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rafey-baby · 1 month

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Been thinking about outlaw!rafe holding pogue!reader hostage in her own house after banging his fist on her door in the middle of a stormy night, demanding to be let in with a gun in hand and wild waves in the sea of his eyes.

cw: outlaw!rafe is more obx accurate in this so he’s pretty mean and manipulative, mentions of murder and violence and other dark themes, he’s also weirdly soft in the end?

wc: 2k

he's been stuck in my head for a while so hope u enjoy xx

part two

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There’s still sleep dust lingering in her lashes when she hesitantly cracks open the oak door at 3am, revealing a tall, scary man with scarlet stains on his big hands, white button up saturated in maroon and a scowl painted over his unsettling countenance.

She stands there like a deer in headlights, unmoving as he stares down at her with arctic eyes as chilling as the frigid waters surrounding an iceberg.

At first, she thinks she’s still asleep, tired brain conjuring up some creepy murderer scenario where she’s the idiot who does everything the audience in the movie theater is screaming at her not to. But as she properly blinks her sleepy eyes open, she comes to the realization that this is not a horror film and this intimidating stranger (with oddly appealing features) who’s definitely just killed someone is very much real.

She’s about to open her mouth and she’s not sure whether she was going to scream for help or simply stare at him with her mouth hung open in shock but she doesn’t get the chance to find out before he’s pasting a massive palm over her mouth.

”Don’t make a sound,” his low mutter makes a shiver run down her spine.

And she doesn’t, instead she just blinks, too out of it to even move a muscle; the reek of the dried blood on his hand hitting her nose, making her face scrunch up. And she doesn’t know why she’s not putting up any sort of a fight, blaming it on the fact that half of her brain is still swimming in the lake of her dreamland; soaking up the glittering sunbeams that never dull and dipping its toes in the grass that consists of misty nebula and twinkling stars.

And he’s just so mean, ordering her around with a gun to her head, manhandling her around to his liking, grumbling about needing to stay at her house for a bit since he needs a hiding place from the cops after dumping a body somewhere in the ocean and getting caught. Apparently, his temper really just got the best of him at times.

”I didn’t even mean to kill the guy, alright. He just kept pissing me off on purpose and I was provoked, what was I supposed to do?” He offers as an explanation that seems to do very little to soothe her overstrung heart that’s thudding in her ribcage. It’s loud enough for him to hear; almost as if she’s a terrified rabbit and he’s a big bad wolf, hunting down his prey.

”I’m taking a shower now, and you’re not gonna move an inch, you understand? Cause if you do, I’m gonna have to hurt you, and I really don’t wanna do that, okay?”

She nods her head, unable to form any coherent sentences.

He takes note of the way her inhale gets caught in her throat when he steps closer to her, inquiring whether she lives alone or not, to which she just nods her head again.

“Dumb girl”, he tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. ”When someone’s knocking on your door at 3am you don’t fucking open, alright?”

She’s making it entirely too easy for him.

The second he’s in her bathroom, she forces her exhausted brain to think; quickly coming up with a rickety plan as she listens to the water streaming down from behind the door. She waits for a moment, making sure the coast is clear before she bolts towards her bedroom, trembling fingers grabbing her phone from her nightstand and trying to dial 911.

However, her shaky hands don’t help her one bit when they drop the phone; the clattering sound of it hitting the floor echoing in the quietness of the room.

She can’t breathe, her brain short-circuits as she bends down, reaching for the wretched device that has somehow tumbled under her bed. However, when she finally catches it in an unsteady grip she hears the shower turn off; an eerie stillness following. In her state of panic she fruitlessly tries to turn it back on and call for help but it’s proving to be harder than she thought when her lungs decide to stop working, her respiration shallow and her heartbeat ringing in her ears.

”Boo,” a low whisper right behind her makes her blood run cold; a shiver traveling down her spine as she slightly jumps, a faint gasp leaving her.

”Why did you just do that, huh? Told you, didn’t wanna fucking hurt you and then you go and pull this shit,” a strong hand is gripping her by her throat as he turns her around to face him.

”I’m sorry, I...I don’t— ” she’s paralyzed, unable to move.

”You don’t what, huh?” He stares into her horror-stricken eyes with an almost bored look, seemingly entirely indifferent to her torment.

”Can’t…can’t breathe,” her voice is nearly inaudible, making a grim chuckle bubble out of his chest.

”Can’t breathe? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before, yeah?” He scoffs, cruel words mocking her.

”You’re so fucking stupid, want me to kill you, is that what you want?” He grits out as he squeezes at her neck, making her feel dizzy; gasping for air.

”No! No, please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Won’t— won’t do it again, promise, I’ll do anything—” she manages to force out as he’s nearly crushing her windpipe in his unrelenting grip.

”Anything, huh? That’s real tempting and all but what I need you to do is not pull stupid shit like this, you understand?”

”I won’t, I promise. You can...stay here for as long as you want and I’ll help, okay?” she thinks she’s gonna pass out soon, stars peppering behind her fluttering lids and her weakened limbs starting to feel heavy. His coarse panting fills her eardrums as he seems to contemplate her offer for a moment.

”If you even think about running to the cops tonight, I’m gonna fucking find you, you understand?”

She’s frantically nodding her head and at last, his hold begins to loosen around her trachea, allowing for her greedy lungs to finally suck in air as she takes a step back, trying to even out her respiration.

He doesn’t say anything, silently observing her as she clears her throat, swallowing a few times as she tries to pacify her racing heart and calm the thoughts running around her head; trying to reassure herself that she’s still alive and she will stay that way if she just doesn’t rile him up anymore.

He notices how her rounded eyes look up at him as he stands before her, smelling like her honey-scented body wash and orange blossom shampoo, nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, leaving very little to her imagination as the room grows quiet.

”What’s— um…what’s your name?” Her voice is creaky when she tries a different approach once she feels the flat floorboards under her wobbly feet again, a nervous hesitation overlaying her precarious question.

”Don’t worry about it,” he simply dismisses her, but a small pout molds her mouth as she stares at him and he lets out a discontented sigh, rolling his eyes.

”Rafe,” he finally responds, not bothering to ask for hers, seemingly not caring enough for it. She tells him, nonetheless and he laughs at her priorities. A literal criminal has broken into her home and she cares about fucking introductions.

