#which means i still have to do it! cause its on my phone! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

There are dozens of funny blogs to kill time on Tumblr.

#which means i still have to do it! cause its on my phone!

puck-bunny-for-all · 2 days

Text

CEO of being a DICK - Q.H

REQUEST : For the written idea I was thinking about quinn being kinda mad cuz he learned that maybe a reader's ex from high school is now working at the same company as her and they have been kinda catching up cuz their families used to be friends and he is like sp smart and bbyQ feels like she is spending way too much time with her ex (but they just hang out at working hours yk). So one time she's telling q about her day and he's looking kinda bored and she ask him about his attitude so everything explodes. I let their make up to you😘

"Have the best day at work and I will see you when I get home." you began as you grab your work bag, coffee mug, and the Stanley cup you have filled with ice water all for your long day at work. You worked at a law firm for your high school ex's dad ironically enough you were just thankful your ex didn't care much for the art of law so you had yet to run into him. Things ended on ok terms with both of you understanding that it just wasn't right and neither of you were invested fully into the relationship. "Thank you my love, I think I might go over to Petey's place with some of the guys after morning skate, but I'll text you and I cant wait to hear about your day." Quinn replies. You give him a kiss and a hug and head on your way, on your way to the parking garage of your building you hear your phone go off and you check it to make sure its nothing serious. Hey there, just wanted to give you a quick heads up we have a new part time hire starting today. Since office space is limited we gave him the empty desk in your office for now. Hope that's ok! -xx Tammy. Tammy was your bosses assistant and handled all his client meetings and you always had a sweet spot for her because she was always giving you the heads up for things.

You pull up to work and collect your belongings and head into the office building. It wasn't a big one about 5 offices in total and a lobby with a waiting room for clients and a receptionist named Lanie who had been there for about 7 years. "Hi there Lacey how's it going?" you say greeting the older lady. She waved to you and you continue into your office and are greeted by a familiar voice. "No way YOU are my office buddy?" Your ex exclaimed as you walk in to your little office. "Oh hey there been a while, last time I saw you I thought you didn't care for law" "Yeah but my dad said he would pay me to work a little and answer some calls and I am back in town for a few months so why not.

You went about your day and return home and set your stuff down on the dining room table. As youhead into your shared room with Quinn he's fast asleep and you assume that's why he hasn't responded to any of your texts today. Practice must have been intense and you're sure that the guys still convinced him to go to Petey's place. You take off your heels and start to get changed to go take a shower. "If this is what I knew I would wake up to I would have slept naked." you hear Quinn say. You giggle, pause what you're doing and walk over to him in your skirt and bra. You give him a kiss as he pulls you into his chest, and kisses you all over your head.

"Tell me about your day lover." he says in-between kisses. You tell him the little you can about your day due to privacy laws and mention your ex to which you feel Quinn stiffen under you. Quinn knew about your history with your ex and to be honest the thought of you being with anyone but him made him very angry, it is just how much he truly loved you. You pick your head up and look at him, "Everything ok?" you ask. "Yeah mhm." Quinn replies rolling his eyes. "If I knew my ex would cause you to go mute I wouldn't have brought him up." you say giggling. "Are you actually serious right now?" he replies. You sit up and look at him confused "what do you mean"

"You're literally telling me about how a guy you used to date is working with you in your office and may I mention again you had feelings for this guy??" "Q you cannot seriously be getting mad right now." you say getting the rest of the way undressed getting annoyed with his tone. "Ok so let me fucking call up my ex and go get coffee with her. Then I'll let you know everything we talk about." "Fuck you Quinn Hughes." you replied walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.

You turn on the speaker you have in the bathroom and get in the shower. Glad you have the music on you let the tears flow, you know that Quinn doesn't like the idea of you having shared your self with anyone else but you can't believe he just said that. Could you though... you began thinking and decided that you did in fact owe him an apology and you should have been more considerate in the way you broke the news rather than being casual.

You hear the door open and feel him step in the shower and wrap his arms around you. "I'm really sorry for being a dick like that out there. You don't deserve to be spoken to like that." "No Quinn I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just brought up my ex like that in causal conversation. I know how you feel about that and it was wrong of me." "Then I guess we are both sorry." he says looking down at you. You stand on your tippy toes and press a kiss to his lips. "Well if that offer of sex is still on the table I'm down." he says smiling at you.

AN : Ok hi. my ex is letting my daughter spend the night with him woot woot. Here's my first ever written request. Idk how I feel about it or if I would wanna do another one but yeah.

Hope ya like and lots of luv

xoxoxox, M

tags : @lukey-pookie-hughes43 and @skylershines

#quinn hughes #nhl #hockey #nhl imagine #captain quinn #nhl players #vancouver canucks #canucks

35 notes · View notes

beautiful-excuses · 10 months

Text

Annoyed/confused/angry about the fact that men seem to think that saying "just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it" is at all a decent answer when a woman says she's tired of doing all the housework. Completely missing the point! I don't want to have to instruct you to do things! I want you to just do them! Because we live here together and I'm not your mother/housekeeper?? Got so frustrated today that I cried because I'm feeling kinda sick and my bf still asked me what we're having for dinner. I don't want to have to respond to that "can you please make dinner because I don't feel well?" you KNOW I don't feel well, yet you still assume I'm going to make the food.... ended with me crying that I just wanted some bread and soup (from a can...) and him making it for me. But then, what would be a nice gesture is basically ruined by the fact that I had to spell it out and cry before he did it.... Like........ I don't get it. Maybe I just won't enjoy dating men, in terms of this being the level of care given. It seems like this is just *how it is*

#i am...........#like literally cried that all i want is to be taken care of while I'm sick #and he wont do it #he went and did it after i said that but like not really understanding my point #he still said i shouldve just asked or been more specific #for context i literatally said 'i dont want to deal with food today can you do it'#and i asked him to go out for a baguette so i could have it with soup #he replied that it was too late to buy a baguette theyd be gone (wasnt true)#and then suggested that i order sushi #because the delivery app doesnt work on his phone??#and he doesnt like the other apps.........#also #i was feeling sick ehy would i want sushi......#idk it was just such a reasonable request snf he couldnt be bothered to check #also that means whenever i dont want to cook and ask him to handle food #he just suggests we order takeout #which means i still have to do it! cause its on my phone!#and its my money!! which i dont have a lot of atm #he will send me money sometimes for it but #idk just bugs me i want to sometimes not have to do anything #like he gets to every single day when i do the cooking/cleaning #courtney rambles

3 notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 11 days

Text

Cool Girl

Ghoap x female reader / 18+ / masterlist

Your hand is shaking again.

