Fallen || CL16

With a few tips, he wasn’t so boring after all. Secretly, I’ll tell you that you aren’t either. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to lower your value. Don’t trust them. They know they can’t afford you otherwise.

— Brandon Sanderson, Tress of the Emerald Sea

Need to reblog this just so I can keep coming back to it... good lord is this writing amazing.

im a pretty boy im stunning

Pairing; Chris Knight x Fem Reader

Summary; Chris accidentally mows you down on campus, then pays you a visit in the evening and dirty shenanigans ensue...

Warnings; 18+ or 5 megawatts will go into ur brain, big talk about face sitting in this, oral sex (male receiving), chris deserves his own warning otherwise you'll explode with love, teensy bit of dirty talk, he calls you 'angel' and you call him 'pretty boy', brief mention of blood/minor injury (elbow scrape)

(a/n) y'all when I say Chris Knight is my comfort character?!? he is literally the prettiest boy I have ever seen and he deserves the whole world. this is pure filth and im projecting so there! title is a lyric from Stunnin by Curtis Waters!! bcus he is a pretty boy and he is stunning

Word Count; 3.9k ish

He couldn’t usually care less when he was running late for something, it never really even entered his mind in fact. But today he couldn’t have been happier that he was an hour late to a lecture, because if he wasn’t then he wouldn’t have met you. Well, knocked you over into the ground. 

He’d been running across the campus grounds, out of need to burn off excess energy rather than reduce his lateness, and rounded a corner that you were unfortunately on the other side of. Unfortunately for you since all the air got knocked out of you and you practically slammed into the floor, but very fortunate for him because he’d just met the love of his life-that’s what his mind helpfully supplied anyway, as he tried to get his bearings and saw you attempt to catch your breath while lying on your back next to him, a few bits of paper fluttering down around you.

Chris sat up slightly, resting on his elbows and squinting against the sunlight as he looked around. Some folders and papers which must have been yours were strewn around the both of you, one of his bunny slippers had fallen off and was a few feet away, and he could feel the comically large sunglasses that were perching on his head had been knocked askew, hanging off of one ear. He turned to you and grinned, watching your chest rise and fall heavily, and raking his eyes down your legs, suddenly very very glad he’d left his dorm at that exact time so that he was able to see the shorts that currently sat high on your thighs. 

One of your hands had been laying over your eyes, a frown on your face, but you moved it and narrowed your eyes against the brightness of the sun. As soon as you shifted as though you were going to sit up, he practically catapulted himself on top of you to hold himself over your body. He watched as you blinked in surprise, beaming down at you and feeling you move yourself where you were trapped between his legs.

“You’re very very pretty.”

“Oh-I, well, you’re pretty too…?”

“You’d look very very very pretty sitting on my face though. Which you should do, as soon as you possibly can.”

“I’m sorry?!?”

He jumped to his feet, still grinning down at you and placing one hand on his hip while he held the other out for you to grab and pull yourself up by.

“Don’t know what you’re sorry for, but I graciously accept the apology anyway!”

“No-no just-did you just ask me to sit on your face?!?”

Chris took you in, looking you up and down as you rubbed your elbow and wincing where you’d landed on it. His mind went blank, solely focused on how pretty your eyes were and how badly he wanted to brush his fingers along the flush staining your cheeks. Eh, what the hell.

You jumped when you felt his fingertips skate over your cheeks, before relaxing a little and looking curiously at him. He smiled widely, before chuckling and raising his hand to fix the sunglasses now tangled in his hair.

“No ma’am I did not ask you to sit on my face, I just said you’d be very pretty doing it, and therefore you should. I’ll ask you though if that’s the encouragement you need.” Chris mockingly saluted you, before dropping his arms to his side and standing to attention as though you were a commanding officer. And as though he were any sort of soldier, actually. The sunglasses dropped from his forehead to the tip of his nose.

You let out a giggle at the sight, until your arm twinged again and you sucked in a breath, rubbing at the broken skin on your elbow.

“You should let me look at that, angel-”

“That’s not my name-”

“Why not? It suits you. But let me look at that.”

You hesitated for a second before holding your arm out and twisting it so he could see the red stain slowly creeping down your forearm. He picked up your hand gently and inspected the minor wound, peering at it with concern. 

“Do you know first aid then?”

“No why would I?”

“You asked to see my elbow!! I thought you were going to help me!”

Chris let your arm go and tugged at the shirt he’d tied about his waist, startling you when he suddenly ripped one of the sleeves off and offered it to you. Taking it tentatively, you shot him a confused look as he just kept on grinning. 

“So. What am I meant to do with this…?”

“It’s a bandage. Or bondage. Or whatever you want. A little piece of me.”

“I-I don’t even know how to respond right now-”

He spread his arms out wide, then leaned in until his forehead was resting on yours, chuckling as you blinked in surprise again. 

“Well, you can always sit on my face like I want you to-”

“Oh my word-I can’t-I don’t even-who are you?!?”

“Chris. Christopher. Knight. Christopher Robin? Knight in shining armour. The Dark Knight? Saint Christopher? Whoever you want me to be. But my name is technically Chris Knight.”

“Well Chris-” How did his name sound so much better than normal coming from you?!? “-it’s been something, meeting you. I’ll be sure to find you if I want to take you up on your…offer. But for now, I’m going to find someone who knows a bit of first aid and then go to my lecture-see you around yeah?” 

You were leaving already?!? No no no, you couldn’t go yet. He didn’t know anything about you, hadn’t even gotten your name. It would be a shame if he didn’t manage to bury his face between your thighs, but it would be an absolute tragedy if he let you go so easily. It confused him a little, which was rare, but he somehow knew you could be something. This could be different. Not very scientific but he took comfort in the fact that he was pretty much always correct. About everything. Why should this be any different? 

“Pretty pretty pretty girl! If you gotta go I’ll see you later. Wait. Can I see you later???”

He looked excited as he asked the last part, staring expectantly at you as he waited for an answer. 

“Yknow what? You seem nice and you’re pretty as well, why the hell not?”

“You really think I’m pretty? My makeup didn’t go so well today, you see-”

You shocked him by laughing loudly, forgetting about your injury for a minute as you bent double in hysterics. The past ten minutes seemed to have hit you, finally taking in the fact that you were mowed down by a bunny slippers and fancy dress sunglasses wearing goofball of a man, blond hair sticking up in every direction possible, who immediately told you to sit on his face, ripped a sleeve off his shirt for you and asked to see you later. A much more entertaining morning than your lecture, that’s for damn sure. 

“No really you are a pretty man. And sweet. If not somewhat…blunt and inappropriate-”

Chris let out a startlingly loud ‘HA’ and suddenly leaned in to peck your forehead before twirling in a messy circle, bowing as he finished. He lifted his head and you raised your eyebrows at him. 

“I have a blunt and inappropriate instrument you might like as well by the way, comes with me everywhere if you must know. Now, places to be and things to explode-”

Flashing you another grin, he turned and sprinted the way he had originally been heading, leaving you surrounded by folders and papers, smiling as you held the torn sleeve he’d handed over. 

-

Chris spends the rest of the day wandering around, heading no particular direction. Every time someone walks past him, he flings an arm out and stops them, barely even looking at them as he describes you in great detail to find out anything he can. Your name, what you’re studying, your friends, your favourite at the cafeteria, your dorm room. 

If he’s remembered right then it was the 47th person he asked-there’s a chance it’s the 48th but he’s inclined to believe his math in this situation rather than Jordan’s-who finally told him where your room was. 

No matter who smart he is, he can concede it may have been a little stupid to ask to see you later and then not ask for a single detail about you. 

But nevertheless, it all works out because now he knows where you are and he can go and see you and watch you smile again and maybe you’ll tell him a bit about yourself and then maybe he’ll get you to sit on his face! He hopes, anyway. 

As he picks out some nice, presentable clothing (purple sweatpants, a crochet sweater and pink earmuffs around his neck), he thinks that if not then he’ll just keep coming around-it feels like a punch to the gut when he considers not ever getting his tongue on you. He bets you’ll taste better than anything, thinks you’ll stretch around his fingers just right and-

Aaaand he needs to think clearly so he doesn’t scare you away or come off wrong. 

But god all Chris can think about is how pretty your eyes were this morning, how they’d look when he’d made you cum twice on his tongue-the way you might gaze down at him, eyes half lidded and glassy. Cheeks flushed so prettily, red and hot with the pleasure he can’t help but give you over and over.

As he ruffles up his hair and makes it even messier, he thinks back to when he picked up your hand (how can a hand be that pretty?!?) and he just knows it was made to tangle in his hair, pull on the blond locks and push his head further into you. 

Looking in the mirror and artfully ruffling his hair just one more time, he grins and gives himself a thumbs up-at which point Mitch walks in and looks him up and down interestedly. 

“You uh-you going somewhere Chris?”

“I am going to see my girlfriend, Taylor! Don’t wait up!”

He jogs out of the room, ignoring his roommate’s confused stare. Mitch sticks his head out and yells down the corridor. 

“You have a girlfriend?!?”

“No!”

The answer was shouted back, fading as Chris struts around the corner to leave the building and head over to yours. 

-

When he knocks on your door, there’s some scrabbling behind it and someone obviously moving around quickly. He uses the few moments to decide which position he wants to be standing in when you open the door, but takes too long and ends up quickly attempting to lean on the doorframe, but misjudging it so you open the door to see him fall straight in and crash to the floor.

“Angel! You keep making me fall for you and I won’t have enough brain cells left to tell you how pretty you are. Have I told you how pretty you are yet?”

You stare down at the man lying on your floor, who grins up at you and crosses his arms behind his head. In a mirror of this morning, you stretch a hand out for him to grab and he debates pulling you down onto him, but pulls himself up instead with the thought that he’d like to get to know you a little better before you think he only wants to get into your pants.

So, for the next few hours, that’s what he does. He lays down on your bed until you prod his thigh and beat him in a staring contest to make him sit up, and you both spend a long while just talking. It’s not that Chris doesn’t talk to women, not that he only wants to sleep with them or anyt-hing, but he doesn’t usually go this long without making some sort of advance. Odd. But, he’s happy-as in, surprisingly actually really ecstatic to just be sitting there with you. 

Surprisingly actually really ecstatic!

However. He can’t deny how crazy he’s currently going from the feel of you straddling his lap, arms around his neck and joining him in messy kisses. If you asked him, he wouldn’t be able to tell you exactly how it happened-you two were talking about your study methods and then you looked over at him and were suddenly sitting on his lap and he was sucking gently on your tongue. At least he knows you want him as well, he was getting a little too concerned that you didn’t. The warmth he can feel rocking over his clothed dick tells Chris that it’s definitely not one sided, thank god-he’s not sure what he’d do if it was.

When he breaks away to suck marks just under your jaw, you gasp and grip his hair tightly, making him laugh quietly at how right he was earlier. 

“Yknow-yknow I thought you were, oh, kind of-a little bit-odd, when I met you this morning, but then-then I couldn’t stop thinking-”

Chris pulls his face away to beam up at you, and he watches you bite your lip at the glistening salvia coating his lips and no doubt your skin. 

“S’good, real good, angel, means your brain is functioning and many people can’t even own to that-”

“Shush shush I just-all I was thinking about through my, god, through my lectures was how-how stupidly pretty you are-”

“You were?!? I like that-I like that a lot-”

Ducking his head again, he presses more messy kisses to your neck and wraps his arms around your waist, squeezing tightly and crushing your bodies together. He presses you down slightly as well, indulging in the hot pressure on his shaft. He knows he’s going to savour the moan that spills out of you forever.

“Uh huh-you are-you’re really pretty-’nd then I was thinking about what you said-what you offered this morning-”

He licks a long stripe up your neck, from the hollow of your throat to your chin, and pulls back again, looking at you hopefully.

“Can I??? Will you let me? I’ll-I’ll make it really good, promise-be so good for you-please-”

Giggling a little at his dopey expression, lips parted and breathing heavily as he watches you dotingly, you brush your thumb over his bottom lip and lean your forehead on his. 

“Wanna-another time, but I wanna taste you first instead-”

“Oh-”

You watch his pupils blow out in real time, jaw going slack as his mind struggles over the thought of your mouth around him.

