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leclerc-hs · 2 months

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wait for your love - cl16

pairing: arranged marriage!charles x fem!reader summary: in which you're in a fake marriage OR you and your fake husband might be in love with one another warnings: none?? no smut in this part (SORRY), badly translated french (pls correct me), NOT PROOFREAD!, angst, pining???, jealousy, complicated feelings word count: 3.6k author's note: I'm still unsure how i feeeeel about this one but I tried my best!! I think writing about an arranged marriage is a little hard because i didnt want it to be mafia related so this was my take on it. there will be a second part!! i also want to mention that all these separate parts are just events that are little peaks into their marriage. it is not in the span of a week or anything, it takes place over time. they do not go from nothing to being in love in the span of one week. just wanted to make sure you guys were aware of that LOL. ok love u all. sorry if this sucks.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE MARRIAGE WAS merely a façade, designed solely to serve the interests of both of your media images. You weren’t in love—far from it…right?

“Charles! How are you and the beautiful Mrs. doing?” A reporter placed a microphone in his face, an eager grin pulled on his lips as he awaited an answer.

“Elle est tellement merveilleuse, n’est-ce pas?” She’s so wonderful, isn’t she? His gaze strayed from the reporter to where you stood a few feet down the carpet, posing for the dozens of cameras. “Tellement belle.”So beautiful.

His eyes remained transfixed on you, the rest of the world fading into insignificance as he watched you approach. The chatter of the reporter beside him became distant background noise, overshadowed by the sight of your radiant smile. With each step you took closer, a surge of warmth flooded through him, causing his heart to swell with an overwhelming sense of anticipation. Charles turned back to the reporter just as he said “Looks like she is making her way over here!”

“Salut beau gosse!” Hi handsome! You gently press your lips to his cheek, the warmth of your smile radiating as Charles’ face lights up upon feeling your kiss. His hand finds its place on the small of your back, a comforting and possessive touch that speaks volumes of his affection and protectiveness towards you. A united front.

“You guys are seriously too cute!”

The both of you smile largely at the reporter, thanking him, before heading down the carpet to enter the movie premiere.

It wasn’t until you crossed through the main doors of the building that you drop the smile, and his hand drops from the small of your back.

“Tellement crédule.” So gullible. He utters the words briefly, prompting a nod from you before you take a small, deliberate step back, putting some distance between the two of you.

You learned early into the arrangement that Charles wasn’t capable of love. His heart seemed barricaded behind the walls of his ambition, his sole focus on climbing up the ladder of success in his career. It seemed easy at first though, it’s not like the either of you had any feelings for each other.

“Assez!” Charles roared from behind his imposing oak desk, his voice echoing through the room. “That’s enough!” His words cut through the tense atmosphere like a thunderclap, commanding your attention and halting any further discourse with an authority that brooked no argument.

With a subtle roll of your eyes, the delicate sundress draped over your form swayed gracefully with each purposeful step towards his desk. His gaze, cold and piercing, met yours as you reached out, your fingertips lightly grazing the polished wood surface. Leaning in just slightly, you locked eyes with him.

“Je vais me répéter une fois de plus,” I will repeat myself once more. You declared, your tone carrying a hint of assertiveness. Tracing the edge of the desk with a meticulously manicured nail, you maintained your composure, refusing to yield under his scrutinizing stare. “You need to be more careful in public.”

Your cheeks flushed red with frustration, a stark contrast against the determined set of your jaw. Despite the tension, Charles couldn’t help but be captivated by just how stunning you appeared in that moment. He couldn’t tell if he hated you or just wanted to fuck you.

He scoffed before reclining back in his chair, the top buttons of his shirt carelessly undone. His tousled hair appeared as if he had run his hands through it a dozen times—or perhaps someone else had.

He watched as your eyes traced along his disheveled hair and the partially undone buttons of his shirt, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Jealous, mon ange?” He teased; voice laced with amusement. Now it was your turn to scoff.

Mon ange. Him and that stupid nickname.

“Jamais.” Never. You replied firmly, your tone leaving no room for doubt as you turned around. With a subtle sway of your dress, it raised slightly, offering him a glimpse of the lace set beneath it. Without another word, you walked out of the room, leaving him to ponder just how badly he wanted to remove that dress from your body.

He always resented how you seemed impervious to his charms. No matter his efforts, you remained aloof, seemingly untouched by his presence. It bothered him to no end. To him, you were an epitome of perfection, a constant reminder of his own shortcomings.

