#1601

[pdflayn]

I HAVE A CONFESSION

charles leclerc x max verstappen

2.2k words

summary: charles leclerc, born and raised in monaco, a mama's boy, raised to worship the man in the cross who saved us from all our sins. and then there's max verstappen, a man who believes nothing but himself and also a good friend of charles and his family. a man who also made charles crumble into pieces by a mere touch.

warnings: (a bit of) smut under the cut ! mentions of alcohol, religion and beliefs, charles is not a racer in this fic, mention of cigarettes.

note: heavily inspired by false god by taylor swift ! for the past few weeks i have been completely obsessed with it and lestappen are my victims with this brainrot of mine.

Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

It has only been 30 minutes since Charles sat down but it felt like years, it wasn’t always like this. His mind is clouded and distracted. Distracted with the question of who he worships. Is it the man in the cross? Or is it the man who pinned him against the wall of his bedroom last night?

“Charles! We’re over here!” Max screamed, hoping his voice could be heard against the wild crowd of Monaco’s finest club. It was obvious that the Monegasque did not hear his words, Charles was still wandering amongst the crowd, seeking for familiar faces. Max stood up from his seat, telling the rest of their friends he’ll just get Charles from the crowd.

It was loud. All that can be heard is the upbeat sounds coming from the blasting speakers and chatters of random people kissing each other’s faces. But Charles heard something more than the noise, he heard something calm. “There you are, Charlie.”

He felt Max’s hand wrapped around his arm with a smile in his mouth. He can smell the alcohol in his breath, that’s how close they are. He’s not sure if it’s a right feeling knowing damn well he didn’t have a drop of alcohol yet in his system. His heart was racing, his breathing paced with anticipation. “You’re the last one we’re waiting for at the table, let’s go?” Charles could only reply with a nod. His heart is in sync with the beats from the speakers.

"My god, will they ever stop playing Taylor Swift and start playing proper club songs?" Lando asked irritably while holding a beer in his hand. The rest of the group agreed and laughed. Meanwhile, Charles grabbed another bottle of beer as soon as he finished his first. He was annoyed, unable to sit still. He couldn't forget the warmth of Max's touch from a few minutes ago. They are very close friends, having been together since they were kids. But his touch from a moment ago felt different. His stare, his smile, it all felt different for the Monegasque. It wasn’t right, what he was feeling wasn’t right and the blue and red lights from the club hitting the godly face of the Dutch was not helping at all.

But we might just get away with it

Religion's in your lips

Even if it's a false god

“That’s your third beer already, you haven’t been here for a while. You good, Leclerc?” Max asked when he noticed Charles grabbing another bottle. Charles replied with a chuckle, “I’m good, this beer just tastes good.”

“Anyone wanna go to the dance floor?” Carlos asked excitedly, holding a beer in his hand and in the other is in Lando’s waist. I wonder what it feels to have Max’s arm wrapped around me, Charles asked in his mind. Quickly tapping himself out of his sinful curiosity. Soon enough the table was empty, it was only Charles left.

Charles and Max. In the same table. Drinking the same beer. Blank stares.

We might just get away with it

The altar is my hips

Even if it's a false god

Max chugged his bottle of beer and opened a new one. There was an unusual grin on his face. It was only the two of them at the table.

“You know, we actually didn’t think you were gonna come. You were never really the club type of person, Charlie.” Max uttered, trying to break the ice between the two of them. Ever since Max pursued his passion in racing, the only conversations he had with Charles was the good morning’s and good night’s along with the hi’s and hello’s whenever they saw each other in the streets of their homes.

“There wasn’t anything left to do at home so I decided to stop by. It’s not the usual crowd I like but there’s nothing to lose anyway. Plus, it’s free beer, Max. Who says no to that?” Charles leaned back in the chair, running a hand through his hair, hoping it could ease the tension between him and Max’s stare. He is intimidated, but deep down he loves it. Max noticed Charles’ continuous movements. Charles kept running a hand through his hair, chugging his beer once after every ten seconds, and licking his lips. Max knew it was all because of him. It was an obvious answer, it was only the two of them.