“Can I? Cmon pretty boy, can I?”

Chris outright moans at your words, dropping his head down to land on your collarbone and slipping his arms off your waist so he can grab at the flesh of your ass, pawing at you and digging his fingers in to relieve some tension. 

“Do-do you like that? Only saying it cause you are, yknow, very very pretty boy-so pretty for me-”

Whimpering into your neck, he uses his grip on your ass to tug you against his crotch again. His sweatpants suddenly feel too tight, too restrictive and he needs to get them off.

“Would-do you really want to? You don’t have to angel but-but if you do-”

“‘Course I am, couldn’t focus in my lecture cause I just kept thinking about blowing you, pretty boy-then you even make the effort to find me and we sit here for hours chatting and you’re so sweet and I just really wanna suck your dick-”

“Angel angel angel-you-you gotta stop saying stuff like that or you won’t get the chance, m’gonna paint the inside of my pants if you keep talking like that-”

“That’s-actually really hot can we-can we do that another time-”

He grasps the back of your head and smacks your lips together, teeth clashing and tongues battling. After a little bit, you pull away, gasping and taking in the sight of him. He’s so beautiful-stunning, really. Head tilting towards yours, eyes blissfully shut, lips parted and shining with spit in the artificial light of your bedroom. Hair mussed and soft between your fingers, hands gripping the flesh of your ass, member jutting up into your feverishly hot centre. Prettiest boy you ever did see. 

Reaching down to grab his hands, you move them to the bed either side of his thighs and watch the muscles in his arms flex, his fingers twitch as he fights not to move them. 

He presses his lips together, trying not to grin at the sight of you shuffling off his lap to kneel in front of him. He feels like he’s about to have his first time all over again, a too-eager teen all jumpy and skittish.

When your hands slide up to tug at the ties of his sweatpants, his hands immediately jump up and pick at the material on his thighs before smoothing up and down, trying to expel some of the anticipation he’s feeling. It doesn’t help at all, not when you pull at his waistband along with the zebra print boxers he’s wearing and move them down far enough to free his length, slowly pumping your hand up and down. 

As soon as your skin makes contact with him he moans loudly, seemingly a very vocal man even though people could be walking past your room. One hand fists in the sheets of your bed and the other comes up to pull at his hair, attempting to ground himself somewhat while you push on his knees to make room for yourself. You shuffle forward, smiling up at him and stomach flipping at the grin he sends back, all wide and toothy, his excitement palpable as you bring yourself closer. 

Wrapping your hand around him again, you press a small kiss to his tip and look up to see his mouth drop open, barely able to keep his eyes open as his brain blanks and his breathing picks up. 

“Jesus jesus je-oh christ-”

“Have barely done anything yet give me a second pretty boy-”

Some sort of whine comes from him and he forces his eyes open, not wanting to miss a second. You close your lips around the head of his cock, sucking gently-you’re rewarded with a loud ‘WOAH’, so naturally you suck a little harder. 

His hands roam across the sheets of your bed, grabbing at sections for a few seconds before letting go to fist in another part. Letting go with a wet pop, you look up to hold eye contact with Chris and dip down to lick a long stripe from base to tip. He falls back on your bed with a heavy thump, abdomen flexing as he mumbles your name over and over again and you grin.

Slipping one hand up and under his crocheted sweater to skate over his toned stomach, you scratch lightly at his happy trail and sink your mouth down around his shaft. He’s, unsurprisingly, quite well endowed and it’s a slight struggle to fit all of him so you settle for sliding your hand up and down what you can’t get in your mouth. It doesn’t seem to make a difference to Chris judging by the groans coming from him and the way he suddenly sits back up, holding his arms out a little and clenching his hands in the air, not able to decide where to put them. The hot, wet heat of your mouth is about to drive him insane and he doesn’t think he’s able to form the words to ask if he can card his fingers through your hair right now. 

You slide your mouth up and down, up until you’re almost off of him and then slowly (painfully, he thinks) back down until he nudges against the back of your throat. His brows furrow as he gazes down, mouth open and eyes glassy at the absolute vision of you looking up through teary eyelashes and drool spilling down his cock. Moving both of your hands so they’re resting on the tops of his thighs, which makes you clench around nothing at the feel of his taut muscles, you breathe slowly in and out of your nose to slide down a little bit further. 

Chris falls backwards again with a stream of curses and plunges both hands into his hair. You pause your movements and, with great trouble, he lifts his head up a few inches to peer down at you. That’s when you decide to swallow, throat constricting around the head of his dick-

“Fucking-fuck fuck shit jesus christ-”

You raise your eyebrows at the expletives now filling your ears and then sense movement below you, glancing down to see his abdomen flexing and hips twitching minutely as he evidently tries to hold back from bucking up into your mouth.

“I can’t-m’gonna-oh god-”

You barely take any notice of his words, swallowing again and feeling his member pulse, suddenly cumming down your throat with a loud moan from the man you’ve just unravelled. 

Chris pants a little as you lift your mouth off of him to swallow, and then duck your head to place gentle kitten licks all over his cock, cleaning up the mess you’d accidentally made. He leans up and rests on his elbows to watch in adoration as you gently tuck him back into his sweatpants, tie the strings and then sit back on your haunches to wait for his next move. 

Unable to contain himself for much longer, he lurches forward and grabs your biceps, pulling you up and toward him until you’re lying on top of him on your bed, one of his thighs pressing up against your cunt.

“Can-can I-please will you let me-I gotta return the favour I can’t-can’t not taste you for much longer please, please angel I just-need-need to-”

His eyes dart all over your face as the words spill out of him, hands roaming around and thigh nudging up into you to make your body jolt. With a soft chuckle that turns into a gasp at the pressure between your legs, you lean down to kiss him-and are met very enthusiastically, one hand pressing on the back of your head to keep you in place as he explores your mouth-and hum in agreement.

He makes good on his offer, making you come twice on his tongue and once on his fingers before the night is out. Then twice on his cock in the morning-one time in bed and one time in the shower. From that day forward, people seldom see you without Chris being, at most, fifteen feet away, and if you’re together there’s a good chance he’s trying to touch you in one way or another-making both of you very very happy. It does result in a few interrupted moments, but Chris brushes them all off with a casual ‘what’s a mentally scarred Mitch in exchange for that pretty face you make when I get my fingers inside you?’

Who knows-maybe one day it’ll be Kent and he’ll finally lose the stick up his ass?

YALL if you enjoyed this at all, liked any part of it please comment or reblog so it shows up for more people in more tags, it’s not a very well known movie or character in terms of fandoms anyway so any help spreading this would be hugely appreciated :) lyyyy

tags;

@tiredly101

@bisexual-watermelons

@thewolveswithin

@valkilme

@whyisitsohardtosignin

finally done with the series that's been plaguing my dreams for a month

Congrats world champion ❤️

hi i could request mafia!carlos where he is like mean to everyone but you and is super protective and possessive with reader please!?

Mine - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 7833>

It was nearing on dinner time, and Carlos still wasn't finished with the meeting he had gone into hours ago. Business had been booming lately, and he always had people wanting to make deals with him.

The maids were scrambling, since they normally asked you or Carlos what you wanted for dinner. You didn't know, so then the responsibility usually landed on Carlos. It was such a small decision to make that would have zero consequences, but your mind had gone blank.

You knew you usually shouldn't interrupt Carlos' meetings, but it was surely nearing the end, and there probably weren't many more important things to talk about. You approached the door and heard some frustrated conversations on the inside. "I am not having this move screwed up by you fucking morons," you heard Carlos spit. 

Knocking hesitantly, you opened the door and poked your head around it. "Not right now," Carlos huffed, and he was looking rather dishevelled. His suit jacket was sitting askew on his body, his top button had been undone and his hair was ruffled due to how many times he had run his hands through it. 

Carlos looked up as the door opened, and his face completely softened. "Hey, baby, you OK?" he asked, opening his arm out to you to slot yourself into. "Can I ask you something really quick? It's OK if not, it's not important," you said as you felt the eyes of all the men in the room on you. 

"Yeah, of course, c'mere," he said, glad to see you after hours of dealing with these useless wastes of oxygen. "Turn away," he commanded the people around you, not wanting them to see you or watch your body as you approached him. 

He didn't want their dirty, sinful gazes on you, since he wouldn't be able to control what they were thinking like he could their actions. The thought of it made him sick, and he didn't want you to be exposed to the world he lived in. 

You were his serenity in the madness, and he couldn't have that tainted by people with purely bad intentions. He could keep you safe, and that was exactly what he would do until he took his dying breath. 

As the men turned their chairs away, all that could be heard was the click of your heels on the cold marble floors as they echoed in the high ceilings. "What do you want for dinner?" You asked as he rested an arm around your waist. 

"How does steak sound?" He said after thinking for a moment. 

"Yeah, good. Sorry for interrupting," you apologised, sweetly smiling at him. He looked tired, but only you would be able to tell. He would keep a stone cold, stoic face on while he was around other people, but would become the clingiest man you had ever met when it was just the two of you. 

"Don't be sorry, I'm very glad to see you," he smiled, tugging you in for a kiss on the cheek. "And we should be done within half an hour, given that these guys stop being such fuckwits," he raised his voice slightly so that the men could hear.

"I'll see you in a bit," you smiled, turning and walking back out of the meeting. Once you were out of the room, Carlos allowed the men to turn around and look at him again. They seemed to get the hint and they stopped fucking around with him, since the realised it wouldn't get them anywhere. 

If Carlos wanted something, he would get it. If he wanted something done, it would be done his way or no way. He had that power, and he was sure as hell going to use it. 

As he had said, his meeting was wrapped up within half an hour, and he had his security on the doors to make sure they all left and wouldn't try anything. You were stood on the stairs as you watched them go, and one of them sent you a flirtatious wink. 

If Carlos had done something like that, it would have sent shivers up your spine and butterflies in your stomach. But he had made you feel a shiver of disgust, an uncomfortable tingle that made you feel uneasy. 

You saw as he leant into the guy walking beside him, whispering something to him with a filthy grin plastered on his face. Carlos' ears pricked up when he heard the mention of the men seeing a beautiful woman in the house. 

"I wonder how much he pays her to saunter that cute ass of hers up to him like that, because I'd fucking give it to her," he joked, but the man he was walking with stayed silent. He saw as Carlos' face turned into pure, unbridled rage. 

Without warning, Carlos rushed up to the guy, pinning him against the wall by his collar. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" he spat in his face, and the guy just stayed silent, practically shaking with fear. "I asked you a fucking question, who the fuck do you think you are talking about my wife like that?" 

Carlos let the guy sweat for a bit, and he opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He was frozen in fear and instantly regretted what he had said and he wanted so desperately to take it back. "You say anything about her again, or you so much as think about her again, I will know and I will make sure she's the last goddamn thing you get the pleasure of fucking thinking about, got it?" he said, pressing the guy against the wall even harder.

Security didn't bother intervening, knowing full well that Carlos could handle himself. They knew when to step in, but they were enjoying the show.  "Answer me when I fucking speak to you. Do you understand?" he spat in his face again. 

"Y-Yes," he stuttered, not able to meet Carlos' eyes. 

"Show some fucking respect, yes what?" Carlos said through gritted teeth, gripping onto the guy's collar as his knuckles turned white. "Yes, sir," the guy gulped, praying that Carlos would just let him go. Carlos released the man from against the wall, but not before he swung and punched him square in the face.

The sickening crunch of his nose echoed around you, and you took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of the blood running down his face and dripping onto the floor. "Get the fuck out of my house," Carlos commanded as the guy scurried out of the door along with the rest of them. 

Carlos inspected his hand, his knuckles split and purple bruises were already blooming over the skin, but he still hadn't realised that you were there. He liked to keep you away from that side of his life, but you seeing snippets was inevitable.

You moved slightly, but the halls were very echoey, so he heard you, his head snapping up to where you were stood. "Hey, princess, we're all done," he said, trying to hide his hand behind his back. But, he could tell by the look on your face that you had seen something. 