“Es-tu affamé?” Are you hungry?

You didn’t care if he was. You just needed to distract yourself from the fact he never came home last night. From the fact that he came home obviously smelling like another woman.

The marks on his neck had your throat feeling tight. Marks from another woman. Marks on your husband.

You tried your best to ignore the dark purple marks littered on his neck, and the tiredness in his eyes as he plopped down on the chair across from you. The umbrella in the center of the table, protecting you both from the bright sun as you sit beside the pool.

“Non, simplement fatigué.” Just tired.

You nodded slowly, your movements languid as you bit into a strawberry, its juices trickling carelessly past your lips and trailing down your neck in a sensuous cascade.

Charles couldn’t help but allow his gaze to follow the path of the juice, his eyes tracing its journey down your neck, almost reaching the enticing curve of your breasts.

You made no effort to wipe away the trail of juice, the glistening droplets lingering on your skin like a tantalizing invitation. With a knowing smile, you relish in the anticipation, fully aware of the effect it had on Charles. Men, they’re too easy.

“You should cover up those marks.” You bit into the rest of the strawberry, before standing from the table, preparing to dip into the pool. Charles hands reached out as you walked by him, his fingers dipping into the strings of the bikini bottoms at your hips.

His touch seared through you like a branding iron, leaving a scorching trail of sensation in its wake.

“Est-ce que ç ate derange?” Does it bother you? He looked up at you, his face serious.

The words felt like lead in your throat, heavy with unspoken truth. It didn’t bother you, did it? But deep down, it gnawed at you like a persistent ache, an undeniable discomfort you refused to acknowledge.

“No.” You attempted to push out of his grip, to no avail. “Lâche-moi.” Let go of me. He didn’t.

Never, is what he wanted to say.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned; his eyebrows scrunched as he looked up at you from his chair.

Your hands slipped around his wrists that rested on your hips. “Rien ne va pas.” Nothing is wrong. He cocked his head to the side, as if to say liar. You finally pull out of his grasp, walking towards the pool and jumping in.

End of discussion.

“Did you really need to eye fuck her the whole night?” You half-shouted in the passenger seat of his car, the cool leather seats contrasting with the warmth of your bare thighs clad in the mini skirt.

“Did you really take that guy’s number?” He half-shouted back, his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel.

“What’s wrong with taking his number?”

There was nothing wrong with taking his number. You both agreed you can date other people if it was kept under the wraps. But despite the coolness of the leather against your skin, it did little to quell the agitation simmering within Charles.

Perhaps it was the rarity of you into dating others. It wasn’t that you couldn’t attract men; in fact, men often vied for your attention. Rather, it was your own inclination against one-night stands that set you apart. Charles concluded in that moment that this must be the reason for his discomfort. And considering you had finally shown interest in someone, did it imply he was special?

“Tout le monde remarque!” Everyone noticed! He spat out the words, unable to conjure a coherent response in his frustration. Deep down, he knew there was nothing inherently wrong with simply exchanging numbers.

You laughed, a carefree melody that seemed to dance through the car, causing you to lean forward over your lap. The casualness of your reaction grated against Charles, intensifying his frustration. How could you be so nonchalant about accepting another man’s number? The knot of unease in his stomach tightened, gnawing at him with a persistence he couldn’t comprehend.

“So?” You turned towards him; his eyes were focused solely on the road. “It’s not like I fucked him in front of everybody.”

Charles head snapped briefly towards you; his eyes narrowing with sharp intensity. The mere thought of you being intimate with another man felt like nails scraping against a chalkboard, setting his teeth on edge with raw, visceral discomfort.

Why was he so bothered? It’s not like he doesn’t fuck other girls.

“Où vas-tu?” Where are you going? You found yourself stood in the archway of the kitchen; Charles leaned against the kitchen island with a glass of water in his hand.

His eyes trailed down your figure, a short black dress that hugged your curves. He felt his patience wearing thin as he watched you engrossed in your phone screen, fingers tapping away and a large smile on your face.

Who were you texting?

“Hm?” You said, still smiling down at your screen. “Où vas-tu?” He egged on, his tone dripping with impatience at your lack of an answer.