We'd still worship this love

We'd still worship this love

We'd still worship this love

“How’s your racing career? Maman always bothers me with the remote, asking me to switch to the channel that shows your race.” It was true. Charles’ mother loves Max dearly and treats him like his own son as well. They would always watch Max’s races especially when he’s free from work. “I’ve been winning races, I think you already know since you watch me drive.”

Charles chuckled, “I do.”

“Do you still serve at the church?” Max asked when he noticed a glimmer from Charles’ chest when the light struck him. Charles held his small cross and shook his head, “I haven’t been able to serve the church for a while now. I’ve been… busy.”

Max couldn’t help but raise a brow with his response. The religious boy missing church, it’s like hearing about the diligent student cutting classes. He thought to himself as he saw Charles hiding his cross inside his shirt.

I know heaven's a thing

I go there when you touch me

Honey hell is when I fight with you

“Charles,” Max called, earning a small hum from Charles. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Charles smiled and nodded. Charles knew he needed to be somewhere quieter, Max knew the younger was already overwhelmed with the loud crowd. Charles was no stranger to Max, he knew him more than one could ever imagine.

Charles took one last sip from his beer and stood to follow Max leaving the club. They sat down in the cold ground of the parking lot, disregarding the thought that there were nearby benches under the trees blowing cold winds. It was awfully quiet, opposite to when they were inside.

“Do you smoke?” Max asked while holding a stick of cigarette in his hand. Charles shook his head and watched as the older lit up the stick and blew smoke from his mouth. Charles never liked the smell of cigarettes, that’s why he didn’t know why he’s suddenly okay with Max smoking. At some point, he might even want Max to blow smoke in his face. “You’re so quiet, Charles. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He didn’t know what to say. How could he say that it’s him who’s been bothering him since the moment he laid his hand on his arm without making it awkward? “I’m okay, it’s just a bit cold and I have nothing to say since nothing eventful has happened recently.”

“Then what’s keeping you busy to skip church? You’re one of the most religious people I’ve ever met.” Max asked in a curious tone. Charles didn’t know how to answer that question as well. He’s not himself lately, only Max noticed.

“Max,” Charles called. “Hmm?” Max responded.

“Why don’t you believe in religion?” Charles noticed how Max subtly froze from his sudden question.

“What’s with the sudden question about faith and religion, Charlie?” Max chuckled. Charles was already about to speak again, probably to take back his question but Max spoke first. “I wasn’t exactly raised in a religious family like you. My father is almost never home, my mother is also an atheist, and my sister, well, she’s the religious one in our family but we were never really close. No one really guided me in the religious part in life. And besides, I find comfort in what I can see and understand.”

“But still,” Charles started. “Don’t you feel lost at times?”

Max smiled, “I’d rather be lost than have an unknown entity dictate what’s right and wrong for me.”

“It’s not about dictating what’s right and wrong, it’s more like a guide from what’s right and wrong.” frustration was evident from Charles' voice along with his furrowed forehead. Max dropped his stick and stepped on it to kill the light. He gripped Charles’s arm and made him look at him. He felt the younger flinch within his touch.

“Charles, what’s wrong? Be honest with me, Charlie.” Max placed both of his hands on Charles' shoulder, closing the gap between them. Inhaling the intoxicating smell of alcohol mixed with cigarettes. “Max, I-”

“¡Hijos de puta, qué feo su comportamiento!” Both Charles and Max immediately distanced themselves from each other, seeing their friends getting kicked out of the bar, wasted as fuck.

“Ready to go home?” Charles snapped out of his thoughts when his mama tapped his shoulder. The mass had already ended and he didn’t even notice. “I’ll start the car, wait for me in front of the chapel so you wouldn’t need to walk back to the parking lot.” Charles said with a smile as he stood up and made his way outside the chapel. The thing is, he's not headed to the parking lot.