”So…have you— have you killed anyone else?” She doesn’t know why she’s trying to make small talk with him but she supposes if she gets him to talk about something, choking her to death won’t be at the forefront of his mind anymore.

”You seriously wanna know?” He raises his brows.

She thinks about it for a moment and then settles on shaking her head, followed by a harsh chuckle rumbling out from his sturdy chest.

”So, uh— what is it that you do? Like besides…killing people and stuff?” She tries once more.

”Look, the less you know, the better, alright?” He simply states, making her let out a soft sigh in defeat.

All of a sudden, a vigorous thunder crackles behind her windows, an ablaze lightning illuminating her dimly lit bedroom soon after.

She flinches at the sound and the sinister way it momentarily lights up his face.

“You scared of a little storm?” He feigns concern as he peers down at her.

“N— no,” she lies, forcing her face to stay neutral, hesitant about him finding out her weaknesses.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe, yeah?” The mocking grin on his face causes a shudder to travel through her as she swallows, wishing this was all just a nightmare she could wake up from.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

After that little incident, he thinks that she’s just as sweet as sugar, offering to make him tea and asking if he wants a blanket or an extra pillow so he’d be more comfortable sleeping on the couch.

He can tell that she’s merely doing it because she’s terrified of him, which she should be. Nonetheless, he thinks it feels nice to be pampered, doted on; to have a pretty girl following his orders like a trained puppy. Makes him figure he's gonna enjoy his stay just fine.

The following morning though, he’s woken up by her shaky figure standing next to his own tired form, pointing his gun at him.

His softened bones feel mellow from the sleep and he lets out a sigh, rubbing at his sleepy eyes and shifts to sit on the couch cushions; teasingly lifting his hands up in surrender.

“Puppy’s got a gun, huh? Trying to be all tough now, are we?” There’s a lazy smile on his face.

”I— I want you to…leave,” she says, voice rickety and words unsure.

And he’s trying to take her serious, he really is, but it’s proving to be a little difficult since she resembles a scared little kitten more than someone who knows what they’re doing.

”You want me to leave? Maybe you should work on your pitch, I’m not very convinced, you know?” The exasperating smirk plastered on his face makes her brows crease.

”Rafe, this is not a joke,” a scowl shades her face and he thinks she looks rather adorable.

“Come on, Puppy. You’re not gonna shoot me. You don’t even know how to use that thing, do you?” His voice is even; she hesitates.

“Well, it can’t be that…complicated?” It’s more of a question than a statement and he really can’t keep the chuckle from bubbling out of his throat. Her frown deepens.

“Why don’t you give it to me, yeah? You don’t want death on your conscience. Would break you, you’re too soft for that shit.”

“You don’t— know me.”

“I know you enough,” he says, finally standing on his feet. He takes a slow step towards her and she squeezes the gun tighter in her trembling fingers.

”If I give it to you, you’re gonna— you’re gonna…kill me. I don’t wanna die,” her words are hysterical, rushed.

“Now who said anything about killing you? Look, if you give me the gun right now, I’m not gonna do anything. I give you my word, alright?” He’s towering over her, solid chest nearly grazing the barrel.

“I don’t trust you,” her voice is a whisper.

“I know, Pup. But I also know that you’re not gonna use that,” his steady hands are a contrast to her own precarious ones when he grabs for the firearm, slipping it from her weak fingers with ease.

“There we go, no need to be so fucking theatrical, yeah?” He lowers his head in order to lock his eyes with her frenzied ones.

“See? Not hurting you, am I?”

She manages out a hum of agreement and then her waterline is brimming with water, salty droplets trickling down her cheeks as she chokes out a sob. “I’m sorry. I don’t—”

“Hey, hey it’s all good. Mistakes happen, yeah?” He says and then his strong arms are wrapping around her trembling form because he’s not a complete monster and for some reason that makes her weep harder.

Her crocodile tears wet his shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind, big paw rubbing against her back. And it’s almost…comforting, she thinks as he starts to sway her from side to side, like he’s trying to calm down a crying child.

“There you go, just let it all out and maybe you can chill out a bit, yeah? You Pogues can be so fucking dramatic sometimes,” he pats at her back, rolling his eyes as she takes in shaky inhale after shaky inhale until she’s feeling slightly more placid.

”Shit, if I’d known you were such a crybaby I would’ve picked another house,” he grumbles, pulling away from her weakened form, pushing her back to stumble on her feet; setting the gun back on the coffee table with a clank.

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enhagvrl · 9 days

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en- making up to you

a/n: tqsm for your love on the first part!! yall the best <33 not proofread so please ignore the grammar and spelling errors if any.

previous part

lee heeseung

You had switched off your phone and were sitting quietly in the park.. After spending some time thinking, you eventually decided that it was just a joke and he did not actually mean it of course. You guys were now far from all those high school years and unnecessary gossip to give them a thought so it just might have slipped out from his mouth.

back at home…

The clock on the wall chimed, signalling that it hit midnight- and you were still not home. Heeseung had spent the last few hours working his head to find out what action or word of his had caused you to dash off like that, without even turning back once. Hee had sent you many texts and calls but they all went in vain. He was about to enter the kitchen to fetch a glass of water when he stopped, hearing the front door creak open.

“where were you? Your phone was switched off. I know you told me you’ll be back but it struck midnight and I just became so worried." Heeseung went on rambling, taking a breath only when your hand came to rest upon his shoulder.

“ I'm okay. Sorry for rushing out like that. It's just that I needed some fresh air. Nothing to worry about hee.” you said, giving him a small smile while turning away to head towards your bedroom.

“ It's about me saying you're crazy right?” you stopped in your tracks but didn't turn around.

Seeing you stop, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you - his head leaning a little against yours so that his mouth is directly next to your ears.

“ Baby, you know I've loved ever since I laid my eyes on you. I'm sorry if what I said hurt you. You can do whatever you want - but please don’t ever think I will turn my back on you. I have never once come to believe those baseless rumours about you. Please forgive me. I don't know how it just slipped out but I promise there won't be a next time. Really. Please, sweetheart. Don't leave me alone again like that.”