It’s a defense mechanism or something, you think. Some physical manifestation of your anxiety. Something psychological, you’re sure of it.

It’s the only thing you’re sure of, if you’re being honest.

You stalk home as fast as you can, scowl affixed to your face like it’s been cemented there, seeping deep into your frown lines, etching them like a chisel on marble.

The walk sobers you. Brings you back to rational sense, little by little.

You shouldn’t have called them. You’re so dumb. You’re asking for trouble.

But is it so bad, to want to cause an emotional reaction? To want them to be as miserable as you?

It’s pathetic. A way to seek validation. A mistake.

One you’re sure you’re going to pay for.

Your front door is unlocked.

The door pushes open nearly on its own, and your eyes struggle to adjust in the pitch black of your hallway. No light from the street spills from the living room, which means the drapes have been drawn closed.

Your heart leaps into your ears, pounding between your temples at a frenzied pace.

It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s probably them.

What if it’s not? Do you have a weapon? A way to defend yourself? You find your pepper spray in your bag, readying it between trembling fingers.

“Hello?” You call.

Nothing.

“Hello… if you’re in my flat, you better-“ a firm hand grips back of your neck, like a viper assaulting its prey, and you scream.

“It’s me.” Simon murmurs into your hair, touching over your pulse. “Jus’ me.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” you twist out of his grip, fumbling for the lights.

When they flick on, you blink a few times to adjust.

He’s a sight for sore eyes in joggers, a black sweatshirt, black hat.

His eyes burn. They scald you, roving from top to toe, his mouth sealed in a scowl. “Have a nice night, sweetheart?”

You gulp. “I- I did.”

“Thought you were clever with that phone call?”

“I… I didn’t think-“

“You didn’t.” He cuts you off, and then points to living room. “Go sit on the couch.” Your hand trembles against your chest, and you hang your head.

Got the attention you wanted?

“Where’s Johnny?” You whisper as he takes the seat next to you, massive shoulders turning so he can peer downwards.

“Decided this was better to handle on my own.” Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest.

“Oh.” Simon takes a deep breath, eyeing your shaking hand, and then shakes his head. You can’t read it, can’t ever read him, and you wait with breath frozen in your lungs, wait for him to say something, anything.

But what comes next, is not what you expected.

“Johnny’s in love with you.” You jerk back, eyebrows raised into your hairline.

“No.” Your voice trembles. “No, this… this is casual.”

“It is.” Simon’s lips press flat. “The girl at the hotel, she was a job. Had nothin’ to do with our… personal lives. She was a loose end to tie up when we got back. It was convenient, that she lived in our city.” Your mind tumbles and falls, your sense dives off a cliff.

Johnny’s in love with you.

“I don’t understand… you, after-“

“I let you believe it.” He says simply, looking down his nose at you. He’s never looked so cold. “At first, I wanted to explain, to correct it, for his sake, but… the opportunity was too good. So I told Johnny that you reminded me of our arrangement. That you agreed, that you always said you didn’t want a relationship. The situation at the bar with your date,” he smiles self indulgently “that was just for fun. Would’ve fucked ya right up against that door for the whole bar to see if you let us. Split that pretty pussy open on my cock and watch you gag on Johnny’s, but you still wanted to be a brat,” he rolls his eyes, “it was all a distraction I built for him.”

Alarm bells blare inside your skull, Johnny’s words from the other day when he brought the flowers repeating over and over.

“Ye think ye saw us with another woman, or on a date, but-“

“Ye agreed. Ye always said ye didnae want a relationship.”

“No- no. He… he came here, he made it sound-“

Simon studies you. “He’s explosive, sometimes. Doesn’t handle his emotions well, gets all twisted up. I think when he came over here, he wanted you to tell him you wanted more,” he sighs, rubs his chin. “He’s so out of sorts over it all, poor boy.”

“Why? Why didn’t you… why didn’t you tell him the truth? Or me?” His lips curl into a sneer.

“Because Johnny is mine. I might share his body with you, sweet girl, but I won’t share his heart.”

#lmao #peaches writes #cool girl #ghoap x reader

1K notes · View notes

closetedlesbean · 4 days

Text

I could eat that girl for lunch

ellie x fem!reader

A/N: please excuse if this bad, idk what I’m doing cause its my first time writing. and Im currently obsessing over hmhas :0

Summary: You were gonna go out with your friend but Ellie was just a little too needy. At least you still went out! With your legs shaky.

Warnings: sub!reader, soft dom!ellie, femme reader, cunnilingus, fingering, cum eating, no use of y/n, ellie and reader are dating

You planned to go out with your friend. You had your makeup done and dressed up a bit. A black tube top and blue jeans.

You sprayed on your perfume. You then looked in the mirror, picked up your phone and snapped a cute mirror picture.

You looked at the picture. You looked nice. You sent it to her. To your really hot girlfriend, Ellie. Your friends say that you have delicious taste in women. You couldn’t blame them.

Ellie was busy with studying astronomy in the other room. You never really understood her obsession with space. It was cool but Ellie spent hours researching about a star or planet. Then she blabbed to you about it. But you couldn’t get mad, it was adorable.

She was sitting at her desk, eyes glued to the white computer screen with her fingers typing away at the keyboard. She got distracted by the abrupt ding coming from her phone. Her hand went to grab her phone and clicked on your message.

Her eyes locked onto the picture. And boy was she infatuated. She was almost drooling. She was gawking for a hot minute.

You heard a knock on your door. “The door’s open!” You said from where the mirror was.

Ellie walked in. Her cheeks looked pink. “You look so beautiful baby” she just stared. It made your face heat up as you gazed at her through the mirror. “Where are you going?”

