches turning into centimeters as your faces got close together, but before you could close the distance completely, someone yelled.

“Watch out!!” It was.. Quil?! What was he doing here?? There was a soccer ball coming right at you two, before you could do anything, Seth pulled you down with him to avoid it, he looked back up at Quil.

“Well.. there goes our little moment..” you thought, a bit disappointed due to the fact you guys were interrupted. Instead of complaining, you didn’t mind it, there’ll be other chances.

As you and Seth’s little picnic continued, you two had gotten close once again. Seth grabbed your hand gently, pulling you closer.

“We hot interrupted last time, but i’m not gonna let that happen again..” he whispered, only you can hear it as he leaned in.

Though, there was a sudden noise from beside you, “RAAAHHHHH!!” It scared the living crap out of both you and Seth! You, let out a little squeak, your grip on Seth’s hand tightening as he looked up to see what the sound was.

It was Quil once again, laughing historically. “Do you think we’ll let you guys kiss? Not on my watch.” Quil said, hands across his shirt-covered chest.

“Wait, who’s we?” You asked. A bush ruffled nearby, you and Seth turned your heads to see Leah and Jacob. Jacob had been like a big brother to you, so obviously he was here.

“Leah!” Seth said

“I’m not gonna let my little brother kiss someone so soon,” she said, being cautious, you and Leah were pretty good friends, but her actions are understandable.

“Leah, i’m old enough, i can kiss someone now,, you know..” he mumbled stubbornly, you giggled, he’s so cute to you.

You glanced at Jacob, “jus’ making sure you guys don’t go too far.” He said, catching you off guard. “Jake! That’s nasty!” You said, feigning offense at his accusation, you’re not THAT dirty!

“Whatever you say, Y/n/n.” He said.

“fine, no kissing, just let us enjoy our… hangout.” Seth said, hesitant to say “date,” considering how Leah is.

After a bit of convincing, they agreed to leave us be, and the rest of the date went perfect, you and Seth had fun, talked, laughed and everything.

Once it was time to head out, he agreed to walk you off home. You walked and talking the whole way, and once you were there, you told him goodbye.

But before you went inside, he grabbed your hand and pulled you in for a kiss.

It wasn’t long, you both pulled back not even 10 seconds later. “Quil! You weren’t fast enough!” Leah scolded, looking behind Seth was Leah, Jacob and Quil, who was holding a football. “Sorry, sorry!” Quil said, and you giggled before hugging Seth goodbye and going inside.

What an odd date today.

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Word count: 774