Without turning back, you simply removed Heeseung's hands from you and pulled him along with you towards the bedroom. There you sat down on the edge of the bed pulling heeseung on top of you.

You simply sat there holding him close to you - your hands tapping away a random beat on his stomach while his eyes did not move from your face, observing every single feature.

“I will agree I felt a bit upset at first hearing it but then again, it's been years since I got to hear that word about me but I realised I don't really care anymore now. It’s fine though, I’m over it. So don’t worry anymore.” saying this, you gave a small kiss on heeseung’s arms which were now wrapped around your neck.

Heeseung could only sit there and look at you with his bambi eyes, all teary and round.

“ Remind me again, how did I score you?” he says playfully, giggling when you bring up your hand to pinch his nipple (cue to jw doing it in en-o’clock)

“HEY! THAT’S VIOLATION RIGHT THERE!” saying this you are pushed on the bed with a tickling battle announcing its arrival. Sleep? Forget it.

park jongsaeng

The clock rang a small tune - the time being 2 a.m. but the man on the bed just kept tossing from one side to another. Even though Jay is known for falling asleep easily anytime, tonight it just did not seem possible.

Not being able to take it anymore, Jay got up from the bed and headed towards the living room only to find out that all the lights were off and you were sound asleep on the couch. He could only sigh and close in on your sleeping figure and that’s when he noticed some dried tear stains on your cheeks. That’s when he knew he messed up.

The next morning you woke up feeling all stuffy and unable to breathe as if something was weighing down on you and you opened your eyes only to be greeted by the sight of Jay sleeping on your chest. You almost melted right there because of how cute his face looked being squished on your chest but then the memories of last night came into your mind and you stiffened up.

Carefully pushing the sleeping figure off your body, you get up and head towards the bathroom to start your day. Coming back to cook some breakfast you were surprised to find your boyfriend already awake and making some simple toast for the both of you. Without uttering a word, you started cutting some fruits to make juice.

You had only gone halfway to cutting an apple when you felt something rest on your shoulder, hot breath fanning your ears and a hand resting beside the cutting board.

“I’m so sorry for those harsh words last night. I really didn't mean them. I have no idea what came over me at that time, but it still doesn’t excuse the fact that I said those words to you. I hope you forgive me and know that I love listening to you talking. Even if the world was ending, your voice would be enough to keep me alive. So please don’t be mad at me, my pretty baby or else I would not hesitate to jum-” before he could complete that sentence you gave him a quick kiss on his mouth.

“Now you’re the one going on rambling. I forgive you and I was never that mad at you in the first place. Just got a little upset. But it’s all gone now seeing my future husband cooking for me :) I love you ” Jay only chuckled at your words and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead muttering a “i love you too” with his signature smile. Five minutes later you two were back on the couch with two plates of your breakfast and two glasses of apple juice.

Throughout the while, you kept on talking about all sorts of stuff while Jay was only giving short replies and looking at you with a tender smile on his face. You were suddenly pulled into a soft kiss by the said man when he said these words pulling away from the kiss,

“ Your voice is the sound my ears crave and they were made for listening to you only. I’m sorry. I love you.”

As he whispered these words close to your face with his eyes boring into yours and his breath fanning your lips, you simply took his juice and had a sip from it while maintaining eye contact with him with a serious face which made the said man let out a laugh.

“I love you too :) '' you said taking another bite of your toast making Jay let out a small chuckle at your stuffed up face and your antics.

sim jaeyun

“Oi! Why are you running away?” Jake huffed catching up to you as you speed walked after paying for your ice creams.

“ nothing. Just tired. Want to sleep.” “Okay now that’s where I know I've messed up so can you please tell me before I go around shouting to the whole world that my girlfriend is mad at me.”

“ you would not do that.” “oh watch me.” saying that he immediately got down to his knees ready to shout whatever he was planning to when you ran towards and covered his mouth with your hand.

“You-” you whisper shouted to him, pulling him up before he could attract any attention from the people moving about.

“ Tell me what I did wrong, baby please or else I’ll take away Layla from you.” he said, his eyes being all shiny while his face displayed a sad pout - which you oh so badly wanted to kiss away but had to restrain yourself.

“ you think for yourself, smarty pants.” you said, walking down the road.

“Was it because I teased you earlier? Cmon babyyyy you know I didn't mean it. I’m sorry.” Jake whined, pulling at your sleeves while you were pulling the pouty boy along with you.

“ It did not feel good to hear that, Jake.” you stopped in your tracks, your words making Jake know you’re genuinely upset.

You both stopped walking - the night’s wind blowing through your hair while Jake’s hand had slipped from holding your sleeve to taking your hands in his.

“I’m sorry, love. I just meant to tease you. I did not consider it might hurt your feelings and that’s my fault. Please forgive me?” his sincere apology with those puppy eyes you were being shown, you could not resist it anymore.

“Ay, ay, whatever. Not like I was mad at you or something, just got a little offended there. Anyways, I'm better at soccer than you for sure.” saying this you took a big bite from his ice cream and ran away while he was stunned for a second.

“Yayyy :) wait what- MY ICE CREAM!! NOOO!!!”

park sunghoon

The next morning you woke up like usual and did your business while Sunghoon slept in for a very long time. It was right around noon when Sunghoon woke up from his sleep. Coming down from the bedroom he was met with the sight of gaeul eating her food while you were beside her sewing some scarf.

“Good morning. More like afternoon but yeah.” you said, noticing the tall man rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“weren't we supposed to be going somewhere today? Don’t tell me we missed the flight.” Sunghoon’s eyes widened at the fact that maybe you two missed on the whole trip.

“Don’t worry about the trip. I cancelled it.” you say, being all nonchalant which surprised Sunghoon.

He approached you on the couch, taking a seat beside you while his body was turned towards you showing that you had his full attention.

“What do you mean you cancelled the trip? Why? We were supposed to go bungee jumping together.” he said, confusion evident on his face.

“Well, we can do that another time. For now, let’s just spend some time indoors.” you said, turning your head towards him.

He seemed taken aback by your sudden change in plans but nevertheless didn’t question it much. He only nodded to your response and got up, going back into the room while you went back to sewing.