You turned to look at her, “I’m going out with my friend, remember?” She raised her eyebrows, muttering a small “oh”

She looked a little let down that you were leaving, but it won’t hurt to convince you to stay.

“Do you want me to bring lunch home?” Ellie looked up at your eyes again. “It’s fine. I mean you’re here” She grinned lopsidedly. It made you giggle.

“El, I’m going out, no.” You demanded playfully.

Ellie pouted. “Please? You guys can go out tomorrow” She gave you those signature puppy eyes. This girl was so needy, but you weren’t complaining.

You stared at her for a moment, slightly, just slightly regretting sending her that picture.

You sighed out. How could you say no to that pretty little face of hers? “Fine. But make it quick”

She grinned and kissed your cheek out of celebration.

She kneeled down to her knees and started to unbutton your jeans. She was eager, fumbling with the zipper.

She pulled down your jeans which pooled at your ankles and placed a light kiss to your clothed cunt, making you whimper. There was already a wet patch on your panties.

She pulled down your panties and licked a fat stripe up your wet pussy. You let out a moan. She sucked your puffy clit in her mouth and hollowed out her cheeks.

“A-ah ellie!” You moaned. She flicked her tongue at your clit.

She pushes her fingers in your sopping hole, then curling them. It made your back arch. “oh-oh, god, right there, so good- mmph.”

Your hips bucked, pushing your pussy onto her face more. She moaned at your taste, sending vibrations through your cunt.

The sounds in the room were pretty filthy. Full of your pretty moans and whimpers and the sounds of ellie slurping away at your slick.

You get the familiar feeling in your belly. “E-ellie! G’na cum!” She just hums into your pussy. She can’t get enough of you.

The band in your stomach snaps and your eyes roll back as you cum. And Ellie swallows all of it.

You look down at Ellie and she just smiles up at you. She pulls your panties and jeans up and lightly kisses you.

Let’s just say you were a little wobbly when you were out with your friend.

648 notes · View notes

wileys-russo · 1 month

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

417 notes · View notes

forteafy · 9 months

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.

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

2K notes · View notes

disneyprincemuke · 5 months

Text

they ask, "do you have a man?"

alternatively: can’t be discreet to save anyone’s life

in which everyone is curious why the grid princess is still single despite instagram posts from them seem to be giving out another narrative

(series masterlist)

logansargeant posted on their story!

alexalbon ur never beating the dating allegations if u keep posting shit like this i fear

kidy/n omg i look so slay in that dress

logansargeant ugh you’re so right bb

lilymhe i need to know where she got this i fear 😔

logansargeant she said she will text you like a true girls girl ✊🏼

lilymhe ugh im in love with her

user1 gonna need you guys to announce you’re dating actually

user2 posting this and denying every dating allegation is actually crazy

user3 what if i jump in front of a moving train???

user4 such a boyfriend coded story from someone who’s not her boyfriend

kidy/n posted on their story!

oscarpiastri HAVING FUN WHILE I AM IN MELBOURNE I SEE.

kidy/n is there ever a day u wake up n ur not an outright hater?

oscarpiastri no cause you guys are hanging out without so that really fuels my ability to hate

kidy/n u got ur own gf mate, spend time with her?? >:(

oscarpiastri SHE IS LITERALLY WITH YOU RN TAKING THIS PICTURE

sebastianvettel this doesn’t scream “not dating” to the rest of the world btw

kidy/n ugh nobody will know grandpa

sebastianvettel wow hater alert

georgerussell63 still not dating i presume? 🤨

kidy/n no sir

georgerussell63 i smell a big fat lie i fear

user5 IS THAT LOGAN HUNTER SARGEANT QUEEN?

user6 pls stop lying to the world and just kiss after a race 🙏🏼🙏🏼

user7 and why exactly is he nOt the one pushing u in a kart??

kidy/n

📍 home

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 56,984 others

kidy/n didn’t see the news cause we were somewhere else

view 30 comments…

comments on this post have been limited.

oscarpiastri having fun without me should be a crime tbh

sebastianvettel this is why u weren’t answering ur phone?? ☹️

lilyzneimer photo credits where? 😔

kidy/n omg so trueeeeee i’m sorry i forgot

charles_leclerc making the uk look fun is a magic power

maxverstappen1 i heard the uk is only fun cause y/n lives there

landonorris what’s all this slander???

logansargeant

🎵 rex orange county - best friend

liked by oscarpiastri, kidy/n and 56,940 others

logansargeant the only problem living with your best friend is that every night is party night

view 288 comments…

kidy/n why are u telling people we’re alcoholics

oscarpiastri first you move in together, and now you’re not even inviting me to drink???

lilyzneimer cant believe i scored an invitation and u didnt

oscarpiastri wtf

kidy/n lol tough life oscar

user8 wow i thought they lived with oscar ngl

oscarpiastri ugh i wish

user9 why would he? he’s got a girlfriend

user10 really not dating?

sebastianvettel not sure how to feel about this

user11 them actually not being romantically involved is my roman empire

user12 in one universe, they’ve GOT to be dating

user13 it HAS TO BE THIS UNIVERSE PLEASE PLEASE PL

kidy/n so based

user13 wait i

formula1 drink safely pls 😀 (i’m begging for an invite)

logansargeant only if u pay for the alcohol

williamsracing not very family friendly of u ngl

kidy/n im sorry williams i tried to stop him ☹️

williamsracing its only ok bc its u

logansargeant ?

kidy/n posted on their story!

logansargeant wowwww look at you go bb!! so pretty!!!

kidy/n ehheheheehhe

oscarpiastri wow busy girl

sebastianvettel and kristen approved of this!!?!?

kidy/n WDYM SHE GOT ME THE ON THE PODCAST

sebastianvettel oh ok. youre just kinda wild lately idk

kidy/n whats that supposed to mean

sebastianvettel 🤷🏼‍♀️

maxverstappen1 the uggs are a no from me

kidy/n ok red bull merch lover

“thank you so much for being on the show,” hannah smiles into the mic. “i’m shocked to even receive the email from your pr manager, actually.”

“no, yeah,” she grins, nails pressed against her lips, biting down on the bottom. she’s never actually been on a podcast before. “we were talking about making an appearance somewhere, but i’m kinda - very - intimidated by men. i chose this podcast specifically.”