"How much did you see?" he sheepishly asked, trying to stop his hand from shaking. He couldn't feel the pain now because of all the adrenaline running through his veins, but he felt this weird numbness. "All of it," you said, descending the stairs towards him.

"Well it's been taken care of now. Sorry, you shouldn't have had to see that," he apologised, his head hung low. He didn't like the look of worry on your face, your features flushed with concern. He never wanted you to stress or worry about him. "It's OK, I don't mind," you dismissed as you stood in front of him, "You go sit down, I'll get some stuff to wrap up your hand," 

"No, no, I'll do it, don't worry," he shook his head, pulling his hand away from you as you tried to inspect the damage. He could take care of himself, and he wanted to deal with the slightly painful consequences of his violent, yet just, actions. "Carlos, please," you softly sighed, not wanting him to pull away from you. 

On the day you got married, you vowed to take care of him in sickness and in health. Yes, that wasn't geared towards when your husband had broken someone's nose and his knuckles were split, but it still applied - especially in the world you were living in. 

Carlos was now at the disadvantage, since he could never say no to you. You could ask him for the world, and he would burn anyone in it to give it to you. You could ask him for the stars, and he'd go to space himself to retrieve every last one for you.

"Fine," he sighed, letting you lead him over to the dining room table. You could smell dinner being made in the kitchen next door, but you still had some time to patch Carlos up before then. "I'll be back," you told him, walking out of the room and leaving him to think for a minute. 

Just thinking about the way that guy had spoken about you was making his blood boil all over again as he clenched his fists, not caring about the sting that stretching the open wounds caused. 

He hated the fact that he knew other people had definitely spoken about you in worse ways, and thought about you. They would have this sick, twisted, perverted version of you in their dirty little minds, where they only used you and threw you away like a ragdoll. Where they only used you for your perfect body and pretty face before discarding you. 

If he had a dollar for everytime he knew someone was thinking about you, he'd be a rich man. Well, he was already rich, but he'd be filthy rich if that was the case. The worst part was: there was nothing he could do. He was only able to give that man what he deserved because he had heard him say it, but not everyone was dumb enough to say it within earshot of him. 

"Hey, you OK?" you asked, placing a hand on his shoulder as you snapped him out of his thoughts. You had noticed that he was clenching his fists so hard that his nails were digging into the flesh of his palms and leaving red crescents behind. 

"You know, you didn't have to punch him," you said, pushing another chair right next to him and taking his hand. "I am not letting grimy bastards like him get away with saying things like that about you, not at all," he told you. 

You produced a disinfectant wipe from its packet, gently wiping it over his skin, cleaning the blood away from the area. Carlos quietly hissed as it stung, but he had been through a hell of a lot worse, so it was nothing he couldn't deal with. 

"I thought you'd seen him wink at me but I guess not..." You quietly said, rooting through the first aid kit to find bandages. "Sorry, he winked at you? Fucking pussy ass bitch got off easy then. I'll kill him, I swear to god," he seethed, and you struggled to keep his hand still while you wrapped it up. "Baby, don't worry about it, he's gone," you said. 

He was grappling with himself internally, wondering how you could remain so calm after what he had done and said. If he had it his way, Carlos would have hunted him down, punished him for a short while, then sent his body home in multiple parts over the span of a few weeks. "Sure, whatever you say," he reluctantly agreed, resting his hand to make it easier for you. 

You wrapped the soft white cotton around his still slightly bleeding knuckles, before pinning it into place so it wouldn't come off. "Thank you, princess," he smiled, placing a hand on your thigh. "No problem," you told him, resting a head onto his shoulder while you waited for dinner. 

"Have you still got that party on tonight?" You asked, tilting your head to look at him from the side. Shit he thought, having completely forgotten. It was a club that one of his associates owned, and he needed to go just to keep up appearances. Charles and Lando would be there too, so it wouldn't be all that bad. 

"Yeah, yeah I do. I won't stay out too late, don't worry," he told you, kissing you softly on the top of your head. "Can I come with you?" you sweetly asked, knowing he wouldn't want you to go. But, you had the perfect plan to make him say yes. 

"No, baby, no. You know what the people there are like," he dismissed, not wanting you around those people. Sure, Charles and Lando would be there, but they were the only other decent people that would be in your vicinity. "Please? I wanna go and have some fun," you pleaded, batting your eyelashes at him. 

Carlos sighed, not wanting to regret the decision he was about to make. "Fine, you can come, but you have to stay by my side at all times, OK?" he said, already feeling nervous about taking you. But, saying no to you was the hardest thing he would ever do in his life, and he had never done it once. 

"OK, yeah, of course," you happily giggled, glad to go out. Sure, you got to go out and do the day to day stuff, but never without security or Carlos hanging around you constantly. You understood why, since Carlos was in dangerous business with some minacious people, but it would still be nice to let loose for a night.

As soon as you had finished dinner, you ran up the stairs to get ready. Carlos smiled to himself, loving how you liked to get all dolled up whenever you went out. It also meant he would have his work cut out for him, keeping men away from you, but it was worth it if you got to feel like a million dollars. 

Carlos came up to get changed not long later, spotting you pinning your hair into place at your vanity table. "Michael is ready with the car whenever you're ready to go," he told you, speaking about your driver that had been with Carlos since before you had. 

"OK," you confirmed, finishing off your hair and applying a lick of lipstick across your lips. You walked into your wardrobe, scanning the hangers for a dress to wear. Despite the amount that you had, none of them really stood out to you. 

"I like the red one, if that helps," Carlos called out to you, walking in as he tucked his shirt into his slacks. It was like he knew what you were thinking, and he always knew the solution to combat the problem. "Which one?"

"The one you wore for my birthday last year," he smirked, and your cheeks instantly heated up at the thought of what you got up to. You had never enjoyed a club bathroom more, and I'll leave the rest to your imagination.

"Sure, I like your thinking," you nodded, taking it off the hanger and slipping your silk robe off your shoulders. Carlos just watched as you slipped the red fabric over your body. It hugged your curves and made you look like a model. 

You tried to twist your arms around to the back of the dress to zip it up, but Carlos was there in a flash to do the job for you. He braced on hand on your waist as he pulled the zip up towards your neck. When he was done, he placed soft kisses down your neck and across your bare shoulders.

"Hey, hey. Lay off it," you giggled, trying to struggle out of his grasp. 

"But I don't want to," he whined, sucking on your neck and leaving red marks on the skin. 

"Carlos!" you scolded, spinning away from him and looking at yourself in the mirror. The splotches were already turning a deep burgundy, and you ran your fingers over them. "Carlos," you sighed, pouting at him. 

"How else are people going to know you're mine? It's for your own good, I promise," he smirked, swinging his jacket over his shoulders. Carlos walked over to the shoe rack, picking out the shiny black Louboutins that he adored on you.

He placed them in front of you and you stepped into them. They made your legs look longer, and the extra few inches looked good on you. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, Carlos held his arm out to you, and you took it. 

"You look stunning, baby," he complimented, raking his eyes over your figure as you walked. "Thank you, you're looking rather handsome tonight," you returned.

"Thank you,"  he smiled, helping you into the car. Michael drove the pair of you to the club, and there was already a queue down the length of the street to the doors. The security guard let you and Carlos straight through with a nod of his head, pointing you in the direction of the VIP section that was cordoned off with a red rope. 

Carlos threaded an arm around your waist as you weaved through the crowd in an attempt to keep you as close to him as possible. "You stay with me at all times, no matter what. If for whatever reason you can't find me, you stay with Charles or Lando, got it?" he reiterated, leaning down to talk in your ear so you could hear him over the loudness of the club. 

"Yeah, I got it," you nodded, willing to do what he asked since he had reluctantly agreed to bring you with him in the first place. He saw people's eyes rake over your figure for longer than his liking, and he hated how sleazy the guys that came to these places were.

There was not a single good thing about them - they were truly the scum of the Earth that he wished he could squash beneath his feet. They were the reason he hated bringing you anywhere with him, and he didn't want them anywhere near you. 

Carlos was on edge, to say the least, as he gripped onto your waist and tugged you impossibly closer to him. Charles and Lando were easy to spot as they sat together, downing some sort of shot. "Hey, guys," Carlos alerted them of your presence and they stood up to hug you. 

"Hey Carlos, Y/N, you guys want a drink?" Lando shouted over the music, pointing to where the bar was. "Yeah, I'll come with, Y/N wait here with Charles," Carlos instructed, walking over with Lando. He couldn't stop himself from glancing over at you every five seconds as he waited for your drinks, and he hated being away from you. 

Yes, it was only for barely even five minutes, you were in safe hands with Charles and you were in very clear view, but he still felt like he was too far away from you. Lando moved to the other side of Carlos, nodding over to two guys standing next to them at the bar. 

"Listen," he said, and Carlos trained his ears on their conversation. 

"You see the chick in the red dress?" one of them said, pointing in the direction of where you were sat. "Yeah, the one with Leclerc?" the other asked. 

"Yeah, she is a knock-out. I'll bet you fifty that I can get with her tonight," he smirked, hitting his friend in the shoulder. "Isn't she with Leclerc? He won't let you anywhere near her," 

"No, he flies solo. She's probably just some trouncing bimbo after his money, she'll be an easy catch," he said, holding his hand out for him to shake in agreement. 

"I'll take the one on the left, you get the one on the right," Lando said in his ear, eyes glued to the men who were starting to get suspicious. Carlos didn't want to cause a scene, so he had already, unfortunately, ruled out any form of violence. "No, no, I've got it covered," Carlos said, and Lando knew he'd be fine. 

As Carlos approached, the men instantly knew who he was. "The chick in the red dress is pretty cute, you should go for it," he started, giving them a bit of confidence as small, sly smiles formed on their lips. "If you want to die, that is."

For a moment, they looked at him, confusion written all over their features. They really were thick and couldn't connect the dots that had all been laid out perfectly for them. "If you want to keep living your miserable, pitiful, useless little lives, I'd suggest you don't talk about or look at my wife ever again," he told them, suddenly turning serious.

Their faces completely dropped in horror as they backed away. Carlos was using every ounce of self-control that he possessed to not hit them. "S-sorry," one stuttered. Carlos loved to watch them squirm, loved to see the pure fear he could feel radiating from them.

"You should be, now fuck off," Carlos spat, wanting them out of his sight. He turned back to Lando and picked up your drinks, making a beeline straight for where you were with Charles. He sat beside you, so close that your thighs were touching as he wrapped a comfortable arm around your waist. 

Holding onto you made him feel a bit more easy, knowing he could keep you safe if you were closer to him. As the boys settled into casual conversation, you had already finished your drink and were wanting another one. 

As you usually would, you stood from your seat and started to walk towards the bar. "Hey, where are you going?" Carlos asked, grabbing your wrist. 

"I'm going to get a drink, does anyone want one?" you asked, not seeing the meaning behind his question. "Not by yourself you're not, princess," he sighed, going to stand up with you.

"Don't worry about it, you guys got the last round, these are on me," Charles chirped, leaving the table. Carlos pulled you back down beside him as Lando carried on talking. "Remember, you don't go anywhere without me," he muttered in your ear.

No matter what, Carlos always had an arm around your waist or your shoulders, or a hand firmly on your thigh. People needed to see that you were his, and if they couldn't tell by the closeness of how you were sat with him, or the now purple marks down your neck and shoulders, then they'd be able to tell by the grasp he always had on you. 

"I'm going to the bathroom," you told Carlos, taking his hand and standing from your seat again. "OK, I'll come with," he said, glad that you had told him where you were going. You were doing as he'd asked, and that made him happy. 

"You wait here, I'll be out in a second," you said, trying to leave him by the door of the women's bathroom. Once he was sure you were in, he walked in and stood by the sinks. For all he knew, there could have already been some dickhead in there, waiting for some unassuming victim to walk into their lair. 

One of the doors in front of him opened, and it was like the past was walking right out of there and smacking him square in the face. "Carlos! If you wanted to see me, you certainly didn't have to follow me in here," she winked, the pitch of her voice sending uncomfortable shivers down his spine. 