“Oh, j’ai un rendez-vous.” I have a date. You tore your gaze away from the screen for the first time since you came downstairs. Lifting your eyes, you met Charles with an infectious smile spreading across your face. The sheer warmth and joy emanating from you caused Charles’s heart to momentarily falter in its rhythm.

A date? He felt sick.

Charles remained silent for a few moments, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand betraying the turmoil within him. The sudden crash of the glass hitting the kitchen floor startled you both, causing a shared flinch as shards slid across the tiled surface.

“What about my event tonight?” He disregarded the broken glass around him, his attention consumed by the word “date” echoing relentlessly in his mind.

“Pretend I’m sick or something,” You tilt your head in confusion. “You’ve gone to events without me before.”

It wasn’t until you went to make a step towards the broken glass that Charles snapped out of it. “Don’t come near, tu pourrais te faire mal.” You could get hurt.

The words made you stop in your tracks and your heart clench slightly.

“Je dois y aller.” I must go.

Your eyes meet Charles one last time, you offer him a small smile before pulling your phone to your ear and answering it with a smile.

Leaving Charles alone in the kitchen, the lingering question of when this feeling would dissipate hung heavily in the air.

“Je ne veux pas que tu partes.” I don’t want you to go. He muttered to nobody but himself in the empty house.

You went on a relentless series of dates since then, each time returning home with a grin that seemed to mock Charles. He longed to wipe that smug smile off your face, but deep down, all he truly desired was to see you genuinely happy. Yet, the idea of your happiness being derived from someone else filled him with a sense of dread he couldn’t shake.

One night, Charles felt his sanity slipping as he anxiously waited for your return, each passing minute amplifying his restlessness. Was this what you did when he was away?

His unease peaked when you finally walked through the door well past noon, wearing a smile that seemed out of place and with your hair tousled, a stark departure to your usual pristine appearance. A faint, barely perceptible mark gracing your collarbone served as Charles’ triggering a tumult of emotions within him.

“Did you fuck him?” His voice was gruff as he walked up to you by the front door, essentially cornering you between the front door and his body.

Your eyes widened at his tone and question.

“Cela ne te regarde pas!” That’s none of your business! You shouted, your finger pressing into his chest.

His eyes blazed with fury, the green in them almost appearing black. “C’est tout à fait de mon affaire!” It’s all of my business!

He was aware of his irrationality, but despite that knowledge, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming emotions stirring within him. All he wanted was for the burning ache in his chest to subside.

“Ce n’est pas juste.” That’s not fair. You countered, your narrowed eyes reflecting your simmering anger, your chest flushing red with frustration as you breathed heavily.

“Tu es ma femme.” You are my wife. He folded his arms firmly across his chest, the sinewy muscles of his biceps straining against the fabric of his shirt, emphasizing his imposing presence.

You rolled your eyes, “C’est faux.” It’s fake. The words almost hurt to say aloud.

“Is it?” His words were short as he looked down at you, his gaze unfaltering, almost begging you to admit that there is something between you two.

“Oui.”

You pushed past him, rushing up the stairs and slamming your bedroom door shut.

You didn’t always fight though. There were good and bad days. Almost like a real marriage, right?

“Mon ange, wear the blue one.” His voice came from a distance as he sat on the edge of your bed, surrounded by the chaos of your closet. You felt a sense of panic wash over you, unable to find solace in any garment you tried on. You couldn’t even decide on a color.

“You always look good in that one, yeah?” He continued; his tone almost absentminded. Despite your turmoil, his words elicited a small smile, causing a faint blush to rise on your cheeks. Grateful that he couldn’t witness your reaction, you silently thanked whatever higher power existed. You vowed never to let him see you blush from his words.

You stepped out from your closet a few moments later, the blue silk dress that left little to the imagination of your breasts, with a small thankful smile on your face. Charles felt his hands itching to touch you as you leaned over the vanity, applying a last coat of lip gloss.

“Prête?” Ready? You turned back towards him, the small pebble of your nipples poking through the thin fabric, a sight that momentarily arrested Charles’s attention. With an effort, he tore his gaze away, clearing his throat discreetly before nodding in response and leading you out the house.

“Pourquoi cela?” What is this for? You quickly ask about the purpose of tonight over the low murmur of the radio as Charles pulls into the valet area of the event.

“It’s for charity,” He swung open his car door, the faint sound of camera clicks filling the air in the moment it remained ajar before he swiftly closed it again. With a sense of urgency, he hurried around the car to open your door, his movements a flurry of activity as he sought to ensure your comfort.