The day passed on by slowly, as you two spent time watching a movie then playing a video game together, and as the day was slowly coming to an end you both ended up in the kitchen trying to make dinner together.

Sunghoon’s mind was not calm though. For the whole evening you had been replying to him in a few words or just one nod of your head. He knew something was wrong but could not put his finger on it. He did not even remember what took place last night cause he was so sleep deprived at that moment.

Gathering up courage, Sunghoon walked over to you who was busy cutting up the last few chillies for the spice. He cleared his throat once he was beside you to get your attention.

“...did…something happen? You don't look very…happy to have me around.” You managed to let out a small smile at his words.

“Why would you think that?” “because you seem very distant.”

“What do you think is the reason?” you answered, keeping the knife away.

“You wanted to go on the trip but cancelled it for some reason?” he said, confused.

“What do you think is the reason?”

“ baby, stop beating around the bush. I really do not know the reason. I don't even remember what happened before I passed out last night because of the fatigue. Please tell me. Did something happen? Did I do something?” Sunghoon said, frustrated at your silence when all he wanted that evening was to spend time with you.

“You lashed out on me last night saying you do not want to go anywhere. Hence why I cancelled the trip. That happened.” you muttered out, voice so quiet Sunghoon wouldn’t have been able to catch the hurt you portrayed in them.

“...I lashed out on you? When? I…I'm sorry I really don’t know.” “ You did. Maybe it was because you were sleepy and tired but I get it. We should spend some time together in our house also. I am sorry.”

Sunghoon immediately placed his hands on your shoulders with a questioning expression, “ what are you sorry for? I am sorry. Even if I was tired, it was not nice of me to take it out on you. Don’t be sorry. I love making memories of different experiences with you, really. I know that I may not be as outgoing and extroverted as you but trust me when I say if it’s you I’m ready to go to space too. I guess I was just really exhausted but that’s no excuse to lash out on you. I’m sorry.”

You nodded and softly bumped your head into his chest to which he responded by bringing you into his arms muttering small ‘i love you’s and ‘i would never get mad at you’s.

After a while of you guys hugging there, you built up the courage to say -

“ also, news came that the bungee jumping line broke so we wouldn't have been able to go anyways. Hehe.”

Oh. that's why.

kim sunoo

“(name)!!!!!!!” Sunoo shouted while running down the stairs.

You were busy scooping out the ice cream from the tub to notice that Sunoo had made himself comfortable on the counter.

“ Here you go,” you say, handing over his bowl.

Sunoo hesitantly takes his bowl, noticing the sudden change in the air. You quietly set aside the ice cream tub and started to eat from your bowl. Sunoo was dying to ask you if something happened but decided to wait till you guys were back in your bedroom.

Once you guys settled back into your bedroom, you sat down with a book while Sunoo went to proceed with his skin care for the night. Neither of you had spoken a word to each other for an hour now and it was beginning to eat him so he decided to confront you.

“ Did I do something to upset you?” he asked, popping out from the bathroom with a face mask on.

“No,why?” you asked, voice not carrying any emotion.

“....you’ve just been really quiet. Tell me, what’s on your mind?” he voices out his concern, plopping down on the bed beside you.

You were debating whether to tell him or not. In case, he might not believe you.

“I kind of got a little upset when you said that no one would believe me. Because you know how I was in the past and all..” you said, your voice lowering towards the end of the sentence

“When did I say tha….OH! Aaa baby noooo I did not mean it in a literal sense. I’m so sorryyyyy.” he said, immediately climbing on top of you to give you a big hug.

“Really though. I am so sorry I made you upset. That was not my intention. I must have said that without any thought. I am sorry. Please forgive meeee”, Sunoo says while basically rolling all over your body to get you to forgive him.

“Okay okay you big baby i get it. I get it. I forgive you now, please can you get off?” you said, a smile making its way onto your face.

Sunoo got up from the bed and was now standing beside your figure. He looked all happy, with his smile reaching his eyes.

The next minute you find yourself sitting on the counter of your bathroom, Sunoo standing between your legs and his hands rubbing the lotion gently on your skin.

“I’m so glad you told me what was concerning you. I am sorry once again and I promise this will never happen again. Tell me if I ever go overboard with my words again, hm?”

Your heart filled up with comfort and warmth because of how genuine he was. Letting a smile pain itself on your face, you gave him a small peck.

“ It’s okay. It’s all in the past now. Don’t worry about it. You’re forgiven. I love you hm?”

“ I love you too. Now let me spoil my queen.” you could only let out a laugh while sunoo slapped a sheet mask on your face.

yang jungwon

You were swinging on one of the swings in the local park, taking in the cold night air when suddenly a maltese came running up to you. You immediately recognise its maeumi and take him up in your arms. Soon after you hear footsteps following and you knew it was him.

Jungwon takes a seat on the swing beside yours and turns his head towards you, who’s still not looking at him but playing with maeumi.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me to let those words out. I never meant them.Maybe I was just a little worried. I do not have any excuse. Just please forgive me. I’ll let you have all my gummy bears also.” he paused a bit, awaiting some reaction from you but was disappointed when he got nothing.

“Please give some love to your boyfriend here. I am your baby, not maeumi. Please. Please.” he said, getting up from the swing and bringing his face in front of yours while pulling the cutest expression.

You put down maeumi and stand up, holding Jungwon's face and giving a big, wet smooch in his lips - taking him by surprise.

“It’s okay. I forgot about it all anyways. Thanks for worrying. Let’s go home?” you said pulling out from the short kiss which made Jungwon lose all senses for a second.

“Bleh. I love you too. I aint washing my face at all now. Lechugooo” he said holding your hand in his now cold one and calling maeumi to stay close.

“I never said I love you though?” “ You kissed me. That said more than enough hehe.”

nishimura riki

“(NAME)! OYE!”, niki’s voice echoed through the hallways as you made your way outside the building. You were pulled back by a hand two times your size holding your arm.

“ Are you okay? Why would you run off like that? “ the taller boy questioned,voice laced with worry and confusion evident on his face.

You could only nod your head in response. You don’t know what came upon you but you were not feeling good - not at all.