"Marissa," he acknowledged, mentally willing you to hurry up so that he wouldn't have to deal with her for long. "Bit dodgy waiting in the ladies' room, don't you think?" she asked, sauntering up to him and running her hands across his chest. "Someone's been working out-"

"Get off me," he snapped, batting her hands away. Her touch felt agonizing, her fingertips like ice that he could feel through his shirt.  "Aw Carlos, don't be so rude to your old friend, it's not like you're with anyone either," she cooed, her voice turning sultry in a way that was supposed to be seductive. 

Rewind seven or so years, and Carlos would have fallen for her false charms and taken her home, maybe spent some of his hard earned money on her. But now, he had new eyes and saw right through her facade. He was glad to be out of that period of his life, because he was forced to become a better man, and that meant he could have you, and he wouldn't trade it for the world. 

"I'm married, I'm waiting for my wife at the moment," he deadpanned, stepping away from her and folding his arms as a way to block her off from him. "Carlos Sainz? Married? Oh that's a funny one," she giggled, twirling her dark hair around her finger. 

"I'm glad you found it funny, because I'm serious," he said, not even giving her the decency of eye contact as he spoke. "My Carlos would never commit to a relationship, let alone marry someone," she said like she knew him. She might have at one point, but she certainly didn't anymore. 

"I'm not your Carlos, and I never will be again. Now go and enjoy your evening," Carlos told her, trying to get rid of her. "How about you come to my table? We've got drinks, you can bring Norris and Leclerc, I'm sure they'd love to get in on the fun," she said, batting her eyelashes at him. 

"Marissa just piss off will you?" Carlos spat. As if by the grace of god, the other bathroom stall opened and you walked up. "Baby? Who's this?" You asked as if you hadn't heard their entire interaction.  "Hey princess, this is Marissa, old friend of mine," Carlos explained, immediately welcoming you into his embrace. 

"We were a lot more than friends," she smirked, clearly trying to make you mad. But, you knew that Carlos had a past, not a great one, but it was still a past he had been open and honest about. "I'm Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you," you sweetly smiled, ignoring her comment.

You held your left hand for her to shake, your engagement ring shining bright and proud under the harsh lights of the bathroom. To be blunt, the rock that sat on your finger was massive, and unmissable. Marissa clearly caught it in her eyeline and visibly grimaced, before plastering a fake smile on her plastic lips. 

"Likewise," she practically hissed at you, before turning back to Carlos. "Well, it's been nice chatting, but I'm going to have to go. Call me, Carlos. I've missed you," she flirted as one last attempt to make you mad, but you just found it pitiful. 

When you knew she was gone, you turned to Carlos. "Call me, Carlos, I've missed you," you giggled, mocking Marissa's voice. He chuckled along, glad to have you back in his arms. "Come on, let's get back out there," Carlos said, pulling you along with him.

As you approached Lando and Charles again, you heard them cackling. "You will never guess who just came over here," Charles laughed, playfully whacking Lando on the shoulder. 

"Looks like a walking corpse, awful voice, and an absolute slut for you, Carlos!" Lando giggled like a schoolboy. "Marissa?" Carlos said, cocking an eyebrow as if he were genuinely unknowing as to who they were talking about. "Aren't you clever, how'd you guess?" Lando sarcastically chuckled as the two of you sat down.

"Because she just tried to fuck me in the bathroom while I was waiting for Y/N," Carlos told them as he watched their faces turned shocked, yet extremely amused. "Shit no way!" Charles exclaimed.

"Yes way, I could hear her touching him and she said 'Someone's been working out' and I wanted to kill the bitch," you explained, Charles and Lando loudly laughing. Carlos was flabbergasted. He had never heard you say you wanted to kill anyone, or inflict any type of violence towards someone.

You were always so soft and compassionate, but he found this side to you amusing. "She might as well have gotten down on her knees and begged for it. 'Please fuck me Carlos, I'm a desperate whore for it!'" You mimed, causing Charles and Lando to double over due to how hard they were laughing.

Carlos, on the other hand, wanted you to say it again, but without mimicking Marissa. You had never begged for it, because you never had to. He gave you whatever you wanted at the drop of the hat, and most of the time, you never really asked for it. He just gave it to you. He gave anything to you.

You were loving the bitching session you were having with Charles and Lando, Carlos occasionally chipping in with a few words. Taking Carlos' hand, you inspected the red scabs on his knuckles. He was able to take the bandage off before you came out, since they had healed over pretty quickly. 

"Who did you beat this time?" Lando asked with an air of levity, since he knew what Carlos was like. He had a short temper most of the time, especially when it came to anything to do with you. "Just some fuck who needs to wash his mouth out with bleach," Carlos tutted, looking at the red crusts scattered around the skin. 

"I'm surprised the guy is still alive," Charles chuckled, and you never really got used to how braizen they were about ending people's lives. "So am I," Carlos agreed. You all carried on talking, and Carlos could feel eyes on him on occasion.

He looked over, past the red rope to see Marissa with her friends, all smiling and waving. He just rolled his eyes, but he saw there was a group of men with them that they had lured in. He supposed it was supposed to make him jealous, but it just made him feel sorry for them.

The guy's eyes kept on wandering onto you, and he was really wondering if this was going to be the third guy he'd have to have a word with for looking at you. It would be a new record. He stared daggers at the guy, but his eyes weren't averting from you.

He was sick of telling people you were his and he was yours. He figured he might as well just show them. You were completely oblivious to it, chatting merrily with Charles and Lando still.

Charles and Lando had clocked that he was staring someone down, and that always proved that he had something up his sleeve. "Baby, c'mere," he said, tugging you onto his lap by your waist. You straddled his thigh, slightly shifting around to get comfortable. 

None of them seemed to get the hint, as the group of them carried on smirking and chatting while still watching you and Carlos. Marissa winked at Carlos, and he just couldn't take it. Without warning, Carlos captured your lips in a heated kiss. 

He pulled you closer to him as your tongues danced in harmony and your hands kept him with you on the sides of his face. He kept on kissing you, barely giving you any room to breathe, but you didn't care. Kissing him was better than oxygen. 

As you continued, you subconsciously rolled your hips against his thigh, and he had to brace his hands on your waist to keep you still. If you carried on like that, it would send him absolutely feral, and that was not what you needed right now. "Sorry," you smirked as you realised what he was doing. 

"Don't be, not for that," he breathed, his heart pounding out of his chest as the group on the other side of the club finally got what you were doing, and finally started minding their own business. 

You noticed a few of the boy's business associated approaching where you were sat, so you went to move from his lap. "No, you're staying right there," he said lowly in your ear, and you were happy to stay there. 

It felt like he was talking to them for hours, and he probably was. They weren't really talking about anything of importance, since you were in public, but it was business enough to become boring. Carlos' work and deals never really interested you, you just cared that he was enjoying himself. 

You yawned, resting your head on his shoulder and nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. You had enjoyed your evening, but you were starting to become a bit weary. "You tired?" Carlos asked quietly. "Just a little bit," you confirmed as his fingers traced up and down your spine. 

"We can go home, Charles and Lando are coming back with us because we've got some stuff we need to talk about, but we can go," he told you.

"It's OK, you can carry on talking to people, I don't mind," you yawned again, still clinging onto him. Sure, it was loud in there, but you didn't really mind. You were safe and comfortable with Carlos, so you weren't really bothered. 

"No, we're going home. My baby is tired, and she is top priority," he said, noticing how your eyes were slightly reddened due to tiredness. You didn't protest, simply letting him stand you on the floor. He said his goodbyes, and walked out with you, Charles and Lando. 

Just as you got out to the pavement, where Michael was waiting for the four of you, you heard a shriek and you audibly groaned. "Carlos! Can you drive me home? I don't have a ride," Marissa appeared, attaching herself to his other arm. 

"Get off me," he said, swatting her away from him like a fly on the wall. 

"What, so you're just going to leave me here, with all of these people who want to take advantage of me?" she cried, scurrying along behind you.

"If it'll get rid of you, then that sounds like the perfect plan," he scoffed, opening the front passenger door for you to get in, but you didn't budge from where you were stood. You weren't the possessive type like Carlos was, since you knew he was completely loyal to you, but Marissa was getting on your nerves. 

"Please? I'll reward you," she hummed, stepping closer to him. You were getting sick of it, and you couldn't hold yourself back. "Get your slutty ass away from my husband, whore," you spat, stepping in between them.  

Marissa's eyes were clouded with darkness as she turned to look at you. "I think you'll find that your husband loves a whore," she countered, closing the gap between the two of you. 

"I'm sure one of those men you were throwing yourself at tonight would love to take you home, but they probably find you insufferable as well," you said, crossing your arms as she got ever more close to you. 

It was as if the events unfolded in slow motion, as her arm raised, ready to bitch slap you in the face. Carlos was quicker though, grabbing her wrist. "You've seen what I've done to people, so don't think I'm scared to add you to the long list of individuals who have fallen to my mercy," he told her, and her face was priceless.

Carlos liked it when people were scared of him, and he especially liked it when the people were people who he thoroughly disliked. "Alright, alright, whatever. Someone else will gladly take me home," she scoffed, walking away.

"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?" Carlos asked, holding the car door open for you again. "Oh I'm still here, she just got on my final nerve. That bitch put her hands on what's mine, and I can't have that," you smirked, hopping in and closing the door behind you. 

He'd love to hear you talk like that more often. He didn't get to see that side of you regularly, but when he did, it made this tiny thing in his brain tick.

Charles, Lando and Carlos all clambered into the back seat as Michael pulled away from the club. The car ride was serene compared to the bustling atmosphere of the club, and it had gotten completely dark outside. 

Once you were home, Charles and Lando went to sit in the living room and Carlos escorted you upstairs. For a second, you just stood in the middle of the room, not mustering up the energy to undress yourself. Carlos knew you too well, his hands finding the zip of your dress. 

"Can I take this off?" he asked, pulling you backwards so that you were closer to him. 

"Yeah," you nodded, appreciating that he was asking, even if he knew you would always say yes. "Thank you," he softly said, tugging the zip all the way down to the small of your back, the garment falling off your body into a pool around your feet. 

"Do you want to put this on for now?" he asked, unhooking your robe from the back of the door. "Yeah, thank you," you said as he slotted your arms through the sleeves and tied the thin belt around your waist. "No problem, baby," he smiled, leading you over to the bed and gently sitting you down on the edge of it. 

Carlos sunk to his knees in front of you, taking your left foot into his hand and slipping your heel off of you. He moved his hands over to the other foot, taking your other heel off. He leant forward, gently kissing the inside of your calf, his lips soft against your skin. 

His lips moved up, to the inside of your knee, then your thigh, before he stood and leant over to kiss you on the forehead. "What do you want to sleep in?" he asked, standing in front of you with his arms folded. 

He had taken his suit jacket off, draping it over a chair in the corner. He had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and he had undone his top two buttons. He looked downright delicious, but you couldn't help but want to see what was underneath the blue cotton. 

It clung to every muscle of his arms and chest, and his cheeks were flushed a slight red due to the alcohol he had drunk. "I want this," you said, tugging at the material of his shirt. Yes, you did want the shirt, but you also wanted an excuse to see his brilliant physique. 

Carlos just chuckled, seeing right through your facade, but he did as you asked anyway. He didn't say anything, he untucked it from his slacks and unbuttoned the rest of it, shrugging it off his shoulders and handing it to you. "Thank you, baby," you smirked, taking it from him. 

You took your robe off and slipped your arms through the rolled up sleeves, only doing a few of the bottom buttons up. As you sat there, you couldn't help but stare at him. Perfectly sculpted muscles under lusciously tanned skin, the perfect combination. And it looked damn good on him.

"If you wanted me shirtless, all you had to do was ask, princess," he teased, a smug smile dancing across his face as he noticed your staring. He was gorgeous, anyone with eyes could see that, but he knew he was. And he knew that his girl knew it too. 

"You're not going to do anymore of those buttons up?" he smirked, not even attempting to hide the fact that he was staring. He would have rather looked without the shirt in his way, but Charles and Lando were downstairs, so he needed to remain calm. 

"No, it's comfier this way," you smiled as he disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared with a pack of makeup wipes in his hand. He sat beside you, gently wiping away the makeup from your face. 