Tonight, he remained steadfastly by your side, his attention solely focused on you, his wife. He didn’t allow his gaze to wander, even as other females vied for his attention with near desperation. It was a departure from his usual behavior, as if he finally decided to listen to your complaints.

“Tu es magnifique.” You look beautiful. He muttered into your ear, his words meant for you alone, shielded from prying cameras. It caught you off guard—a genuine compliment, untainted by presence of the reporters or observers.

“Mon ange, regarde tes cheveux!” Look at your hair! Charles laughter filled the kitchen, reverberating off the walls with a hearty resonance. It wasn’t long until you joined in, your laughter mixing with his in symphony. The sight of both of you covered in flour from your baking rendezvous added a touch of whimsy to the moment, the white powder dusting your hair like a playful snowfall.

You stepped closer towards him, a playful pout forming on your lips, while he looked down at you with a twinkle in his vibrant green eyes. The intensity of the green hue in his eyes was so striking that it caused your stomach to flutter with nervous anticipation.

You noticed his eyes briefly flicker to your lips before meeting with yours again. A silent ask.

His flour dusted fingertips rested against your jaw, holding your face in the palm of his hands, while his eyes flickered to your lips again.

“Laisse-moi t’embrasser, s’il te plait.” Let me kiss you, please. His words were so quiet, as if you both were secluded in your own bubble. You didn’t answer as your eyes trailed all over his face. As if you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

“Ne me fais pas supplier.” Don’t make me beg.

He could feel the rapid pace of your heart, almost beating out of your chest as he uttered the words. You nodded in response, but before you could even finish the nod, his lips crashed into yours.

It was anything but gentle. As if, you both had waited years to be able to do this without a camera in your presence.

His tongue slipped into your mouth almost instantly, eliciting a soft moan that escaped your lips and melded with his own. He groaned in response, his arms encircling your waist to draw you closer, pressing you flush against his chest before guiding your back against the messy countertop. One hand found its place against the nape of your neck and jawline, holding your head in place with gentle insistence. Meanwhile, the other hand tenderly played with the ends of your hair before wrapping them around his fist, holding your hair firmly yet tenderly.

“Si doux.” So sweet. He murmured against your lips; his breath warm against your skin as he continued to savor the moment.

Your hands instinctively wrapped around his biceps, holding him close, though he showed no inclination to pull his body away from yours.

His lips trailed along your jawline as he pulled the ends of your hair, lulling you head back to give him more access to your neck. Another soft moan left your lips, escaping into the kitchen, as he sucked on the spot where that mark once was.

“Drive me crazy, mon ange.” He muttered against your skin, peppering kisses along your neck, along your jawline, until he met your lips again with a soft peck.

Your eyes met his and you could’ve sworn you would’ve dropped to your knees right then and there for him.

The distant ring of a cell phone was heard in the background, immediately causing you to push him away from you. Your cellphone.

You looked at Charles with a sense of panic. What were you doing?

As if Charles could sense that panic, he brushed off the pain with a small smile. “Tu devrais répondre à ça.” You should answer that.

You didn’t see Charles for a few days following the kiss.

“Que fais-tu ici?” What are you doing here? Charles eyebrows were furrowed as he took in your figure standing before him, an unnamed bag in hand.

You shook the bag in your hand, “Déjeuner.” Lunch. You waved the bag around like it was no big deal. Like you didn’t come all the way to Maranello to bring your fake husband lunch.

You found yourself unsure of the exact reason behind your actions, yet you did it anyways. With Charles away for the past few days, leaving you alone at home, a peculiar sense of longing seemed to linger in the air. Though you refused to admit it outright, all indications hinted at a quiet, yearning for his presence that you got so accustomed to over time.

“Tu n’avais pas besoin de le faire.” You didn’t need to. A smile pulled on his lips as he slung his arm over your shoulder, grateful for the sight of you.

“Je m’ennuyais.” I was bored. You confessed with a shrug, a hint of sheepishness coloring your tone.

He pulled you into an empty room, wordlessly. Instructing you to take a seat as he grabbed two waters from the nearby fridge.

“Comment se passe le travail?” How’s work? You asked, although your inquiry was more out of habit than genuine interest. Since the kiss, you found yourself at a loss for how to engage with him, unsure of how to navigate the shifting dynamics between you two.