“oh, you know of our existence,” emma gushes, giggling slightly. “we feel so honoured. thank you so much.”

“honestly, i’m always around men,” she laughs, scrunching her nose. “i live with a man. so being around women is always a very nice change.”

“right, you recently moved in with logan sargeant in the uk,” hannah points out. “if you don’t mind me asking, how did that decision come about? because you’re really good friends with oscar piastri as well, how come he doesn’t live with you guys?”

“oh, that’s an interesting point,” emma frowns. “i never thought of that.”

“yeah, so growing up oscar and logan actually stayed with my family on and off just because they’ve got brothers and sisters that their parents would have to attend to back home,” she recalls out loud, remembering the sleepovers they’ve spend in the living room with her siblings. “i think when i was… like 15, oscar was 16, and logan was 17, obviously.

i think my sister and i had a really bad fight that turned the house upside down. i mentioned that i couldn’t wait to move out and never speak to her again — i was very overdramatic as a teen. and they were like ‘yeah, that’s a good idea! we should get a place!’”

“oh, so you didn’t even propose the idea of living together?”

“exactly! they just love inviting themselves to be a part of my life. they’ve got cars while i don’t, so that’s a big plus,” she laughs. “then, well, oscar met lily when he was 18 and they got an apartment together after oscar landed reserve driver for alpine. which then left logan and i to kinda figure things out. then, we both landed a contract to race in the 2023 season and both our racing headquarters are in uk, luckily. so we made the decision to move in together earlier this year.”

“so oscar bailed!”

“that’s okay,” she scoffs, waving off the host’s concern. “we live pretty close by, so lily and oscar are always at our place anyway.”

“so, i totally don’t wanna get into it. but like, girl to girl,” hannah grins giddily. “and i promise we’ll get into the racing stuff in a bit, but i’m just curious.”

“it’s okay because i like you guys,” she jokes. “ask away.”

“there’s a lot of speculation that you and logan seem to be too close to just be best friends,” hannah explains. “and it’s seemed to be a trend since you were in f2 together, so i just wanna ask you if… well…”

she smiles. this isn’t exactly the first time she’s heard that. while they preferred to keep their relationship under wraps for several reasons, her and logan aren’t very discreet either.

there are pictures on the internet, after races where they head to weigh-in together with logan holding her things, laughing as they walk, which is normal. but there are also a couple of pictures where they were caught with logan’s hand on her cheek, or of them walking in the paddocks with her hands wrapped around his arm.

she’s not shocked that people talk about their relationship, but more shocked that everyone seems to shrug it off as them being really good friends.

“we’re actually not romantically involved at all,” she lies, though her cheeks flush up at the thought of her boyfriend. “i think we met really early on in life so we’re super comfortable with each other.”

“so, you’re setting the record straight. you don’t have a man.”

she nods firmly. “i don’t have a man. not planning to get one — i’ve just been really busy with my career. if anything, logan is my stand-in date for every event.”

“that’s true friendship if i’ve ever seen one.”

#logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #female driver #fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x you #f1 #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke ial #disneyprincemuke vr

770 notes · View notes

thedramaticwriter1 · 3 months

Text

Stitch 'em up

(Dean x Reader)

Summary: An injured Dean comes back from a hunt.

Character count: 2.7k+

Warnings: Blood, a snarky, injured dean

A/N: Didn’t mean to take so long in between posts, sorry not sorry lol

—————————————————————————————————

You sit on the dinning room chair with a cold beer sat in front of you, bouncing your leg up and down. Dean had called about an hour ago to tell you that his hunt was finished and he would be on his way home. The tone in his voice was tight and it had caused your stomach to sour.

“How bad was it?” You had asked over the phone the second he was done talking.

“Piece of pie, sweetheart. As usual” He replied and you heard him grunt in pain as he attempted to lower himself into the front seat of the Impala.

“Piece of pie my ass, Dean. I can basically hear how hurt you are over the phone” you replied, your grip on your phone tightening as irritation and worry coursed through you. He had told you to take a break on this hunt and relax at home, he could handle it himself. As usual, he was wrong.

“Hmm a piece of pie and your ass? Count me in” his voice dropping an octave at the suggestion, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

“Not now Winchester. Just get home so I can deal with you” and with that you hung up the phone.

Another hour you had been waiting for him since that phone call, beer untouched in front of you, starring at the bunker door waiting for him to stride on in. It felt like every minute dragged into a small eternity, each one lasting longer than the one before it. Ages passed by before you heard the rumble of the Impala’s engine and the opening and shutting of its door.

If you hadn’t known he was hurt before, you knew it now. It took him a solid 10 minutes to walk from the impala to the bunkers’ entrance, normally a journey that lasted a couple of seconds.

You watched as he slowly opened the door, hope in his features that maybe you had gone to bed already and he could get his ass chewed out tomorrow morning. Unfortunately for him, he’d get it right now.

His gaze searched the room until he spotted you sitting on the dinning room chair, his whole body slumping in defeat. Like a thief caught in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t even look you in the eye, knowing exactly what he would see.

Worry. Frustration. Fear. Anger. All of which had an equal grip on your mind at the moment.

“What happened?” You asked, not moving from your spot on the chair and not sugar coating this conversation.

The instant he heard your tone he knew he was in big trouble, and what does someone in trouble do? They butter up.

“Sweetheart, have I told you lately how beautiful I think you are?” He responded sweetly, attempting to bat his eye lashes at you while simultaneously trying to hide that he was holding one hand to his obviously injured left side.

“Dean…” you responded while slowly rising up from your chair. Your voice was low and lethal, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

“Seriously, baby. You're the most beautiful woman on the planet..” he says as he smiles at you while attempting to straighten his hunched form. Still he’s trying to cover up his injuries, even though they are plain as day to you.

“Winchester…” you fling the name at him, half way to him. Already you can see red seeping around where his hand is pressed to his side. Your eyes go wide as you realize he’s still bleeding from an injury he received over two hours ago.

“Honestly Y/N, I’m the luckiest man al-“ is all he gets out as he attempts to take a step in the direction of the the hallway that leads to your shared bedroom in an attempt to escape your anger and doubles over as his legs give out from under him.