“ i’m sorry i..i don't feel so good.” you said holding his arm to steady yourself

“ just- just hold onto me, okay?” niki voiced out, holding you close by and bringing you back inside the practice room, settling you down in one corner of the lobby.

You knew why you were feeling like this. You had been ignoring your health in order to get into SDC and as expected, your body was not taking it well. Still you dared to push it a lot more till it brought you to right now - where you are feeling nauseous even though you know nothing is inside your body.

Ten minutes had passed since Ni-ki was gone. You were now feeling a little better, no more nauseous. You almost fell asleep when his voice woke you up.

“ hey. (name). Here, take this.” he said, handing you a simple sandwich with some pineapple juice. Your go-to breakfast.

You silently muttered a “thank you” and took a bite of the sandwich filled with vegetables and took a sip from the juice; your body genuinely thanking you for finally eating something good.

While you were devouring down on your food, Niki was sitting on the small couch beside you - his eyes filled with adoration and his lips bent up in a small smile.

“ You should’ve told me that you have not been taking care of yourself. No. I should have noticed it. Such a bad partner aint i?” he voiced out, a little sarcasm and a little seriousness simultaneously.

“ Of course not. I’m sorry for not telling you. I really have been trying hard for the contest but maybe it’s not meant to be.” you said, taking the last bite from your sandwich and doing a happy dance, having your stomach filled, which made niki let out a chuckle.

“ I am sorry. It was wrong of me to say that.”

“what?” you asked, confused by his sudden apology.

Niki let out a sigh and continued “ I’m sorry for saying those mean stuff to you. I did not mean it that way. As a fellow dancer, i know how bad it is when it comes to competing and i was....inconsiderate of your feelings here. I'm sorry."

" well...as long as you know and admit your faults, i'm okay with it. You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes you know?"

Niki could only let out a little laugh and nodded his head to your words. " I love you a lot, you know that right?"

Nodding your head, you got up from your couch and whispered right beside his ear an " i love you too, your dork head" and ran away after hitting him on the back of his head.

“YOU LITTLE SHORT ASS!”

tags: @loumin908 @gardenwons @whateverhoon @moonpri @lovcremez

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jo-speaks · 15 days

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taste ft. luke hughes

in which...

you know you'll always be present in luke hughes' life, even if you aren't together.

warnings: MDNI!! brief smut, oral sex (f! receiving), alcohol consumption, cheating (? kinda but not really), i think that's it

track one in short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) series !

quick note: bit earlier than expected, but i can’t let you guys know my next move

Oh, I leave quite an impression

Five feet to be exact

“Damn, Lukey. You walked past her and she looked tiny as hell.” Jack teased his younger brother.

Luke hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of you. You were currently in an intense game of beer pong against his older brother and a guest whom he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, your short, tight dress leaving the youngest Hughes starstruck. He watched as you threw the small ping pong ball across the table, yet again with the accuracy to have his eldest brother chugging from a red Solo cup for the eighth time that night.

“She’s not that short. I’m just really tall, I guess.” Luke yelled in response, the loud music filling the space making it impossible for him to be heard at a normal level.

Jack rolled his eyes, siping whatever mixed concoction he had made in his not-so-sober state. “Uh-huh. At least you aren’t worrying about Natalie anymore.”

Quinn groaned as he missed the cup across from him, “Alright, next round I want Y/N on my team!”

You laughed loudly, leaving Luke even more mesmerized. “Q, the drunker you get the less losing hurts.”

Once again, it was your turn to throw the ball. You stuck your tongue slightly past your lips in concentration as you tried your best to aim towards the red plastic.

“Hang on, hang on.” Quinn stalled, causing you to groan dramatically. “You’re scary good at this. So, you can’t look at the cups. Take a blind shot.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What? How is that fair?” “It’s not, but neither is how good you are.”

“Whatever.” You agreed, turning your head to look at anything else. Before the ball could escape the grasp of your fingertips, your eyes wandered a little too much, making eye contact with Luke. He was already staring at you, so he didn’t bother to look away when you met his gaze.

The way he was leaning against the counter, legs spread and his tight jeans doing nothing to hide the prominent print of his cock peeking through.

In your awe, you dropped the round piece of plastic, letting it fall into the cup of beer below it.

“Does that mean you drink?” Quinn asked.

You're wondering why half his clothes went missing

My body's where they're at

The bright sunlight woke you up. You groaned as you blinked your eyes open, taking in the moment. Well, until it was interrupted.

Luke threw his arm around you, your body covered in a large piece of fabric. “My hoodie looks nice on you.”

You laughed softly, “You should let me keep it then.”

“I didn’t plan on ever taking it back.” He answered, peppering soft kisses on your face, quickly finding your lips. The more your senses started to come back, the more intimate the moment felt.

You soaked in the sunlight together, not wanting the moment to come to an end. But unfortunately, you had a cat back at your apartment who was probably meowing for food by now.

“Gotta go, Luke.” You mumbled against his lips, doing nothing to stop his wandering hand from finding its way in between your legs.

His lips trailed from your lips to your neck, finding that sweet spot that made you cry out softly. “You could also stay, let me take care of you.”

Now I'm gone, but you're still layin'

Next to me, one degree of separation

“What an asshole. He purposely put that on his private story so he could make sure you’d see it.” Your best friend, Ivy commented, taking your phone out of your hand and shutting it off.

You laughed, “It’s fine, Ivy. I laid in that bed in that same spot a million times. It sure as hell will take more than one girl to get the smell of me out of it.”

The girl squinted her eyes before coming to a realization, “You washed his sheets with your detergent, didn’t you?”

“You bet his sorry ass I did.” You smirked.

Ivy burst out in laughter, her hands grabbing your forearms as you started to laugh along with her, “You petty bitch.”

I heard you're back together and if that's true

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

If you want forever, I bet you do

Just know you'll taste me too

“So yeah, he got back with Natalie. That’s who that girl on his story was.” Quinn commented, taking a sip of his coffee.

The two of you had started going out more often after you and Luke broke up. Well, when Luke broke up with you. He had claimed he just didn’t love you anymore, but after spending a little less than six months with him, you knew it was bullshit. So, as any sane person does, you called up his older brother and asked him to give you the real explanation. Since then, it had basically become routine for the two of you to catch up whenever he was back in Vancouver.