He chuckled softly, choosing to settle into a chair beside you rather than sitting across from you, as if he wanted to be close to you. “Tu m’as manqué.” I missed you. He confessed quietly, his tone revealing a vulnerability he rarely displayed with you.

The tips of your ears flushed with a rosy hue in response to his confession, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your gaze softened as you reached into the bag, delicately arranging the food on the table before him, each movement infused with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

“C’est bon.” It’s okay. He muttered, a silent acknowledgment passing between you two. “I know you missed me too.” A smirk pulled on his lips as you shoved his shoulder half-heartedly.

You didn’t deny it.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years

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Noir Reaction: Teasing Them in French

A/n: I apologize if the french phrases are incorrect, I do not speak french. Also coming up with teasing things to say is hard. But I hope this is good and you enjoy!!

Requested by: my fellow Lumi, the lovely and sweet @daewonbiased

Seunghoon:

You had come to drop off Seunghoon’s dinner. Then you spent twenty minutes after convincing him to take a break from work. Somehow an hour later your boyfriend had dragged you to the practice room to watch him goof off and dance to random songs. Somehow he had found some mats in a closet. Somehow he had now gone off on a tangent trying to prove to you taekwondo was sexy.

“No.” You laughed as you sat against the mirror. “You scared?” He asked with a smirk. His blonde hair fell over his eyes. “Of you, mon ours?” He laughed at your nickname for him. While he loved the adorable pet name he really loved showing off. He motioned for you to join him on the mats and he took a ready position.

“I couldn’t possibly risk hurting such a pretty face.” You said standing in front of your boyfriend, a coy smile playing on your lips. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.” He said grabbing ahold of your waist. Draping your arms around his neck you played with the ends of his hair. You hummed before replying, “Je parlais de moi - mon visage.” (I was talking about me- my face.)

His eyebrow quirked up. Clearly, he picked up on the connotation of your words. He took a breath, blowing some of his hair out of his face. “I put up with the boys all day and then you have to do this to me?” He scoffed and looked to the side. “Oh, I’m sorry, mon ours. Here. I’ll make it up to you.” Seunghoon couldn't help but smile when you reached up kissed him, letting your hands tangle in his hair.

Yeonkuk:

Yeonkuk sat lazily on a couch in the dressing room. Your legs were draped over his lap as you messed with his phone. The both of you were waiting for your slots on stage. Noir was performing and so was your group. Thankfully the public was very supportive of your relationship. You had even MCed together once.

“Are we eating after?” Daewon asked Yeonkuk who sat beside him. The boys were used to having you around. Yeonkuk nodded. “The girls are going to join us too. Our manager thinks it would be good press. Also, I miss seeing my baby.” Yeonkuk said bring your hand up to his lips. You smiled at him over the phone.

“I miss you too, Minou,” He smiled at your pet name for him and continued his conversation with his dongsaeng. Time passed and both of you were growing bored exponentially. “Minou, look over here!” Yeonkuk was playing with the laces of your chunky boots and he looked over pulling a funky face. Laughing you took picture after picture of him. He let you mess around more on his phone and traced random patterns on the skin of your bare legs.

A ding sounded on Daewon’s phone and he pulled it out and laughed. It was a picture of Yeonkuk pulling an absurd face with the caption ‘petit minou’ on Noir’s official account. “Why would you post that?” He asked with a laugh, pulling you fully into his lap. “Je ne peux pas m'en empêcher si tu as une drôle de tête.” (I can’t help it if you have a funny face.)

“Yah! I’m going to kill you!” He said playfully shaking you before kissing your cheek.

Junyong:

Lying lazily in bed with a good book was the highlight of your Saturday. Junyong was sitting against the headboard with his laptop and you lay near his feet stretched out and holding a book over your face. The soft clicking of keys and rain outside the window relaxed your mind and body. Every once in awhile Jun would absentmindedly start to rub your ankle. The loving gesture further compelled sleep to fight your consciousness.

Every so often Junyong would ask you a question and sleepily you would respond. Eventually, you put your book aside and turned on your side giving in to the temptation of an afternoon nap. Thunder rolled and rain tapped against the window. At some point, you thought you heard Junyong pick up the phone.

Ignoring it you slipped in and out of sleep for the next ten minutes. “Y/n,” You rolled over to avoid the voice. Nothing would ruin your perfect nap. “Y/n.” Lifting a hand you waved off your boyfriend. He chuckled and continued his call. It seemed he could find the answer to his question on a place called Google.