“Dean!” You yell as you rush towards him, close enough that you're able to catch him under his arms right before he hits the ground fully.

“Alive” he squeaks out pathetically while still trying to smile up at you. Knees on the ground and still trying to flirt his way his out of this.

Ridiculous. You bend down so you're able to reposition his arm to hang around your shoulders.

“Do you think you can walk towards the bathroom?” You question as you try to gauge how injured he really is.

“Let’s try the kitchen instead” he grunts out. This close to him, you’re able to see that he has no visible wounds on his face, but you wince when you notice his lips are a shade lighter than they normally are.

“Alright then, on the count of three. Ready? One, two, three…” you haul up as much of his weight as you can onto your own body and you both stand up straight. You stand there for a few seconds hoping he can get his bearings and won’t pass out on you. After you're confident he can make the small journey to the kitchen, you start walking. Slowly, step by step, you two head for the kitchen, you leading the way incase you need to catch him if his legs give out again.

“I’m guessing you're not gonna let this one slide, huh baby?” He says as you cross the threshold of the kitchen, almost to the table sitting in the middle of the room.

“Pfft, you’ll be luckily if I ever let you hunt again” you respond. Only half joking, but you’ll deal with that later. “I’m gonna sit you down on that chair okay?” You tell him as you near it.

“Sitting sounds good right now” he responds, wincing with each step you guys take. You finally reach the chair and you gently help him lower himself onto the seat. You move around slowly so that you're standing in front of him, still holding onto his shoulders to steady him. After some time, once you know he’s stable enough on his own, you turn towards the hallway and make a beeline to the bathroom in search of the first aid kit. It became a habit of yours to always have it stocked with the essentials, even going as far as having Sam create a fake hospital personnel ID for you so you could make your way into the local hospital and steal some of the supplies, knowing you’d use them eventually.

Rummaging though the cabinets, you finally locate the kit and rush back to the kitchen. Turning the corner, you see Dean resting his head on the table, his hand still holding pressure on whatever wound he has on his left side.

You reach him and grab his shoulder. “Dean, wake up” you say as you shake him awake, your worry only growing as he takes awhile to wake up. His eyes open slowly at your voice: “I'm not sleeping sweetheart. Just resting my eyes for a little”. You know that's bullshit. Who knows how much blood he’s lost at this point.

“I need to see the wound, Dean” you say sternly, not trying to give way to your concern, knowing there is a job to be done here.

“It’s fine baby, I just need a bandaid that’s all” he says as his eyes close again, not even having the energy to look at you while he talks.

“De, I swear to God, if you don’t show me right now, I’ll let you bleed out on this table” you say, having enough of this shit. You’re tired of him downplaying how serious this was, especially because he needed help.

“No, you wouldn’t” he says, knowing that there was no way in hell that you would let that happen, but still. You needed to get your point across. He finally opens his eyes to look at you and must see how worried you are, cause his lips turn down into a small, sad smile before attempting to remove his hand from his side.

“Let me” you grab the scissors from the first aid kit and make quick work of his shirt, cutting down the side near his injury.

“Hey, that was my favorite…” he responds but all protests die when he sees the face you give him. The shirt is the least of your concern.

Slowly and carefully, trying not to aggravate the wound any further, you peel his shirt off of him and throw it to the ground. You’re finally able to get a full view of it and you're unable to silence the gasp that manages to escape your lips.

From the bottom of his waist stretching across his ribs and ending right under his arm pit are five deep gashes, each one worse than the last. Staring at his mangled skin, one monster comes to mind that could inflict this kind of damage.

“Damn it Dean, you didn’t tell me it was a werewolf case you were on” you scold him as you assess the wounds. You grab the gauze and hydrogen peroxide from the first aid and you get ready to begin to clean the gashes.

“Yeah, well I didn’t want you to wo— Son of a bitch!” He yells as you move the gauze you're holding to the first wound, attempting to scrub the dirty and dried blood off.

“Don’t move or it’s going to hurt even worse” you tell him and you try and hold him still enough with your other hand so you can keep working. Eventually you’ve managed to clean out the first gash and it’s already begun to leak out fresh blood from the irritation from the gauze. You know you need to work quickly, not knowing how much blood he’s already lost on the drive here.

One down. Four to go.

“You try not moving while someone burns your skin off” he retorts, complaining about the hydrogen peroxide your applying, trying your best to avoid infection. You don’t even want to begin to think of how dirty a werewolves claws are.

“It doesn’t even burn you big baby” you say as he flinches at you when you begin to clean the second cut.

“I’m not a big baby” he pouts, closing his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but what your hands are doing.

“Just save your strength and hush up” you tell him, knowing he needs to save all the energy he has left and not waste it on bantering with you. You continue working, washing the dirt and debris out of the second gash.

Two down. Three to go.

That becomes your mantra as your mind thinks of nothing else but cleaning these wounds.

Three down. Two to go.

You work in silence and Dean doesn’t try to talk again, the pain being too much for him right now. You also don’t attempt a conversation with him right now, knowing that the only words that would come out right now would be filled with anger and fear, and you don’t think you have the stomach for that right now.

Four down. One to go.

After an eternity, you are finally able to clean the last gash, now taking a look at the true wounds in their bloody glory. “You’ll definitely need stitches for these, De. They're too deep” you surmise. All he does is nod his head and you know that the pain is getting to him. “You want something for the pain?” You question, and move to the first aid kit when he nods his head. You pull out the painkillers and grab the bottle of whiskey that was resting on the table. “Both will help, trust me” you say and you hand him the pills and open the whiskey bottle for him.

He’s slow to move, not wanting to injure himself further. He gradually brings the pills to his lips, then the bottle, taking a few good gulps before handing it back to you.

“Do you want to wait till they kick in before I start stitching you up?” You ask him. He shakes his head slowly.

“Just get it over with” he responds, carefully laying his head back on the table.