You nodded, “I figured, but thanks for letting me know.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. We told him to wait before jumping into anything, especially since he was still texting her the whole time you guys were together.” “So that ‘N’ in his phone wasn’t actually Nico? No way!” You joked, knowing that the single-letter contact couldn’t have possibly been his team’s captain.

Uh-huh

He pins you down on the carpet

Makes paintings with his tongue (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)

His hands pinned your hips down against the living room carpet, his need to eat you out far too great to even make it to the bedroom.

“Fuck, Luke.” You moaned, gripping his damp curls.

He kept licking at your clit, doing what felt like absolute magic against your core. “You taste so good, baby. Doing so good f’me.” He mumbled against you, the vibrations of his voice only adding to the pleasure.

You felt yourself getting closer to your peak, the room around you slowly disappearing as you fell into a blissful state, the only thing you were focused on was how good Luke was making you feel.

However, a consistent buzz from next to your spread legs caught your attention. Even through blurry eyes, you could see a capital ‘N’ displayed on his phone screen, disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

Before you could say anything about it, Luke took your swollen bud into his mouth, suckling harshly, distracting you completely from saying anything.

He's funny now, all his jokes hit different

Guess who he learned that from?

Jack and Quinn had become irritated at their brother and his girlfriend’s laughter coming from the pool room.

“I might just be bitter, but her laugh is stupidly annoying. I like Y/N’s. Hers sounds less annoying.” Jack said to Quinn, staring from the porch into the room.

“Luke’s not even that fucking funny. All the jokes he’s telling her are jokes Y/N said to him. He could at least try to be original.” Quinn agreed.

Now I'm gone, but you're still layin'

Next to me, one degree of separation

Luke laid in his bed, waiting for Natalie to finish taking off her makeup at the desk across from him. He rolled over into the space where she now had claimed, his nostrils taking in a familiar vanilla scent.

“Nat? Did you use a new hair product or something?” He questioned, sniffing the sheets more aggressively.

Natalie made a face, “What? No, I haven’t.”

I heard you're back together and if that's true

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

If you want forever, and I bet you do (I bet you do)

Just know you'll taste me too

“Stop doing that.” Luke whispered against her lips.

Natalie groaned, “Doing what?”

He pulled away, wanting to get a better look at her face, “Tugging on my hair. I don’t like it.” “She did it all the time, Lu. I saw it.”

Luke knew exactly what she was talking about. The only person he had let tug on his hair during a make-out or during sex was you. It didn’t feel good when anyone else did it, not even his girlfriend.

“Whatever. Just don’t do it.”

La-la-la-la-la-la-la

“Maybe we need to cut you off.” Ivy said, pulling the shot of vodka from your hand before you could take it.

You snorted, “Nah, I’m fine.”

To everyone, it was obvious you were not fine. Emotionally, sure. But sobriety-wise? Not at all.

Ivy gave you a look of concern, “So this drinking spree you’ve been on tonight doesn’t have anything to do with Luke?”

“Nope.”

Every time you close your eyes and feel his lips, you're feelin' mine

And every time you breathe his air, just know I was already there

Luke peered up at you as you pulled your hair back, “Already? Thought you’d want to kiss a little first.”

You rolled your eyes, “Shut up. I just don’t want my hair to keep getting stuck on my lip gloss. It’s getting annoying.” He simply laughed and pulled you back in, pressing his lips to yours yet again, savouring the taste of your cherry lip gloss as he took your bottom lip into his mouth. He felt as if he didn’t even need oxygen anymore, only you, on his lap, your lips against his.

After a few more kisses, you pulled away to catch your breath, Luke’s hand on the back of your head keeping you close to the point where you were practically breathing against his mouth.

You can have him if you like, I've been there, done that once or twice

And singin' 'bout it don't mean I care, yeah, I know I've been known to share

Well, I heard you're back together and if that's true

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

“Oh please! It’s clear that you’re still into him, you crazy bitch!” Natalie yelled, getting the attention of a few people in the arena parking lot.

You scoffed, “I’m not. The only reason I’m here is because of Jack, not Luke.”

“Yeah, right. You know you can say you don’t want him anymore, but it was clear at that karaoke bar that you’re still hung up on him!”

“Holy shit, how many times do I have to say it? The only reason I sang that song was because it’s a good fucking song! If I wanted him back, I could get him back.”

Natalie wasn’t even able to get a word out before you continued speaking.

“Who do you think taught him those jokes you laugh at? Who do you think taught him how to eat pussy like a real man instead of a little bitch?”

She listened closely to your words. Now it made sense to her why he had gotten better at eating her out after he was with you. You noticed the realization on her face and you felt a slight twinge of guilt in your stomach for exposing Luke like that, especially in a public setting. Unfortunately for him, your patience had already run thin, so you couldn’t stop yourself there.

“I don’t care how many times you kiss him. Or how many times you fuck him. The only reason he knows what to do is because of me. And no matter how hard you try to make him forget, he won’t.” You snapped, turning on your heels before she could even inhale.

If you want forever, and I bet you do (I bet you do)

Just know you'll taste me too (Taste me too)

For the next few weeks, your words lingered in Natalie’s mind. You were right, and she knew it. The way he gripped the sheets a little tighter before she laid down, the way he all of a sudden didn’t like his hair pulled.

She thought she wanted to marry this man, to have a family with him. But she knew you were right, Luke would never be the same after you.

And Luke knew that too.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you, no

(La-la-la-la-la-la-la) Yeah, ah-ah

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

“All I heard was her telling him to get over you before she stormed out the house.” Jack explained, hopping into the passenger seat of your car. You were driving him to the airport since he was heading to Chicago for his surgery.

You hummed, “I didn’t mean to make her feel bad, but she called me a crazy bitch. Like it’s my fault he hasn’t moved on.”

Jack laughed at your words, “That’s true. I don’t get it though, he broke up with you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah. I don’t know, I guess I’m just that amazing that I linger wherever I’ve been.” You joked.

“Like a taste in his mouth, he can’t get rid of?”

Your eyes widened slightly at Jack’s shockingly accurate analogy, “Exactly.”