He held your chin with his fingers as he tilted your head up to look at him, making it easier for him to get everything off. "There we go," he softly said, inspecting your face to make sure he had gotten everything. "Can I take these out?" he asked, fingers tapping at the pins in your hair. 

"Yeah, course," you confirmed, tilting your head down this time. He pulled the pins out of place, your hair falling all around your face. Carlos moved to sit behind you, splitting your hair into three strands and plaiting the sections and tying them. 

"There you go, now you are all ready for bed," he smiled as you shuffled over to your side of the bed. He pulled the duvet over your body, kissing you on the forehead. "I'll be up as soon as I can, the stuff with Charles and Lando shouldn't take too long," he told you. 

"No rush, take your time," you mumbled, your eyes falling shut already. Carlos collected another shirt from the wardrobe and turned the lights off. As he walked down the stairs, Charles and Lando saw that he was buttoning up the other shirt he had to get. 

"What were you up to up there, Carlos?" Lando mischievously giggled, leaning forward in his seat. "Now we know why you had to take Y/N upstairs and she couldn't go by herself in her own house," Charles chipped in, also giggling along. 

"If that was the case, I sure as hell wouldn't be back down here with you two. Now, what do you want to drink?" Carlos asked, approaching the drinks trolley that sat in the corner of the room. "Whatever alcoholic substance you'll give me," Lando said, and Carlos poured three glasses of some amber liquid for them.

"Perfect, now let's talk business," Charles smiled, taking his glass and handing one of the others to Lando. "So, transport is sorted, but we might have to make some changes to the personnel carrying it out, since the guys I talked to earlier today are thick as pig shit," Carlos explained.

"I've got the cargo waiting in the port until we send for it to be moved. I've had it all tested and counted every morning and every night since it's been there," Charles told them, and they carried on with their business talk. 

You were still upstairs, tossing and turning. It had felt like hours since you had gotten into bed, but it had only been half an hour when you checked the clock on your bedside table. You had slept without Carlos plenty of times, but tonight was just one of those nights where you didn't want to. 

Carlos had said he wasn't going to be too long, but you thought that the time you were waiting for was starting to constitute as long. There was no use in just waiting for an answer, so you shuffled out of bed and buttoned up your (Carlos') shirt a bit more. 

You padded down the stairs as you heard them talking about yachts or something. Whatever it was, they seemed to have strayed away from business, but you never know. They could have started selling yachts.

"Carlos," Charles alerted him to your presence as you descended. He suddenly didn't have a single brain cell focused on business, he was solely thinking about why you would've come downstairs. One part of his brain started to worry that something was wrong, but you looked fine. 

"Eyes off, boys," he quietly said, Charles and Lando averting their eyes from your shirt-clad figure. They knew how protective and possessive Carlos was with you, and they respected it. He didn't want anyone else seeing his girl the way he did.  "Sorry to be a pest, I was just wondering what time you were coming to bed?" You asked, hoping he would just come up right away, but you weren't expecting anything. "Soon, I promise," he confirmed. He knew you didn't sleep overly well without him.

When he was holding you in his arms as you slept, you felt completely safe and like nothing could possibly harm you. Carlos had promised to protect you until he took his final breath, and you believed him. You had grown so used to being around him all the time, that you never wanted to be away from him. 

"OK, sorry to interrupt again," you apologised, turning away and heading back for the stairs. "Don't be sorry, baby, it's OK," he told you, watching until you disappeared upstairs. Carlos finished up with whatever needed doing, and he said his goodnights to Charles and Lando. 

"So, we've got the shipment moving on Thursday, set to arrive in Madrid on Saturday, and I'll be at the halfway point in Lyon, Carlos will be in Madrid, Lando will be at the start in Prague," Charles confirmed, outlining the basics of the big move that was happening. 

"Yeah, and I'll be meeting you guys in Madrid on the Saturday as well to check up on everything," Lando nodded. Carlos had planned for you two to spend a couple of days in Madrid after everything had happened, and he was looking forward to the days away.

"You guys can hang around for a bit if you want, help yourself to anything and leave whenever," Carlos said, standing from his chair and leaving his glass on the table. Yes, Charles and Lando may have been his business associates, but they were also his closest friends that he trusted, so leaving them in the house wasn't an issue. They all had each other's backs, and were always there when needed. 

"I'm here now, Miss Needy," he teased, opening the bedroom door and closing it behind him. "You didn't have to come up earlier than you planned, you know?" you sighed, rolling to face away from him. You didn't want to see that smug smirk of his, even when it was plastered on his handsome face.

"Well I did. If you want me, you have me at anytime of the day, no matter what, princess. But I know you already know that," he told you, clambering into bed behind you. "Goodnight," he mumbled, instantly feeling tired as he got comfortable.

Carlos wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you as close to him as he possibly could, nuzzling his head into your neck as he softly kissed it. "Goodnight, Carlos," you muttered through that darkness, already feeling more at ease with his mere presence. 

You may have lived in a dark, definitely illegal world, but you wouldn't trade it for anything. Carlos' job was less than desirable to you, but he seemed to enjoy the thrill, so you joined him for the ride, and you always would. 

A/N - OK so I absolutely adored writing this, I don't know if this is very 'mafia', but I still thoroughly enjoyed myself. I don't know why I'm suggesting this, since I'm already really behind on this, but would you want a part 2 in Madrid with some... Mafia drama? I won't elaborate, just lmk! Requests are open, love you! 💖

|masterlist|

Licence to Thrill || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: You give Charles the ride of his life when he’s running late to an important event. Warnings: 18+ only, illegal driving, sexual innuendos, fluff WC: 2.7k

F1 Masterlist || Based on this request

“No, no, no, shit.” Charles’ curses woke you up and you rubbed your bleary eyes as he tossed the blankets back, cold air rushing over your skin. You immediately missed the warmth of his body where he had been spooning you all night and grabbed your phone to see the time.

“Fuck!” Charles growled as his little toe caught the corner of the bedpost, again, and you leapt up to get dressed too. “We are so late, mon amour.”

He had been looking forward to the charity football game all week and the prospect of missing the kick off made him clumsy in his rush. While you pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt he struggled to get one leg into his team’s black football shorts, falling twice as he lost his balance. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured as you curled an arm around his waist to steady him. “I shouldn’t have kept you up so late.”

He grabbed a shirt before sparing a moment to press his lips to your forehead. “Don’t be, I enjoyed myself very much.”

“Oh, I know, and I’m pretty sure my neighbours know it too,” you teased as you took your shirt from his hands and tossed him the correct shirt with his name and driver number on the back. “Come on, get that sexy ass moving.”

He laughed as you squeezed his butt when he bent down to tie his shoes. “Hands off the goods, honey, I’m not a piece of meat.”

“Keep telling yourself that, handsome,” you shot back as he made for the stairs and you locked the house behind you.

“Shit,” Charles groaned as he hit his head on the steering wheel. “I am stupid.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, leaning over to see the dashboard. “You forgot to put petrol in again, didn’t you?”

“I was in a rush to get here last night,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’ll call Arthur to come get us.”

“I can take us.” You opened your handbag and found your keys as well as the remote for the garage door.

“Wait, you drive?”

“Of course I do,” you laughed as you climbed out of the Pista.

He quickly hopped out his side to follow. “I didn’t even know you had a licence. Why am I only just learning this now?”

“You never asked,” you said with a shrug, “and you always offer to pick me up.”

“Because I thought you didn’t drive.”

You giggled as you hit the remote and the door lifted up. “What did you think was in the garage?”

“Storage? Chérie,” he sighed as he followed you down the driveway that passed by the front door that he had a key for and he pointed to it. “I’ve never come in your backdoor, how should I know?” You cocked an eyebrow up with a smirk and he rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, just so you know, the garage is where I park my car.” You waved a hand to the opened door and Charles whistled as he saw the gleaming black hood catch the morning sun. He automatically started walking to the drivers side and you tutted at him. “Don’t even think about it, love. That’s my baby.”

“But-“

“No buts, if you want to make it to the match on time you ride shotgun.” You grabbed his shoulders and turned him in the direction of the other door and he grumbled as he started to walk around. “If it’s any consolation, you can pick the music.”

The door creaked open and slammed shut behind him before he groaned and you laughed as you climbed in to see him holding his phone, the Spotify app useless with the old radio. “Forgot to mention, she only takes cassette tapes.”

“You know you can update the stereo,” he pointed out as he opened the glove compartment and rifled through the stacks of old cassettes. “Fleetwood Mac. Michael Jackson. There’s nothing from this century.”

“Hey, don’t hate on them. They are classics and this is a classic car.” You turned the key and grinned as he dropped the tape at the sudden roar that was deafening in the small garage. “You might want to buckle up, baby.”

“Why are there racing harnesses in here?” he asked as he pulled the five point harness over his shoulders and bucked it in.

“You probably shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” you admitted as you shoved a random mixtape into the radio and turned the volume dial up.

The kick drum intro to Ram Jam’s  Black Betty thumped from the speakers as you pushed down the clutch and put the ‘70 Dodge Charger into gear. The full force of the V8 engine drove your body back into the seat as the car hurtled forward and burst into the sunlight. Charles latched onto the handle above his door and while the other hand pressed against the dash and his knees tucked up like he was preparing for impact.

“I’m trying not to be insulted here,” you huffed as you pushed his knee down between shifting gears. “I may not have a super licence like some people, but I have never crashed.”

A terrified scream erupted as you burst out of the driveway and pulled the handbrake, kicking the back wheels out as you drifted into the quiet suburban street and took off with a trail of burnt rubber. Your neighbours wouldn’t be too happy but you didn’t care as long as you got Charles to where he needed to be on time.

You spared a glance over to your boyfriend and saw the whites of his eyes as they stared at the road ahead and his knuckles turned white from the tight gripe he held. “Chérie, road, road, cars, look, traffic, look at the road. The road!”

He turned to you wide eyed as you approached the busy intersection at full speed before hitting the brake. You held his eye contact as you shifted down the gears before coming to a gentle stop at the lines in front of the traffic light and he exhaled in relief.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he said but the words were warm and his smile was one amazement as the adrenaline hit him. His hands tugged the harness until it was snug and he settled into the seat as you waited for the light to turn green. “I’m ready this time.”

“Good, because we won’t make it if I stop for every red light.”

“Wait, what?” The light changed and you put your foot to the floor as Charles chuckled nervously. “You’re joking right?”

“If it helps, sure,” you shrugged, weaving in and out of the cars and ignoring the angry honks of their horns. “Do you think I could take your car for a spin?”

“Absolutely…not.” 

You narrowed your eyes as he got your hopes up and almost missed the turn that would shave a few seconds off the travel time. Any normal person would have struggled to stay upright in their seat but Charles’ line of work made it easy for him to tense his abdominals and neck so he barely moved as the mass shifted and the back wheels drifted behind the turn.

“What if I let you drive this?” you bartered as the road straightened out and you reached speeds high enough to instantly lose your licence and the car. 

“Oh, mon amour,” he murmured as he chewed his bottom lip and he debated the offer before looking at his watch. “If you get me there before kick off you have a deal.”

He should have known you wouldn’t miss out on the opportunity very few people got and the smile you gave him gave him pause as he wondered what he had just got himself into.

“It’s going to be tight,” you muttered as you saw the time, just catching the hint of a smile on his face. “But doable.”

Charles watched with fascination. He saw your eyes scanning the road far ahead, making plans and contingency plans for the hazards that you might face. All the while you blindly shifted up the gears with your feet working in tandem, releasing the accelerator as you double clutched for a smoother transition. 

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” he chuckled in disbelief as you took a corner with enough speed that he knew there had to be some g-force working against you, but you didn’t even notice as you gripped the wheel tight and exited the apex without slowing down.

“I’m pretty sure if you were dreaming we would be doing something else, not driving.”

“I’m not sure now, I’m finding this extremely hot. You could pull over and make that dream come true?”

“And miss out on driving your baby? No way.” You shook your head with a laugh before biting your lip. “It is tempting, but I have to think of the children. They would be very disappointed if you didn’t show up for the match.”

“And Pierre, I don’t think he would forgive me.”