Close to twenty minutes after Jun called your name again. “Y/n,” Again you ignored him. “Baby?” Groaning you opened your eyes and sat up. Junyong held his phone to his ear and the other still rested on your ankle. He looked at you with a soft smile that reached his eyes. Sighing you switched positions and laid back down next to him this time nuzzling your face into his side. “Babe, do you know today’s date?”

“Oui.” (Yes.)

“Do you wanna tell me?”

“Non, ça va.” (No, I’m good.)

“Why?” “You keep interrupting my nap, dingus.”

Yunsung:

Yunsung called ahead to tell you he was leaving the shooting space. You ordered the food and set up a french tv show the two of you had been watching recently. The door opened and your boyfriend dropped his keys and bag on the table. He greeted you with a kiss. “You smell. Go shower. The food will be here soon.” He nodded and rubbed his eyes before heading to the bathroom.

Humming a random song you grabbed napkins and utensils to eat with while waiting for the delivery man. The door rang ten minutes later and you opened to see a smiling young man. “Hello, are you Y/n L/n?” He asked sweetly. Nodding you grabbed the food and set it on the table near the door and returned to sign. While writing the tip you felt two arms wrap around your stomach and you smiled. “

Thanks! Have a goodnight.” You said before closing the door. Yunsung grabbed the food and flopped on the couch waiting for you to sit beside him before playing the show. “How was your day, love?” He asked stuffing food in his hungry mouth. “Good. You?” He sighed and finished chewing. “Exhausting. We were shooting all day. I’m so ready to be done with this music video.”

“Quoi? Avez-vous dû regarder une caméra sexuellement pendant dix minutes?” (What? Did you have to stare at a camera sexily for ten minutes?) His eyebrow rose at your words and he set down his food. “Yes. I did. I was sexy all day. It was very hard.”

Siheon:

Siheon drove the two of you to the gym late at night. The security team had rented out the court for you to meet some of the boys for a late-night game. Siheon smiled as he listened to you talk on the phone with your mother. You were teaching him a little bit of french so he picked up a sentence or two. Something about him and recording. You were probably talking about their new music video that was about to come out. He was grateful your family supported him even from overseas.

Security took Siheon’s keys and drove the car around back. He slung an arm over your shoulder as the two of you walked in the building to meet the boys. You waved as you saw Junyong, Hoyeon, Seunghoon, and Minhyuk. Minhyuk had called you a couple of hours ago and asked if you wanted to play a few games of basketball.

Music blared from a speaker Hoyeon brought as you and the boys played your second game of three on three. Siheon was on a team with Junyong and Seunghoon and you were on a team with Hoyeon and Minhyuk. The six of you laughed and played late into the night. It was no surprise to the boys how intense you were. You shoulder checked your boyfriend as you raced across the court and made a layup into the hoop.

Looking back you saw Siheon getting up from the floor. “That was a foul!” He said pointing at you with a laugh bubbling up in his throat. “Oh please. Votre vie sociale est une faute.” (Your social life is a foul.) Siheon’s face dropped and then he looked around at the other boys before laughing. “Yah! You can’t tease me like that Y/n!”

Hoyeon:

Glancing at your phone you saw a text from your boyfriend. Your boss had just let everyone go for a half-day. Something about a shipment problem? It didn’t matter because now you had the rest of the day completely free! Hoyeon messaged you that he and the boys were just arriving at their photoshoot location. Jumping in your car you drove over to the set and texted the manager to let you in as a surprise. Before you got to the shooting space you ran into Seunghoon in the hall who gave you a big hug and told you Hoyeon was just about to leave the dressing room.

The dressing room was filled to the brim with makeup artists and stylists who rushed around trying to get ready, but only four boys were in there. Siha waved at you and beckoned you over. “Hoyeon just left for the stage. Want to walk together?” Nodding the both of you headed towards the shooting space.

The temperature immediately dropped as you walked through the doors into the big room. Huge lighting pieces lit up a backdrop that Hoyeon stood against. Siha elbowed you as the two of you came closer. The two of you giggled as you watched Hoyeon’s modeling from off to the side.