#nhl #nhl hockey #lh43 #new jersey devils #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes smut #luke hughes x reader

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marvelstan0905 · 3 months

Text

"Trust me, you're not heavy"

Boyfriend!Kenji Sato X FEM!Chubby/Plus Size! Reader

TW : insecurities regarding weight/fluff/wholesome/stammering/picking up/angst/slightly new relationship/comparison/lewd joke at the end/not proofread yet/ mixed POV

-Hi. This is for comfort. Mostly for me,because I am on the thicker side and these are thoughts that have coursed through my mind. If you will be triggered please don't go beyond the line. I am a Female/AFAB so it will be with she/her pronouns! I'm still gonna write other scenarios with GN readers in mind! Thank you for the love and support😘

Today was a relaxing day. A chill day from all the chaos that both me and Kenji had been going through. We were relaxing together at Kenji's house. My legs laid on his lap as I sat across from him on the couch. We were watching a movie occasionally being on our phones. Kenji put down his phone and looked at me thoughtfully.

"Hey baby?" Kenji started hesitantly as he took my hand and gently put my phone down. I hummed and smiled giving him my attention. "Can I ask why you don't let me pick you up or sit in my lap?"

I froze. I expected the question but I didn't really expect the question so soon ant so abruptly. I looked away from Kenji, clearing my throat.

"W-What do you mean, baby?" I cleared my throat and withdraw my legs from his lap hugging my knees. Kenji's eyes softened in concern as he observed your tense and almost, hiding body language.

"Well..baby we've been dating for quite a while yet you've never sat in my lap or let me pick you up. If I try to pick you up, you squirm away and stiffen up...did I do something to make you uncomfortable?" Kenji spoke sincerely as he gently took ahold of my hand, his thumb brushing against my knuckles. His beautiful mauve turquoise eyes held concern and guilt. I felt bad.

"N-No. Of course its not you, baby. It's me, really. I..I dont even know where to start really" I breathed with a nervous laughter. I played with his soft but calloused hands. Kenji felt relieved but it still didn't exactly explain why. He wouldn't pressure his girl to talk about it but they had great communication.

"Well you know,you can tell me anything. I'd never judge you. You're the perfect specimen to me" Kenji added with conviction and genuineness. I blushed and shook my head.

"I know that, my love. You'd never judge me. It's just..I'm not exactly small, you know? I don't weigh like 40kgs and stuff like that. Plus I've never really been lifted up or put my whole weight on someone, if that makes sense? Like for trustfall exercises at school, I never got a turn or piggy back rides. Stuff like that..I know it's stupid" I rambled whiles touching my head. I tugged on my sweater sleeves. Kenji's eyes softened and hardened at the same time, he was was quite upset people treated you that way. "Even if someone did volunteer they'd be huffing and puffing or straning. So I'd prefer if you didn't get a hernia or something like that picking me up"

"Welk to start baby, fuxk those people who treated you like that. I'd like their names and Instagram handles..Number 2. It doesn't matter that you don't weigh 40kgs or whatever. That's actually unhealthy but anyways. I don't care if you're not small. Just means there's more to touch and feel on" Kenji smirked whiles groping my pudgy love handles. I giggled and pushed his hands away causing him to chuckle.

"Babe. It's not stupid at all. Trust me, I won't get a hernia or huff or puff, okay? I'm an athlete, I play a sport which requires a great deal of strength. I probably lift weights heavier than you. Even if you weighed 6000lbs I'd glad pick you up and put you in my lap and arms"Kenji assured me whiles he pulled me closer and held my hands.

"I know it's scary but please trust me. I think you're the most beautiful girl ever. With all cute abundance as well. It means I get a marshmallow and extra softness to cuddle, okay?" Kenji smiled and stood up pulling us both to our feet. He pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Can we try it? I promise I won't drop you or strain? I'm not fragile, my love. I won't break if I pick you up. Come on your dating the Ken Sato. Believe when I say you're not heavy at all"

Kenji was convincing but I was still anxious. I really didn't want to be embarrassing or scarred for life...again. I didn't want to witness my boyfriend struggle under my weight but then again, he was right. He did lift weights far heavier than me. His half alien self did have that extra strength and power. I looked up at him and Kenji gave me the puppy eyes and the pout. I groaned and sighed, he really did look like a kicked puppy. "Please princess of mine, please. Trust me?"

"Finnnne. I'm being serious, baby. I'm trusting you. J-Just a minute, okay?" I stammered anxiously. Kenji's smiled brightened up and without a second of hesitation, his large hands wrapped around my thick thighs and picked me up without a struggle or hassle. My instant reaction was to push him away and stiffened up, but I took a deep breath. Kenji wrapped my legs around his waist. His hands laid comfortably under my thighs. I looked at him expecting a tomato face or something but he seemed..fine. Genuinely content and happy as he rocked from side to side slowly.

" Look at that..I'm not huffing or puffing. Neither am I crumbling. See ,baby trust me. You're as light as a paperclip to me. I can toss you around like a ragdoll if I wanted" Kenji shrugged with a triumphant smirk as his hands climbed up and onto my rear. I flushed and breathed a sigh of relief. It was still a lot to get used to but I really liked this. It was nice."Feels good, huh? Plus you're all nice and close to me. I get to kiss you more too"

Kenji spoke softly whiles his lips peppered kisses all over my face. Small flustered giggles left my lips as I leaned into his affection.

"Guess I was too anxious. Thank you, baby. Means alot that you're patient like this. The reassurance means alot as well" I say softly whiles nuzzling my cheek against his cheek. Kenji hummed in satisfaction as well nuzzling against me as well.

"This is nothing, baby. I just wanted you close and for you to be more comfortable in your own skin. I love you so much. All of you. In and out, okay? In fact, I'd like to add to all that chubbiness. Just make you eat even more" Kenji murmured whiles kissing my cheek continously. I giggled and shook my head. We stood like this for a few minutes in a comfortable silence as we exchanged kisses and nuzzles. It was so nice and intimate. The once nervous and anxious air from before seemed to have dissipated as we cuddled in content.

"You know this means I can eat you out in the air now" Kenji murmured with his cheek restint against my head. I clicked my tongue, with a flustered gasp and gently pinched his chest. "Ow! What? Wishful thinking..you know? A little manhandling..come on you know you want to?"