Tipsy. They were both tipsy from all the alcohol they drank. Especially since they decided to continue drinking at Lando’s house after being kicked out of the club. Everyone was already wasted. Charles wanted to be wasted too, but his very high tolerance in alcohol is not helping him. He wanted to drown his thoughts. His sinful thoughts of Max. He keeps on having flashbacks of how Max gripped him and how he sounded when he asked him the simplest question he couldn’t answer.

“That’s enough, Charlie.” Max said as he snatched the beer from Charles hand and moved away all the cans of beer left. Charles groaned, he wanted more. He forcefully grabbed the canned beer in Max’s hand which ended in the worst way possible.

“Fuck!” Max screamed in shock as the cold liquid drenched his shirt. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Max stood up and threw the can of beer in the nearest trash bin. Meanwhile, Charles ran a hand through his hair and left a frustrated groan before standing up and leaving the room.

“Charles,” Max called but to his dismay, Charles ignored him and went outside despite also being drenched with the cold beer.

“Charles, what’s wrong? C’mon mate, speak up-”

“For fuck’s sake, leave me alone Max!” Charles snapped. “Everything is wrong! It all started being wrong the moment you came back for good. I shouldn’t be feeling like this, Max. This is so fucking wrong!”

“Cha-”

“Man is created for a woman, a man is not created for another man. I can’t have these kinds of feelings towards you, Max. I can’t. My faith tells me it's wrong, but my heart... my heart is betraying everything I thought I knew.”

Max froze from where he stood. He didn’t exactly know how to react knowing that the person he craves also craves for him but forbids himself because it’s against his religion. So he stepped forward, taking the risk, placing his lips against the lips he craves for.

A slap echoed in Max’s ears. He felt a sting in his cheek as he once again froze from Charles’ actions. “Max,” Charles was supposed to touch the cheek but was stopped by Max’s tight grip on his wrist. Max’s jaws clenched, still feeling the sting from Charles’ slap as he dragged the younger inside to a vacant room.

“Max, I’m sorry.” Charles’ kept on trying to remove his wrist from Max’s grip, “You’re hurting me, Max!”

Charles was dizzy from the alcohol but it wasn't enough to knock him senseless. He was aware of where he was. He was aware of Max's intentions. He knew why he heard the door locked. And he knew damn well it's turning the both of them on.

“It’s funny how it's forbidden for a man to crave a man because your Jesus said so. But isn't your Jesus also a man?” Max whispered in Charles’ ear. Pinning both of his hands on top of his head while the other hand rests on Charles' waist, gripping it from time to time. “And you people worship him so badly, craving for his attention.”

Max stepped an inch closer to Charles, closing the gap between them. Not even air could pass through them. Charles groaned at the friction caused by their hips touching. Max thrusted into Charles' clothed self, making the younger moan and close his eyes. Max placed his free hand on Charles’ chin, making him look up. “Open your eyes. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours.”

“Look at you, even your eyes crave for me, schatje.” Max buried his head on the younger’s neck, leaving sloppy kisses and bite marks. He can feel his pants getting tighter every time he would hear Charles whimpering against his touch. “Already such a fucking mess for me, sweet one?”

Max freed the younger's hands from being pinned against the wall and slid it down his pants. Charles’ hands immediately found its way to Max’s hair, tugging a handful as he felt Max’s cold hand against his cock.

“You’ve been worshipping the same man for years now, Charlie. Would you go to hell if you'd worship another? Let's say, me?”

“Father, I have something to confess.”

[dailysmilingnatsume]

[cornchrunchie]

We talk a lot about how Crowley and Aziraphale make each other smile, and how they're united through their shared excitement about the world. While this is very valid, I feel like we're forgetting about another important part of a relationship: mutual complaint.