While they were adjusting lighting he finally saw and waved at you, a big smile growing on his face. When it was over your boyfriend jogged over a planted a big kiss on your lips, completely ignoring his friend. “Good job,” Siha said patting Hoyeon on the back and congratulating him on a good shoot. “That dark disapproving, smoldering thing?” You said imitating his poses. “That’s illegal in Europe you know.”

“Oh yeah?” He said quirking up his eyebrow and letting a smirk fall on his lips. “Heureusement, vous ne violeriez pas la loi.” (Good thing you wouldn’t be breaking the law.) His smirk grew wider before Siha tapped him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Bro, I think she was messing with you. I don’t think it means what you think it means.” Siha laughed as Hoyeon’s grin fell and he turned to shoot you a playful glare.

Siha:

Today was spring cleaning. You were determined to make it so. Siha was often busy and things had picked up for you at work so both of you had gotten a little lax when it came to cleaning the apartment. Opening the windows, you started playing soft french tunes from a CD your mother sent you to listen to while cleaning.

Siha seemed to be extra affectionate today. He would come up behind you and randomly start dancing with you, before being forced back on track. He would compliment you and kiss you obviously trying to distract you. Siha was quite annoyed you chose one of his rare days off to clean and not lounge on the couch with him.

"Y/n!" Ignoring your boyfriend you continued pulling clothes from the dryer. "What, mon coeur?" You called finally giving in to his calls. He shuffled into the laundry room and wrapped his arms around your waist. "Have I told you I love you?" He said kissing your cheek. Laughing, you slapped his shoulder. "Many many times in the past hour." He sighed as you turned back around out of his embrace.

"But, Y/n, I just love you so much!"

"Arrête de dire 'je t'aime' pour sortir des corvées." (Stop saying 'I love you' to get out of chores.)

You said shoving a basket of clean laundry in his hands. Siha glared daggers at you before turning away to go put away laundry. He had no idea what you said but he was just barely smart enough to figure out that you had caught onto his scheme.

Minhyuk:

Minhyuk finally had a couple of days off from work. The two of you decided to visit your family back in Lille, France. On your second day, the two of you wandered throughout the beautiful city. Hand in hand you walked down the people-filled streets. It made you so happy to see him loving where you grew up.

At the golden hour, the two of you ventured to the massive market near the center of the city. Minhyuk happily took pictures with the camera he had brought and excitedly ate samples with you from stalls. “Y/n! Look over here!” “Min, they are just vegetables. We have those at home!” You said with a laugh, letting your cute boyfriend drag you from stall to stall.

You spent the day haggling with french vendors for cute little trinkets and souvenirs Min had picked up along the way. With your bags filled to the brim, you strolled down to the metro to catch the train back to your hotel. The train was quickly filled so you and Minhyuk had to sit across from each other. As the stops passed by more and more people got off at the stations.

Looking over you found Minhyuk staring at you, leaning on one of the rails and his head on resting on his hand. Laughing to cover the blush you looked away and out the window at the setting sun. Turning once again you saw him staring. “Stop staring!” He giggled and adjusted the camera in his lap before his eyes turned back to you. “I can’t help it,” He went back to contently watching you with a smile. If anyone else was in the car they might think he was crazy.

"Pourquoi ne prenez-vous pas une photo? Cela durera plus longtemps." (Why don’t you take a picture then. It will last longer.)

He chuckled, probably picking up a few words. Without hesitation, he aimed the camera at you and adjusted the lens before snapping the picture.

Daewon:

"Oh my god, Cheetos are not chips!" You yelled into the living room at your boyfriend. The two of you had gotten into a random debate and it had now turned into a somewhat heated argument. "Where do you find Cheetos though? In the snack aisle."

Daewon said getting up from the couch. The argument continued for at least another thirty minutes. The both of you chased each other around the living room trying to each prove their own point. "Cheetos leave the same residue that other chips do on your fingers." "They aren't chip shaped!" You said raising your hands in the air.

"Oh yeah? You really want to fight? Let's go!" He said opening his arms and challenging you. You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him muttering, "Malheureusement, j'ai une règle contre les combats contre les enfants." (Unfortunately, I have a rule against fighting children.) Turning you saw Daewon standing there with a blank look on his face.

"Y/n that's cheating. You can't just switch and tease me in french that's like so unfair." You couldn't help but laugh at your whining boyfriend. Kissing him on the cheek you walked out of the room soon after being followed by Daewon still trying to win the pointless debate.

“Y/n! Come back here! This doesn’t mean you won!”

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