“I said children didn’t I. Oh, shit.” You ripped the handbrake and did a 180 as you missed the street you needed. “Stop distracting me.”

The stadium was just up ahead and you could see the parking lot on the other side of the overpass but there was only one road to get there. Unless you wanted to drive the long way around but then you would be late.

“Amour, that’s a one way street,” Charles pointed out as you headed to the underground pass. “You’re going the wrong way. There’s traffic cameras here too.”

“You’re right,” you huffed before twisting the wheel a little to the left then all the way to the right. The suspension would not like the pressure you were putting it under but she spun around and you shoved the car in reverse and draped your arm across Charles’ chair as you looked over your shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to get a fine.”

The engine roared inside the tunnel as you pushed the limits of the gear and you swerved through the lanes. You were grateful that it wasn’t rush hour traffic so there were only a few drivers angry with your recklessness before you burst out of the tunnel, through the intersection and into the parking lot. 

The stadium was quiet since the event was only televised but there were still lots of media crews at the entrance and they all turned your way as the back of your car careened towards them. You reached the last row of empty parking spaces and pulled the handbrake, whipping the front around and coming to a stop beside the gate entrance.

“Twelve seconds to spare,” you laughed as you drummed your fingers on the steering wheel. “That will be twenty euros and a five star rating, s’il vous plaît.”

“Just enough time to change my shorts,” he joked as he pushed his door open.

“Good thing they are black this year,” you retorted with a laugh as you tossed him his boots he would have forgotten. “Go, I’ll meet you inside.”

He blew a kiss as he took off at a jog and waved to the stunned reporters who were still recording.

“Is that Y/N?” A female presenter asked her male colleague.

“Leclerc’s girlfriend?” He laughed and shook his head. “No way. This has to be some stunt.”

You drove more sedately to a spot a few spaces away where you spotted Pierre’s car and parked beside it before killing the engine and letting the silence settle. Adjusting your mirror, you saw everyone still watching, waiting to see who it was being the wheel.

“I told you,” the woman gasped as she elbowed the man. “It was her! Do you have a moment?”

“Sorry, games about to kick off,” you apologised as you rushed past and into the stadium just in time to see Charles faceplant. “Ohh,” you gasped along with the others watching before cupping your hands around your mouth. “Yellow card ref!”

“He tripped over himself,” Kika whispered as she joined you.

“Oh I know, I just thought he could use a little 15 minute rest.” You grinned as you gave her a kiss on the cheek. “He’s had a rough morning.”

“What happened?”

“He stubbed his toe.” Your phone started vibrating and you pulled it out of your pocket to see your twitter notifications blowing up. “Huh, that was quick. The devil works hard but F1 fans work harder.”

You showed her the thread which started with a short clip of your car thrashing it down the street, Charles holding on for dear life. You chuckled as you saved it to show him later, knowing he would get a kick out of it too.

“Yeah, I don’t think that was the stubbed toe, hun…” she hummed.

“Meh,” you shrugged, pocketing the device so you could concentrate on the game.

Charles and Pierre’s team won the match and you climbed over the baluster to jump down to the grass as the pair jogged over. Charles swept you up with a proud grin as he spun around.

“Well played, handsome,” you praised as you brushed his sweaty hair back into place before helping yourself to a quick kiss.

“Wouldn’t have made it without you, chérie.”

Pierre clapped him on the shoulder and nodded his head to the reporters waiting for a post match interview and he reluctantly placed your feet back on the ground.

“Well, this should be interesting,” you muttered to Kika as you waved to the camera that remained pointed at you until Charles said something.

“Just how bad was your driving?” she asked curiously.

“Bad? Oh it wasn’t bad,” you chuckled. “My driving is actually very good, if I do say so myself. It was just a little faster than he was expecting.”

She curled an eyebrow up. “He goes 200 mph for a living.”

“Yeah, funny right.”

Charles was still catching his breath when the microphone was held in front of him and could see videos of his entrance playing on the big screens around the stadium. Pierre’s eyebrows disappeared under his hair in surprise as he saw the black Charger spinning to a stop and his friend climbing out.

“No fucking way,” Pierre laughed as he looked back at you laughing with his girlfriend. “That’s awesome.”

“I know right,” Charles said with a proud smile. “You should have seen it, she was going full on sideways through these corners, it was insane.”

“So, Charles, I'm sure this comes as no surprise,” the reported began, “but we have some questions about your girlfriend, after the entrance she made.”

“You have some questions?” He threw his head back and laughed. “I have some questions! I had no idea she could drive like that.”

“Her father is a rally driver. Did you really never suspect anything?”

“My mother is a hairdresser, doesn’t mean I am good at cutting hair. Why do you think I wore a bandana during lockdown? I butchered it that’s why.” He brushed his hair back that had thankfully grown back after his terrible attempt and laughed to himself. “So no, I didn’t assume she could drive because her father can.”

The interview finally turned to the football match and then a little bit about the upcoming race before Charles was able to escape. He held up a finger and mouthed one minute as he made a detour to the few fans that had been invited. He talked with some of them, shaking hands and signing autographs.

You wolf whistled loudly as Charles took his shirt off and he grinned without even having to check who it came from before he gave it to a fan and waved goodbye. You knew you were staring as he jogged back and you knew you weren’t the only one, but he only had eyes for you as he gave you a wink and draped his arm over your shoulder.

“How cool is that shot,” he said as he looked up at the screens still playing a rotation of highlights from the game and your arrival. “There’s just one way to make it better.”

“Excuse me?” you dared him to criticise your driving but his charming smile only grew wider.

“Do it in a Ferrari.”

I present to you Max "I know where I drive" Verstappen🥇🏁🏎🗺

Finally, his time to shine on grill the grid!

I swear I'm so in love with this little nerd!❤️

Hangster prompt that could go two ways when Jake, exasperated, tired, a little drunk and a little heartbroken, asks Bradley - in front of everyone and Penny, during one of their nights out at the Hard Deck - what he knows about:

Prompt A: unrequited love and Bradley answers with the description of two men looking at each other from the opposite side of a piano, while a kid tries to learn a new melody, telling each other they are in love for then never talking about it again just for the love to find space in every aspect of their life but never ever in the way it was supposed to.

Prompt B: love. What the hell does it know about love. Just for Bradley to stop in the middle of a sentence to look up at Jake, smiling softly and asking him if he's really ready to hear all that Bradley does know about love, and if he has a little more time to spear, he could tell Jake what he doesn't know about it.

Summoning the High King

“Are you sure it’s the only way, Zatanna?” A worried John asks from his seat at the round table inside the meeting room of the Justice League’s satellite watchtower.

The wall-like window that faces the open space in front of them allowing them to see numerous space ships ready to invade Earth right outside. Usually, JLD does not meddle with space but this time the weekly random evil alien dictator decided to also use fucking ancient magic from who-knows-fucking-where to strengthen their troops! So, now Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Zatanna and John have to find a way to fight back, and Zatanna did find a way to fightback, well, little Timmy Hunter did, but hot hell he wished the kid didn’t.

“According to Timothy, it’s the only way.” Zatanna answers.

“Ugh, great, just what I needed.” John complains as he ruffles his hair in frustration. “Another eldritch abomination to own a favor to.”

“How fast can you summon this High King of the Infinite Realms?” Batman questions.

“Timothy is looking for the summoning’s ingredients, as soon as he arrives, we will begin the summoning.” Zatanna responds.

“Where in bloody-dammed-hell did the kid found the book to summon the gods-forsaken-King of the Infinite Realms?!” John exclaims as he lights another cigarette between his lips.

“Apparently the Queene herself gave it to him.” Zatanna informs. “It seems that the book our weekly villain used to magically strengthen his army is one of a set of three.”

“Where is the third one?” Superman asks.

Zatanna shakes her head in negation as she answers. “According to what Timothy told me, these books were separated thousand of years ago to keep them away from the wrong hands. The first tome was thrown to the void of space inside a prison of perpetual ice, or at least what they thought was perpetual ice, the second one was given to the fae, for they were of the few that comprehended the dangers of using these books, and the third one was given to the Ancients.”

“The Ancients?” Batman questions. Where have I heard that before?

“Embodiments of the very same concepts that give form to all of reality, like Destiny, Death, Time, Hope, the rulers and guardians of these very same concepts.” John is the one who answers this time. He is looking at the ceiling as he gives a drag to his cig, then he slowly exhales the smoke and continues. “The OG primordials, older than any god or known divinity in this modern times.”

“I have heard stories.” Wonder Woman interjects. “It is said that even Uranus, and later Chronos, had to pay his respects to a being known as the Master of all Time, and that Pandora was not what the old tales say.”

“Correct.” John nods from his seat, too tired to give any more shits until the start of the summoning.

“And we are going to summon something that even those Ancients think it’s dangerous?” Superman asks.

“Bullocks, right?” John responds with a manic, sarcastic smile.

It is in that moment that the mechanic sliding door opens up, allowing Flash to walk into the room.

“So, uhm, there’s this Harry Potter look alike that just popped up into existence in the lobby looking for Zatanna?” Flash informs as he points behind himself with his thumbs.

“That’s our boy.” John says as he stands up and starts walking towards the only physical door in the room, the other occupants of the room following him.

When they arrive to the lobby there is a young man with messy pitch-black hair and equally black eyes, he is wearing a black turtle neck, a burgundy sweater over that, black jeans and black sneakers, on his left shoulder is hooked al old military green backpack.

“Timothy.” Zatanna calls before giving him a hug.

“Zatanna, so good to see you.” He says as he returns the hug. “Constantine.” The young man directs to the only blonde in the room.

“Timmy.” John nods in acknowledgement.

“Welcome to the Watchtower, Timothy Hunter.” Wonder Woman greets.

“Thank you for helping us.” Superman adds.

“Well, when it comes to weird, ancient magic, I’m your guy.” Timothy says as he shakes hands with each of the big three.

“So, Timmy, what’s in the bag?” Jonh asks as he eyes Timothy’s backpack, knowing very well that whatever is inside will be for the summoning.

“Actually, I’ll just show you guys because you’re not going to believe it.” Timothy says as he proceeds to open his backpack and proceeds to take out the summoning ingredients and make them float in front of everyone.

A red apple, the crunchy kind, a turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich, a black coffee, hot, and a granola bar with choco-chips.

“Why are you showing us your breakfast?” John asks with bewilderment.

“That’s the thing!” Timothy exclaims back as he also pulls out from his backpack an ominous looking, glowing, Lazarus green book. “This is what the book says it’s necessary to summon the High King of the Infinite Realms!” He adds as he opens the book in the page with the instructions for the summoning. “Take a look yourself!”

And Constantine does. John snatches away the book from the younger’s grasp and starts to read the list of ingredients.

1 Red Apple, the crunchy kind.

A sandwich, any sandwich, but if you can get turkey and Swiss cheese, that would be the best.

A granola bar with choco-chips, no coconut.

1 large black coffee, piping hot, four shots of espresso and ten of sugar.

“Bloody fuck?!”

“I know, right?! And when I asked mother what was that about, she only giggled her little giggle and said: The king surely is an amusing one.” Timothy says with fake, high-pitched voice.

“You know? The fact that the Queen of Tír na nÓg herself thinks that the being we are about to summon is amusing just makes it sound even more ominous to me.” Zatanna says as she takes the book from Constantine’s hands and reads the list of ingredients as well.

Superman, Wonder Woman and Flash are looking at the three sorcerers with curiosity while Batman is looking at the ingredients for the summoning with interest.

“Whatever! Let’s wrap this mess up so I can fuck off away!” John huffs as he starts to walk away towards the conference room where they were going to perform the summoning.

The conference room is empty and the chairs and table were moved away to give enough space to perform the summoning and to not get hit by stray, flying furniture. The glass-wall still showing the magically mutated alien troops waiting out in open space for orders to invade the Earth.

John, Zatanna and Timothy are drawing the summoning circle on the floor with some chalk when Flash, who tagged along to see cool witchcraft, asks:

“One question, why do we need this specific dude to fight back?”

“The spell used to magically mutate these aliens is very specific.” Zatanna starts to explain. “To begin with, its base is ecto-energetic, ergo, what we need to deal with our current problem is obviously to summon the one who rules over all ecto-based things and beings.”