Oh, how much I adore this brief moment between them.

Do you know how much trust it probably takes for someone like Aziraphale to openly complain about something related to his work?

First of all, he is not allowed to complain about anything in Heaven other than Hell. We see this a lot in S1 when he tries to discuss the plans of Armageddon and is repeatedly (even violently) shut down by the archangels. He is an Angel. He works for Heaven, the so-called Good Side. Everything he does, he should do with delight. Being unhappy about a task? Not wanting to do something, let alone disagree with it? It’s just not on.

Second of all, the way Aziraphale says it, he is expecting a certain reaction from Crowley, an affirming one, that is. He is saying it in a way that is asking: “Isn’t that awful?” He is not afraid to be judged, rather the opposite: He believes that Crowley will show him sympathy. And most amazingly, Crowley does.

Not only does Aziraphale trust Crowley enough to complain about something and communicate negative emotions about his work, but he also knows Crowley well enough to anticipate his understanding. He makes himself vulnerable and is rewarded with validation in return.

Even if this was already part of Crowley’s plan to speak about The Agreement, Aziraphale wouldn’t know it. And if we're honest, it doesn't really matter. He trusts Crowley because Crowley deserves his trust.

Sure, getting excited about the same things is fun. But additionally, being able to complain to somebody and knowing that they will be on your side, building a foundation of mutual trust by shared dislike?

Damn. That truly is some love right there.

[emilypren-tiss]

s16e01 - "Just Getting Started"

[artschoolglasses]

Alcibiades Interrupting the Symposium, Peter Paul Rubens, 1601-02

[lickthecowhappy]

careful

Finally made it. This is the second picture from my project telling a story of what Crowley dreamt could have happened, though of course it hadn't untill the post Armagedon times.

This is a censored version of the artwork.

To see a more exlicit one and many other cool stuff, support me on Patreon

This print will soon be selling in my Etsy store, so go follow me there not yo miss it!

[myhealthdiarylessthan3]

Food diary

Rooibos tea, oat milk

[tippysattic]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Simplicity Fabric Flowers Sewing Pattern.

[famousborntoday]

Antoine Daniel was a French Jesuit missionary in North America, at Sainte-Marie among the Hurons, and one of the eight Canadian Martyrs.

Link: Antoine Daniel

[mioritic]

Metropolitan Museum of Art

The Tree of Life - British first half 17th century

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: September 4, 1980

Lyrics:

There'll be no strings to bind your hands

Not if my love can't bind your heart

There's no need to take a stand

For it was I who chose to start

I see no need to take me home

I'm old enough to face the dawn

Just call me angel of the morning, angel

Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby

Just call me angel of the morning, angel

Then slowly turn away from me

Maybe the sun's light will be dim

And it won't matter anyhow

If morning's echo says we've sinned

Well, it was what I wanted now

And if we're victims of the night

I won't be blinded by the light

Just call me angel of the morning, angel

Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby

Just call me angel of the morning, angel

Then slowly turn away

I won't beg you to stay with me

Through the tears

Of the day

Of the years

Baby

Songwriter: Chip Taylor

Just call me angel of the morning, angel

Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby

Just call me angel of the morning, angel

Just touch my cheek before you leave me, darling

Just call me angel of the morning, angel

Just touch my cheek before you leave me, darling

SongFacts:

👉📖

Homepage:

Juice Newton

[umbriasud]

Terni 1601, street food vietato nella Piazza Maggiore

Finalmente! Un intervento in favore del decoro cittadino, dell’igiene e della salute pubblica. Il 25 settembre 1601, ll consiglio cittadino di Terni adottò un decreto con cui si dichiarava che “nella Piazza Maggiore non si permettesse ad alcuno di macellare e scorticare capretti, agnelli e “simili animali”. Né fosse permesso a “rivendugli, Osti e Beccaj di ingombrare la piazza medesima con…

[frogsbejumpingincalaveras]