"Kenji Sato!"

"Okay..Okay..I'm sorry..maybe we can try the butterfly position now-"

Thwack

"Ow!O-Okay. Okay. I'm sorry, babygirl. We can talk later hmm?"

#emi ultraman #ken sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ultraman 2024 #ultraman rising #ultraman #kenji sato masterlist #ultraman masterlist #kenji sato #Kenji sato x chubby reader #kenji sato x plus size reader #SoundCloud

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wileys-russo · 5 months

Note

alanna kennedy, “I always preferred macca anyway”, tillies night out at a bar

competitive streak II a.kennedy

"everyone is going to give us shit for being late!" your girlfriend groaned in annoyance, checking her watch for the tenth time as the uber zoomed through the streets of manchester.

"lani are we talking about the same girls? the girls who are late for movie nights when we're all in the same hotel?" you laughed in amusement, squeezing her leg reassuringly.

"we wouldn't be late if you hadn't taken a hundred hours to try on every single piece of clothing you own." alanna grunted with a huff, thumbs flying against her phone screen.

when she felt your eyes burn into her head she looked up and met your unimpressed glare. "i mean but you look just so gorgeous that its worth it babe. so so gorgeous!" alanna attempted to fix things, smiling charmingly as you only hummed.

"mm thats what i thought you said." you warned as she grinned and kissed your cheek a few times, the uber nearing the restaurant you were meeting a handful of your national teammates at.

by some scheduling miracle a large group of them were all down in manchester with games this weekend allowing for the impromptu meet up. "el is jealous." you chuckled showing your girlfriend the annoyed selfie from your best friend who was living and playing in france.

"film this." alanna tapped your knee as you chuckled but clicked record. "serves you right for living in france carpenter, fuck you and i hope the fomo eats you up!" alanna flipped off the camera as you laughed and ended it, sending the snapchat to the blonde and tucking your phone back in your bag as you arrived.

"thanks mate." your girlfriend smiled appreciatively, sliding out of the car first before holding the door open and a hand out to help you up which you took.

"i've changed my mind, looking drop dead gorgeous or not if they give us shit for being late i will be throwing you under the bus."

"alright, pair up and lets get a tourney going!" sam clapped her hands together eagerly as you all hovered by one of the pool tables in the sports bar you'd all moved onto after dinner, losing a few of the girls to their beds along the way there was only six of you still standing.

"not a chance babe!" your girlfriend laughed grabbing caitlins arm as you tried to pair up with her and made a face of shock. "lani!" you huffed in offence as the blonde shook her head firmly.

"i'd just like to win baby, nothing personal." the taller girl winked as you sent her a scowl and someone else drew you into their side. "such a shame you won't be winning then. i'll be taking your girl and the trophy!" mackenzie grinned with her arm slung over your shoulder.

"with her hand eye coordination skills? you can have her." alanna dismissed with a shrug as your mouth formed a small o of shock and even caitlin winced at her best friends words. "you've never even seen me play kennedy." you reminded with a roll of your eyes.

"nah but i do live with you babe, and theres a reason i'm on an undefeated streak at game night. so get ready to lose!" the blonde smirked cockily as you scoffed again.

"hope you're hungry lanz, cause you'll be eating your words soon!" macca swooped in with a grin, guiding you away as you sent your girlfriend a mean glare over your shoulder.

"hope your couch is comfortable tonight lani." cait sighed and patted the taller girls back who rolled her eyes and pushed her away, sam and steph teaming up to play against the two of them for the first game.

you watched on with a silently smug smile at the range of shocked expressions which rocked your girlfriends features as you proved your worth, mackenzie grinning with delight as the pair of you won game after game.

"no way! you bumped the fucking table." alanna scowled as you sunk two balls in one shot, blowing on the top of your cue like a smoking gun before lining up and sinking another ball.

"just call it now! you and cait haven't won a single game lani." sam laughed, she and steph having beat them but no one was yet to beat you and mackenzie.

"nah fuck this, they're cheating somehow!" the blonde huffed dropping her stick onto the table as you sunk a further two balls, winning the game, and storming off to the bar.

"good news! you don't need to get me a birthday present this year, because the look on her face just then...priceless." mackenzie kissed the tips of her fingers as you laughed and pushed her lightly.

"better go do some damage control, hey cait take my place. you might even win a game!" you teased as your friend smacked you lightly and took the cue in your hands, sam setting up the balls for a new game.

it took a few minutes but you eventually located the defender who was leaning against the balcony of the empty smokers area, scowling out into the chilly night air making you smile.

"so is this where the losers hang out then?" you teased appearing beside her as she rolled her eyes and refused to look at you, crossing her arms a little tighter with a huff.

"you know if you'd have just paired up with me like i wanted, you'd have avoided all this horrid horrid humiliation." you knocked your shoulder into her, looking up at her with an amused smile as she groaned.

"don't remind me, should have known cait would be fucking useless." your girlfriend grumbled, flicking you a frown and huffing again before her eyes returned to the skyline. "i'm sure she's thinking the same babe, you sunk what maybe...two balls? and they weren't even for your team." you laughed as alanna groaned again.

"go gloat somewhere else, cockiness doesn't suit you."

"well are you going to be this pouty and moody all night? because i think i deserve a reward for playing so well." your tone shifted as the defenders eyes snapped toward you, seeing the familiar smile tugging at your lips.

"you just want to ditch them?" she questioned a little in surprise as your own eyebrow raised at the unexpected reaction of her not jumping at the opportunity like she normally would.

"no its fine, we can just go back inside and play a few more rounds. i mean i always preferred macca anyway." you smirked as you started to back up toward the door and her face hardened.

you grinned in victory as she surged toward you, taking your hand and practically dragging you toward the exit, calling out a goodbye over her shoulder and ignoring the shouts of protest from your friends in the distance.

"alanna!" you laughed as the blonde called an uber and promptly shoved you against the wall outside the bar, looming over you with a wolfish grin, leaning down so her lips ghosted you and ignoring the ping of her phone that the uber had arrived.

"think i've got a better idea of what i'd like a few rounds of tonight babe."

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #alanna kennedy x reader #alanna kennedy #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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forteafy · 1 year

Text

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.

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