“Ecto…?” Flash mumbles in confusion.

“The thing ghosts are made of.” Batman helpfully adds, which gains him the attention of all the occupants in the room.

“Since when do you know about ghost stuff?” Superman asks.

“There is one in Gotham.” Batman adds.

“There is a ghost in Gotham?!” Superman exclaims.

“And when were you going to tell us?” Wonder Woman inquires.

“I have it under control.” Batman continues. “He is not a hostile.”

“Why is there an active ghost in Gotham?” Timothy questions.

“He is investigating the curse over the city.” Batman answers.

“Ha-ha! Poor bastard.” John laughs at the thought of the poor ghost dealing with that curse. The curse over Gotham is thicker and dirtier than a hundred-thousand layers of slimy grime. Constantine can feel Batsy’s glare on his nape but he doesn’t give a shit about it.

“There we go, summoning circle finished.” Zatanna states as the three sorcerers proceed to take place to start the ritual. Wonder Woman, Flash, Batman and Superman walking away while Timothy places the summoning ingredients by the middle of the circle.

The three sorcerers place themselves evenly by the external circle of the summoning drawing, extending their arms towards each other. First, a Lazarus green electric current flows between them and along the lines of the summoning circle. All of the watchtower’s lights flicker ominously.

“I’m starting to think that doing a mystical, magical summoning inside a satellite in open space is a very bad idea.” Flash says as the white lights of the watchtower turn a disgusting grimy green color, the temperature dropping, and dropping, and dropping so quick that in mere seconds everyone in the room is making small hot breath clouds.

“They have not uttered a single word and the atmosphere is already like this.” Wonder Woman musters in incredulity as she watches the sorcerers’ work.

The ingredients for the summoning once again levitate, a Lazarus green sheen covering them ominously.

“Relur etinifin ho eeht llac ew.” Timothy chants. “Aelp ruo raeh.”

The lights flicker some more and then completely burst, the only light in the room becoming the sickening Lazarus green emanating from the summoning circle. The electric current has turned into a slimy thingy while Constantine, Zatanna and Timothy have started to float, each of their bodies in perfect T position as their eyes and mouths are wide open and emanating the very same Lazarus green fulgor as the summoning circle. Then, the same sickening toxic green slime stars to pour out of the sorcerers’ mouths and eyes, falling onto the summoning circle where along with the slime bleeding out form circle it starts to crawl towards the center of it, where the breakfast menu is placed.

“Ugh, I think I’m gonna puke.” Flash mutters as he feels his stomach twist in disgust at the sight of the three sorcerers basically barfing Lazarus water.

Zatanna, Timothy and Constantine seem to have finished vomiting slime when a vicious wind starts to blow inside the room and around the summoning circle, making the Lazarus looking slime twist inside the circle as it consumes the breakfast menu and dissolves it within itself before turning into a shiny green ball. The antinatural tornado then turns thinner as it centers in the middle of the summoning circle, shaping the Lazarus green slime into a ball as big as a basketball, then the wind dies down and the ball starts to pulsate, the vibration kinda like a low bass reverberating withing the very soul of every individual inside the room, as if the air itself was shaking in fear of what is to come.

The Lazarus green slime ball beats twice and it starts to elongate.

It beats twice more and five protuberances start to form from the torso like shape.

As the ball keeps beating like a strange and disgusting heart, the protuberances begin to take shape; two arms, two legs, a head…

All of a sudden, the toxic Lazarus green light dies down. Zatanna, Timothy and Constantine falling onto the floor and then the damn summoning circle floods everything in a blinding white light.

When the light dies down the conference room’s temperature is below 0° and where the summoning circle used to be is now standing a white cloaked figure, the cloak is white yet it glows Lazarus green and it’s formed by what seemed to be hundreds of thousands of ethereal petal shaped fabric that perpetually flows downside, the hood of the cloak hides its face from view. A top of the High King’s head floats a twisted, wicked looking crown, ice black in color and toxic Lazarus green in glow.

As the High King only stands, immobile and uncaring, Constatine, Zatanna and Timothy begin to regain consciousness but the instant they see the High King their eyes open so wide in both fright and surprise that the three of them teleported right to where Flask, Batman, Wonder Woman and Superman where standing.

“The bloody breakfast menu worked?!” Constantine exclaims in disbelieve.

It is then that the High King moves, it’s head turning to where the seven heroes are standing, allowing them to see two bright, toxic green orbs floating in a void darker than space itself.

“Who calls upon myself?”

Says – growls – a guttural, dark voice, as if a death metal lead singer was reading poetry. The room vibrating like a leave with a breeze at the deep tone.

It is Timothy Hunter who once again takes the lead. “Infinite Ruler.” The young man greets as he properly bows towards the High King. “It has been us, punny mortal souls, that have dared summon your presence.”

“Mortal souls?” The High King scoffs in disbelieve. “You dare take me for a fool, Child of Titania?”

The room shakes at the booming, dark growl that leaves the High Kings void of a face.

“We don’t have time for this.” Batman mumbles and then steps forward, shielding Timothy from the view of the High King. “Your majesty, with all due respect but the fact that we summoned you will not change, so you still have to grand us our request.”

Silence reigns within the room for exactly three very tense seconds when…

“Mr. B? What are you doing with a bunch of sorcerers?” Questions the High King, his voice completely changing form dark and guttural to a smooth baritone with a slight Midwest accent that Batman quickly recognizes.

“Phantom.” Batman says and, oh, someone is in trouble, for the bat has used his slightly annoyed tone that means that he recognizes who he is but he didn’t know he was going to be here.

“W-Wait! I can explain, sir!” The High King, Phantom, stutters as he pulls down the hood from his head and takes away the cloak, twisting it away along with the black crown into a void of inexistence.

Everyone is slightly surprised at the High King’s actual appearance. Before them floats a young man, about twenty years old, as tall as Kon-El, lithe like a swimmer, with weird flowy white hair that reminded of a dense mist and bright, oh so bright, toxic Lazarus green eyes that perfectly match his pale, pale, pale skin. He is wearing something akin to a personalized hazmat suit, mainly black, the top has some white lines that went from around the white turtle neck flowing down towards his forearms where the white lines turned into white gloves, covering his feet are a pair of white boots that do not touch the ground. All of him is radiating a soft Lazarus green hue.

“Later, Phantom, there are more pressing matters to attend right now.” Batman says as he rises the palm of his hand to stop Phantom from rambling anymore.

“Oh, yeah, the reason you guys summoned me.” The entity says as he stops midair to later follow Batman to the window/wall of the room to show him the thousand alien troops about to invade Earth. “Ancients, that does look like a very serious problem.” Phantom comments. “I can feel ecto from them, why?”

“Their leader found a forbidden magical book that he used to enhance his army’s strength with ecto-based magic.” Batman explains.

“Rude.” Phantom mumbles. “Yeah, alright, I can deal with it, but I want the book used for that in exchange.” The entity says to Batman.

“Fair enough.” Batman agrees and then they shake hands.

While all of the above is happening, the other six individuals in the room are watching with open mouths and eyes the exchange between the bat and the ghost.

“Alright.” Phantom nods and then turns towards the other six heroes in the room. “Hey, shattered soul blondie, you and I will have a chat when this is done, alright. And no, it’s not a question nor optional.” He says while pointing at Constantine.

John shakily nods his head, eyes wide open.

“You should warn your allies I’m gonna be the one outside.” Phantom says with light tone. “I don’t want the JL and associates to think of me as a hostile.”

“Flash.” Wonder Woman says to the speeder, who in return only nods his head once and then exits the room, his super-speed not even allowing a blur to form.

A loud, red alarm then screams inside the watchtower, the voice of Flash warning all individuals in the watchtower that the High King of the Infinite Realms is an ally and that he is about to perform an attack against the enemy’s forces.

“You may proceed.” Batman says to the ghost.

“Sir, yes sir.” The white-haired entity mock salutes and then pops out of view.

Right after High King Phantom popped out of view inside the building a bright halo of light opened a portal right in front of the waiting alien troops out in open space. The eerie Lazarus green glow that surrounds Phantom making him look like an ominous star against the pitch-black void that is space, he is full royal attire again, the white, flowing white cape the reminds of petals covering him from head to toe and beyond, and the wicked black crown floating on top of his head, his eyes once again looking like toxic Lazarus green fires burning in the void that is now his face.

He rises one of his white gloved hands, opens up his palm and…

BEGONE

He says in something ancient yet strangely familiar, a language that reverberates inside every single of the individuals that heard it. A primal fear settling in the gut of every being inside the watchtower, making goosebumps bloom on their skins, even Superman and Wonder Woman feel the cold of fear and death flood their souls at the command of the High King of the Infinite Realms.

A void of toxic Lazarus green then pulls in the enemies’ troops, like a vacuum, making them disappear inside of the open palm of the young-looking eldritch king. In less than five seconds the whole army was gone, even the mother ship is gone, the only remaining thing is a neon purple glowing, ominous looking book that Phantom takes and puts inside his chest. Not inside a pocket on his chest, not inside his ethereal fancy cloak, no, he puts the ominous book right inside his chest.   

“Did you know he could do that?” Superman asks Batman as he rubs on top of his own chest.

“The vacuum thing? No. That he puts things inside his body? Yes.” Batman answers while outside the watchtower Phantom pops out of view…

Only to re-appear inside the room not even a blink later. “There, all done!” The ghost says with a satisfied smile on his pale lips. The cloak and crown once again out of view. “Anything else you need from me, Mr. B?”

“A whole report on all of your powers and abilities on my desk by tomorrow morning.” Batman immediately responds.

“But that will take me the whole night!” Phantom complains.

“Then I suggest you to begin right away.” Batman says.

“We thank you, King Phantom.” Wonder Woman says as she appears by Batman’s left side.

“Are you sure you only want the book?” Superman adds as he appears by Batman’s right side.

“Yes, the book will be enough sir, oh, and don’t worry, I solemnly swear I won’t use it for evil.” Phantom answers as he crosses a finger over where a human heart is supposed to be.

“How can we trust you?” Zatanna inquires, arms crossed over her chest.

“I advocate for him.” Batman says.

Everyone in the room turns to look at Batman like he has suddenly grown another head.

“Alright, that’s it!” John exclaims. “What is your relationship?! How the fuck do you two know each other?! And don’t you dare tell me the he is just investigating Gotham’s curse thing!”

“But I do am investigating Gotham’s curse.” Phantom mumbles.

“You will have to excuse me, King Phantom, but The Batman advocating for you speaks of something deeper in your relationship.” Timothy says as he joins the conversation.

“Oh, well…” Phantom does not finish his sentence, instead his worriedly side glances to Batman, clearly asking for either permission or further instructions on what to do. Batman notices Phantom looking at him and then just nods, finally giving permission for the young man-ghost to speak his truth, Phantom visibly relaxes. “Thank ancients.” He sighs. “Ahem, besides investigating the curse over the city I also aid Red Hood with stuff related to his haunt.”

“Haunt?” Wonder Woman questions.

“Like his territory? You mean Park Row?” Superman adds.

“I’m pretty sure it’s called Crime Alley but yeah, exactly!” Phantom finger-guns them with a big smile on his face. “Also, since Gotham is one the cities with most murders and assassinations in the U.S.A. there are a lot of lost ghosts that need some guidance to cross to the other side, that’s when I come in. I mean, as King of ghost I have to take care of them.”

“And you do this in the whole world?” Superman asks, feeling a sense of kindredness with the being.

“Yeah… I mean, not always; Lady Death and her reapers do most of the heavy lifting but sometimes I move around.” Phantom says while shrugging his shoulders.

“It doesn’t change the fact that you are doing something very noble, King Phantom.” Wonder Woman says.

“T-Thank you, ma’am.” The ghost blushes bright green. “Oh, that reminds me, you!” Phantom then points accusingly towards Constantine. “Are you John Constantine?”

“Why do you care?” John defiantly, a brand-new cig between his lips. He is too nervous to not have a cig between his lips, dammit!

“Dude! I’ve looking for you for years!” The ghost exclaims. “Excuse me, Mr. B, is there an empty office or something where I can speak to him in private?”