Hey There Reader,

Taking a break from the existentialism of last week's post, I'd like to discuss a more approachable Twain. A Twain that relishes in naughty hilarity of Victorian modesty. Not all his works were so intent on expressing his personal politics or waxings on the meaning of our own existences, sometimes he liked to make a timeless and verbose fart joke. [Date, 1601]. Conversation, as It Was by the Social Fireside, in the Time of the Tudors, an already quite long title, is one such story that comes from the supposed diary of one of Queen Elizabeth's cup-bearers. But in order to fully appreciate this piece, I think it's important, as with all good jokes, to begin with a bit of context.

Mark Twain was active right at the tail end of the Victorian era, meaning that above all, public perception of the wealthy was what stood as being of utmost importance. How a man, or any royal, but more often than not a man, was seen in the public sphere reflected their status. Whether it be in private clubs, public addressings, or open air amusements, the presentation of the self was the first way someone could portray their wealth, power, and status. Among this behavior was the expectation of manners, which is obviously still an expectation today, but where we may not admonish those that don't strictly adhere now, it was cause for serious dismissal at the turn of the twentieth century.

In the confines of polite company, a phrase that comes from this society, it was quite the faux-pas to relax beyond a certain degree. That is where our fortuitus and literate cup-bearer comes in. Stuck within the gathering chamber until dismissed, this cup-bearer recounts a very graceless act committed between the Queen herself, the Duchess of Bilgewater, the Countess of Granby, Ladies Margery Boothe and Alice Dilberry, any doters upon them and the likes of Sirs Francis Bacon and Walter Raleigh, Ben Johnson, Francis Beaumonte, and even William Shakespeare, the bard himself! A veritable who's who of Elizabethan fame. Mid-chat, one of them rips what is described as

"yielding and exceding mightie and distresfull stink"

which is truly a beautiful retelling. It causes a pause for laughter, but the the Queen asks for the perpetrator to reveal themselves. What follows is a masterful grasp of the language that Twain has always portrayed, wherein each and ever member within denies the offending action. Ben Johnson opens up initially, saying,

"So fell a blast hath ne���er mine ears saluted, nor yet a stench so all-pervading and immortal. ’Twas not a novice did it, good your maisty, but one of veteran experience--else hadde he failed of confidence. In sooth it was not I."

while Shakespeare claims,

"In the great hand of God I stand and so proclaim mine innocence. Though ye sinless hosts of heaven had fortold ye coming of this most desolating breath, proclaiming it a work of uninspired man, its quaking thunders, its firmament-clogging rottenness his own achievement in due course of nature, yet had not I believed it; but had the pit itself hath furnished forth the stink, and heaven's artillery hath shook the globe in admiration of it."

The conversation continues with several more claiming to not know the origin, yet admiring the strength, or offering their own wind breaks to show proof of their own innocence, eventually leading to an acceptance of leaving it unknown. From their the conversation devolves into anecdotes of the power of chastity and the perversions of vicars, all the while still attempting to hold an air of superiority despite their quite human actions. It's work like this that not only shows Twain's deft ability to craft humorous tales, with punchlines that still remain the height of comedy, but also his sneaky way of taking the elite down just a peg or too.

Of course this is a fictional tale, even without the name 'Twain' on the cover, most certainly any and all encounters between these names had at least a cursory record of. But it helps in knowing that even those held in such high regard aren't too dissimilar from the common man. Twain says, 'they may hold themselves above us all, but I'll tell you here that they would laugh and speak of the same crude behaviors we all partake in.'

-Stephen

[taeminrecuerdos]

16.01.2020

Sección TV Entretenimiento: Noticiero

"Los vengadores del KPop se han reunido en una amistad. A partir de BTS, Shinee, EXO y Wanna One, los bailarines principales de cada uno de estos famosos grupos ; Jimin, Kai, Taemin y Ha Sungwoon, crearon un grupo llamado "Padding Squad".