And that’s what you do for the next hour. Stitch by stitch, you close the wounds that are scattered across his skin. He’s definitely going to have a few scars, but there’s nothing you can do about that now, and it’s not like scars have ever bothered him before. He even revels in them a little, physical proof of what he’s overcome. Half way through you can tell he’s still in pain, but you notice his breathing has gotten more even, his shoulders more relaxed, and you know the pain killers have started to kick in. You breathe a sigh of relief and keep working. Your mind goes blank as you focus solely on what’s in front of you.

Stitch, blood, stitch, some more blood, stitch, blood.

104 stitches and an empty whiskey bottle later, you finally finish. When he feels your hands lift from him, he stirs a little.

“You done?” He questions you. He slightly slurs his words as his eyes look up at you with his head still resting on the table, waiting for your response.

“Yeah I’m done” you respond as you finish dressing the wound. You finally stand up and look down at him. You're still upset at him for downplaying how injured he was, but seeing him now, some what whole and alive, you can’t help the knee wobbling relief that washes over you.

You reach your hand out and rub it through his hair, savoring the way it feels in your fingers. “I am so incredibly pissed off at you right now” you say weakly, but even as the words leave your lips, your eyes begin to water.

“I know. I’m sorry sweetheart” he responds, dragging his hand up to rest on your hip. “You can yell at me tomorrow, I promise” he says, squeezing lightly.

Your heart clenches at the gesture, and you smile through your tears. “Alright”, you respond as you wipe at your eyes. “Let’s get you to bed” you say as you move closer to him to help him stand up. You’re careful not to rub against his dressed wounds and grunt a little as you stand up with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. With small, slow steps both of you make it to your shared bedroom. You swing the door open with your foot and he turns on the light with his free hand. You make your way to the bed and gently lower him down.

“I’m gonna get you out of these” you tell him, nudging at his jeans, eyeing the blood and grime scattered on them, knowing he’ll be more comfortable if he changes.

“If you wanted me naked sweetheart, you could have just asked” he responds, looking up at you while attempting to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ha-ha, very funny. I’d like to see you try any kind of move right now” you say, turning and walking towards his dresser, searching for a clean pair of shorts to change him in to. While digging through his drawers he responds: “Oh I have plenty of moves”. You look over and chuckle at him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to move off the bed, let alone do anything else. You walk back to him and begin taking his jeans off. Slowly dragging them down his legs, you search for any other wounds, glad to not find any. Once he’s changed, you help him lay under the covers and get comfortable. He’s already asleep by the time you move to the adjacent bathroom to change yourself. Once finished, you lay down with him.

You can’t stop yourself from staring at him, memorizing the already known freckles on his face. You reach to stroke the stubble he’s neglected to shave on the hunt, the movement causing him to stir.

“You know I love you, right?” He mumbles, not completely awake.

“I know. I love you too” you respond, moving to kiss his cheek. “You’re definitely gonna hear about this in the morning” you add, knowing that an argument tonight wouldn’t benefit anyone. You also were too grateful he was still in one piece to be fully upset with him right now.

“That’s alright baby. Yell at me all you want. The sex after our arguments is always the best” he says, grinning with his eyes still closed.

You scoff. “You’re horrible” you say, smiling back at him, knowing he’s exactly right.

#supernatural edit #supernatural x reader #supernatural prompts #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester #spn #dean x you #supernatural dean #angst #fluff #dean winchester x reader

526 notes · View notes

hon3y-y · 4 months

Text

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Sickness and health

Cw; no smut, soft satoru with his sick s/o who he loves so very much, pet names, fem!reader

Enjoy<3

Your sniffles could be heard all day, your skin paling in contrast to its normal liveliness along with the fact you’ve been curled up in a ball since you woke up. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize you were sick, and it certainly didn’t get past your loving boyfriend who heard your stuffy voice through the phone and made it his personal duty to take care of you, arriving at your place in record time.

“Open.” His voice is soft, holding out a spoon of warm soup to you, which you reluctantly swallowed. He smiled, mumbling a ‘good girl’ before giving you more.

You sat up, pulling the blanket with you as a shiver shot up your spine. “Babe, you’re too close. You’re gonna get sick—“ cutting yourself off with a Yelp as he shoved another spoonful in your mouth, sushing you gently. “That’s not important right now.” He pushes you to lay back against the pillow, caressing your cheek in his warm hand making you press against his fingers. “Look at you, looking better already, pretty girl!” He gushes, pecking your lips.

You gasped, covering your mouth. “Satoru! You can’t do that,” you huffed, grabbing a tissue to reach up and wipe his lips causing him to dodge it with a pout. “I have the flu, Toru’.” He shrugs, leaning back in to kiss you only to have the tissue meet his lips instead.

“Oh, so now you wanna be stingy?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his head to look away. “Not wanting to get you sick makes me the bad guy? Toru—“ he cut you off, standing abruptly. “Fine, if you don’t love me anymore—”

“Gojo, that’s not what I said.”

He gasped, “Oh. Last names. Cool, just rip my heart out and stomp on it,” you stare at him with a dropped jaw, watching your boyfriend fake distress as he struts to the door as dramatically as possible. “It’s fine, I’ll leave. I know when I’m not wanted!” He glances over his shoulder at you, blue eyes glistening and his glossy lips pulled down.

You can’t help but laugh, forcing your sore body up to stop him. “Cmon babe, you know I’m just saying it because I love you.” you go to stand, your hand immediately reaching out when the room spins. Satoru is by your side in seconds, cooing at you when you immediately crumble into his arms. “Sorry, my head feels dizzy.”

He lays you back down, shaking his head. “No baby, it’s no time for games. I’m sorry my love.” Through the years, you learned him well, quickly taking notice of the guilty look on his face. His attempt to cheer you up working but still stressing your weak body making his heart clench. “Don’t apologize, you meant well.” Your soft eyes made his cheeks flush and he couldn’t help but reach down to give you a sloppy kiss. “That doesn’t mean you can kiss me!” He rolls his eyes, forcing you to move over so he can hold you, your back pressed to his front as he whispers about how “his love will heal all.”

The position was nice until a particularly hot moment, making you let out a groan and shift uncomfortably. “Okay, I get you’re trying to be cute but if you don’t get off of me, I might get violent.” You sniffled, moving to put space between you. Satoru gasped before laying directly on top of you making you squeal, “that’s the point! Gotta sweat out the sickness with love, babe!”