“Sorry, your majesty, but if you want to speak to John it will have to be here.” Zatanna quickly interjects, her tone making clear that it was not negotiable.

“What she said.” Constantine obviously followed Zatanna’s lead. Like hell he was gonna be alone in a room with what is basically The God of all Eldritchs and Supernaturals.

Phantom looks at Zatanna with his big, toxic Lazarus green eyes, then he looks at John, finally he shrugs his shoulders again, like saying Alright pal, if you want an actual adult with you in the room, I get it. “In that case…” Phantom starts and then he opens a miny portal in mid-air, he just did a motion up with his pointing finger, a slight finger gun and bah-bam! He opens an interdimensional portal as easily as blinking. From said mini portal Phantom pulls out a small ball, as big as the fist of a child, it is bright and glowing in rainbow. It’s beautiful.

“I-Is that…” Timothy babbles at the sight of what the other in the room assumed was a sort of energy ball.

“You have sharp eyes.” Phantom says to Timothy.

“What is that?” Zatanna asks in wonder.

“A soul.” Phantom answers with tenderness. Everyone in the room gasps in surprise… except Constantine. “Well, more like seventy percent of a soul… John Constantine’s soul.”

Everyone in the room turns to the blonde, their gazes demanding answers. “H-How…?” Constantine manages to mumble as he takes a step back, his cigarette falling from his lips.

“When I started my king training thingy, the first thing I did was to clear de desk from all the paperwork the previous king ignored. One third of said paperwork was about a sorcerer that was selling pieces of his soul left and right like it was effing candy! I was not gonna deal with that so I asked how I could clear it out and the answer was actually quite simple: To neutralize the contracts all I had to do was to get back the pieces of the soul and give it back to its still living mortal recipient. So, I asked for the soul pieces as welcome to being a King gifts and ta-dah!” Phantom explains and does jazz hands at the soul floating in the middle of the group. “So, here, take what is yours, oh, and next time you don’t want to end up with cancer what about, uhm, I don’t know, STOP SMOKING MAN!” The green-eyed entity exclaims as he pushes the ball inside of Constantine’s body. “Oh, and since you still need your powers I offer myself as your new patron.”

The small ball of light goes right into John without any type of resistance yet John walks back like trying to avoid it but the ball still got into him. Constantine palms at his chest and stomach area, his clear blue eyes so wide they look about to pop out from his face, his breathing heavy, elaborated. He might be having a slight panic attack.

“Why?” John manages say, his tone small, full of doubt and fear.

“Firstly, to make a third of my paperwork disappear.” Phantom answers. “Like for real, it literally vanished. And second, because a soul is something precious, you shouldn’t be using it like pocket money, dude.” The ghost chastises. “I mean, to me it feels like the right thing to do.”

John looks at Phantom like he is the most bizarre thing he has ever encountered in his life; the blonde cannot just comprehend… why? Why? wHy? Just because it was easier that way? Because it was the right thing to do? WhAt?! Constantine is flaggerblasted, he cannot compute, he… he needs to get out of there.

The blonde sorcerer stumbles back, as far away from Phamton as possible and while still looking at the ghost with wide, confused eyes he snaps his fingers, teleporting away once again, running away into the safe shadows.

“Did I do something wrong?” Phantom asks Zatanna.

“No, he is just… he just doesn’t understand why someone would help him without expecting anything in return.” Zatanna explains as she looks mournfully in the direction where Constantine vanished.

“Oh… right, the equivalent exchange thing sorcerers do.” Phamton realizes.

“Yes, that too.” Zatanna sighs, then she squares her shoulders as she takes a deep breath. “Thank you, your majesty, for what you did for John. I’ll try to keep him in the right track.”

“You do you, lady.” Phamton responds. “Once he calms tell him to contact me, I meant the part about being his new patron.”

“Understood. If that is everything, I’ll take my leave.” Zatanna says as she looks at Batman, Wonder Woman and Superman. “My report will also be tomorrow morning on your desk, Batman.” She jokes. “Let’s go Timmy.”

“It was a pleasure your majesty, everyone.” The young sorcerer says as good bye before he and Zatanna vanish away in the shadows just like Constantine had done a moment ago.

“Can I leave too? Apparently, I have a report to redact for tomorrow.” Phantom deadpans in Batman’s direction.

Wonder Woman and Superman laugh at that. “We are no one to retain you, King Phantom. You have already fulfilled our request and also gotten your payment, there is no reason for you to remain with us.” Wonder Woman says.

“Cool. Oh, and don’t worry guys, if you ever have any other ghostly problem just ask Mr. B for my number.” Phantom reveals even more delicate information about him and Batman. “Buh-bye~.”

And just like that the endearing Eldritch God like entity vanishes within himself.

“Now, for real, what’s your relationship with the very obviously middle-west young man?” Clark asks Bruce as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Bruce turns to his friends and decides to have some fun. “He is Jason’s boyfriend.” He drops the bomb, making both Diana and Clark open their mouths and eyes wide open in surprise. “He arrived at Gotham about four years ago to study Aerospace Engineering at G.U. Jason met him during patrol, as Red Hood, apparently the instinctual and proper way for ghosts to greet each other is by fighting so Jason basically jumped on him like a rabid dog, Phantom’s words, and that’s that.”

“Jason’s a ghost?” Clarks asks with worry; he knows how much that thing with Jason affects Bruce.

“A type of Half-a-ghost… apparently whatever revived him it did not do a good job at it. Phantom has helped him, us, to adjust.” Bruce reveals. To heal. It was left unsaid but Clark and Diana heard it loud and clear.

“Oh, Bruce.” Diana mumbles with a relieved smile as she hugs her friend.

“And then along the way they fell in love?” Clark guesses as Diana stops hugging Bruce.

“It was a really entertaining soap opera.” Bruce admits.

“Like father, like son.” Diana adds, a shark like smile on her face.

Bruce just grumbles at the joke.

“And when it’s the wedding?” Clark questions, his tone clearly a joking one, forgetting that The Batman never jokes when it comes to his children.

“This December, on the twentieth-first.” Bruce says as he hands both Clark and Diana wedding invitations. “Phantom has a lot of Christmas related trauma so we try to celebrate Yule for him.”

“Oh.” Clark mumbles as he looks at the wedding invitation in his hands.

“Any more questions?” Bruce inquires.

“You have shut us up with this one Bruce, you may go on your way.” Diana says as she waves her invitation.

Batman nods once and then proceeds to leave in silence, when he completely exits the room Diana and Clark look at each other.

“What a day.” Clark says.

“You said it.” Diana agrees.

______________________________________________________________

Some other time:

“What does de S stand for?” Phamton asks Superman like he wasn’t fanboying about being in the Watchtower mere seconds ago.

“It’s kryptonian, it means Hope.” Superman gently answers the wonder struck looking entity.

“Oh.” It’s the young supernatural king’s smart answer.

“What does the D stand for?” Superman asks back, genuine interest in his voice.

A bright green blush blooms on the pale gray face of king Phantom, he proceeds to rub the back of his head in embarrassment and his Lazarus green eyes look away from Superman’s face. “Uh… it was a gift from a friend… just to look cool… I-I was fourteen, ok?”

Superman laughs. It’s soft and tender and for some reason it reminds Danny of a farm he visited in Kansas when he was a kid.

Keep me Close

Past Jules Bianchi x reader, platonic Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: angst

Request: yepyep finally got me some angst things to write

Summary: Charles's new girlfriend can't understand why he's so attached to the reader

Warnings: talks of death, name calling, a table gets flipped

Notes: I definitely didn't cry writing this at one point. Also, no hate to Alex!! I know hardly anything about her, but I know her and Charles are currently together, and it fits the Timeline, so please bear with me.

Masterlist

Your love for Jules was something you find in fairy tales. It was beautiful, and both of you felt connected on a level deeper than anything imaginable.

It started when you were both merely kids. You were six, and he was eight. The two of you had met at the wedding of a mutual friend. Dressed in nice clothing, he'd marched right up to you and claimed to be a knight looking for a princess.

You were inseparable after that. It was like you'd found your soulmate.

When you turned eighteen, Jules had immediately proposed. And when you countered by asking if you were both too young, he said, 'Why waste time when I know I'll love you forever?'"

You'd gotten close with Leclerc family. Specifically with Charles since Jules was named godfather. He spent a great deal of time with you and Jules.

Then 2014. Everyone was sure Jules was going to get a seat with Ferrari. It would be a crime if he didn't.

You remember kissing him, good luck. The last feeling of his lips on your before getting in the car.

You remember telling him to be safe with the rain; that you love him dearly. He replied with his signature wink and an 'I love you more and I always am.'

Then everything stopped. The world seemed to no longer spin. Time refused to move forward as you willed it to go back.

It couldn't be real. There was no way it had happened. You still thought that as you sat at his bedside faithfully for months. There wasn't a world you wanted to live in if it didn't have Jules.

Charles was similarly devastated. He'd lost someone dear to him. The boy spent all his free time sitting with you in the hospital. Even bringing around food that Pascale had made to keep you alive. Something you didn't want to be at that moment.

The bond you'd formed with Charles during this time is hard to explain. There is nothing romantic. He's family despite the age gap not being that large.

He was, and is still, family. You'd promised to still take care of him despite the loss of Jules, and he promised to do the same in his stead.

The start of the 2024bseason brings on an interesting turn of events. Charles had split with his girlfriend before the new year and is now with his new girlfriend Alex.

You like her. She's very sweet as far as you've been told. But there is something there that makes you worry. You just blame the fact that you want the best for Charles.

The first time you met her was at a family dinner. Charles brought Alex with him to introduce her to everyone.

You were actually the first person he introduced her to. You felt honored, but there was something behind her eyes that you couldn't quite pinpoint. But you kept it to yourself and made friendly conversation.

The next time you saw her was when she dropped by the Leclerc family home unannounced. The position she caught you in wasn't a bad one, but it probably didn't look good to her.

Charles had a rough race in Monaco, as per usual, and was laying with his head in your lap while you ran fingers through his hair. It's the same thing Jules had done when Charles was a child after a bad Karting race.

Alex definitely didn't look pleased with you. But she managed to put kn a smile and say hello.

It was awkward. Especially after Charles and her went into another room because you could hear them talking in hushed whispers.

Your fingers find the chain with your wedding ring on it. Your lips press against the cold metal as you hold the ring to your mouth. "I hope I'm doing this right, Jules. It's hard without you here."

The last time you saw Alex was at a birthday party. Your birthday party. Something you don't like having after Jules because he was the one who always made the day special.

Charles is a stubborn man though and decided it was necessary. Partly because this is his way of remembering that you are alive and with them, but it also gives him and excuse to drink and dance.

It wasn't anything massive. Or at least - not a massive as it could have been. There were a good number of people crowded into your Monaco home. The food is good, and the music is better. It definitely felt like a party Jules would have dragged you to in your youth.

It's not long until Charles appears at the door with Alex in tow. He comes to you, and you embrace him as usual. The smile on his face makes everything worth it. despite having to deal with a party for a few hours.

Pierre also finds you and starts up conversation. The three of you fail to notice the fourth becoming increasingly agitated.

A loud crashing sound pulls all of their attention. Alex flipped over the table in her agitation and is now sending chills down your spine with the look on her face.

"Why are you so determined to be some kind of homewrecker! Why can't you just stop being a creep to Charles and let us live in peace!" She screams. It hits your mind like a shadow. The world fades away, and your thoughts are filled with the doubts you have daily.

Tears fill your eyes, and your body goes rigid. "I'm Charles' godmother. Y/N Bianchi. I am no homewrecker." You choke.

Charles and Pierre take a protective step in front of you. "Get out!" Charles' voice drips with venom. Alex looks stunned. She doesn't move even as Charles shouts at her. "Nobody gets to speak like that to my family! Get out!"

Then she runs. Avoiding the gazes of disapproval.

Charles spins around and places his hands on your shoulders. His eyes scanning your face to assess the damage.

"I'm so sorry that happened. You're amazing. Always have been. And anyone who says differently is a fucking asshole."

Even through the tears, she smiles. Jules couldn't have left her in better hands.