A/n; babes, I’m so sorry for being inactive. I’ve had no writing inspiration and haven’t been on here in a while so here’s some fluff</3 love you all;)

525 notes · View notes

vashtijoy · 1 month

Text

jose's star: a love token??

So I was on reddit this morning for my sins, which are many, and someone asked why they didn't get the 2/13 scene where Jose's star shows up faded and dead. This scene:

Most people thought this was something to do with Akechi's confidant, so obviously I datamined it at once:

The Star fading has, ostensibly, nothing to do with Akechi at all. But, it is conditional—and on something you might not expect: The Star will only fade if you have established one or more romance routes.

[tech]

This scene is called from the scheduler, on the evening of 2/13, in sdl02_13_PM_D_RE(). For every romanceable confidant, it checks two things:

Is their romance route active? (that is, is the flag set?)

Are they at confidant rank 10?

If these conditions are met, the game increments a counter. And if that counter is greater than zero, this star event will play.

wtf??

Obviously this raises a boatload of questions.

Why does the star only fade if you are in love with one of the girls? What is it about that that causes the star to fade? Or, conversely, what is it about not being in love with one of the girls that might mean you still need the star?...

The immediate Doylian explanation for this is that the text you get from your girlfriend(s), asking you to meet up on 2/14, is tagged onto the end of this scene. But that itself is strange. The game splits scenes into "minor events" for far less than this; I can't think offhand of another text chat or phone call I've seen which hasn't been its own little event, though I'm sure there must be some.

You can check the star on 3/19 and see that it still "emits a mysterious light"—though this appears to be the case even if the star faded. There's no alternate scene where you never get the text, which is de rigueur for texts like this. As an example, that short nothing little text you get during Sae's Palace before going to the courthouse has at least four variations. This is standard.

No, this discussion with Morgana about the star, and your plans to hang out on Valentine's Day, should have been at a minimum two different minor events. And they are not.

From an IC/Watsonian perspective, this has to mean that the star only fades if you are dating a girl. If you aren't, it seems the star has something left undone, something that requires its wishing power, and does not fade....

I'll leave the implications of that one as an exercise for all of you. Incidentally, a shoutout to the innocent redditor who hit on this theory by himself and proceeded to get downvoted to hell. smh

revision history

Click here for the latest version.

v1.0 (2024/04/16)—first posted.

#persona 5 #p5 meta #p5 tech #shuake #p5 jose #ren amamiya #goro akechi

361 notes · View notes

babsisbakery · 3 months

Text

Kitchen miracle

Leah Williamson x dutch!reader

“Leah, get your ass in the kitchen.” her head shoots up from her phone almost immediately. What the hell has she done this time, are her thoughts. After cautiously entering the kitchen she realises what has slipped her mind. She tried to make you breakfast but then her mum called her in the morning and she kinda forgot. So she stares at the slight mess she had made. Flour on the counter, egg shells left and right to a completely doughy mixture covered apron. A bad cook to say the least. But it's the gesture that counted. “I’m sorry my love, I totally forgot, my mum called a-” “Le what were you doing?” “Uhm tried to make you some breakfast.” It doesn't sound like a statement rather a question. “Babe, I can't be mad at you, you're too sweet for your own good.” You walk towards your girlfriend and envelope her in a tight hug. “I love you Le” with a bashful grin Leah returns the declaration. “I love you too.” After standing in each other's arms for a few minutes just enjoying the warmth of your partner, Leah speaks up, “Could you please show me how to make your favourite breakfast?”

Your head turns downwards to look into her eyes. “Of course i can, let's get to it shall we but first we should clean up this chaos love.” a giggle leaves your lips while Leah shamefully looks away. With your fingers on her chin you turn her head. “Baby there is nothing to be ashamed of.” and with leaving her time to respond you kiss her. A few moments go by, you pull away, Leah chasing your lips, unsuccessfully as you're taller than her, and you bite your lower lip as Leah’s actions are melting your heart.

So while you are searching for the perfect playlist to start baking in the meantime Leah begins cleaning. Kitchen peace is restored pretty quickly with two people working together ideally. “Okay now I'm going to weigh everything and you take out the Pannenkoeken pan cause we are making Pannenkoekeeeeeen.” “We are making what?” “Babe you know pancakes, right?” “Of course I know what pancakes are but what in the world are Pannenkoeken?” You are amused by her confusion, her furrowed brow looks quite adorable. “It's similar to pancakes, don't question me, rather help cause I’m the one who could make something tasty.” Leah’s hand shoots to her chest acting offended but you both know she is joking.

“Step one is to mix all the dry ingredients together which means flour, salt, cinnamon and vanilla sugar.” Your girlfriend carefully combines these, eager to continue. “Now for the next step I like to whisk the eggs in a separate bowl beforehand so it's well distributed when added to the flour.” You grab an extra bowl and hand it to the defender. She does as she's told and then pours them into the dry mixture. “Well done babe. Now follows milk and a tiny bit of melted butter. And e voila.” Leah stares at you dumbfounded, “Wait that's it, we are done?” “Yeah see its pretty easy when you get the hang of it darling.” She is amazed. “But you still have to do the actual Pannenkoeken now that the ‘dough’ is ready to go.”

“I pre-heated the pan a bit for you, just have to put some butter on it and scoop the batter into the pan. Rotate the pan and wait. When the beige colour turns into a more yellowish one you flip it. Got it?” “Yeah I think I got it.” As you suspect she does it excellently. Leah gets more comfortable making them with each Pannenkoeken. While she is in her element, surprisingly, you search the cabinets for something to eat them with. Cutting up some fruit, getting out the Nutella, jam and honey plus walnuts you are all set. Two dishes are already on the counter stacked with a few Pannenkoeken. You can't believe your eyes as you turn around and find your girlfriend flipping one in the air. Luckily she catches it, serving it on your plate.

Both of you sit down on the dining table, diving in. “That was really fun my love, we should do that more often.” states Leah. A grin on your face and a satisfied stomach make you nod. “Definitely, you did an amazing job. Maybe I’ll make a chef out of you after all.” You both burst out laughing. “Good one baby, good one.”

#woso #england lionesses #woso x reader #leah williamson #arsenal women #fem reader #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader

384 notes · View notes

azulpitlane · 5 months

Note

got love stuck part 3 please i’m begging it’s so good i need it

out of the woods I ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader, exbf! mason mount x reader summary: in which lando has to communicate his insecurities but is he too late? notes: ask and you shall receive, this one took a while cause I had it all written out then I hated it and started over😇but this is the last part!! i loved making this thank u for being so supportive considering part one was my first ever post!! now send some requests hehe part one, part two, masterlist

lando i fucked up, its too late

danny ric what do you mean its too late?

lando i texted her and no response she went to dinner with mason tonight they're probably still together right now

danny ric okay so you're jumping into conclusions AGAIN you have to have some faith in her mate and stop assuming the worst

lando she was with her ex after our breakup what am I suppose to do?

danny ric communicate, you muppet you can't just give up after one try

lando okay okay you're right, i was overthinking im booking the next flight to london

danny ric um i was thinking maybe a phone call?

lando too late, already booked it

dailymail

102,339 likes

dailymail Trouble in paradise? Singer Y/n Y/l/n and F1 driver Lando Norris reunited in London today. Onlookers claim the two were having a heated conversation about their relationship and it is unclear whether the two are currently together or not. Was this argument result of Y/l/n's infidelity? The singer was spotted twice within this month with ex boyfriend, Mason Mount. Read more on the singer's relationship timeline with Mount and Norris in our article linked in the bio.

view all comments

user yes lets just make assumptions that y/n is a cheater based on nothing🙄

user if lando took her back ill be so mad. shes so toxic

user you have no idea what shes like in real life? you're just basing your opinion on some stupid tabloid that constantly spreads misinformation on her

user WAR IS OVER (THEYRE STILL TOGETHER IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS).

user YUP Y/N AND LANDO DEFENDER TIL I DIE user SAME IM CONVINCED SHE NEVER CHEATED IDC IDC

user this doesn't even look like a heated argument to me?? y'all be doing too much

user please let this be just a friendly conversation and her and mason got back together☹️

user its been a year, I think its time to move on from that relationship user yup!! shes clearly moved on y'all need to do it too user her relationship with lando has been messy from the start, she never had to deal with this drama with mason that's all im sayin

user this page is obsessed with y/n!! leave my girl aloneeee

yourusername

liked by landonorris, masonmount and 5,283,239 others

yourusername out of the woods out now.

view all comments

selenagomez on repeat already💙 liked by yourusername

user WAIT WHOS THE GUY IN THE LAST SLIDE

user HAS TO BE LANDO user praying its mase but I have a feeling its lando☹️

user the way these lyrics can apply to both mason or lando so we have no clue who its about🧍‍♀️

user and they both liked aghhhh!!!!

danielricciardo amazing song, so so proud liked by yourusername

francisca.cgomes can't stop listening im obsessed😍 liked by yourusername

user okay danny and the wags are all commenting this is a good sign for us lando and y/n defenders

alexandrasaintmleux you're so talented I love it!! liked by yourusername

user y/n dropping this after being seen with lando again, I think its time for us mason defenders to retire :(

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 920,482 others

landonorris want you for worse or for better, would wait forever and ever tagged yourusername

view all comments

user YES WE CAN FINALLY SAY WAR IS OVER

user I KNEW IT YES

yourusername and that's how it works💙

user these are definitely song lyrics AHHHH user landos listened to the new album omfsgnks user new album is gonna be mix of love and breakup songs with the drama methinks

user MOM AND DAD ARE DONE FIGHTING

maxfewtrell sap

user careful lando, once a cheater always a cheater

user where is the proof of her cheating?? there literally is none user they literally broke up after she was seen with mason user give up this narrative already!! her and lando are clearly happy together so who cares

yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 7,284,234 others

yourusername these past few weeks have felt like a crazy, emotional train wreck but there's nobody else I would've rather done it with than my best friend and lover💙 i usually never address anything like this but there are somethings that aren't easy to shake off especially when it comes to my relationship and my loyalty being questioned. there has never been somebody who has been so perfect for me and i would never trade this love for anybody elses. i could go on and on about it but i find it easier to communicate through music.

my new album is out tonight at midnight, it is a collection of songs written from last year to now. interpret the songs as you like but just know there is only one person im in love with right now.

view all comments

user OMFG WEVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

user she just nicely told all mason x y/n supporters to stfu

user not only that but she beat the cheater allegations🙏

user THIS IS SO CUTE WHAT

user "would never trade this love for anybody elses" IMCRYIN

landonorris love you so so much, dont know what I would do without you

yourusername lan love u more🥹 user AWWW user nobody can be a mason x y/n fan after this cause they are too cute

landonorris this album is amazing, im so incredibly proud of you and everything you've been through liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 very excited for this one liked by yourusername

masonmount this was very well said, congrats on the new album!! liked by yourusername

user OMG? user in their besties era omdfsnkln user I knew they were just friends through all this!!!

user okay officially retiring the mason x y/n agenda..it was a good run

user def the end of an era but our girl is happy🫶

user now that the drama is over can we focus on how good this album is gonna be

user fr the drought is officially over

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbff and 3,232,325 others

yourusername the love for my new album has been insane, thank you guys so much!! so many records broken just on the first day of the release and i couldn't have done it without you guys💙

now it is time to hibernate for a little bit and spend some much needed time off with my loved ones so this is a lil goodbye... for now!

see ya later

view all comments

user NO COME BACK

user gave us some lando content before dipping, thank u mother

user she took 'I know places we won't be found' to a whole different level because nobody can find out where theyre vacationing

user good!! they need some privacy after this messy drama

landonorris got you all to myself now

maxfewtrell gross yourusername perv

kellypiquet ❤️‍🩹 liked by yourusername

user but will we see you at the paddock next season🥹

yourusername ofc!! catch me rooting for my babyyy

user what a crazy era. hopefully well get some performances and lando supporting after this break

landonorris will be front row at every show user wag and rockstar's bf. try not to say parents challenge omg user can't wait for the content of them supporting each other at races and concerts ahhh

yourbff pls dont make me an auntie soon im too young

yourusername okay im officially logging off.